MEGAN O'BRIEN

AMC’s show The Terror, expertly tells the mystifying story of the Franklin expedition’s two ships, H.M.S. Erebus (the Greek God of Darkness) and H.M.S. Terror’s disappearance. This 10-part series, adapted from Dan Simmon’s 2007 novel by the same name, decisively creates a haunting atmosphere that viscerally reflected the expected dread of the sailor’s situation: two ships are trapped on the ice due to poor decision, stocked with a finite source of rations, their only hope being that the ice will melt before their mental and physical states deplete. As their dire situation add increasing stress among the crew, they not only have to face their environment, but a bestial – almost spectral – entity that poses great threat to the crew. The predication of atmosphere in the series is undoubtedly significant to the success of the story’s ability to cultivate tension and fear. The mise-en-scene of the snow-scape elevates the affective foreboding and elemental power of nature’s sublimity, in which the Tunnbaq – the supernatural beast – is an agent of. More so, not only does the mise-en-scene illustrate the awesome might of the environment, it elevates to the viewers the concept of individual will against the wills of nature.

The Surreal and Uncanny True History of the H.M.S. Erebus and H.M.S. Terror:

In 1845 the two ships Erebus and Terror set sail for the Frozen North in hopes of discovering the Northwest passage to America under the command of Captain John Franklin. They left Britain on a mission of exploration, only to be identified as lost in the Arctic three years later. The fate of both ships is characterized by its surviving mystery; none of the 129 men on that expedition came back, and what was left of the two ships were found in 2014 and 2016, respectively[1]. How Franklin and his crew died is considered perplexing in nature, littered with clues that offer some theories. Historians have fragmented Inuit reports, meager ship messages, and some knowledge offered from the remains of heavily infected or partially eaten bodies. What is certain, was that these sailors met a terrifying end in their icy predicament. Taking on this journey, was considered an adventure, but known cautiously to be something potentially dangerous as well. Numerous expeditions were sent in search of the missing ships years after they left in 1845, offering many theories that attempted to explain what happened. While AMC’s The Terror did a spectacular editing job between ship life and life in Britain through abrupt scene cuts, the juxtaposing of imagery offered insight into just why, when faced with clamorous circumstance, Franklin and his men held firmly to the need for keeping up English social civilities. The beginning of the show only touches on reasons as to why the expedition was conceived. By the 1840’s, most of the Northwest Passage through the frozen islands of the Canadian Arctic had been established. The British Admiralty chose Sir John Franklin to find the remaining stretch (estimated at 500km). The Franklin expedition was considered not only one of the largest, but best-equipped excursions ever sent into the Arctic. When Franklin left England on May 19th 1845, the Erebus and Terror were carrying 134 officers and men. Just after the ships reached Greenland, five of the crew were invalidated home to England on a supply ship as they were judged “unfit” to continue. The squadron was last seen in Baffin Bay on July 26th, 1845, and subsequently never heard from again[2]. There were of course, personal political interests at play for Franklin for pushing on with the expedition. This would explain why a man in 1845 who was about to turn 60, would want to lead a potentially harrowing adventure. Franklin’s time as governor of then Van Diemen’s Land (now known as Tasmania) proved turbulent: “He was politically stabbed in the back, and recalled to England by the colonial office, his reputation in tatters”[3]. Franklin’s wife, Lady Jane Franklin, focused her conviction on rehabilitating his image and career. The solution was to go back to the place that made Franklin a hero – the Arctic. This was Franklin’s fourth Arctic expedition. He had almost starved to death on an overland excursion where he became known in the media as “the man who ate his boots”. Franklin did bite into the leather as there was sufficient enough resource in shoe leather at the time in order to get out of the Arctic alive. As such, tarnished by politics, Franklin’s wife lobbied for him to be sent off on one final expedition.

