[page 69] Abstract: Nightbreed (1990), the film adaptation of Clive Barker’s Cabal, has emerged from a critically panned failure at its release to the status of a legitimate cult film. However, re-examining the film today, based on the importance of folklore to the plot, the rural setting, the monstrous and othered community, and the inclusion of ritual and sacrifice, it is elevated to the level of folk horror. It follows in the tradition of foundational folk horror films like The Wicker Man (1973) and The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) by employing a rural setting to hide a monstrous, othered community that possesses its own secret lore. It echoes themes and issues in recent folk horror fare, particularly explorations of ancient rites and belief systems, in films like The Witch (2015) and Midsommar (2019). Recontextualizing Nightbreed as a folk horror film illustrates that many genre-specific elements were overlooked upon its original release, positioning it alongside other prominent works in the genre.
Keywords: Boone, Cabal, Clive Barker, Folk Horror, Midian, Nightbreed
Nightbreed (1990), the film adaptation of Clive Barker’s 1988 novella Cabal, has emerged from a critically panned failure at its release to establish itself as a legitimate classic film of its era. In a review shortly after its release, Richard Harrington says that the conflict between the Nightbreed and the authorities who wish to destroy them is “a compelling paradox, but in the film, it’s reduced to physical confrontations between stupid monsters wearing uniforms and sensitive humans wearing bizarre makeup.” Studio interference and a misguided marketing campaign that tried to position it as a slasher film marred the 102-minute theatrical release (Bilson 210). It has gained renewed attention due to the release of The Cabal Cut in 2012. For this release, film scholar Russell Cherrington added 57 minutes to the original studio release, incorporating [page 70] scenes from various workprints. The Cabal Cut paved the way for Barker to release his Director’s Cut in 2014. At least seven versions of The Cabal Cut existed before an official, limited Blu-ray release in 2017 (Danhauser). Not to be outdone, The Ultimate Cabal Cut, an unofficial release with a runtime of 3 hours and 19 minutes, surfaced on YouTube in 2021. As this cursory history of Nightbreed illustrates, there is renewed interest in the film even thirty-five years after its release. Reading Nightbreed with attention to the importance of folklore to the plot, the rural setting, a monstrous othered community, and the inclusion of ritual and sacrifice allows viewers to consider the film as folk horror and contextualize it with other films in the genre, allowing for its evolution from a failed slasher film into a legitimate folk horror classic.
Because of the numerous versions of the film, some of which were only available during brief limited releases, summarizing the definitive events of Nightbreed can be challenging—as Mikel J. Koven states, “With the video release of many ‘directors’ cuts’ and ‘restored versions,’ these ‘fixed’ texts demonstrate a high degree of variation” (185). While Nightbreed: The Ultimate Cabal Cut is the most complete version of the film, Nightbreed: The Director’s Cut is the most recent official release and has Barker’s approval. It focuses on Aaron Boone (Craig Sheffer), a troubled young man haunted by dreams of Midian, an underground sanctuary for generally peaceful monsters who wish to be left alone. He meets with a therapist, Dr. Phillip Decker (David Cronenberg), a serial killer responsible for several murders in the Calgary, Alberta, area. To cover up his guilt, Decker convinces Boone that he is responsible for these crimes, leading Boone to attempt suicide. Failing and ending up in a local hospital, Boone overhears the ranting of a fellow patient, which sends him on a search for Midian. There, he encounters two of the Nightbreed, the monstrous-appearing inhabitants, one of whom, Peloquin (Oliver Parker), bites him. The police, whom Decker leads to Midian, gun down Boone, killing him. In the morgue, Boone [page 71] resurrects because of Peloquin’s bite and returns to Midian to join the underground community.
