What was a loup-garou? Oh, well, it was the most terrible thing in the world. Sometimes it was a wolf, and sometimes it was a man, or a woman either, whichever it felt like in its wicked heart. And always it could take your heart out, and then you died, because you could not breathe without your heart.
—Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards, Marie (1894)
From deep within the murky bayous of Louisiana comes the legend of the dire lycanthropic creature known as the Rougarou. Rougaroux are found in French-speaking areas of North America such as Québec, but most particularly in Cajun Acadiana (in and around New Orleans), where its legend has proliferated from those of the werewolf-like loup-garou of medieval France—loup is the French word for wolf, and garou is a French word similar in meaning to werewolf. Cajun lore uses the terms loup-garou and rougarou interchangeably. A major difference between the Rougarou and the creature we more commonly think of as a werewolf is that the Rougarou has agency over its transformation, and maintains the consciousness and intelligence of its human form throughout that change. Continue reading →
Blood moon over the Big Easy
This is a good one. We see the return of both Papa Midnite (Michael James Shaw) and Detective Jim Corrigan (Emmett J Scanlan), and perhaps learn who Sister Cedella warned Constantine about—someone close to him who would betray him. This is the last of the thirteen episodes for this season, since NBC halted production last fall. There are unsourced rumors that the show might be moved over to SyFy (with the name Hellblazer), eliciting mixed reactions from fans. But nothing one way or another has been announced—we are hoping that no news is good news.
Based in part on Hellblazer #4, also titled “Waiting For The Man,” this is one of those episodes of occult detective shows that are often the most unsettling: those in which the monster is a human. Continue reading →
Laissez Les Mal Temps Rouler
A reeling drunk in a suit stumbles out of a bar and into a dark New Orleans alley for a slash. As he braces himself against a wall and does his business, a girl turns down the alley, and the man holds up a police badge—to make her more at ease about the presence of a micturating lush along her path, we assume. Suddenly a beautiful woman wearing a grey silk gown and matching surgical mask bumps into the girl. “Do you think I’m pretty?” the masked woman asks.
“No, I think you’re crazy” is the wrong answer—the masked woman slashes and stabs the girl with a huge pair of dressmaker’s shears. The cop turns and empties a full clip into the woman, but the bullets have no effect. The girl is dead, the woman is gone, and the cop is wigging. Continue reading →