Psychedelic Terror and Vinyl Horror: A Review of ‘Pater Noster and the Mission of Light’!
Occasionally, you stumble across something really special. You sense its rumbling power of entertainment just by watching the first minute or so, and it builds rapidly. It has a great set of characters, a marvellous story, plus all the quirky oddball bits that jumble together to create a modern underground gem. Pater Noster and the Mission of Light is that film.
Pater Noster and the Mission of Light is a gorgeous film for those of us who love the unique, and those of us who love rummaging around in record stores/junk shops/carboot sales and such — oh yeah, and for those among us who adores blood gushes!
Adara Starr plays Max, a bouncy girl who works at your classic vinyl store. She’s happy all the time, even whilst dealing with ridiculous questions and blatant sexism from customers. Adara is a star in the making. Max should be irritating and under your skin itchy, but she isn’t. You understand her, especially when a regular bloke brings in a record that she’s been hunting — a release so rare it commands a thousand dollars. He is totally unaware of this, so gladly accepts $50 store credit. Unable to convince her boss to sell it to her cheap, she manages to find out where he bought it — a thrift shop where there’s actually a stack of ‘em just waiting for Max’s gleeful hands to caress over them.
Max buys each copy for a dollar each. It turns out the makers of the record used to inhabit the thrift shop decades ago. Max leaves her number just in case any more arrive. So, what exactly is the record? A hippy commune calling themselves, Pater Noster and the Mission of Light. Flash back to a pre-credits scene and there’s a wild cult mob circling one of their people who sits speaking deeply to them, “The dragon flower is wilting!” and the premonition that a female will be called to them.
Max and her housemate, Abby, play one of the LPs. Electronics, rock, cosmic jazz, it’s trippy and quite soothing. It’s a combination of Hawkwind, Marillion, and Black Sabbath. Abby decides they need to smoke some shit, get high as fuck, and totally get absorbed in the sounds. Almost instantly, Max is receiving flashes of images from dancing hippies to water, then blood and slaughter — herself being part of it (most of these images would make amazing album covers). She lifts the needle. Abby is annoyed, so she puts it back on. “What’s in this weed?” Max asks. “Just normal weed.” shrugs Abby.
As they get deeper, they discuss how the music is transcendent, “From another planet,” grins Abby. “This music is drugs; we don’t need this.” she stubs the spliff out. Max explains there’s a missing fifth album, only a small handful exist in the world. Apparently, those who own it have never even uploaded any of the tracks. “With your luck,” Abby smiles, “It’ll turn up.“
Pater Noster and the Mission of Light is the music version of John Carpenter’s, Cigarette Burns, and it bleeds passion. Here is a quick story interlude before continuing onwards. Many decades ago, in a record store at the top of my road (the same one mentioned in my recent Maniac Neil interview (see Gore, Grind, and Guts: An Exclusive Interview with Maniac Neil here), the owner and I were chatting about strange obscure vinyl (keep in mind in the realm of CDs and downloads, only the tip of the iceberg has been dug into). He produced a 12″ white label in a plain sleeve from the back. No name, nothing. He purchased it among a stack of old metal LPs. ‘Have a listen to this.’ There wasn’t any music, just a woman screaming incantations at the top of her lungs, then snarling words — none of these were in English so neither of us had a clue what the hell was going on. It sounded like a ritual. He switched it off after a minute or so and refused to sell it to me. Gutted.
Anyhow, no sooner has Max said, “I’d kill to get a copy!” that the phone rings and it’s a representative from the Mission of Light, who sounds sinister. She says she’s a fan and listening to one of their releases. He says it’s rare that anyone takes an interest in their earlier recordings and will be in touch to arrange a meeting. Back at work, she learns that the copy the dude brought in has sold to the drummer of a local death metal band. They all go to watch the band (note a serious faced, bearded, middle-aged fella is watching her from across the room) and afterwards Max discusses Pater with the drummer, Jay, who convinces her to allow him and her work colleagues back to her home to hear the records.
Whilst their chilling out, Max says her grandad got her into collecting. “He used to say, people come and go, but music is forever.” Jay mentions a controversy back in the ‘70s which caused the group to disband. Something about murders. He’s obsessed by the music so has studied as much as possible on them. One source of information comes from a radio DJ, Dennis Waverley (played by Lost Boys saxophone man, Tim Cappello) who regularly discusses and takes calls about any music related horror tale. Jay calls in, and says his friend has all their albums. Dennis asks about the rare one, he says all but that. The DJ explains that it’s a cursed album, prior owners have been rumoured to have met with terrible endings.
Once Jay states that the cult has contacted Max, Dennis asks to speak to her. He breaks down exactly who the group were, what they did, why they disappeared. No one has had contact with any of them since the seventies. As he cuts to commercials, he speaks privately to her, warning her of a few things. The mysterious caller rings her and says a car will pick her up the next morning. The whole gang want to go with her.
That morning, they are ordered to be blindfolded for the journey, and they all meet the aged survivors of the hippy commune. Everything seems nice enough, but as we know, this is going to go full on Lords of Salem at any moment…
Pater Noster and the Mission of Light is a perfect cult movie. It’s got a steady balance of horror and gore, timed and built bit by bit throughout — plus a healthy dose of natural comedy to begin with. The main cast are likeable, and the commune genuinely creepy. I had an awful feeling inside my bones that the conclusion would be rather damp, yet I was stunned that the film ends remarkably well. Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker for the ‘70s cults plus all out violence and music.
Gorehounds must be patient because the crimson stuff arrives in the final acts and punches you fully in the face. Taking inspiration (perhaps) from Mandy, but especially a shit-ton of psychedelic nightmares from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s cinema, the film goes way out by then. The effects are courtesy of a team featuring Joe (Bonehill Road, Terror Toons) Castro and Sean Krumbholz of Halloween Ends.
Christopher Bickell has truly formulated something very special with this. And the soundtrack is sublime (also by Chris). In fact, he’s done most of the tasks associated with making a film. He deserves to see his baby become a monster cult (hehe) hit. I can imagine the band, Church of the Cosmic Skull being part of a future sequel, by the way.
Look out for an additional documentary on the cult doing their thing back in the 1970s.
Here’s a trailer to the flick.
Directed by: Christopher Bickel
Written by: Christopher Bickel
Produced by: Christopher Bickel, William Collier-Byrd, Gina Ercolini, Avery Guerra, Dan Michael Jedrejczyk, Kevin Jennings, Stephan Jensen, Cleve Langdale, Duane Litzau, Sean McCrossin, Steven Prouse, Brendan Thompson, Scott Wattles
Cinematography by: Christopher Bickel
Music by: Christopher Bickel
Edited by: Christopher Bickel
Special Effects by: Joe Castro, Lisa Ashworth, Hayden Bogan, Sean Krumbholz
Cast: Adara Starr, Mike Amason, Joshua R. Outzen, Tim Cappello, Sanethia Dresch, Morgan Shaley Renew, Shelby Lois Guinn
Year: 2024
Country: USA
Language: English
Colour: Colour
Runtime: 1h 36min
Studio: Films Colacitta