Decker follows Boone’s girlfriend, Lori Winston (Anne Bobby), and uses her as bait to force Boone out of hiding. Lori’s presence and Boone’s desire to help her expose the Nightbreed and make them vulnerable. Decker uses the threat of Boone and the inherent differences of the Nightbreed to inspire local law enforcement to infiltrate and destroy Midian. Before its destruction, Boone communes with the god of the Nightbreed, Baphomet, who christens him Cabal and charges him with finding a new home for all of the tribes of Nightbreed. The statue of the god is disassembled and carried off by the survivors. Lori stabs herself, forcing Boone to turn her into one of the Nightbreed, fulfilling a prophecy depicted on the walls of Midian. Boone is simultaneously responsible for the destruction of Midian and its continued existence.
Folk Horror, Folklore, and the Folkloresque
In defining Nightbreed as part of the folk horror subgenre, the first task is determining what constitutes folk horror. Adam Scovell states that “the term’s fluctuating emphasis makes it difficult to pin down outside a handful of popular examples” (“Where to Begin”). One element widely agreed upon is that a trio of films, Witchfinder General (Michael Reeves, 1968), The Blood on Satan’s Claw (Piers Haggard, 1971), and The Wicker Man (Robin Hardy, 1973), referred to as the Unholy Trinity, represent the basis of the subgenre. The term folk horror itself, however, has a controversial history. Though a 2010 interview with director of The Blood on Satan’s Claw Piers Haggard is often cited as the origin of the phrase, Dawn Keetley points out that the term was applied to the same film as early as 1970 (1). Scovell states that folk horror is “a work that uses folklore, either aesthetically or thematically, to imbue itself with a sense of the arcane for eerie, uncanny or horrific purposes” (Folk Horror 7). Nightbreed does this, but arguably, so do many works of horror. For example, Candyman (Bernard Rose, [page 72] 1992), based on Barker’s story “The Forbidden” (1985) follows a Chicago graduate student (Virginia Madsen) researching “an urban legend circulating in the notorious Cabrini-Green housing project that proves to have a terrifying supernatural reality” (Leeder 73). Candyman draws its inspiration from prominent urban legends such as “Bloody Mary” and “The Hook,” combining characteristics from each tale to create the uniquely disturbing Candyman. Though based on folklore, Candyman lacks some of the aesthetic elements associated with the genre. Keetley identifies four critical aspects of folk horror that help classify Nightbreed as a work of folk horror: the importance of folklore to the narrative (3-4); the landscape, which is often rural (6); a monstrous tribe of others (10-11); and some form of ritual or sacrifice (15). These issues lift Nighbreed out of the slasher realm and place it in the context of folk horror.
As folk horror gains popularity and critical attention, many definitions have been introduced. Matilda Groves shares one definition of folk horror that encompasses prominent aspects found in Nightbreed:
Folk horror is tragedy where the characters play out a narrative where someone or something within the setting – rural or otherwise – is either out of character with the people, out of place with the people, or out of time with the people. Folk horror is the tragedy of a protagonist being displaced within an environment and thus encompassing the horror of being “other.”
As fitting as this definition is to situate Nightbreed as folk horror, it still leaves out one of the most critical components: what is folklore, and which elements are essential for a work to be considered folk horror? In addressing this question, the definitions provided by Scovell and Groves and the four elements of folk horror will be considered. Situating Nightbreed alongside other prominent folk horror films is essential to illustrate how it follows the conventions of the genre. [page 73]
Because a film contains elements of folklore and is horror, is it fair to call that film folk horror? The answer to that fundamental question is unclear, but it is one that scholars are examining. Diane A. Rodgers states that “Acknowledging folklore as central to folk horror, however—how it evolves and is communicated by mass media—is something that folklorists and screen studies scholars are only just beginning to explore” (57, italics in original). Therefore, researchers need to consider the importance of folklore to the narrative. Complicating matters, as folklorist Lynne S. McNeill points out, “Folklorists have spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to define the term” (2). She defines it simply as “informal, traditional culture” but indicates that folklore comprises many elements, including different variations and various modes of informal transmission (13). As succinct as this definition is, it gets to the core problem of classifying any film, including Nightbreed, as folklore. As a commercially produced film based on a published story by a prominent author, Nightbreed was not created or spread via informal channels, such as word of mouth. Instead, it falls into the realm of the folkloresque, defined as follows:
Simply put, the folkloresque is popular culture’s own (emic) perception and performance of folklore. That is, it refers to creative, often commercial products or texts . . . that give the impression to the consumer . . . that they derive directly from existing folkloric traditions. However, a folkloresque product is rarely based on any single vernacular item or tradition; usually it has been consciously cobbled together from a range of folkloric elements, often mixed with newly created elements, to appear as if it emerged organically from a specific source. (Foster 5)
Based on this definition, even the Unholy Trinity of films would be considered folkloresque. However, as both Scovell and Groves illustrate, folk horror as a collective concept is more than just the amalgamation of two words. Just because [page 74] a film can be considered folklore, or folkloresque and horror, does not make it folk horror. Part of what makes Nightbreed folkloresque is its fairy tale structure, the presence of monsters, and the centrality of oral traditions to the narrative.
