Crimson Peak friend that is troubled of “Crimson Peak”
She’s a venomous and alienated widow, the movies matriarchal revenant, whom sits under a ghastly guise of frayed grey locks and suffocating dust – “I’m yellow epidermis and bone” she breathes – who is one of the living, yet exists like a character loitering long following the gates have actually closed. She mirrors the blanched contours regarding the Sharpe’s mom, whom after having a cleaver towards the head occupies Crimson Peak as both an ill-omened artwork and a ghost marred with rusted epidermis. Trapped in the wailing walls of Allerdale Hall, writhing forth from creaky floorboards to alert Edith for the grizzly fate that awaits her.
A reflection of Miss Havisham’s palatial estate in Great Expectations after the brutal murder of her father at the hands of a mysterious figure, Edith elopes with Thomas and rushes off to his dilapidated yet opulent estate, its decayed decadence. Exposed paneling and corroded paint line the membrane of Crimson Peak, a deconstructed skylight ushering in dropping snowfall or leaves as it peers upon its bleak cavity. A thing that is living through the ground up as a marvel of set design that provides the movie tangibility, one necessary in permitting Crimson Peak to feel a boundless inside the genre.
It’s here where Edith becomes frail and literally suffers (an indication of poison, however), ceasing in lots of ways to occur as she is left by her writing back. The expressive independency of her novel – protected through the noxious touch of any editor – is really what keeps Edith alive; A gothic self-defence manual that she now unwillingly lives. Without her outlet that is creative she’s the heroine looking for rescuing, and Crimson Peak honestly does not appeal to those tropes.
Right after going to Allerdale Hall it becomes obvious that the Sharpe’s have already been incestuously entangled, a taboo flirtation that first arose into the Castle of Otrato by Horace Walpole, an over two hundred yr old novel in regards to a bloodstream line caught between lust and longing.