Author: phil

     After Night of the Living Dead began to make big money,
many low-budget filmmakers tried a similar approach.   Small cast, few special effects or none, and a tight story.  But most are bad rip-offs of Night, or of another movie about that time, Deliverance.

    Deliverance asked disturbing questions.  Basically this: You and your middle-class friends/ family are alone in the wilderness when you run into a savage clan of strangers doing their best to kill you.
You’re too far away to get help from anyone.  How much violence will you take on to stay alive?

    This movie is one of the exceptions among those
inspired by Deliverance and Night.   One of the real good ones.  (Another is the hard-to-find Canadian movie Rituals starring
Hal Holbrook.)

    The Hills wastes no time getting started.  The Carter’s, the typical American middle-class family in The Hills Have Eyes
must make these life and death decisions—real fast.

   An accident has left them stranded in the middle of the desert;   too far away to get help on their CB radio.  The family seems in danger from the beginning—the rocks and mountains look bleak
and threatening.  You can believe that anything could live up there.  Stuck on this dirt road (after swerving to avoid a rabbit) the Carter family seems to be exposed and vulnerable.  Not a place where you want to be stuck for the night.

   Little do they know that a cannibalistic family is about to close in on them.  This family, with names like Jupiter, Pluto, Mars, and Mercury, actually kills and eats one of the Carters’ dogs (named Beauty) and captures their one grandchild for their next meal. 

 Pluto (Michael Berryman)

In a night and day, the Carters’ will lose three family members to
the cannibal clan.  Now it is their turn to fight…and they’re soon prepared and ready.  Just one example; Doug tells the surviving dog, Beast, do your job– kill these people.  And the Beast is ready to give it his best shot.

   But it’s not only The Beast who is forced into action.  The two youngest Carter family members, Bobby and Brenda must use their wits to survive.  Not only that, they are forced to kill at close range with an axe after their booby trap fails to complete the job.

  Was Wes Craven trying to do more than to create a low budget action/horror movie?  Without question, the movie works real well on that basic level.   You just watch and enjoy it for its plot and characters.  I don’t know if he had something more to say, on a symbolic level, or if he was just looking to create a gripping story.

     Critics have suggested the idea that the families reflect or mirror each other.  Each does have a father, mother and four “children.”  (The Carter’s have two daughters, a son, plus a son in law; the cannibals have three sons, Mars, Pluto, Mercury, and a daughter, Ruby.)

   Ruby is the one member of the cannibal clan who wants
a different life.  She will go to the point of killing a family member to get free.   And she returns Doug’s baby to him.  Otherwise there is nothing good about her family…or at least none that the movie shows you.  And yes, the Carter family does get caught up in the violence and becomes part of it.

     But the screenplay and direction never show you anything to suggest the Carter’s are bad people, (except for some racist comments by the father) or that (apart from Ruby) the cannibals are good people.  It is more like a documentary showing a family of buffalo (or some other basically peaceful animal) fighting back to protect their young against some predator.

  No doubt, this could have been a better movie with more sympathy for the cannibals and less for the Carter’s. But I don’t think this was what Craven had in mind.  More on that later.

    The movie Deliverance was one of the first to dump one more question in your lap before walking away with no answer.  That question is this:  Can you go into the wilderness and kill people and then return to your old, middle-class life?

    At the end of the excellent novel Deliverance, you get a little of the hero’s long-term reflections about what he was forced to do, years back.  The movie simply ends, with no flash-forward. The Hills Have Eyes also stops short after the violence is done; you are left wondering what will happen to the survivors.

    Maybe Craven’s point (if he has a point) is that the answer is yes.  If you can deal with what you did, and convince yourself there was no other way, then you can return to your old life.

  But you will be a changed person.

  We hear the story of the Vietnam vet who says, even at
a birthday party where a dad hugs his young kid and helps them open presents; the vet can still see a man who is capable of random killing, maybe torture, in the jungle.

    The vet has been there with people, and seen what they can become under the right conditions.  Especially when it comes to protecting our families, almost all of us are capable of this kind of
violence.  But we pray that we’ll never be in a situation where we have to make that choice.  The Hills Have Eyes is at its center, about bonds between family members.   With both of the
older generation in the family killed off, then their oldest
daughter, it is left up to Doug to save his newborn daughter.  As much as you have gotten to know him, Doug is a quiet guy, not particularly macho.  But with his daughter’s life on the line, he is ready to turn to violence.

    When I first saw this movie, I thought it made kind of a positive statement about the typical American family.  How they stick together in a crisis.  If they (the Carter’s) had any other choices, I sure couldn’t see any.

    Like so many Vietnam veterans were forced to do, these survivors will try to put their lives back together again.  (Craven had once been a war correspondent in Vietnam, and more than likely the experience stayed in his subconscious.)   To me, the movie has done its job when you sit there at the end, overwhelmed.   Simply not ready to give the future any thought.  That’s for another day.

·   i had a lot of fears about being objective in reviewing the re-make of The Hills.  First, because people have a special feeling about a movie they saw before any of their friends, family and co-workers—you tend to over-rate it a little.  It feels like your
baby.  Because you get the privilege of turning people on to it.