According to Pauline Greenhill and Sidney Eve Matrix, “Fairy tales are fictional narratives that combine human and non-human protagonists with elements of wonder and the supernatural. They come in traditional (usually collected from oral tellers) or literary (formally composed and written) forms” (1). Viewing Nightbreed as a fairy tale that contains monsters, the supernatural, and moral lessons reflects Barker’s intentions: “‘Nightbreed is my attempt at making a fairytale which is completely on the side of the demons’” (qtd. in Wells 179). Indeed, many fairy tales prominently feature monsters— the big bad wolf, giants, and ogres immediately come to mind. And monster legends have existed for centuries, “dating at least as far back to Pliny the Elder (AD 23-79) who wrote in his Natural History of monsters populating faraway lands and the edges of civilization” (Puglia 3). Monsters, both literal and figurative, are central to Nightbreed. The Nightbreed may be physically monstrous, but as Gary Hoppenstand indicates in his discussion of Cabal, “Barker suggests to us in his writing that monsters are not necessarily evil. Rather, they are to be admired since they are one step closer to true divinity than we are” (16). In Cabal and its adaptation, Nightbreed, the real monsters are the humans.
Though Decker is a monstrous villain in his own right, responsible for the deaths of several individuals, the mob that attacks and destroys Midian causes far more death and destruction. These events support Keetley’s notion: “To say the ‘monster’ of folk horror is a ‘tribe’ is to say that it is neither a lone individual nor a family” (11). Barker subverts audience expectations—he presents the Nightbreed as a familial group, highlighted by the mother-daughter relationship of two of the Nightbreed, Rachel (Catherine Chevalier) and the child Babette (Nina Robertson). Though most of the Nightbreed [page 75] exhibit no familiar relationship with one another, they function, in many ways, like a communal family—they live together, eat together, and worship together. They are under attack by an angry human mob representing a monstrous tribe that Keetley argues “is one of the most definitive characteristics of folk horror” (10-11). Whipped into a frenzy by Decker and Captain Eigerman (Charles Haid), an overzealous police officer whose inner monstrosity far outpaces that of the Nightbreed, the mob becomes the central villain of the film’s final act.
