“You have to accept this one on its own
terms.”
This definitely applies to
I Walked With a Zombie. But doing it may
not be easy. My advice; give this one a chance. Be
patient. Stay with it, see it more than once. (The first
time I watched it was a major disappointment.)
If you’re a big fan of cannibal-zombie movies,
for example, Night of the Living Dead, you will
feel like you’re in another Universe when you watch this.
Hardly any blood, no cannibalism for sure. The pace
tends to be slow.
It may feel as much of a domestic drama as a
horror movie at first. A love triangle between husband,
wife and husband’s brother. The highly regarded director Jacques
Tourneur and producer Val Lewton were people with no interest in
cheap shocks. No doubt they were after something more
subtle. But they succeeded in creating a mood, an atmosphere
that is sinister….but poetic. You may find yourself struck
by its beauty, at the same time you are feeling the suspense.
In addition, you feel a sadness running
through this movie. Reminiscent of other Lewton productions
such as Cat People and
The Seventh Victim.
Near its opening, the heroine Betsy believes she is alone,
on a ship’s deck; she is entranced with viewing the ocean at
night: the flying fish and mysterious lights. A man walks
by, stops near her. “It’s not beautiful,” are his first words.
The Caribbean has an unmistakable enchantment,
but a dark side too. Betsy’s first conversation on arriving
at the island of San Sebastian has to do with the slave trade, the
tragic legacy of the slave ships and the Middle Passage.
She is a nurse, hired by Paul, a rich planter,
to care of his wife, Jessica. Right away, you feel that
Betsy is a good person, someone having great faith in the goodness
of other people. That intuition is absolutely right, but
Betsy’s faith will be tested again and again by the sad, bitter
family situation she has taken on.
Betsy’s first scene is in Canada; snow falls
outside. This is one sign of how far from home she has travelled
when she arrives in the Caribbean. Life at the Rand family
home is a bitter, festering situation. The family members
are deadlocked, stalemated. No one knows why Jessica is in
her present state. She is conscious but silent. She
appears to recognize no one, react to no one. Is she insane?
Are her symptoms the permanent effects of a high fever she
once suffered? Or can she be a zombie?
Whatever the truth is, no one: Paul, his
half-brother Wesley, their mother Mrs. Rand, the Doctor, the
servant Alma; none can aid her. They have no power.
Each of them is a sympathetic character in their own way.
Well-meaning…but powerless.
Looking back, Paul knows he was not a good
husband to Jessica. Betsy slowly begins to understand him.
Beneath his harsh surface, he is a man who wants the best for his
wife; he appreciates Betsy’s kindness.
Wesley needs alcohol to get him through his
days, no mistaking this. But he has his reasons—he
loves Jessica too; he truly thought he could make her happier than
Paul did. Wesley describes Paul, then is interrupted before
he is finished. But what you do hear is overwhelmingly
negative. Wesley feels that Paul hurt her with his words as
much as hitting her would have. He feels cheated of his
chance to make Jessica’s life better. His situation has
become as bleak as Ethan’s story in the great novel
Ethan Frome.
Their mother Mrs. Rand has worked hard to help
the island people. She has tried to find some sort of effective
mix of modern medicine with an understanding of their folk
remedies. But all her effort has brought her no answers for
Jessica’s condition.
Some of the plot will remind you of the novel
Jane Eyre: the insane wife, the bitter husband
who turns out to be a good man, the naïve but brave, idealistic
woman he hires, the love they feel for one another.
But there are differences too: Betsy knows
about Jessica from the beginning, and she is willing to take a
terrifying journey to help her. Traditional Western medicine
has done Jessica no good. Betsy decides to take Alma’s
advice; to bring Jessica to a voodoo doctor as a last resort.
Night falls. The two women leave the plantation house
and walk through a strange world of windblown cane fields.
These moments have been praised by one critic after another;
praise well deserved. You probably will never experience
atmosphere that is so eerie yet so poetically beautiful. One book
printed some stills and wrote that the photos might possibly give
an idea of the power in the filmed images.
Betsy (holding flashlight) walks with Jessica
Betsy shows her courage in bringing Jessica
to the ceremony
These scenes are effective on an emotional level too. It
takes true courage for Jessica to walk through this eerie
landscape with no more protection than Alma’s words.
Jessica’s unchanging face reminds you again and again how
helpless she is. Betsy is on her own. Yet she is able
to find the strength inside herself to continue.
At first, it feels as though the frightening journey
changes nothing. But this outsider, Betsy, in bringing Jessica to
the voodoo ceremony, sets events into motion. It feels as
though this encounter has has tapped into older, traditional
forces. Forces that now can no longer be stopped.
Her first day in San Sebastian, a driver told
Betsy about a figurehead, once part of a slave ship. Now it
sits in the gardens, on Rand property. Many local people
still believe this figurehead has magic powers. What happens later
will change Betsy and Paul forever…events bound up with the arrows
buried in this figurehead. Looking back on it, you feel it
was only a matter of time. The powers of magic, the agony of
the slave ship legacy, combine into a force that is stronger than
Western medicine. Possibly even stronger than Western
civilization.
The plot in
I Walked with a Zombie is not its strong suit.
But so many other elements work in this movie. You
feel the feminist theme—Betsy is no doubt the strongest character
among the white people. Her goodness and faith more than
compensate for her lack of knowledge. She is able to start
the process that finally brings healing to the family.
In addition, this movie shows an insightful
attitude to colonial environments, white characters and Third
World characters, especially for its time, the pre-Civil Rights
Era. You feel as though the magic practitioners can control
the forces of Nature. That they always possessed the powers,
but only waited for the right moment to use them.
And in a quiet way, the Afro-American
characters are not afraid to speak the truth. The driver
tells Betsy straight out about the slave trade and about the
figurehead from the slave ship. And the singer, Sir
Lancelot, singing his sad, almost angry song, on the streets of
the town. He apologizes to Wesley (he had not known Wesley
was there) but makes sure that he finishes the song for Betsy
later on. You get several clear indications that Alma
understands much more of Jessica’s state of mind than she admits
to.
Voices that won’t be silenced
The filmmakers leave it to you to decide why one
character does what he does, bringing the conflict to a
resolution. My own feeling—it is the will of the old magic;
the powers Mrs. Rand wanted to learn for her own, well-meaning
purposes.
But the gaping canyon between cultures makes
this impossible. Only those brought here on the slave slips,
who have lived on the island for generations have these powers.
Don’t focus too much on the characters, or
especially, on the plot. Don’t try to read too much into the
dialogue. Concentrate on the understated moods and the feelings
they bring out.
Stay with the images, the subtle changes in
sound. As much as this movie may lack in some areas, it is a
unique experience. Go in without expectations and I think
you will see what I’m talking about.