Dec 2nd 2020 Advent Calendar
A spooky cobweb covered house. A shadow stretches out its bony fingers towards the entrance as if to grab at whoever might enter.
In the moonlight a man shouts in panic. He seems to be trying to prevent someone from doing something dangerous.
A beautiful woman stares out at us with white pupil-free eyes. She has lost all control. She is in a trance.
This is the cover of UNEXPECTED #122, dated Jan 1971 but on sale a good few months before the end of 1970. The artist is Dick Giordano and the story is THE PHANTOM OF THE WOODSTOCK FESTIVAL, one of four tales in this particular issue of the DC Horror anthology title. It's a powerful, dramatic image, the tilted angle off-balancing the viewer, and the almost entirely green pallet lending it an additional layer of eeriness. But it's the girl's empty eyes that are the most disturbing element, as she walks directly towards us proclaiming that she cannot stop herself. It's a mesmerising image in itself, the girl's lifeless eyes bore into the reader and her forward movement give the impression that she is about to walk straight out of the cover.
The story itself, written by George Kashdan, is something of a let-down after such a striking cover picture, lacking the depth of the best of these anthology tales. And inevitably the cover image is not entirely representative of what actually happens in it. As illustrated by Dick Dillin and Vince Colletta, the mesmerised girl Trina's descent from her bedroom to the mysterious summoner is more subtly handled in a tryptich of frames where the increasing size of the candle suggests an oppressive 'zoom-in' as she walks down the stairs.
The man who is controlling her is presented as a green-enshrouded grotesque with glaring red eyes but sadly he's really not an interesting enough villain to make the story work as effectively as it might have.
And the idea of Trina being dragged in from outside the house by the force of the man's will, eyes aglow and with her male friends screaming to stop her is a complete misrepresentation of what actually happens.
None of which really matters of course, given that the purpose of a good cover is to hook in readers rather than represent to the letter a moment from the story. And just who were these readers I wonder? The narrator asks whether readers were among 'the thousands who vainly sought shelter that night before the festival', suggesting adults or teenagers old enough to have attended Woodstock. Maybe the sort of guys who would would see their own shadow cast over the front cover as they sat up in bed staring at it. And who might have themselves fantasised about a slim, long-haired girl walking unstoppably towards them, intoning, "I can't help myself! I MUST GO TO HIM!"
Miss yesterday's Advent Calendar? You can find it here--
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