However, the fairy tale structure and presence of monsters are not the only elements that help contextualize Nightbreed as folklore. Perhaps the most folkloric component depicted in Nightbreed is Boone’s attraction to Midian, which he dreams of and then hears about from the ravings of a fellow patient. Without clear directions, Boone finds Midian and its inhabitants based on the oral transmission of an apocryphal tale. By searching for and finding Midian, Boone engages in what folklorists call a legend-trip, defined by Michael Kinsella as
involv[ing] a journey to a specific location and/or the performance of certain prescribed actions that, according to local legend, have the potential to elicit a supernatural experience. Legend-tripping begins with the telling of one or more legends usually identifying a particular location as haunted or outlining a method with which to conjure supernatural powers. (28)
The specific location is Midian, hidden underneath a remote cemetery. Even though residents have heard of it, they leave it and its inhabitants alone. The outsiders—Boone, Lori, and the mob—function as invaders. When Peloquin bites Boone, supernatural powers are conjured, making him immortal. Boone’s journey to Midian portrays a legend-trip based on local legends. Unfortunately for the Nightbreed, Boone’s successful legend-trip brings the real monsters to Midian, destroying it. Folklore is a crucial element in Nightbreed. With its fantastical setting, the film functions as a fairy tale, with [page 76] Boone representing the hero undergoing a meaningful transformation and Lori often fulfilling the stereotypical role of a damsel in distress. The presence of monsters, essential to many fairy tale narratives, takes center stage in Nightbreed. Boone’s journey begins as a legend trip, then evolves into prophecy fulfillment.
Isolated Rural Setting
The isolated, rural setting is a hallmark of many folk horror films: ‘Such narratives are often presented on screen within pastoral settings and remote communities” (Rodgers 57). Prominent films such as The Wicker Man, which is part of the Unholy Trinity, and Midsommar (Ari Aster, 2019), which follows in The Wicker Man’s footsteps, focus on protagonists who stumble upon a community of folk who have isolated themselves in secluded rural areas. Kieran Fisher states,
Folk horror is concerned with characters and communities who are located out of the way of urban environments. As such, they have developed their own skewed belief systems, which results in violent and twisted acts being carried out on the unfortunate victims who find themselves caught up in the madness.
In The Wicker Man, Police Sergeant Neil Howie (Edward Woodward) finds this out firsthand as he travels to a remote island, Summerisle, to investigate a young girl’s disappearance. Eventually, Howie is lured into the giant effigy of a wicker man and burned alive, serving as a pagan sacrifice. Midsommar follows the same premise but with a different outcome. Dani Ardor (Florence Pugh) and her boyfriend, Christian Hughes (Jack Reynor), travel to Hälsingland in rural Sweden to attend a summer celebration. Like The Wicker Man’s Howie, Christian is one of the group’s pagan sacrifices; in a twist, Dani, having assimilated into the community, chooses him to be a victim. These films illustrate that “[f]olk horror has continued to use isolation as a representative [page 77] theme, not only in directly historical treatments like Witchfinder General and Blood on Satan’s Claw but also in more ostensibly modern settings” (Cowdell 311). Nightbreed follows in the footsteps of these films, using the isolated landscape in contemporary society.
Situating Nightbreed alongside such prominent folk horror films is essential to establishing its place in the genre. The events that led Boone to Midian are remarkably similar to these prominent films. Boone begins his journey in a large city, Calgary, Alberta, before seeking out the Nightbreed. This communal group “secret themselves in an isolated city named Midian, hidden in the wilds of Canada, because they are afraid of persecution from people who are unwilling to accept the creatures of the night for what they are” (Hoppenstand 164). Midian cannot be found on any map—it is located underneath a vast cemetery and consists of many tunnels and catacombs. The closest town is the fictional Shere Neck, depicted as a small community of rednecks from which the angry mob emerges. Both communities depicted in Nightbreed, the Shere Neck mob and the Nightbreed, reside in isolated areas.
These two remote settings in Nightbreed function similarly within the narrative, representing a departure from the big city and harboring a community of like-minded residents. Barker, however, establishes Midian as a place for monsters and Shere Neck as home to what appears to be a backwoods population. However, as James Thurgill indicates, appearances can be misleading, with landscapes having a dichotomous nature:
There is a tangible anxiety or discomfort with landscape present throughout folk horror–a framing of rural landscapes as simultaneously innocuous yet malign, a sense that, underneath the superficial solitude of the pastoral, malevolent forces are working to promote acts of unspeakable violence. (49)
Hidden beneath a cemetery, Midian appears malign but is innocuous. Shere Neck is the opposite, seeming to be just a [page 78] community of country folk initially before they transform into a violent mob. For much of the film, the Nightbreed are considered monsters, but it is the residents of Shere Neck who initiate the violence. Barker intentionally subverts expectations here: “I was trying to invert the conventional morality of horror movies; again, making the monstrous persuasive and romantic, while making the forces of law and order . . . the subject of unacceptable villainy and troubling morality” (qtd. in Wells 179). Unlike in The Wicker Man, the community of monsters represents a refuge for Boone. It is not a place of death for him—it provides a second chance. In this regard, it bears similarities to Hälsingland in Midsommar, where Dani finds a sense of belonging amongst a community of outsiders.
