The now-distant halcyon days of my youth were filled with dangerous bike rides, late summer nights, Dungeons & Dragons, comic books, and any number of obsolete technologies. Comfortably resting somewhere between the epic rise and fall of VCRs, VHS tapes, and video stores lies my adolescence, and it’s in this idyllic setting that I was first introduced to “underground” animation.
Movies like Heavy Metal, along with the works of Ralph Bakshi and various inappropriate ‘80s anime, warped the minds of teens and pre-teens everywhere — but I’m certainly not complaining, and I doubt that many would. These movies were a right of passage for teenage nerds like myself (the kind with no small collection of Frank Frazetta and Boris Vallejo trading cards), but their magic was not long for this world — or at least my world, anyway. As other interests took over, the shine of outsider animation faded, for a time.
For those of a certain age and disposition, watching Philip Gelatt and Morgan Galen King’s The Spine of Night is like stepping into a time machine. While all the staples of youthful exuberance are present (violence, gore, and nudity), there’s something more specific that harkens this middle-aged nerd back to his middle school years: an uncompromising and determined attitude I’ve not seen in some time, and that I now realize I’ve greatly missed.
Boasting a voice cast of known fantasy and sci-fi geeks like Lucy Lawless, Patton Oswalt, and Joe Manganiello (not to mention Richard E. Grant classing up the joint), The Spine of Night tells a centuries-spanning story of knowledge and mysticism corrupted by tyranny and greed. Ancient guardians atop snow-covered mountains offer wisdom and history as weak men ravaged by bloodlust decimate the land in a never-ending quest for power. Feathered soldiers fly in defiance of mechanical monstrosities, while nature attempts to right itself despite the machinations of humankind’s destructive inclinations. In short, The Spine of Night is quite a fantastical trip.
While its rotoscoping will easily call up Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings (1978) and Fire and Ice (1983), and its graphic dismemberments and mutilations are reminiscent of Heavy Metal (1981) and early anime, what The Spine of Night really nails is the spirit in which those films were made — most notably a reverence for true artistic expression and old-school fantasy heroism of the highest order.
High-concept animated fantasy epics have never been reliable money makers, yet remain universally loved by their admirers despite their marginalization. Quite frankly, it takes guts to make one — especially considering what passes for fantasy films these days and the toxicity of so many fanbases.
The Spine of Night, though, is ripped right from 1980 in both style and substance (not to mention age demographic), hitting the necessary genre tropes while sneaking in some well-placed comments on religious and political power structures, environmentalism, and misogyny. Its mythology is vast (but still makes sense), and its storytelling is down to earth while remaining heroic, dark, and smart. It won’t be for everyone, but for those in the know, The Spine of Night is nearly irresistible.
Originally published by ASHEVILLE MOVIES.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.