Poe was one of the first American writers to go so deep in a character's mental/ psychological state. This was very well depicted in the film and the narration was done nicely, too!
ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'T is some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door; Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door:- Darkness there and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore:" Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore; Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore: 'T is the wind and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door: Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,- "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore." But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered, Till I scarcely more than muttered,-"Other friends have flown before; On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before." Then the bird said, "Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never-nevermore.' But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore." This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!" Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted- On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore: Is there-is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting: "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted-nevermore!
Once upon a midnight dreary, as I spit this weak and weary I will choke this joker with a trochee till his cheeks are teary (ahh!) But y'all don't hear me, all should fear me I'll forever be better, you'll never be near me, your books are as eerie as Beverly Cleary! You're a faux Bram Stoker, so scram, the show's over Your flow's so-so, Poe's poems pwn posers (snap!) I wrote 'em locked in a cave, while I sobbed in a rage The Tell-Tale Heart beats soft in its grave While this jerk just beats off on a page Stephen you pretend to do it, I've been really living through it Like misery and poverty and family woes I see through you like pantyhose, doing Chappelle and Simpson cameos (ahh!) Even if you're gripping on a weapon then you better get to stepping if you're messing with the horror lord In a minute maybe, I'mma hit him, cut him into itty bitty bits and I'ma stick 'em in the floorboards
A well done adaptation, great mood, tone, and atmosphere. With a wonderful narrator complementing and expressing that same mood and tone. A wise choice to film it in black and white, with great lighting, casting dark and earry shadows. The look of the Raven is haunting and disturbing. The Cinematography and Production Design are excellent as well.
The mood was intense, creepy, overwhelming. The way he was speaking to the bird with detph in his voice like he was going insane brought the mood to my attention & his intentions on speaking to the bird
you know the symbol of the Raven might have to do with a free Masonic Order of the Raven. They are supposed to said to be able to penetrate the most impenetrable rooms,and that their dimension or their home dimension is Cerberus. I think that's the meaning behind this poem. I know for a fact or from what information I gathered, that Pluto represents dis, or hell. That's what he means by the plutonium shore.I like your poem and the work you make it sounds very talented, and you're a very talented writer. But I think you should work a level of ambiguity that Edgar Allan Poe was achieving in his work. also from what I gathered Pluto aligns with Jupiter which aligns with earth,I believe in December. I read a recent article for like Nasa that stated that. Just certain things to take into consideration, which is what I believe makes Edgar Allan Poe a very dark poet.
I have memorized this poem and have held it as one if not the best works of art in known history and this is the best reciting of and visual to this poem on TH-cam. It got close to the setting and demeanor I see when I read this. Thank you.
Lenore's portrait adds so much to this video. I just recently started reading this poem and trying to find different readers. So far, this and Christopher Lee are my favs. Hoping there are James Earl Jones, Tom Hiddleston and Gilbert Gottfried versions out there. :)
8:34-8:59 "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Nights Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, AND TAKE THY FORM FROM OFF MY DOOR!!!! Quoth the raven " Nevermore." Now that is an Edgar Allan Poe masterpiece! This is one of my favorite works that Poe has done. Dose anyone else like his other works?
I like this. I love the way Leonore's face changes in the picture on the wall. The woman's shadow on the floor is his soul trapped and tormented grieving for Leonore
So this is when it feels like to have psyche sides without realising it... When an individual traps himself to the point of ultimately killing him/herself .. The raven within him... Best poem ever :)
You should not have showed the darkness or that is the hallway. Let the viewer imagine their own abyss that he is peering into. You took away the mystery that is the darkness.
I had a similar experience but when I opened wide the door it turned out to be my probation officer.
Ha!
Poe was one of the first American writers to go so deep in a character's mental/ psychological state. This was very well depicted in the film and the narration was done nicely, too!
For his lost Lenore
Poe bore a treasured piece of lore
Which will linger forever more
This is my favorite version of The Raven.
same
The sheer genius of this poem is frightening. It is magnificent masterpieces like these that make me think "Are we really alone?"
ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'T is some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore,
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore:
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door:
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door:-
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore:"
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore;
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore:
'T is the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door,
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door:
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,-
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore:
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered,
Till I scarcely more than muttered,-"Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore:
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore.'