The cemetery is also quite an appropriate setting in folk horror. Stephen Jones says that folk horror “is the evil that endures beneath the earth; the disquiet that lingers in the woodland surrounding a forgotten path” (xv). A cemetery serves as a liminal space between life and the afterlife. In Nightbreed, the cemetery also serves as a liminal space, hiding the Nightbreed from the rest of the world. Martyn Waites says, ‘Folk Horror thrives in liminal spaces, in the gaps between worlds, in landscapes of rough earth and gnarled, old trees. . . . Those liminal spaces are where Folk Horror breeds and spreads. Because in those speeches and those situations we’re left to confront unpleasant truths about ourselves.” Quintessential folk horror film The Blood on Satan’s Claw features a buried object as an essential part of its narrative. In this film, farmer Ralph Gower (Barry Andrews) digs up a skull, unwittingly beginning a string of evil events. While this is not a cemetery per se, it is a burial place and therefore functions as one. The Nightbreed reject and are rejected by the ordinary world, finding refuge among the dead. This rejection of the Nightbreed forces them into a liminal space, where they establish their community: [page 79]
The significance of liminality is thus that it facilitates the rejection of the rules and regulations of ordinary society, constructing a space in which prescribed narratives can be challenged and overturned so that alternative perspectives and previously marginalized voices can be accommodated. (Ní Éigeartaigh xii)
The Nightbreed is indeed a marginalized group. The cemetery serves as a place between life and death but also a place between Midian and Shere Neck. The murderous mob emerges not from the community of monsters but from members of law enforcement and residents whose intolerance pushes them to commit brutal acts. The liminal nature of the cemetery adds another element of folk horror to Nightbreed.
Monstrosity and Otherness
In most folk horror films, the monster is not a single individual but a communal group, which Keetley calls a monstrous tribe: “Indeed, I would argue that the monstrous ‘tribe’ is one of the most definitive characteristics of folk horror” (11). Interestingly, Nightbreed features both monstrous tribes and murderous individuals. Given their congregational nature and monstrous appearance, classifying the Nightbreed as a monstrous tribe is relatively straightforward. During the film, they are depicted as outside the norm, both in their appearance and residence. As Keetley further relates, “In the context of folk horror, not merely folk film, this ‘tribe’ is—or is perceived to be—monstrous, although its ‘monstrousness’ only emerges through its volatile relationship with the ‘normal’” (11). The Nightbreed, the literal monsters, are a docile group that barely fights back. Their intent is not to destroy their attackers but to survive. They are simply a group of others who wish to be left alone. The real monstrous tribe is the Shere Neck mob, which forms due to the influence of a pair of true human villains: Decker and Eigerman. By presenting both types of villains, the Shere Neck mob and the individuals who [page 80] inspire it, Barker underscores the violent tendencies of the “normal” humans and the docile nature of the Nightbreed.
