Monday, January 5, 2015

"of the wants, of Tarrare."



From The London Medical and Physical Journal (Oxford University) 1819. p. 204
Read the full text on Google Books.  The account of Tarrare begins on p. 203.

He could eat a meal for 15 laborers.  He ate live snakes and dead bodies.

He may have consumed a living child.

Welcome to our first Matter-of-Fact Monday!  The day of the week where everything we talk about is true!  Or at least based in reality of some sort.  While the rest of the blog is dedicated to creative work in our favorite genre, you can always rest assured that Mondays will give you a dose of true-life horror.  So, let's get on with learning about one of the most bizarre and creepy individuals ever to wander through France.

There are many articles dedicated to the man known as Tarrare.  Most begin with his humble birth in the French countryside around 1772.  Then they cover his stints as a travelling geek, swallowing corks, rocks, and live animals as the warm-up act to a "charlatan".  And there was his brief service as a spy for the French Revolutionary Army (they made him swallow messages, of course).  But most stories about Tarrare focus on one thing: his insatiable hunger.

What more can I add?

Other authors state the facts clearly and simply, as if to emphasize the reality of the account.  Which isn't really a bad idea, considering that the story of Tarrare is so deeply unbelievable.  The mind cringes away from it, dismisses it as a work of macabre fiction.  It can't possibly be true.  But M. le Baron Percy, Tarrare's doctor and author of the account, was a well-respected military doctor of the time.  An overview of his other reports show that he was not given to flights of fancy.  If Tarrare was a hoax, it would be quite out of character for M. Percy to perpetrate such a thing.  This leaves us with an uncomfortable notion.

Tarrare was real.

My intent is to do the opposite of these previous articles.  Where Wikipedia and the beloved Fortean Times treat Tarrare as a curiosity, albeit a disgusting one, I plan to retell the tale of Tarrare in all its horrible glory.  Tarrare was hideous and scary.  Understatement may inspire respectability and a slow-burn sort of dread.  There is an argument to be made for rendering Tarrare as a sympathic, human oddity.

But, remember, he probably ate a child.



Let's begin with how he looked, his physical existence.

Tarrare was a medium-sized man, perhaps 5'6", slender and meek.  It is said that he was "almost devoid of force or ideas."  Save eating, of course.  At the age of 17, even after years of gluttony, he weighed only 100 pounds.  He was balding: "the little hair he had preserved, although very young, was very fair and extremely fine."  His teeth were streaked "like marble."  His cheeks were sunken, wrinkled, and hung limp from his face.  This was a direct result of Tarrare's ability to open his mouth and fill it with a dozen eggs or apples at a time.  His lips were barely visible, but his mouth was very wide.

Tarrare could open his mouth so wide, in fact, that a cylinder a foot around in circumference could be placed inside without touching the roof of his palate.

At his autopsy, it was found that when Tarrare's head was tilted back, a straight canal was formed down his enlarged esophagus directly to his stomach.  The doctors were able to look in his mouth, down a tunnel of flesh the width of a softball, and see his stomach.

Tarrare's stomach was capable of distending to such a massive, bloated form, that when he was not full of food, the skin of his abdomen fell saggy.  There was such an excess of it that he could wrap the flap of skin most of the way around his body.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself that Tarrare may have been a sufferer of any number of syndromes that attack the connective tissue in the body.  He must have had a genetic defect that caused his joints, skin, and tissues to stretch and unhinge in such a manner.  But, no.  According to the account, Tarrare had no loosened skin, no joint-trouble, no sprains or unusual flexibility, aside from those related to his constant eating.  His mouth, jaw, esophagus, and distended stomach were the result, not of a medical abnormality, but of constant strain and stretching.

But the disturbing truth of Tarrare's body doesn't end there.

He constantly sweated and was burning-hot to the touch.  Tarrare literally steamed.  M. Percy, his doctor, described that from Tarrare "a vapour arose, sensible to the sight, and still more so to the smell."  In fact, Tarrare smelled so bad that people had a hard time getting within twenty paces of him.  His excrement was described as "fetid beyond all conception."

And the stinking vapour got worse after he'd fed.  During his rare times of extreme satiation, Tarrare's eyes would turn a vivid, blood-shot red, his cheeks would flush, and he would fall into a deep sleep to digest.  He would burp and move his jaw in chewing-swallowing motion, though M. Percy found no signs of actual rumination.

That's what Tarrare was.  Now, let's look at what he did.



Tarrare is known to have consumed the following:

-A quarter of a bullock in a day.
-stones
-corks
-a basket full of apples (basket included)
-a pocket watch and chain
-flints
-four bowls of curdled milk and two enormous hard puddings (the dinner for 15 German laborers)
-quadruple military rations
-kitchen trash
-other people's leftovers
-small boxes containing military messages.
-a golden fork

Not so bad.  Typical side-show fare.  But wait, there's more!