AMC’s The Terror holds true to the real historical events that have been documented, only diverging from fact in its peppering of Gothicism and subsequently, a supernatural entity. Taking from traditional Gothic storytelling, spectators witness men infatuated with reputation and the grandeur of adventure, choosing to make impetuous decisions that ultimately lead to a heavy price paid. In such a harsh environment, the crew of Erebus and the Terror faced frostbite, scurvy, paranoia, poisoning, and an unknown predator. In the first grim scene, a sailor falls overboard into an expanse of oddly and flawlessly rendered pancake ice. In another scene, Crozier sees a sun dog (a solar phenomenon often witnessed by polar explorers). The initial scenes offer realism and a foreboding shadowing of events to come. The realism of set and costume design such as the uniforms and caps of the officers which were authentically recreated in their details, merge seamlessly with notes of Gothic storytelling to create eerie verisimilitude[4]. These components merge neatly to cultivate a sense of dread as viewers are submerged into the story, tense for what is yet to come.

The Art of Storytelling: Cinematography, Atmosphere, and the Sublimity of Nature

Atmosphere or, setting are useful elements in a story for setting mood. The choice of setting can entice a sense of thrill, fear, mystery, or all three. Franklin and his crew find themselves in a desolate atmosphere. They are surrounded by darkness for most of the day, freezing temperatures, and heightened nerves, which turns into pure fear as the story progresses. The fear and potential for madness elevate into something greater than ephemeral emotions related to a single event; the affective fervor these men felt historically, when retold in recognition of such historically dire elements, is prone to touches of folktale. Isolation combined with the fear of the unknown (the sheer size and desolation of the natural space they inhabited was massive and seemingly unforgiving), has the power to turn the mundane into anything through tricks in the mind[5]. As such, a shipwrecked crew may believe that seemingly unexplainable deaths in a foreign land have a relationship to native foreboding stories about a mysterious supernatural hunter prowling after them. The claustrophobic reaction of shutting in on a ship for years, especially during winter undoubtedly lead to forms of hysteria. “Piblokto” is a condition commonly known to Inuit people during winter, it is characterized as causing irrational acts by the affected, often followed by amnesia or even hallucinations. It is considered a culture-specific syndrome, typically affecting Inuit women[6].

Feelings of Cabin Fever and dread or delusions have the capacity to translate to tales of the mythic. The show’s cultivation of atmosphere is a true strength for its storytelling. The Terror skillfully integrates affective storytelling elements and cinematic technique: wide cinematic views clashing with cramped ship interiors; the idyllic hopes of men pitted against the bleak realities of nature; Imperial colonial will versus Indigenous peoples. The Terror effectively paces itself, taking pains to introduce and establish tone in order to cultivate a visceral narrative[7]. Effective storytelling is not successful in its writing alone – careful attention to the visual world the story takes part in is key when drawing an audience into that universe. The cinematographer responsible for setting the tone of The Terror, Florian Hoffmeister, had to recreate Arctic light out of almost nothing. He was given total control over the image of the work. He focused on the minutia of elements that came together to cultivate the verisimilitude achieved in the series. The creative team behind The Terror worked from historically accurate models of the ships, working with an empty hangar which was 1/32 replica of The Terror. To simulate the flotation of the ship as it progressively traveled deeper into the ice, “the set had to be mounted on a system of gimbals that enabled us to tilt it up to 30°. The upper deck was very high up in the hangar, which made the outdoor lighting harder for me because of the relative lack of ceiling clearance”[8]. LED light was used as a pragmatic approach in order to adjust colour in precision as well as to create an effect of moving light in some takes (as if clouds were passing in front of the sun). To illustrate long shadows characteristic of Arctic light at the beginning or end of winter, a Tungsten bulb and clear lens was used, capable of being placed at angles in order to create desired effects[9]. The result of the cinematographic stylization was a contemporary and mysterious aesthetic, one of a dark imagery contrasted by faded colours, and noticeable texture. A huge theme in the show’s narration is isolation and confinement, illustrated in the mise-en-scene, or set design to produce such a setting. The men are trapped in a desolate frozen wasteland. For the first few years, they bunker down. Given that pressure builds as fears rise due to prolonged confinement, tight spaces on set and sweeping frozen landscapes were crucial in order to build such realism and depiction of vulnerable humanity. The Arctic scenery in the passage is beautifully rendered to created qualities of a natural phenomenon wherein subjects feel overwhelmed by the natural Sublime. As the character is consumed by such vastness as foreboding skies or yawning glaciers, they “experience a disclosure of the structure of perceiving nature and its totalities”[10].