Viewing the Nightbreed as an othered group, they function as a metaphor for the LGBTQ+ community. This portrayal is not surprising, as Clive Barker is openly homosexual and regularly deals with queer issues in his work. Mark Richard Adams believes that Barker’s “queer monsters” are “more complex, sympathetic, and/or heroic than the heteronormative characters within his narrative” (129-130). Director Alejandro Jodorowsky “rightly proclaimed [Nightbreed] to be the first truly gay fantasy horror epic” (Stanley 187). The Nightbreed are so obviously portrayed as othered that, despite their monstrous appearance, it is easy to see them as victims. Barker’s framing makes them sympathetic and a good parallel to the queer community. Trace Thurman asks,
Can anyone watch Nightbreed and not automatically associate the titular creatures with queer people? They’ve been outcast by society and are deemed as dangerous by the “normal” people. The climax of the film culminates in an assault on the Nightbreed’s home base of Midian as the “normies” would rather kill all of them as opposed to understand them. (Thurman)
The Shere Neck mob of “normies” are indeed monsters, but in their own way, they are “others” as well. Keetley asserts that the protagonists and the antagonists—typically the ‘outsiders’ and the community they stumble into—are each simultaneously “normal” and “other” (19-20). Identifying the Nightbreed as other is widely accepted, but making a case for the Shere Neck mob as other is more complex.
While the mob represents the ‘normal’ and the human, they still reside outside the big city, occupying a relatively secluded area. In folk horror films, the rural setting is often home to a group of others, as Midsommar and The Wicker Man illustrate. As Fisher relates, “These communities . . . can be any group of people who live beyond the fringes of normal society.” As for the Shere Neck mob, they are part of a small [page 81] community driven by fear, ignorance, and intolerance and are led to violence by a couple of outsiders, Decker and Eigerman. Folk horror films “show how scared communities unsure of their place in the world can be easily taken over by silver tongued and gimlet-eyed demagogues, how fear of change brings about a relatable on [sic] old ways, old evils” (Waites). Members of the Shere Neck mob are victims in their own right. Detective Joyce (Hugh Quarshie) is uncomfortable following Eigerman’s orders to burn the Nightbreed out of their home, but many other members of law enforcement fall prey to authoritarian leaders whom they have difficulty resisting. The mob functions as a dramatic foil to the Nightbreed but exhibits some similarities, and both are ultimately destroyed due to the invasion of outsiders. With Eigerman’s help, Decker brings out the violent tendencies of the mob, leading to many of their deaths. Those with pacifist tendencies, who prefer to leave the Nightbreed alone, like a gas station attendant (John Agar), end up being killed by Decker. Not all individual humans are monsters, but monstrosity emerges when evil outsiders influence the collective. Furthermore, even though a prophecy predicts Boone’s arrival in Midian, his presence leads to its destruction. Even though the Nightbreed accept him, he refuses to follow the rules by saving Lori from Decker. Two remote communities are destroyed when outsiders from the big city intrude. Unlike in many other folk horror films, it is the outsiders who enter these communities who bring about their destruction.
Sacrifice and Ritual
Many classic films regarded as folk horror depict ritualistic ceremonies, human sacrifices, or, like The Wicker Man and Midsommar, both. However, they are not the only ones to do so. The Witch (Robert Eggers, 2015) portrays a family expelled from their Puritan colony in New England during the 1600s. Forced to live outside a forested area, a young girl named Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) witnesses the disappearance of [page 82] her infant brother, whom the audience later discovers has been used as a sacrifice by a witch. Bizarre events ensue, with Thomasin eventually joining a coven of witches during a Black Mass. Like Thomasin, Boone and Lori accept their place among the monsters of Midian. To do so, each must die to be reborn as Nightbreed. While the police kill Boone, his previous suicide attempt (stepping in front of a moving truck) represents a willingness to die. Lori functions more directly as a true sacrifice, impaling herself near the end of the film so that Boone must bite her to ensure that she becomes one of the Nightbreed. While no formal, ritualistic ceremony occurs on screen, Boone communes with the Nightbreed’s deity, Baphomet (Bernard Henry), who shares a name with a fourteenth-century androgynous figure worshipped by the Knights Templar. Baphomet is a figure with roots in paganism, Satan worship, and other occult traditions. In Nightbreed’s narrative context, Baphomet is the one “‘Who Made Midian. Who called us [the Nightbreed] here’” (Barker, Cabal 118).