-dogs
-living cats
-living snakes
-a living large eel without chewing (though he crushed its head in his molars)
-thirty pounds of raw liver and candles
-offal from slaughterhouses (he fought wild dogs over his findings)
-thirty pounds of raw beef lungs

So he liked his meat raw and kind of rotting... so?

Well, let's mention the things he consumed during his stay at M. Percy's hospital.

When he first arrived at a military hospital in Soultz, he ate 4 meals himself, the other patients leftovers, kitchen scraps, and turned to the apothecary's room.  Therein he ate all the poultices.  Poultices being a moistened, mashed mixture of plants, flowers, flour, mud, ash, or other ingredients.

Tarrare was later found sipping from bowls of blood from blood-letting patients.  The staff surprised him in the midst of his consumption and sent him back to his room.

Later, they found Tarrare in the morgue, eating parts of dead, rotting bodies.

He was allowed to wander the halls of the hospital at night, breaking into offices, sneaking into rooms to lap at half-coagulated bowls of diseased blood.  He crept into the morgue to eat corpses.

The last straw was when a 14-month-old child went missing.  Many accounts describe the victim as either a baby or, as I just did, a 14 month old.  But this misses the point.  Children routinely learn to walk by twelve months old, a year that is.  This was not a small, ten-pound swaddled baby, or a collection of months.  This was a toddler.  Sure, someone may have kidnapped the child, or it may have wandered out on its own.  But the staff immediately suspected Tarrare and threw him out as a result.  We do not know for sure, and the thought is beyond real conception.  But it's possible.

Tarrare ate a toddler.

A child that was heavy and could thrash its limbs about.  A child that was learning to talk.  A child that may have tried to run.

In a stroke of irony, Tarrare died at 26 from consumption (tuberculosis) and diarrhea.  Doctors had to work quickly as a strange corruption instantly began to decompose his body at an accelerated rate. When they autopsied his body they found his intestines were putrefied, tangled, and oozed pus.  His liver and gallbladder were enlarged and putrid.  His stomach was covered with ulcers and filled almost all of his abdominal cavity.  This was all they found, as the stench of his body rendered the doctors unable to continue.

Tarrare was a man made to consume.  He ate so much it warped his body into little more than bones surrounding a gullet and stomach.  He was a gaping mouth that swallowed contagion, rot, and living creatures.

"Let a person imagine," said M. Percy, "all that domestic and wild animals, the most filthy and ravenous, are capable of devouring, and they may form some idea of the appetite, as well as of the wants, of Tarrare."

-Joanna

P.S. Special Thanks to Caitlin.

Friday, January 2, 2015

The Taking of Deborah Logan - Movie Review


The Taking of Deborah Logan
Released 2014
Directed by Adam Robitel
Spoiler-Free!

Found-footage possession?  Again?  How can anyone possibly squeeze a passable movie out of such a threadbare formula?  Well, when you cast a jaw-dropping (hee, hee) mature actress as your lead, and make it uncomfortably about Alzheimer's, it's not so hard.

The Taking of Deborah Logan first got my attention not via pitch or preview, but when a friend of mine showed me some of the most puzzling and horrifying gifs I've ever seen on tumblr.  Now, I know tumblr gifs aren't the best way to start a story, but they definitely piqued the interest of the room, and we all set out on a quest to figure out: WHAT IS THAT FROM?  A found-footage movie from 2014, apparently.

What made me rearrange the schedule for horror-movie night, putting Deborah Logan at the top, was a look at the premise.  Deborah Logan is an aging woman from rural Virginia and reluctant subject of a documentary about Alzheimer's and the psychological toll it takes on those who care for Alzheimer's patients.  Naturally, the film spirals out of control as Deborah deteriorates into madness, self-mutilation, and violence.  As the documentary crew dig into Deborah's past as the town's switchboard operator, they uncover a series of grizzly unsolved murders.  Four girls were brutalized, and the suspected killer disappeared.  Deborah knows something, but the secrets are mixed in a snarl of delusion about serpents, rituals, and devil-worship.

The reason you should watch Deborah Logan is not for the mind-bending effects near the end, or the gleeful turn towards traditional possession-horror it takes half-way through, you should watch it for Deborah Logan herself.  You should watch it for how uncomfortable it will make you about dementia.  You should watch it for the well-developed, unique characters, how they relate to one another, and how their choices are remarkably, frustratingly human.  You should watch it for the humble sense of humor the movie has about itself.

I'm not ashamed to say that the first half of Deborah Logan made me yelp for my husband to join me on the couch.  I needed someone to snuggle.  It's deliciously creepy.  Full of long, silent, spooky scenes that don't necessarily end in jump scares.  In fact, the movie makes a habit of not scaring you- precisely so that the suspense is never adequately released.  I ended up watching perfectly innocuous character-development scenes set in broad daylight with a sense of dread and apprehension.

