directed by Mark Pellington, 2002, 119 minutes.

Journalist John Klein (Richard Gere) investigates a sequence of unexplained phenomena in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. Local Sherriff Connie Mills (Laura Linney) becomes increasingly concerned when he receives phone calls from an entity called Indrid Cold that seem to predict catastrophe.

Moral certitude is a blight that has destroyed countless lives (human and otherwise), doubt is sacred. The patron saint of doubt (or its holiest fool) is Charles Fort. If you’ve never read Fort, then you should experience his pugnacious critique of complacent rationality for yourself. If you struggle with Fort’s rambunctious prose then read ‘The Mothman Prophecies’ by John A. Keel, one of Fort’s most plausible (and sane) proponents or seek out Mark Pellington’s superb cinematic palimpsest of Keel’s book.

Charles Hoy Fort was born in Albany, New York in 1874.  He was a voracious reader and autodidact with an innate mistrust of authority. Fort collected and collated anomalous facts that appear to contravene scientific definitions of reality but those who accuse him of being an enemy of rationality misunderstand his motives. His best-known work, “The Book of the Damned” emerged from the shadow of a ‘Great’ war characterised by the relentless logic of attrition when science was deployed to kill and maim on an unprecedented scale. Fort mistrusts dogmatic conformity, be it religious or scientific, and attacks the complacency that allows political extremism to thrive by nurturing our capacity for doubt. He loved cinema and would have enjoyed the influence that his work still exerts on popular culture and the knowledge that Fortean thinking would remain so relevant in the twenty-first century.

During the Cold War mysterious flying objects and alien visitors fed technological and apocalyptic paranoia. By the late 1960s the UFO had been embraced by popular culture and extra-terrestrial visitors bearing messages of universal love seemed to be precursors of an age of Aquarian spirituality. John Keel’s ‘The Mothman Prophecies’ (1972) records phenomena that occurred in Point Pleasant, Virginia. From the autumn of 1966 to December 1967 residents were plagued by flying objects, strange phone calls and eccentric visitors. Most startling of these was the Mothman, a tall, winged humanoid figure that seemed a harbinger of doom for this small town. Keel adopts a Fortean approach in collecting and cataloguing these events. He’s an engaging and idiosyncratic narrator who spent time in Point Pleasant getting to know its inhabitants. Keel initially regarded many of these events, particularly those involving the infamous ‘men in black’ with scepticism but soon became convinced that many witnesses had no reason to lie. Most shunned publicity, worried that they were suffering symptoms of mental disorder. Unable to square their reticence with the extravagant media hysteria of the UFO craze Keel tried to explain what they had experienced and realised that winged creatures were a recurring motif of global folklore and religion. He theorised that the Mothman, the strange craft and the odd visitors were all facets of the same phenomenon and that their origin was to be found in the human psyche rather than outer space.

In keeping with Keel’s approach director Mark Pellington and writer Richard Hatem avoid explicit references to extra-terrestrial visitors and mysterious government agencies in their cinematic treatment of ‘The Mothman Prophecies’. Steering clear of the more carnivalesque elements of Keel’s account they focus instead on his theory of the haunted world to create a mood more akin to the cinematic ghost story than close encounters like ‘Communion’ (Philippe Mora, 1989) or ‘Fire in the Sky’ (Robert Lieberman, 1993). Although ‘The Mothman Prophecies’ clearly shares some cultural DNA with the ‘X Files’ franchise (Chris Carter, 1993-2018) it sensibly avoids conspiracy theory. Tamed and commoditised in popular culture ‘men in black’ retain little of the otherworldly menace that they projected back in the sixties with their stilted names and strange shoes. Instead Pellington and Hatem create a film that exploits our sense of alienation in the face of inexplicable or shocking events. Released in January 2002, the films approach to the uncanny struck home for audiences still reeling from the New York terror attacks of September 2001.

‘The Mothman Prophecies’ taps into a queasy sense of national vulnerability, but a more personal disaster enables protagonist John Klein to see through the superficial order of the world around him and find the chaos lurking beneath the surface. Left broken by the death of his wife we are never certain how far his experiences are external phenomena or manifestations of emotional trauma; he seems punch-drunk by loss. Gere delivers a raw, vulnerable performance, recognising the emotional need that ghosts can fill for the bereaved. Cinematographer Fred Murphy creates a muted and fuscous colour palette appropriate for mourning and the bleak electronic soundscapes of Tomandandy suit the visuals perfectly. Set around Christmas time ‘Mothman’ offers an antidote for viewers weary of incessant festive cheer. Peering into the darkness of these silent nights to reveal people struggling with poverty and loss amidst the trimmings and turkey. Like the forlorn lover in John Donne’s ‘A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy’s Day’ (1633) Klein is left alone, numb with grief at “the year’s midnight”.