Although the Baphomet statue in Nightbreed is depicted differently from that in occult history, the latter’s origin was likely an inspiration. The most famous image of this figure is attributed to Éliphas Lévi, a nineteenth-century author and occultist. Joseph P. Laycock describes Lévi’s depiction of Baphomet as “a goat-headed entity with feathery wings, female breasts, and a caduceus in its lap suggesting a phallus” (11). In Nightbreed, however, the god does not resemble a goat or have female breasts. It possesses a decidedly masculine voice, is portrayed by a male actor, and has three horn-like growths on each side of his head. Despite these differences, it is noteworthy that, while Lévi’s depiction of Baphomet is the most culturally pervasive, the figure appears more than 400 years earlier, in Templar history: although “there was no consensus regarding its physical appearance; the descriptions (many derived through torture) of the idol are varied, and do not resemble Lévi’s goat-headed figure” (Josiffe 30). [page 83] Nightbreed’s version may be based on earlier Templar depictions, but regardless, Barker’s Baphomet functions as a folkloresque variant.
Despite the absence of a formal ritual or ceremony involving the creatures of Midian, the ending of Nightbreed is indeed ritualistic. Boone ventures down to the Tabernacle to speak with Baphomet’s statue, which orders him to gather the tribes together and find them a new home. This meeting is unique and directly leads to Boone’s final transformation. Previously, only the leader of the Nightbreed, Lylesburg (Doug Bradley), was allowed to meet with the deity. This event serves as a rite of passage for Boone, who discards his old identity and assumes the name bestowed to him by Baphomet: Cabal. Naming has spiritual significance, so most religions have ceremonies and rituals to mark such occasions; Baphomet is called “the Baptizer” by a follower (118), and though they can be separate, secular events, naming ceremonies are typically included with Christian baptism. In Wicca, naming is part of the Wiccaning ceremony. After Boone’s renaming, the statue of Baphomet is divided into pieces and distributed among the Nightbreed to take to their new home. Nightbreed follows the tradition of other folk horror films, such as The Wicker Man, The Witch, and Midsommar, which feature sacrifice and ritual elements.
More than three decades after its release, versions of Nightbreed keep surfacing, adding to the film's lore and mystique. As these versions deemphasize the slasher aspects of the film, the folk horror elements become more apparent. Folklore is not only part of the narrative—it is essential to the plot. Barker weaves a dark fairy tale with heroes, monsters, and a hidden world. Boone’s journey begins because of an oral account he has heard, leading to a legend-trip that results in his death and rebirth. The monsters themselves are folkloresque creations that do not come from any specific vernacular tradition but are drawn from the mind of Barker himself. The [page 84] creatures of Midian are indeed folkloric within the constructs of the narrative. As Scovell puts it, folk horror often “creates its own folklore” (Folk Horror 7). Nightbreed has created its own folklore not only in terms of its many monsters and the oral tales of Midian but also in the many versions of the film that provide a great deal of variance in the narrative. The presence of both ritual and sacrifice further cements Nightbreed as folk horror. Boone and Lori both sacrifice themselves to become Nightbreed, thereby fulfilling a prophecy that foretold their coming and the destruction of Midian. In the transition from human to Nightbreed, Boone is reborn as Cabal and is appointed savior by their deity, Baphomet.
Nightbreed’s landscape is also noteworthy, as the rural, pastoral landscape that hides an unspeakable evil in many folk horror classics is also prominent here. While a cemetery in a small town in Canada may not initially compare to such memorable locales such as The Wicker Man’s Summerisle or Midsommar’s Hälsingland, “Folk Horror can arguably manifest anywhere and within any culture as long as there are ‘folk’ to spread it around” (Scovell, Folk Horror 101). Nightbreed goes further than either of these films, presenting two communities—one of literal monsters, the other of ‘normal’ humans. As the events unfold, Barker’s vision of monstrosity becomes clear. Just because one looks different from another does not make them evil: “Modern-day folk horror still focuses on the darkness of the land, isolation, and the creatures that lurk in the forest, but these films also try to create empathy toward those who are suffering and find comfort in their found community” (“We Are Going”). The Nightbreed are creatures that deserve empathy. They are targeted, attacked, and forced from their home simply because they are different.