By Art Historical definition, the Sublime symbolizes a state of elevation by which development toward physical or allegorical heights brings transcendence[11]. The term was associated with the turbulence or immensity of nature and human’s responses to it. The Sublime environments from the Romantic period often showcase violent storms or seas, towering mountains or deep chasms, all of which, if truly experienced, would be life threatening[12]. The Terror’s treatment of atmosphere hosts noticeable relations to Romantic Art. For example, J.M.W. Turner’s Fishermen at Sea (1796) in its representation of awesome environments illustrates motifs expressed in The Terror’s mise-en-scene. Turner’s painting suggests that a boat is about to be buoyed by the fluctuation of tidal waters, playing with the simultaneous quality of illumination and obscurity[13]. Turner’s painting uses his aquatic setting to envision transcendent mastery that may be realized in such an environment; the test of one’s physical, moral, or psychological responsiveness may be revealed through their negotiations with the surrounding landscape. The Sublime is not only the opportunity to test one’s degree of moral or spiritual excellence, it is also a strong passion, one often rooted in fear, particularly when faced with the potentiality of death. The Sublime seizes the individual, striking them with pure emotional feeling due to its obscurity and suddenness[14]; “The passion caused by the great and Sublime in nature, when those causes operate most powerfully is astonishment, and astonishment is that state of the soul in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror”[15]. The dynamism of the Sublime puts into perspective a feeling of one’s reasoning regarding superiority to nature; having the quality of such greatness or intensity, whether physical, moral, or metaphysical, where the ability to comprehend it is temporarily overwhelmed[16].

Recognizing the irresistible power of the environment causes pause for one to recognize their physical powerlessness. Franklin’s men have felt helpless when stranded in desolation, living off of definitive resources that were none too healthy, and anxious of a quiet mutiny, or being preyed upon by the terrain. However, concurrently this reflection of the Sublime also reveals the ability to judge oneself as independent of nature, with a certain superiority over the natural element’s powerful influence. In such circumstance, the humanity of the person remains intact even when the individual submits to the dominion of the natural scape[17]. Viewers may see this in some characters from The Terror. Specifically, in Henry Goodsir (Paul Ready). While faced with treacherous acts by his shipmates who fold under the pressures presented by their surroundings, Goodsir is still a warm, empathetic person. He is one of few characters who recognize the forces working against the Franklin party, attempting to connect with the uncanny landscape and its Indigenous peoples. He holds true to his consensus of morality, disdaining to keep secrets from the crew regarding the health of their rations, but recognizing that in their dire situation, there are few options and raising concerns about the health of their supplies works against the group. Goodsir is a character who will recognize the individual and his choices for the greater wellbeing of the men is informed by what little options are offered in the scenario. For example, when being held against his will by Cornelius Hickey (Adam Nagaitis), Goodsir examines Willian Gibson’s symptoms of lead poisoning and tells Gibson to prepare himself for death. Hickey murders Gibson, bidding that Goodsir cut up Gibson’s corpse to be eaten. When Goodsir refuses, Hickey threatens the life of Lt. George Henry Hodgson (Christos Lawton), Goodsir obliges reluctantly, but takes no part in the cannibalization of Gibson. Unlike Goodsir, Hickey attempts to commune with what he idealistically believes is expected of the landscape he is in – he acts violently and selfishly, wasting away his followers at whim if it means another day of his own survival. While he deludes himself into thinking her is superiorly predatorial, his rash ruthlessness and ignorance speak to his own fate and lack of individual willpower. Hickey lost to the wills of the environment, and ultimately had a hand in the fates of men like Goodsir, whose census of individual will was much stronger. The ever-present intensity and expanse of the Arctic climate is framed with wide angle shot sequences to heighten the massiveness of terrain. The types of framing shots in The Terror again seem to have a Romantic influence as many Romantic paintings, in order to create emotional affect of viewers to truly witness the grandeur of overwhelming settings, were massive in scale[18]. In both circumstances of experiencing the Sublime – voyeur or victim - the individual will feel their soul shaken.

