Wendigo
(2002)
review by Head Cheeze

When I was a young boy I saw something terrible. I say I "saw" something, because, in my mind I did. In my parents minds, however, it was the fevered delusions of an 8 year old boy who'd seen one too many horror films and books about dinosaurs. They called it a nightmare, however, I was wide awake when they came to me. I sat upright in bed, paralysed by fear, as they came to me. It began with a crunching noise, that, in retrospect, sounded like the precise footfalls of marching soldiers. It grew louder and made my head feel like it would explode. The end of my bed took on an eerie glow, and from that glow I began to see three distinct shapes emerge. They looked as though they were wearing helmets; my 8 year old mind assumed they were firefighters, but the faces were contorted and demonic. They seemed to be made up of the light from which they spawned forth, and with each crunching marching sound they moved closer and closer to me until I felt a sharp sting in my side and screamed aloud.

They vanished.

I suddenly had the ability to move once more, and I scrambled downstairs and ran into my parents room. They were already getting out of bed in response to my cries, and when my mother caught a glimpse of me standing their, pale and hysterical, she ran over to me and dragged me into the bathroom where she wet a towel and began to pat the cold water onto my head. I did my best to explain my "attackers", and was assured it was only a dream. As my mother pulled off my sweat soaked pajama top she paused and looked at me with a concerned expression. My side was scratched in the pattern of fingernails scraping my flesh. It was exactly where I felt the burning sensation when the "things" reached out toward me before I screamed them away. I told her that, and she shook her head and said I did it to myself when I was sleeping, but somehow, I don't think she believed herself. My father looked at my superficial wounds and smiled and said "That must have been one hell of a nightmare", and carried me to their bed where I spent the rest of the night sitting up in between them, waiting for the things to come back and finish me off.

Obviously, I'm still here, so I survived, however, that is my most vibrant and detailed memory of childhood. The sounds, the images, and the scratch that I may or may have not inflicted upon myself. Whether or not it was a dream, it changed my perspective of things forever. I believe that there are things only a child can know and see, and I believe I saw one of them.

Larry Fessendon seemingly shares the same belief, and in his latest film, the brilliant Wendigo, he captures the same sense of isolation felt by a child when confronted by demons no adult can see. Adult eyes can't, or more than likely, won't see what young Miles (Per Sullivan) sees.

Miles and his parents, Kim and George (Clarkson and Weber) are en route to a weekend in the Connecticut country side when they run afoul of some local hunters after George hits a buck they'd been tracking for almost a day. Otis (John Speredakos) shoots the buck, delivering what he calls "the kill shot", in front of Miles and his family, which spawns an argument that gets extremely tense for George and Otis. After sitting on the road side for hours, watching the hunters prop up and befoul the trophy buck, the family is towed back onto the road and reach their destination, but it isn't long before they run into Otis again and again. Miles has nightmares about the killing of the buck, while George is simply rattled by the whole experience. When Kim and Miles go into town for some shopping, Miles is told a tale about a mythical indian creature called The Wendigo, and is given a small totem of a half-man/half-beast that represents the creature. As tensions within the family and with the locals rise, Miles sees this all as the work of the Wendigo, something we begin to suspect ourselves.

Wendigo is a beautifully orchestrated drama that throbs with the intensity of the best suspense thrillers. While many will look to Wendigo for jump scares and buckets of blood, it's not that kind of movie at all. Instead, it's a quiet film about human frailty and adult situations as viewed through the eyes of a child. There's a line in the film in which George explains myths to his son as being stories created by people to give them hope or explanation for situations where the real explanation is too hard to conceive in human terms. We make our own monsters to cover up our human ones, and Fessenden illustrates this beautifully with hallucinatory camera effects and loads of humanity. Were this film released under any title other than Wendigo, you'd probably be looking at a shue-in come awards season, but sadly most will dismiss it at a titular glance as a "monster" movie.

The Artisan DVD is absolutely loaded with extras, including a lively commentary by the very personable Fessendon, as well as an interview with the director, and a long behind the scenes featurette. There are also bios, trailers, and a text essay by Fessenden on the discs liner notes, all of which add up to a great package for a stunningly effective horror/drama that will stick with you long after viewing. Next to the equally ignored Session 9, Wendigo is the best horror film of 2002.