Documentary Review: Eyes of the Mothman
Written By: Paranormal News
Click here to buy on Amazon
One of the most memorable, unexplained incidents that has occurred in my life happened during a windless, wintry night in January 2001 while standing on the porch at 2 AM at my dad’s house in Metamora, Michigan. The moon was out in full, along with a twinkling canopy of stars that I scanned while finishing my cigarette. Was there undiscovered life out there? I hoped so, and half pleaded for one of them to come down and whisk me away from this bullshit land of lies. Besides, I was almost out of smokes and knew I needed to kick the habit, anyway. I figured if I was abducted and taken to an alien world, it might reward me with a second-hand side effect of deleting my dependency on nicotine.
After about five minutes, I decided that I had failed yet again to get noticed by a passing mother ship, stubbed out the rest of my smoke, and pushed off a few mounds of snow that had piled up on the railing. My shoes crunched and compacted the drifts beneath me and I just stood there, listening. At the same time, I could sense tiny ice particles beginning to drop on my hair, against my cheeks, barely noticeable, peaking my curiosity. Snowing again, I wondered? There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
I looked back up and observed the moon, the stars, searching for the coming storm—a view, mind you, that was suddenly blocked out by a huge black mass of—well, something. My heart skipped a beat, my back suddenly awash in cold chills. The black mass glided in the air above my head near the peak of my dad’s roof. I could see part of its shape masking the moon—two wings, a body, a head—a tail? What was this?
The first thought that flooded my senses told me an idiot was out hang gliding, but I immediately dismissed the thought. I knew this was no hang glider, nor anything mechanical—it was an animal, larger than any I had ever seen. A turkey buzzard? Too small. A sting ray? Hah, no. A pterodactyl? Extinct. I tried recalling anything with the same description. It’s entire wing span, massive, perhaps twenty feet wide, covered a good portion of the width of my dad’s house. Again, I was struck by the fact that it made no noise, did not flip its wings, but glided as if searching for prey--a rabbit, perhaps? No, this thing could have picked up a deer if it wanted. Or a human, for that matter. I thought briefly that I was suddenly in danger of large talons that were going to sweep down and pluck my head in its grip, but still I couldn’t move, transfixed. After ten seconds, however, it finished its fly by and disappeared in the night, leaving me completely dumbstruck, but luckily still in one piece.
After the incident I felt obligated to tell everyone I had narrowly escaped the demonic clutches of an all-powerful dragon.
Honestly, to this day I have no idea what it really was and always felt uncomfortable attaching any label to it as nothing quite fit. Surprisingly, however, I did manage to run across a number of people online that had seen a similar creature but with dissimilar names. Some called it the Thunderbird. Others called it something which sounded as if it were pulled directly from a graphic novel—the Mothman.
It was therefore a pleasure to recently receive a new, in depth-documentary, Eyes of the Mothman, released on DVD this past February by Virgil Films and Red Line Studios. Filled with over two hours of eyewitness interviews, it seeks to uncover the truth behind this elusive cryptid which has never been caught, but has resurfaced and reappeared around the United States since at least November of 1966.
Where did the Mothman originate? Is it a prehistoric beast that managed to survive into the modern age undetected? Is it a genetically mutated monster stemming from a TNT hazardous waste plant built in the 1940s? An alien? No one seems to know, but first hand experiencers are certain that what they saw was not the result of a mistaken identity. They seek only to get answers that don’t insult their intelligence, and so far, none of the answers provided are straightforward. At all. Understandably. Just ask yourself: what do disappearing dogs, leaking cement bunkers, foreboding messages, exploding televisions, Indrid Cold, and colonial betrayal have in common? The Mothman. But why? And what does it mean?
One thing’s for certain: like the toxic sludge left over from mismanaged World War II facilities in Point Pleasant, the Mothman is still out there. Somewhere. I’ve seen it or something like it, others have seen it, so it’s really fantastic to find film crews who take the subject much more seriously than you could ever get from a two minute ‘look at these freaks’ clip on the nightly news. Informative in all the right ways--despite some really creepy guests--you’ll appreciate the detail supplied here by the film’s producers. They did an outstanding job finding those with firsthand accounts from the 1960s, and also took their documentary a step further, interviewing local historians and university environmentalists for their own take on the Mothman’s well-known home. Yes, the government treats the land as a wildlife preserve, but after watching this you kind of wonder why it’s not reclassified as a petri dish, instead. Luckily, this DVD will allow you to keep your hazmat suit in the garage.
Good stuff, yadda yadda, thumbs up. Check it out!