After a misguided attempt at drag racing results in a fatal car accident, the only survivor is Mary (Candace Hilligoss), a young woman who manages to find her way out of the wreckage without so much as a scratch – although she isn’t quite sure herself how she managed to survive. She has grown disillusioned with her small town and sets off to Utah, where she will work in a small church as their resident organist. However, the moment she enters Salt Lake City, she finds herself feeling incredibly uneasy, almost as if she’s being watched. Her fears manifest in the form of a nameless ghoul (Herk Harvey), who begins to haunt her, following her around and terrorizing her without so much as saying a word. Mary assumes this is related to a local pavilion, which she finds out used to be a carnival before shutting down years before, with the enormous building standing abandoned, with all entry being strictly prohibited by the authorities, who seem to be aware of something happening there prior to its closure, but refuse to let the secret out. Mary, however, finds herself becoming drawn to the place, which occurs simultaneously to her loss of identity, where she goes through bouts of being seemingly invisible, which no one seems to be able to help her with when she is back to normal, many believing her to be gradually losing her mind, or traumatised from the effects of being in a near-deadly accident. However, Mary knows there is something else in the ether, with the souls of the carnival gradually encroaching on her life, both in her dreams and eventually in reality, almost as if they’re trying to beckon her forward into their world – but maybe she’s been part of it all along?

Carnival of Souls is an oddly inspiring film, which may be a bewildering way to describe a horror film, but it’s something I vehemently believe. Herk Harvey did something very special with this film – not only did he create one of the most mesmerizing horror films of its era, but helped contribute to the movement that promoted independent filmmaking as a feasible means of expression, particularly at a time when low-budget films were not nearly as vogue as they’d become later on. What is so motivating about Carnival of Souls is how Harvey made a film with limited resources, yet executed it in such a way that these constraints aren’t only inconsequential, they’re entirely obscured by the underlying brilliance of the film. It confirms my belief that in order for someone to make a great film, the size of your budget or the resources you’re given aren’t all that important, as long as one has the dedication to make something that gives them the chance to freely express themselves. Audiences will naturally be drawn to more mainstream fare, but there’s very little doubt that Harvey’s work here is just as impressive, if not even more remarkable, since it has the aura of a passion project, carefully constructed by a filmmaker armed with very little other than an audacious idea and a small, scrappy cast and crew, all of which were on his wavelength of creating something that might not be as detailed as other horror films, but is just as harrowing in both form and execution. It’s compelling viewing that is persistent in its attempts to not only be outright terrifying, but also give the audience something to remember, which is amongst the reasons why it isn’t difficult to consider Carnival of Souls one of the pinnacle horror films of this era, and a work that inadvertently inspired numerous future films, with traces of this film being found in so many subsequent works of psychological horror.

The key to a great film, as evident by this one, is authenticity, and they don’t get much more genuine than Carnival of Souls, which functions as one of the most effective horror films of the 1960s, and a work that feels as if it was meticulously crafted from the actual idea of terror, rather than the other way around, as is the case with many other films at the time. The film does bear the traces of many independent horror films but is one of the rare cases where these qualities are used effectively and contribute to the general sense of unease and despair that pervades throughout the narrative. From the first moment, Carnival of Souls sets the audience up to fear the worst – Harvey isn’t interested in easing us into this story, and while there is the necessary exposition that places us in the centre of the story, it doesn’t take up too much space, with the director getting to the point almost immediately. It has a sense of being simultaneously hollow and haunting, where the bare, direct portrayal of this story intertwines with the harrowing sense of horror that pulsates throughout it, setting us right on the edge and keeping us there for the duration of the film. Carnival of Souls never abates – it may not be entirely dour, as there are some much-needed moments of levity that situate it within the real world (since many independent horror films take on a very surreal atmosphere without trying to give the audience the chance to connect with something on a fundamental level), which only makes the moments of terror all the more effective. Like its more well-known counterparts, the film is designed to draw the viewer in, making us feel a sense of comfort before striking with the unhinged horror, which will leave even the most acclimated audiences shocked, gasping for some relief, which Harvey does seem to provide, albeit only momentarily, before putting us back in the epicentre of this horrifying, hypnotic world he created, where nothing is quite what it seems.

The fact that Carnival of Souls is the only feature film Harvey directed is quite a disappointment because he demonstrated a raw brilliance that not many filmmakers can attest to having when making their first films. From the foundational level of the story to the haunting images and sounds that come through its execution, Carnival of Souls is a work of unmitigated genius, crafted by a filmmaker who somehow possessed both the deranged artistry to create something so unique and the incredible restraint to prevent it from falling victim to its own audacity, which is often quite a notable shortcoming for horror films that situate themselves outside of the mainstream. This is a tremendous forerunner to suspense-driven horror films, where the focus isn’t on monsters or otherworldly beings, but rather the most terrifying of all concepts – the human imagination. The film never quite makes its intentions particularly clear – we aren’t sure of whether Mary is a ghost, or if she’s a woman suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after being in a car accident (although the ending does attempt to resolve it), and this use of allegory can be seen as a great example of the sub-genre of more theme-based horror, one where the fear comes from within. Mary is a woman who is on the verge of a breakdown – she is terrorized by mysterious, haunting visions that drive her to insanity, but everyone around her believes that she’s just losing her mind as a result of some unresolved issues. This creates the space for Harvey to use the story to give insights into the psychology of the character, exploring her fragile state in a way that keeps the audience guessing, but without distracting from the general tone of the film. Its ability to avoid cheap tricks and instead for a more atmospheric kind of horror is incredible and makes for a thoroughly compelling work of early independent horror.

Carnival of Souls the kind of horror film that comes around once in a lifetime, and it is unquestionable that it is as terrifying today as it was at the time of its release, which has been well-documented as being a major disappointment. However, it’s not surprising that Carnival of Souls has flourished into one of the defining entries into the canon of independent horror films, since it has everything that goes into the making of a cult classic – a style that is very much ahead of its time, a brooding and insightful story that avoids conventions and instead stands on its own merits, and originality, which works together with the director’s steadfast vision, to make this film a fully-encapsulating affair that embodies the idea of sheer independence, being built from a few fragmented ideas that are carefully moulded into a compelling story of trauma, identity and existential despair, which is then portrayed on screen in a way that is enriching and fascinating but also terrifying us through simple implication. The images are often horrifying, with Harvey’s surreal style being a fantastic fit for this film, and the aesthetic, drawn from monetary constraints, serves the entire project very well, giving it a distinct sense of foreboding that creeps closer the more we become enveloped by this film. Carnival of Souls is an incredible experience, and its status as one of the finest cult horror films ever made is not unearned – for audiences and the industry alike, Herk Harvey made a revolutionary film, even if he may not have been aware of it at the time, which only makes the experience of seeing this film all the more invigorating.