When it’s a foggy morning and I say to myself “this is the beginning of a horror movie, for sure,” this is the movie I’ve been unknowingly referencing.
A cross between the Gorton’s fisherman and Boris Karloff’s mummy, there’s something in the fog. It’s a wonder people still travel to new England seaside towns after this and JAWS. The fog took on a very similar sense of menace as the infamous shark, terrorizing the residents.
The character development was odd but worked well enough considering the genre. It appears that picking up hitchhikers led to long-term romantic relationships back in the day.
Moral of the story: beware of local politics. Whether it’s a killer clown, killer shark, or a colonial sea captain, your ancestors screwed over… No good can come of it.