Barker’s focus on otherness has been brought to the fore in these various releases. In Nightbreed, the monsters are the innocents, and humans are the villains. This reflects a similar vision found in his literary work: [page 85]
While Barker’s horror revels in a bleakness about humanity, his fantasy novels are sincere creations with true investment in the power and liberation of otherness. Gruesomeness can co-exist alongside beauty and is often aesthetically indistinguishable from it. There’s honesty in this way of living, a truthfulness that the hypocrisy of humanity can never hope to duplicate. With Nightbreed, the monsters have coalesced to form a new community that redefines their supposed abnormalities as the accepted default. (Donaldson)
Viewing Nightbreed as part of Barker’s larger body of work and through a folk horror lens accentuates his compassion for othered groups, which are destined to clash with “normal” humans by their very nature.
Nightbreed began its existence as a poorly received adaptation of Clive Barker’s novel Cabal that focused more on the serial killer Dr. Decker than it did on the titular creatures. Various rereleases of the film have strived to create a version that more closely follows the novel, thereby more accurately reflecting Barker’s vision. Multiple versions of the Cabal Cut have kept the film in the public’s consciousness, allowing it to be rightly considered a cult classic and forcing critics to reexamine it. The studio may have originally intended to release a slasher film to appeal to a 1990s audience, but like its central hero Boone, the film has been reborn several times. By restoring and recutting the film to include scenes that portray the Nightbreed sympathetically, each iteration moves the narrative closer to Barker’s true vision: a film where humans are the actual monsters. More importantly, the changes make it appropriate to consider the film a genuine work of folk horror. Instead of being viewed as a creative failure, reading it as a folk horror film legitimizes it. It allows the film to overcome the failure of studio executives to properly edit and market the film. Nightbreed’s continuous, albeit limited, success suggests that, although the film did not [page 86] succeed as a slasher film, it follows the patterns established by the most notable films of the folk horror genre. Contextualizing the movie as such situates it in this genre, allowing it to be read as the dark folktale that Barker intended.
Works Cited
Adams, Mark Richard. “Clive Barker’s Queer Monsters: Exploring Transgression, Sexuality, and the Other.” Clive Barker: Dark Imaginer, edited by Sorcha Ní Fhlainn, Manchester UP, 2017, pp.129-147.
Aster, Ari, writer and director. Midsommar. A24, 2019.
Barker, Clive. Cabal. Crossroad Press; Macabre Ink Digital Edition, 1988.
---, writer and director. Nightbreed. Director’s Cut, Twentieth Century Fox, 2014.
Bilson, Anne. “The Nasty Nineties.” The Art of Horror Movies: An Illustrated History, edited by Stephen Jones, Applause Theatre & Cinema Books, 2017, pp. 202-225.
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Daniel P. Compora is a Professor in the Department of English at the University of Toledo, specializing in undergraduate education. An interdisciplinary scholar, Dr. Compora has publications in various areas, including literature, folklore, and popular culture. Recent publications include “Rocky: An Urban Fairy Tale” (2025); “The End is Near: Doomsday Conspiracy Theories and Apocalyptic Paranoia” (2025); “Stephen King’s and Peter Straub’s Mythmaking: Jack Sawyer as an American Hero” (2025); “Nowhere is Safe: Suburban Terror in A Nightmare on Elm Street, Shocker, and Scream” (2023); “Toxic Nostalgia in Stephen King’s IT” (2022); and “Dystopian Literature at a Distance” (2022)
MLA citation (print):
Compora, Daniel P. "Failed Slasher to Folk Horror: Recontextualizing Clive Barker’s Nightbreed." Supernatural Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Art, Media, and Culture, vol. 11, no. 1, 2026, pp. 69-89.