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore,
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!"
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore:
Is there-is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore,
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore:
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting:
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor:
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore!
Thanx for the transcription!
Once upon a midnight dreary, as I spit this weak and weary
I will choke this joker with a trochee till his cheeks are teary (ahh!)
But y'all don't hear me, all should fear me
I'll forever be better, you'll never be near me, your books are as eerie as Beverly Cleary!
You're a faux Bram Stoker, so scram, the show's over
Your flow's so-so, Poe's poems pwn posers (snap!)
I wrote 'em locked in a cave, while I sobbed in a rage
The Tell-Tale Heart beats soft in its grave
While this jerk just beats off on a page
Stephen you pretend to do it, I've been really living through it
Like misery and poverty and family woes
I see through you like pantyhose, doing Chappelle and Simpson cameos (ahh!)
Even if you're gripping on a weapon then you better get to stepping if you're messing with the horror lord
In a minute maybe, I'mma hit him, cut him into itty bitty bits and I'ma stick 'em in the floorboards
Yung Link fucking idiot
Witchcraftandmagic "Bitches come and go brah but u know i stay"
+Black Moustache nice copy and paste skills ya got there
I love the way they added that bottle of absinthe, anyone who knows the history of the drink will understand.
That raven has no respect for people mourning a lost one. Very rude bird I must say.
Today, 19 January 2015 Mr. Poe has 206 years. Happy birthday!
This needs more views then it has. It deserves way more.
Everyone says this is a scary story and is a horror but I just see it as a sad, intense story! Anyone else?
i love this video so much.. when the raven says "nevermore" for the last part, oh man i just get chills everytime and i love it
absolutely brilliant, and Poe's classic poem is read perfectly. This is a classic representation of the very spirit of Poe.
A well done adaptation, great mood, tone, and atmosphere. With a wonderful narrator complementing and expressing that same mood and tone.
A wise choice to film it in black and white, with great lighting, casting dark and earry shadows.
The look of the Raven is haunting and disturbing.
The Cinematography and Production Design are excellent as well.
The mood was intense, creepy, overwhelming. The way he was speaking to the bird with detph in his voice like he was going insane brought the mood to my attention & his intentions on speaking to the bird
this video is the most underrated video on youtube
I love the beauty of this poem
This is fantastic. Romantic and even beautiful! This is by far the best raven reading I have known.
Excellent rendition of one of my favorite poems. Thank you.
The Glow (In the style of "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe)
Later upon a midnight dark, my heart was heavy, soul was stark,
I pondered Edgar’s “Raven” while I paced the floorboards to and fro-
While I walked there, wild and aimless, blaming hardship on the blameless,
Suddenly there came a faceless nameless entity aglow.
“’Tis a ghost or specter, surely; I assume this from its glow-
Ah! This much, at least, I know!”
I think back and do remember this took place in late November;
I was on one of my benders, suffering from angst and woe.
I took a few sips of Chablis; felt the coldest air ‘round me-
Peered out my window, past the tree-spied him standing in the snow.
It was him-but how could it be? How came he to stand in snow?
He’d been killed, this much I know!
But there he was, my old friend, the friend whose life I’d caused to end-
And then his spirit did ascend to my window very slow.
I jumped back then, clearly shaken; rubbed my eyes, was I mistaken?
Pinched myself, tried to awaken-could I be sleeping? Oh, no!
I had full possession of my senses; I wasn’t sleeping-oh, no!
I was awake, this I know!
He stood there still, barely moving, with a look so disapproving,
Put a damper on my boozing, on my Chablis and Bordeaux-
I fought my fear, tried to be brave; tried to discern him friend or knave-
I asked how came he from the grave I’d put him in long ago?
“This cannot be! How are you free? I murdered you long ago!
Killed you dead, this much I know!”
Riven with guilt, unforgiven, “How come you among the livin’?”
He just stood, no answer given-his silence quite apropos.
I admit that I was craven as I stood there in my haven,
I equated Edgar’s “Raven” with this ghost in my chateau.
“How can this be? How came you free? How came you to my chateau?
You’re dead! You’re dead! This, I know!”