Inexplicably transported to Point Pleasant, Klein enters a haunted landscape of dowdy towns, concrete highways and desolate midnight roads where telegraph wires hum in the frosty air. The Mothman haunts liminal spaces, disused quarries, bleak motels and dilapidated diners. It’s easy to stereotype these communities as “Trump towns” or “Rust belt” but Pellington, born and raised in Maryland makes effective use of locations in Pittsburgh and Pennsylvania to get under the skin of small-town America. Like Keel, Pellington takes Point Pleasant’s predominantly white, working-class residents seriously, reminding us that every town has its own intricate inner life and preoccupations. Keel recognised that for many witnesses these experiences were real and traumatic, the film captures this with some realistic writing and naturalistic performances.

We remain uncertain of the exact nature or motivation of the Mothman. We never see the entity directly, but Pellington saturates the film with visual echoes of its nebulous form reinforcing Keel’s unsettling theory regarding the universality of these phenomena. The mysterious Indrid Cold often chooses to communicate via telephone. Oddly, although the cell phone was becoming ubiquitous by 2002 Cold seems to favour the landline. Most of us see our cell phones as a comfort, offering light, entertainment and the ability to summon help but Pellington reminds us of how easy it was to be afraid of that jarring ring and who (or what) might be at the other end of the line. The scene where Klein waits for a promised call from his dead wife is unbearably tense as well as poignant. ‘The Mothman Prophecies’ misses the humour of Keel’s (and Fort’s) writing, instead Pellington creates a sombre film as austere as a winter gale: good people suffer, loved ones die and there is nothing that we can do but endure. Indrid Cold, despite his seeming omniscience is, like God, powerless or reluctant to intervene. Like mythical Cassandra, Cold can predict the future but his cryptic warnings are misunderstood or disbelieved.

Pellington’s refusal to proffer definitive explanations of the Mothman is in keeping with Fortean thinking, exercise your own capacity for doubt and remember that ‘The Mothman Prophecies’ is a work of fiction, some of these events closely reflect eyewitness accounts but others are fantasy. Look out for a blatant piece of poetic licence regarding the Silver Bridge when you read the clumsy and redundant epilogue just before the closing credits. Fort reminds us that truth is conditional and that complacent hegemonies can be dangerous. In uncertain times we are encouraged to view the world in terms of dogmatic certainty, any inconvenient alternative philosophy or fact (like climate change) is derided, its proponents dismissed as foolish or idealistic. The greatest thinkers understand that it’s never enough to say, “this is how things are”; social change is only possible when we are free to ask, “what if?” without fear of censure or ridicule. Whether we accept Charles Fort’s colourful theories about blue snowflakes and showers of frogs or not, his innate mistrust of received fact and his ability to think outside the boundaries of doctrinaire rationality remain essential skills in an age of fake news and spurious moral certainties.

Quote:

“Do not be afraid. My name is Indrid Cold. And he said to me…in a place this size. Equator. Three hundred. Three hundred will die. Wait for me. I will return. I will see you in time.”

Indrid Cold (Bill Laing)

Connections:

Film

‘Black Rainbow’ directed by Mike Hodges (1989)

‘Communion’ directed by Philippe Mora (1989)

‘Fire in the Sky’ directed by Robert Leiberman (1993)

‘X-Files- The Movie’ directed by the Rob Bowman (1998)

‘Lake Mungo’ directed by the Joel Anderson (2008)

Television

Project UFO, Harold Jack Bloom, 1978-1979

The X Files, Chris Carter, 1993-2018

Reading

Charles Fort, The Book of the Damned, Abacus, 1973, ISBN 0349113262

John A Keel, The Mothman Prophecies, Hodder and Stoughton, 2002, ISBN 0340824468

Colin Bennett, Politics of the Imagination: The Life, Work and Ideas of Charles Fort, Headpress, 2002, ISBN 1900486202

Music

Tomandandy, The Mothman Prophecies (2001), Lakeshore Records, CST 8087-2.2