Survival Horror and The Terror:

When viewers first meet AMC’s Captain John Franklin (Ciarán Hinds) in the pilot episode, he is perceived as an intrepid seaman embarking on a colonial adventure. Initially, the only foreseeable trouble for Franklin seems to be minor indiscretions between himself and Captain Crozier (Jared Harris) of the Terror. Crozier is a sarcastic alcoholic whose relationship with his commanding Captain has grown strained. When the Erebus’s propeller breaks due to thick floating ice, Franklin’s optimism incites the crew to move forward – against caution – with the expectation of reaching open water. Franklin’s choice ends with both the Terror and Erebus irretrievably cemented in the frozen water. Over the course of the series, the consequences of that lapse in judgement reverberate throughout the story:

A mission to a nearby shoreline ends in a glimpse of a terrible, loping shape out in the dark, the accidental shooting of an Inuit shaman, and the capture of the shaman’s daughter, whom the crew dubs Lady Silence (Nive Nielsen). Provisions begin turning up spoiled, or riddled with bits of lead that leave crew members with splitting headaches and rotting teeth. When they can get Lady Silence to speak, she warns them in her own language of something called a “Tuunbaq,” and tells them they must leave as soon as possible. But as the elements and monster close in, it becomes clear that leaving or staying are likely to mean the same thing: death[19].

While survival horror is often associated with video games, it is not intrinsically tied to that media. What survival horror boils down to as a genre is its narrative capability – one fixed to the concept of the environment as lethal accompanied by a handicap (such as finite and poisoned provisions, the faint air of a potential mutiny, freezing temperatures, and no definitive knowledge that help is coming) for characters who face deadly antagonist(s). The show’s meticulous attention to its landscapes offers a testament to its interest in setting-specific atmosphere to create verisimilitude and visceral affect. While it is no surprise that the show was not actually shot on location of where the ships were to be stranded, almost the entire series was shot in studio, with the exception of some outdoor sequences which were shot on the Island of Pag in Croatia[20]. While in studio, AMC’s team used green screens and soundstages as well as pack trapping the ships for that off-kilter-stuck-in-ice effect. What was created by suturing in-studio and location shooting were rocky shorelines that crawled past bleak skies; endless dark waters, and Arctic temperatures that were a constant deadly threat to the crew. Characters who unwisely touched metal without gloves or got frostbite would have their flesh ripping off their palms and amputations masterfully displayed. The soundscape of life below deck, with its ceaseless groaning of ice pressing against the ship’s wooden frames add a claustrophobic affect inside of an icy abyss[21]. These are compelling visceral elements – the visual and acoustic – which congregate to inform helplessness as imposed by the powerful environment Franklin and his men find themselves within.

Interludes of memories from London are interjected into the present dismal Arctic situation to underline the crew’s desperation[22]. In the fourth episode, viewers witness Lady Franklin’s fruitless attempts to mobilize an official rescue. Attempting to outline her point, she tells them that she had gone out in the winter shoeless and could last barely two minutes. The memorable line spoken by a determined wife: “Our men have been out there in unimaginable temperatures for more than a million minutes […] No one can convince me that optimism or confidence is warm enough”, speaks towards a hopelessness felt by Lady Franklin for, and by Franklin and his men[23]. To combat the unspoken consciousness of dire circumstance, the men cling to their English decorum with a none-too-veiled uneasiness. Such need for superficial propriety likely aided their fate further where in episode three, Crozier asks Franklin’s permission to send eight men south in search of rescue, fearing what may come if the summer thaw does not dislodge the ships. It is an eight-hundred-mile stretch, but Franklin denies the request, alleging that this act may demoralize the ship’s men because of Crozier’s alarmism (while also making Franklin look incompetent during his last run to regain his political image). As the frigid North winds enter the scene, it traps them in the ice, staying them from any movement. Franklin’s feverish sentiments of “God will see us through!” hold little comfort as the ice freezes and the ships are trapped in a glacier. The men’s argument about the matter delineates issues of protocol and authority in favour of English social structure, which subverts fully facing a critical position that is unaffected by English convention.

