<rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title>Benjamin Christensen - vo.rs</title><link>https://vo.rs/tags/benjamin-christensen/</link><description>Latest from the Benjamin Christensen desk at vo.rs.</description><generator>Hugo -- gohugo.io</generator><language>en</language><copyright>This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.</copyright><lastBuildDate>Thu, 11 Apr 2024 11:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://vo.rs/tags/benjamin-christensen/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Häxan: The 1922 Documentary-Horror Hybrid</title><link>https://vo.rs/screen/haxan-the-1922-documentary-horror-hybrid/</link><description>&lt;p&gt;There is a moment near the start of &lt;em&gt;Häxan&lt;/em&gt; when the film seems to be a rather dry lantern-slide lecture. A pointer moves across medieval woodcuts. Intertitles cite sources. A scholarly voice, in effect, walks you through pre-modern cosmology and the machinery of the witch trial. And then, without warning, the lecture dissolves and the screen fills with something else entirely: a coven flying across a night sky, demons with lolling tongues, a Sabbath of the damned lining up to kiss the Devil&amp;rsquo;s backside, and the director himself, Benjamin Christensen, cavorting through it all as a leering, capering Satan. A hundred and two years old, and it still lurches from the seminar room into the nightmare with a force that most modern horror cannot manage.&lt;/p&gt;</description><pubDate>Thu, 11 Apr 2024 11:00:00 +0000</pubDate></item></channel></rss>