20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA (FRANCE/1907/GEORGES MÉLIÈS)

Fantasy cinema will always trace its roots back to early special effects wizard Georges Méliès, whose works still have relevance in some circles today. His best known works often used Jules Verne’s adventure stories as a template, embellishing them with appropriately surreal visuals, and most if not all of these projects were shot in a customised warehouse. 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea is no exception, taking as its basis one of Verne’s most adapted works. The U.S. government sends a team of scientists to investigate a spate of sunken ships. The mission uncovers a world of underwater marvels, but as the men entertain themselves with their new environment, they fall prey to its unforeseen dangers.

Without the luxury of time, any retelling of a Verne tale is a bit abrupt and doesn’t have the draw that the books do. Accepting time as a limitation, Méliès uses his imagination to create a visually active backdrop evocative of a thriving submarine habitat. As in many of Méliès’ films, the fantastical aspects of the story are helped along by a bevy of dancing girls, and their constant movements against a psychedelic background make for a hypnotic effect. The film is bookended by scenes which explain the purpose and outcome of the characters as in the book, but one feels that Captain Nemo should have featured more. It might not measure up to later feature-length adaptations, but Méliès’ film is an entertaining, if slightly too brief jaunt. Look out for the menacing giant crab.

THE ASTRONOMER'S DREAM (FRANCE/1898/GEORGES MÉLIÈS)

Sat alone in his study, an astronomer falls into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he is paid an unwanted visit by the devil who summons an evil demon in the form of a large full moon with a grotesque face. The demon consumes the astronomer and his life’s work, before spitting him back out in a cloud of smoke. As the face retreats into the night sky, a crescent moon nears the astronomer’s window, atop of which is sat an ethereally beautiful woman. She is Phoebe, the benevolent goddess of the moon. As she pieces the astronomer back together, he tries to reach out to her, but before he can make contact, he is shaken out of his dream.

The film was one of a few early films Méliès produced that showed his keen interest in all things astrological, a fascination he would eventually become celebrated for, culminating in the all-time classic A Trip to the Moon. It might seem like a throwaway curiosity to a generation of people for whom Avatar is the apex of cinema, but The Astronomer’s Dream is a sophisticated piece of work that deserves to be remembered 112 years later. Though composed of three disparate shots, the film flows seamlessly, and Méliès employs various cinematic tricks, including some subtle animation on a chalkboard, to create a wonderfully phantasmagorical nightmare. At the risk of sounding flippant, this writer would be much more content to watch 160 minutes of Méliès’ sci-fi shorts than sit through Avatar.

THE MERRY FROLICS OF SATAN (FRANCE/1906/GEORGES MÉLIÈS)

In contrast with some of Georges Méliès’ better known works, the fantasy world in The Merry Frolics Of Satan is one of two realities presented in the film, and is ultimately the more dangerous. As in his classics A Trip To The Moon and The Impossible Voyage, it concerns a phantasmagorical expedition which goes awry, but this film takes a far darker turn. A gullible English engineer called William Crackford is drawn into a Faustian scenario when his insatiable curiosity leads him to make a critical deal with a suspicious wizard. His side of the exchange gives him and his friend the opportunity to travel in an extraordinary train, the carriages of which form spontaneously from nearby furniture. But not long after the train sets out on its journey with a group of anonymous passengers in tow, disaster strikes in the form of a collapsed bridge, with Crackford and the wizard as the only survivors. Shortly after, the two embark upon another journey in a macabre coach made from comets and stars, and pulled by a skeletal horse. The revelation that the wizard is in fact the devil comes far too late for Crackford as the torrid trip deteriorates fatally, with a finale that is both comical and macabre.

Méliès abandons the frivolity of his earlier shorts, constructing more of an allegory than a fantasy, suggesting deeper implications for his religious ambiguity. He adds dimension to his set pieces too, the most impressive of which is the terrifying apocalyptic coach.