Viewers feel for Crozier’s conviction and may recognize that his bitterness in part, comes from his Irish heritage which was revealed as having an adverse effect on his professional aspirations. In the early episodes of the series, Crozier is found to be dealing with an intense alcohol addiction that he tries to hide from his crew. While his addiction makes him seem reclusive and self-deprecating, it does not subtract from his image as an astute and caring officer. Yet Franklin’s air of friendliness seems to be a facade; the thin veneer of cordiality is an attempt to mask his silent fears and prejudices. Despite Franklin’s disapproval, Crozier tells his first mate, Thomas Blankey (Ian Hart) to prepare an eight-man sled team due south. It is Crozier’s intention to lead the team himself so no blame is directed to any of the officers in his act of mutiny[24].

Characters in The Terror are attentively rendered on screen in that they do not necessarily act arbitrarily in order to move the plot. In survival horror, elements that work against the protagonist(s) often have their own agenda, as witnessed in such characters as Franklin or Hickey. Viewers are granted scenes that showcase the internal monologues of silent desperation by the men in their actions, or with little words. These moments of voyeurism in their introspective or vulnerable reactions elevate the understanding of a desperate situation and make sense of their panicked actions. The men are able to weather the first winter and prepare to scout for land once spring arrives. When they do send out a search party, the men are on edge from a potential bear that they surmise had overturned their supply boat. This disquiet resulted in fatally shooting an Eskimo by accident. The crew take the wounded man on board with his daughter, but he succumbs to his injury and dies. Shortly after this incident, the seamen are attacked by an unseen aggressor[25].

The quality of writing and its setting doesn’t necessarily mitigate a need for a monster to make it thrilling, yet, the Tuunbaq by all rights, lives up to the show’s name – it is terror incarnate. Introduced by the carnage that it leaves to be discovered, the Tunnbaq is not immediately seen on screen. Viewers see remnants of tents, flesh, and bestial prints that track around the ships. While the primary fear revolves around the desolation of an icy landscape, the introduction of a preternatural beast that lives and hunts in the surroundings make the Tunnbaq an extension if not, a personification, of the environment and its apparent hostility. Stylistically, what is interesting to see in the development of what is perceived of the beast, is ironically, what little is seen; the first glimpses of the Tunnbaq suggest a polar bear. Yet, as more men see the animal, descriptions become less certain. Unfortunately for the men, their lack of description for the beast also speaks to their lack of understanding of the threat that it brings and allows for lore to subtly creep its way into the beast’s characterization. In the third episode, as Franklin blithely tells his officers to “educate this create as to the dominion of the Empire and the will of the Lord behind it”, he is committing them, and himself to gory outcome. In the ice blind, Franklin and Goodsir are stunned when the canvas roof was caved in by the beast, only to spit back the decapitated head of one from their party. A fanatically blind shootout begins, and Franklin runs away in fear, separating himself from his men. From the Erebus, shots and screams are heard and James Fitzjames (Tobias Menzies) leads a belated armed squad. Franklin is attacked by Tunnbaq, his leg ripped off, he is dragged to the fire hole (the one he ordered his men to unceremoniously dispose of the Silent Woman’s father in), thrown into the crater’s watery darkness. The death of Franklin left Crozier in charge, and Fitzjames is his unwilling second. The men hold a funeral for Franklin’s remains – a leg in a coffin – with Crozier reading the eulogy Franklin had written for Lt. Gore (Tom Weston-Jones). While Franklin’s death by the might of the Tunnbaq may not be historically accurate, based on the ship’s log, when the men abandoned their vessels in April of 1848, Crozier and Fitzjames updated the note left in the cairn from the previous spring: reporting that “Sir John Franklin died on 11th June 1847”—only nineteen days after Lieutenant Graham Gore and Charles Des Voeux left the same paper behind on May 24, 1847 reporting the crew as “all well”[26].