Still he floated, ever glowing; no emotion his face showing-
Never showing signs of going-he just stood there in his glow.
“Is this revenge, or some sick joke?” I asked him as I took a poke-
I poked him in his spectral cloak, but my hand passed through his glow.
My hand passed through, my elbow too; my dead friend was naught but glow!
He was a ghost, this I know!
The wind outside, fiercely blowing; he stayed quiet, only glowing;
Left me ignorant, unknowing, “Tell me what I want to know!”
I was nervous, I was addled. There, I stuttered; there I prattled.
Confused, half-drunk, I was rattled, and outside the wind did blow.
Blowing, gusting, in a fury; how that wicked wind did blow!
“Tell me! Tell me! I must know!”
I was perplexed, I tried to think. I quickly poured myself a drink;
“If you are dead, why don’t you stink? Can you speak, or only glow?”
His inaction was quite daunting; it was clear that he was flaunting
His ability at haunting and ability to glow …
Glowing, showing me no mercy-oh my! How bright he did glow!
“Please tell me, I need to know!”
Though his presence there was shocking, I sat in my rocker, rocking,
With his silence, he was mocking, a prolonged, ghostly tableau.
But he remained there, unblinking; no whispered sounds, no chains clinking,
Against reasonable thinking; “Tell me why you’re here, or go!”
He did not answer, he just glowed … glowed … and neither did he go,
Changing everything I know …
Never more nervous, I was tense; in quite a state of deep suspense-
This apparition made no sense-I gulped down some more Bordeaux.
He just floated, hovered, glowing; apprehension swiftly growing,
Nary a sign was he showing he’d tell what I asked to know-
What I needed, what I wanted, everything I longed to know.
“Tell me now! I need to know!”
I succumbed to mental illness, drinking in the obscene stillness-
Violent winds took on a shrillness-I cursed my specter and Poe.
I shouted at him glowing there, “Stay here or leave- I do not care!
But you’ll not drive me from my lair; not ghost, or raven, or Poe!
I’ll stay and drink here in my chair! Drink to you and Mister Poe!
I’ll drink my wine, this I know!”
“I’ll drink myself into a fit, I’ll die right here, right where I sit!
This rocking chair I shall not quit! I’ll drink ‘til I die and glow!”
I cursed my friend and drank my wine, I did not stop to bathe or dine;
There I remained in my confine watching my ghostly friend glow.
I sat rocking and drinking-still, unblinking-and now I glow …
I glow, and finally know!
© 2014 The Poet Darkling™
you know the symbol of the Raven might have to do with a free Masonic Order of the Raven. They are supposed to said to be able to penetrate the most impenetrable rooms,and that their dimension or their home dimension is Cerberus. I think that's the meaning behind this poem. I know for a fact or from what information I gathered, that Pluto represents dis, or hell. That's what he means by the plutonium shore.I like your poem and the work you make it sounds very talented, and you're a very talented writer. But I think you should work a level of ambiguity that Edgar Allan Poe was achieving in his work. also from what I gathered Pluto aligns with Jupiter which aligns with earth,I believe in December. I read a recent article for like Nasa that stated that. Just certain things to take into consideration, which is what I believe makes Edgar Allan Poe a very dark poet.
I have memorized this poem and have held it as one if not the best works of art in known history and this is the best reciting of and visual to this poem on TH-cam. It got close to the setting and demeanor I see when I read this. Thank you.
Lenore's portrait adds so much to this video. I just recently started reading this poem and trying to find different readers. So far, this and Christopher Lee are my favs. Hoping there are James Earl Jones, Tom Hiddleston and Gilbert Gottfried versions out there. :)
we read this at the beginning of the year and I have loved it ever since
this is my favorite poem ever! i love edgar allan poes works! this was truly phenomenal!
This is AWESOME! This is splendid! This is mind blowing! I almost died!
8:34-8:59 "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Nights Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, AND TAKE THY FORM FROM OFF MY DOOR!!!! Quoth the raven " Nevermore." Now that is an Edgar Allan Poe masterpiece! This is one of my favorite works that Poe has done. Dose anyone else like his other works?
I would've killed that damned raven.
Very well done. I love this version.
Better than it even has sounded in my head. Thank you
Happy birthday, Mr. Poe.