Jill Larson (aka Deborah herself), gives such an incredible performance, it's... difficult to do justice to with words.  She transforms herself from a polite, Southern lady you could easily mistake for one of your relatives, to a raving, naked, dangerous monster.  Her physical acting, in sculpting her facial expressions, body language, and voice, is astonishing and richly delivered.  She is the warping, glimmering, bleeding heart and dark soul of this movie.


Ask her what happened to her neck.

Honestly, around the hour mark when the crew discovers the mystery of Henri Desjardins, the French Satanist who may well be possessing Deborah from beyond the grave, I was relieved.  The movie's steady and exciting pace drives it along as its content veers hard right into classical possession territory.  From there, it's a satisfyingly familiar horror romp through forests, abandoned mills, and twisting cave passages.  It's filled with scaly nightmares and heroism.

But before that right turn, Deborah Logan can be very hard to watch from an emotional standpoint.  The desperate gallows humor of Deborah's daughter as she drenches her exhaustion and pain with alcohol; the way Deborah's hair becomes lank and dirty; the manner in which her deterioration is all too familiar to anyone acquainted with Alzheimer's or mental illness.  And that's what sets The Taking of Deborah Logan apart in my mind: the fact that it made me cry before it made me jump.

Or, if you're unmoved by that sort of thing, Deborah Logan is a movie full of subtle and astounding makeup effects, chilling ambiance, a diverse cast, and strong female characters.  It's got venom-spitting, child endangerment, electrocutions, dirt-vomit, and more old-lady rump than you'd probably ever put in your own horror movie.  And then, when you get to the part at the end that inspired those tumblr gifs, your mind will reel and refuse to process what you're seeing.

Deborah Logan isn't without its flaws, of course.  It's not a "pure" found-footage movie, as it frequently pipes in spoopy ambient booms and roars ala Paranormal Activity.  The shaky-cam near the end nauseated me (literally- I get carsick easy).  The plot is predictable and follows the genre formula to a tee.

But, just like a really good plate of spaghetti, Deborah Logan makes up for its over-done recipe with tons of flavor and excellent execution.  Sure, you may have chowed through any number of mediocre bowls of mushy pasta and bland sauce, but when a spicy, meaty, perfectly al dente plate is put in front of you, are you sure you don't want to take just the tiniest bite?

-Joanna

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Upcoming Relaunch!

Hello dear readers,

If you're new to our blog, welcome!  Here you'll find the best in creepy, strange, and horrific content chopped up into pleasantly-sized articles.  All written by two lovely ladies.  Sisters, in fact.

This blog has fallen quiet for some time.  We've been revamping and preparing for the most stupendous of relaunches.

Here's what you can expect from the new and improved Hand Of Jessee:

  • A regular posting schedule:  Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays at 8:00 p.m. EST.
  • More in-depth discussion and intensive research.  We delve beyond the link dump.
  • High quality reviews of work spanning all mediums.  Books, music, art, theatre, games, and more.  If it's strange or horrific, we'll write about it.
  • Weekly movie reviews.  There's a lot of scary movies out there, y'all.
We've also decided to divide our content into three categories, organized by day.
  • Matter-of-Fact Mondays feature articles about strange, mysterious, and disturbing phenomenon based in the real world.  Portraits of serial killers, missing persons, bizarre animals, and tales that have a basis in fact will be shared at the start of the week.  Even if the content strays into madness or unreliable witnesses, one fact remains: someone believes in it.  Nonfiction, in other words.
  • Spooky Wednesdays feature critiques and cheers for all creative works of horror.  From book and game reviews to critiques of fine art, this is the day to revel in our favorite genre.
  • Film Review Fridays feature all the movie reviews we inevitably write. Considering the plethora of films we devour, movie reviews need their own day so we can talk about other works in horror at all, ever.  Spoilers optional, but clearly noted.
Make sure to follow us via email, or G+ for all the latest.

Have a Spooky New Year!

Sunday, September 22, 2013

TOP FIVE TWO SENTENCE CREEPYPASTA

It is a large trend lately on YouTube for videos to have what they call "temporary art" or just simply "dry erase art" and though it is widely overused, I STILL LIKE IT!  So this video gets bonus points from me.

Thoughts on the effectiveness of short creepypasta?  Some are contrived, but some have just the right amount of ambiguity and succinctness to leave you wondering and intrigued.




My favorite from the video above is #2.

Another good one I have heard that is not featured in the video above is:
"The last man on Earth sat alone in a room.  There was a knock on the door..."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knock_(short_story)

-Amanda

This post dragged from the archive by popular demand.  Enjoy!  More creepypasta posts on the horizon.

-Joanna 2/18/15