Twisted Vagabondage Tale From Rhode Island

I am all about atmosphere. As an occasional believer in the paranormal, if not exactly a “Ghost Buster” or a “Van Helsing,” I find it fascinating that gritty film-noir New York managed to magnetically draw two dedicated masters of the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe and Howard Phillips Lovecraft, to write here for a spell.

Like literary Ray Bradbury, both writers represented real “belle lettres” rather than mere shameless schlock. There's a restaurant that I’m fond of in Manhattan’s “Nolita” on Bond Street called “Il Buco,” where Edgar Allan Poe wrote reams in their suitably dark and dank winecellar. A search for similar mysterious haunts of forlorn Lovecraft (who rarely left his apartment and had groceries delivered) came up with zero hits.

Quote The Raven Nevermore John Cusack

Edgar Allan Poe deserves some respect. He was a drunk, a druggie, a racist, a windbag and a loon but also a literary genius. He gave his work popular appeal by delving masterfully into dark corners of the human psyche, not by spraying a movie set with ketchup. He gave his work lasting appeal by painstaking wordcraft, not by getting the big authors to endorse him. He deserves respect as the literary master of horror.






Casting John Cusack as Poe in The Raven was a respectful choice. Cusack has a commanding presence that hints of a darker reclusive side. There are moments when the film gives the taste of Poe's presence that a literary audience seeks. Plus, Edgar's last days are shrouded in enough mystery to provide legitimate space for fictional speculation or even just invention. Yet, the tragedy of Poe's cold, lonely end is not completely fair game for any movie regardless of legacy impact.