207 years: 19 january 1809-19 january 2016
"That the play is the tragedy, "Man",
And its hero the Conqueror Worm"
It's creepy how the portrait changes! OMG! Chills.
Artfully Outstanding. Nothing More.
i love his voice
This is the best telling of The Raven I've ever seen
I like this. I love the way Leonore's face changes in the picture on the wall. The woman's shadow on the floor is his soul trapped and tormented grieving for Leonore
This has always been my favorite poem ever. The way it is read here is perfect. Love this!
My favorite poem. I love it.
Portrayal is too good. Very very good indeed.
(Stands up and claps) Bravo! Bravo! That was brilliant.
Edgar Allen poe such a good poet and writer
No shit Sherlock
Thank you fagan
I had this on dvd before I moved. Louis Morabito was amazing. The acting is very good.
So, so good. So excellently read. Bravo, sir. Bravo.
I really enjoyed this interpretation and dramatization of The Raven very much! Added to Faves!!!
i must thank you for uploading this version of the raven
Gorgeous!
If someone was taking that long to answer the door I would of left
the first knockings believe it or not were...jehovahs witnesses.
+Will Real haha 😂
best version of the raven
it is a one of a kind poem.
Wonderful work of art. Loved the atmosphere. And watching this interpretation reminds one of the ridiculousness of seeking answers from a silly bird.
So this is when it feels like to have psyche sides without realising it... When an individual traps himself to the point of ultimately killing him/herself .. The raven within him... Best poem ever :)
This video was amazing
This is the best video of the raven I just love it it took me to an other place thank you for this amazing work ❤❤
So haunting. I love this so much!
That sent a chill down my spine, as I watched the poor man descend into madness.
I love this poem so much.
You should not have showed the darkness or that is the hallway. Let the viewer imagine their own abyss that he is peering into. You took away the mystery that is the darkness.
☺
i want to have that raven, the design is so amazingly creepy, good lawdy lord
--And let it rest it's bust upon your Chamber door and quoth at random.. _Nevermore_.
DJDeezy ThaTruth damn right
Ha-ha. At first it reminded me of the "monster" bird in that 1957 science fiction film "The Giant Claw," but then I began to appreciate it too.
Wow!! was that a real Raven?? It looked so realistic......
This was made in the 1920's man.
Fionn Fitzpatrick Oh okay
Disregard Females no it wasn't!!!
Queefy McQueeferson no it was made in 2013
Connie Han I know that now. thanks though
Wow bravo, round of applause!
My favorite poem
Thankyou I love this the visuals and the recital are superb
Brilliant film and brilliant poem.
That was terrifyingly wonderful
thats voice tho makes it very suspenseful..
you Did a very good job!! I enjoyed it very much!!!
I usually listen to the Basil Rathbone version and it's really good. This version is even better. Kudos!
Excellent
Wonderful adaption.
merely a stately production, so mournful
magnificent genius
wonderfull reading
Great job - really has the atmosphere I associate with the poem.
I think of Poe as mad.
tnx Connie han, for explaining the poem, I understand it very well
Very good. Anyone else notice the picture on the wall changing?
This is awesomeeeeeeeeeee
I watched a version of this is a play, I sadly cant remember the name. But it was one of the best plays I've seen.
I agree- EXCELLENT! and with everything 'offshoreorganbuilder" said...
Excellence, just excellence.
Fantastic👍👍👍👍
Fantastic :) Thanks for sharing
were doing one in my school and its awsome!
fabulous!
Wow, that really helped me follow the poem good job with the whole vintage 1920's look, I've subscribed.
Wonderful adaptation.
reminds me of the early David Lynch short-movies! miss the raven´s "croak"! the movie is fine , thank you!
very striking!
Fantastic!!
This is very well done! Great job with everything.
I love this
That was amazing.
terrific
Legendary
that was awesome
Damn good vid, my friend, damn good vid.
With out words
So this dude was just trippin off the absinthe
+Steve garber I know he had a pretty tall glass.
Why not to do drugs and drink heavy start seeing Ravens talk 😂
Nicely done!
♫•*¨this reading&video are terrific*•.¸¸❤
His voice is like on it!
The best video