The existence of the Tunnbaq in The Terror makes visual the expression of a colonial analogy: “the idea that savage magic lurks in unexplored places and among “uncivilized” peoples”[27]. In terms of survival horror, the genre can function on the premise that a dangerous hinterland can be conquered, but often the presence of nature is associated with malevolence. Moreover, those that live closely with this natural world are considered suspicious if not sinister. In these narratives, Indigenous practices and myths are associated with the viciousness of a feral environment, where the Native figure is used solely as a device to signal to the audience that the often Western protagonist is in a realm where civilization has not penetrated[28]. The Terror’s writing has carefully negotiated the “dicier implications by treating its main Inuit character, Lady Silence, as complex and human in her own right”[29]. Nive Nielsen’s (Lady Silence) performance is key in the show’s portrayal of a complex individual: “Her eyes flick around every room she’s brought into, sizing up the men around her with an analytical and worried gaze, and when she does speak, it’s as if the words are pouring out despite her efforts to keep them in. But the show takes pains to emphasize through translated dialogue that she’s just as desperate, unsure, and terrified as the men around her—in other words, she’s not conspiring with the brutal environment and has been dragged by accident into something beyond her control”[30]. Lady Silence’s uneasy relationship with the Tunnbaq was likely better mitigated by her unfortunately deceased father. While there is no concrete evidence presented on the show of the depths of her father’s relationship with Tunnbaq, it is obvious to viewers the tension felt about the connection between Lady Silence and the beast. In episode three, Lady Silence’s trepidations of the Tunnbaq are explicitly present even when the beast seems to be receptive to her in its want for helpfulness: she waits for the beast to come to her, when it does, hot breath mists into the flap of her igloo. As she cautiously steps outside, the creature is nowhere to be seen, but a gift is left in place: a dead seal. Lady Silence’s carefulness is not unwarranted, the Tunnbaq is a complex and intelligent creature with an interesting relationship to Lady Silence and her father. The audience is made attentively aware of its cleverness where it intentionally dumped Franklin’s body, a hint perhaps of its feelings towards Lady Silence’s father and his treatment by Franklin.

Survival horror stories often have negative expectations of humankind. These stories anticipate the dissolution of social structures and punish protagonists for being unfit, ill-prepared, or acting weakly. The projections provide insight into the equivocal fears known to the contemporary Western world: by disconnecting individuals from nature, civilization softens their survival ability, weakening them to the imposing power of natural elements. A noticeable handicap for Franklin’s expedition is Hickey. Acting only in his self -interest, he is a rogue who ignores commands and demonstrates himself as increasingly erratic. His ignorance of rules lands him a flogging that leads to his plotting a mutiny against Crozier and his command[31]. While weakness in Franklin’s character is exposed as his idyllic prioritization of cordiality and English structure over facing and assessing tangible, imminent danger, Crozier’s weakness may not only be in his alcoholism, but his veiling of truth. Crozier’s choice to conceal the truth about finding their rescue team dead, and commanding his officers to say nothing about it, only helps to fuel Hickey’s militia against him. Teasing foreboding events yet to come, in the first episode, Franklin removes a tiny speck of lead from his mouth during dinner. By episode four, the ship’s cooks began complaining that much of the canned meat is rancid, and a once-healthy seaman, John Morfin (Anthony Flanagan) visits Goodsir’s infirmary with a black line along his gums – a sinister telltale of lead poisoning. To be sure, Goodsir feeds Franklin’s monkey, Jacko some of the canned meat and seeks out the surgeon Stephen Stanley (Alistair Petrie) when his theory proves true: it is revealed that the men’s only true food source – canned food – is contaminated with lead and they have been eating it for more than two years[32].

The Terror’s first fatality, David Young (Alfie Kingsnorth) however, did not show signs of scurvy in Goodsir’s autopsy. Three years later, in the summer of 1848, the remaining crew has not eaten fresh meat in that three-year span, and the Navy-issued lemon juice rations have run out or are no longer potent. Signs of mental and physical decay are visible: Fitzjames’s old bullet wounds that he boasted about at the officer’s table in episode one, begin to open. In episode nine, a jagged looking Lt. George Henry Hodgson loses a tooth when chewing the leather from his boot (a nod to Franklin’s historically awful 1819-1822 Arctic expedition)[33]. The collective madness of the men boils over during the momentous carnival thrown by Fitzjames. During this time, Crozier is engrossed in coping with his alcoholism, so Fitzjames is temporarily in command. While in power, Fitzjames attempts to cultivate the circus to lift the spirits of the men. The circus is also an attempt to ease disquiet before disclosing that the remaining members are to abandon the ships (another ill-advised, and poorly kept secret). In historical fact, the wild masquerade party in the Arctic was a time-honored tradition. In 1819-1820, Sir Edward Parry’s polar expedition was the first of its kind. Worried about his men’s psychosocial health during months of darkness and frigid cool, he brought trunks of theatrical costumes, launching the Royal Arctic Theatre. Parry’s tact was for a ‘fortnightly diversion’ for the crew to perform sill plays and musicals, in which the Captain believed was the key for keeping his crew sane. The concept was such a success that ensuing expeditions kept the tradition[34]. In The Terror’s carnival, James plays a Roman general at the event. The men around him drunkenly feast, and the atmosphere is tense but hopeful that the crew and their minds are all right. Unfortunately, the effects of despair and lead poisoning prove malicious and a lot of men die in the flames – including both the ships’ doctors (one of which started the blaze)[35].

Pressures come to a head when the sailors revolt before evacuation. The rigid English structures of integrity manage to keep ahold of most of the crew until the seventh episode, where an immense amount of strain finally breaks the fissures that have steadily appeared. In episode seven, Hickey plans a mutiny and convinces enough desperate men to follow him, dividing the crew into two groups, and kidnapping Goodsir as he is the only remaining surgeon. As Hickey and his followers are starving and desperate, Goodsir is forced to dismember fellow crewmates for them to dine on. The cannibalistic sequence nods to a viscerally true historical precedent wherein Hudson’s Bay Company trader John Rae discovered evidence from Inuit interviews, confirmed by forensic science, that the men resorted to cannibalism[36].

The unfortunately evocative element of survival horror is that there is hope for survival, against all odds. Characters in The Terror are tested in ways of their humanity, comradery, and intelligence. Viewers find redeeming qualities in Crozier and Fitzjames as they are seen attempting to manage in the face of disaster; Goodsir’s ever-present warm nature and empathy is an incredibly heart wrenching weapon against the audience who want to see him live. The amity among these men is bittersweet even as they begin to wear against their situation. Heartfelt moments of bonding between the men offer a vulnerability that amplifies the danger in that there feels like more is at a loss. Like the other men, Fitzjames slowly succumbs to the contaminated food that is poisoning him. He however, fights the Tunnbaq more valiantly than his peers before his death and like so many of his men, he dies in tragic futility. When the beast is shown to viewers in broad daylight, the last of the survivors attempt to battle the creature, only to be destroyed by it. The malevolent rogue Hickey, who believes that no man is his equal, wrongly and ignorantly sees the Tunnbaq as a divine being that he believes he can bond with, and attempts to unify with it. Hickey slices off his tongue (as the shamans do in order to communicate with the Tunnbaq), only to be ripped apart. It is a gratifying scene that plays out against Hickey’s ill-perceived judgement for survival. Hickey’s actions and behaviours have been ego-centric. His bid to win over the beast with his offering was not an attempt to live with it, but gain power by it. The creature disproves Hickey’s beliefs in that he believed he could attempt a ritual that the shamans could, and secondly, that the creature was godly in nature because it too, died. The Tunnbaq dies in the end, poisoned by the men who consumed the spiked flesh of Goodsir. It is a twist that demystifies the beast that was originally presented as a preternatural wraith.

AMC’s The Terror matches most of what historians and researchers currently hold true: that a horrid amalgam of scurvy, starvation, underlying illnesses, and exposure cultivated the downfall of Franklin and his men[37]. The story is beautifully packaged in sweeping sublime shots and mystified by that which is unknown, helping to aid in suspense and Terror.

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