   That was my experience with the original.  I remember not finding a VHS or DVD tape of it for years, then finally spotting one and telling my son, “You’ve got to see this.”

        When I saw that the remake was produced by 20^th Century Fox I got worried too; Bigger does not always equal better.

    But the remake is exceptionally true to the spirit of the original.  Not that the story and characters are exactly the same; they are not.  What I am happy to say though; none of the changes are false steps, just about every one works.

    Set in New Mexico, the remake focuses more than the original on the atomic bomb legacy of the 1950’s. The monsters here originated from the generation of miners who were ordered to evacuate the area , but refused to leave when atomic bombs were tested.  They survived the radioactive fall-out but paid a heavy price.  Each was deformed physically; most became cannibalistic maniacs.

WORK IN PROGRESS

    Witchfinder General comes close to being the ultimate revenge fantasy.  It is unique in other ways too.  Vincent Price gives possibly his all-time best performance, working with a director who didn‘t want Price to start with.  Third, it is about as grim as movies get. Not as bloody as a few, but bleak.

      For years, it could only be found in a version prepared for the USA, retitled The Conqueror Worm, to make it sound like an Edgar Allan Poe movie.  (That version ended with Vincent
Price reading the last lines of Poe’s poem The Conqueror Worm.)  Because of extreme violence, it was often shown with massive cuts.

     Price’s reading is effective and the lines of poetry do complement the story you have seen.   But actually the story has nothing to do with Poe’s fiction. Instead, it was based on a novel by Ronald Bassett. Bassett’s novel is loosely based on a real man, Matthew Hopkins who worked as a witchfinder in England during the 1600’s.

     One of the people who produced this movie describes Hopkins as a bad man who makes the people around him bad too.  You could argue that Hopkins only takes a festering situation and exploits it.

      A civil war in England filled with great religious persecution already rages.  Different religious groups (mainly, Protestants and Catholics) are anxious to destroy other groups.  Hopkins gives them an easy way to do this, by denouncing their enemies as witches.   Again and again, you see Hopkins and his assistant Stearne dragging people away, then torturing them or killing them, while others look on, some with satisfaction, some with blank looks.

.

A world with all decency gone   

    Hatred, jealousy, religious intolerance all contribute to what Hopkins is allowed, and encouraged to do. But is he truly a bad man?

   You can’t possibly see him another way.  The movie never gives you the least reason to justify anything Hopkins does.   He is only for himself, torturing anyone he’s able to, and using the torture for whatever money, power and women he can get along the way.  The script does not go very deep into any psychological motivation for his actions; all he knows is inflicting pain.
.

Matthew Hopkins–man without conscience

Hopkins’ effects are seen most on the hero, a farmer-turned-soldier, Richard Marshall.  The script does not try to analyze Marshall deeply either.  He is more of an Everyman in a Hell-ish place and time than someone you get to know deeply.

    Hopkins is responsible for the death of Marshall’s old friend John Lowes.   Lowes is also the guardian of Sara, Marshall’s bride- to- be.
Marshall is torn between his love for his wife, and his vow to
kill Hopkins.   He doesn’t know yet that he actually may have to choose between the two.   The civil war is changing his life…too fast.  He has just killed for the first time.  By doing this (shooting a sniper) he saved his superior officer and became a hero.

     But clearly, soldiering has brought out the violence in him too.  He tries his best to resist this; when Sara says to him “The army has taught you rough manners,” he struggles to be tender with her.   But hatred for Hopkins will make that impossible.

     One of the reasons Witchfinder General works so well is that it
sweeps you up into this deadly desire for revenge…then clearly
shows you  the actual revenge.  It’s the classic case of: Be careful what you wish for…

     Reeves’ outlook is a bleak one.  Marshall is someone who truly wants to do the right thing.  He wants no harm to come to Sara and to Lowes.  When Hopkins deceives Sara into having sex with him, then has Lowes killed, Marshall promises Sara to take revenge.  But again and again, you get the sense that the world is not a just universe.  Already it’s clear that it is not a safe place.

      In directing, Reeves works hard to show the contrasts between the calm, serene beauty of nature, and the brutality of people.  The movie starts in a pristine forest—sunlight actually creating a cross between the trees.  All is quiet.

     Then, the sounds of hammering.  It is a man putting together a gallows to hang a witch.  Soon she will be dragged into this scene, with not a soul doing anything to protect her.  Many in the crowd look happy to see her die, many seem totally uncaring.  Nowhere do you see the least sign of compassion.

       Lowes’ neighbors hate him and are willing to see him die because of their religious differences.  But if he has wronged them in any way, the movie never shows it. Later, Marshall tells Sara she will be safe in another town, Lavenham.  They find the same hatred and bigotry exist there too.

     To get his revenge on Hopkins, Marshall is willing to put Sara’s life in jeopardy, actually see her tortured.  It is as though his love for her has been held in suspension; revenge must come first.  Sara gets a long, intense look at the man Marshall has become…with devastating results.   At the end of the movie, both Sara and
Marshall seem lost to insanity—possibly forever.

     Witchfinder’s director, Michael Reeves, was forced to use Vincent Price as Hopkins in order to get financial backing from the American film company AIP.   The movie was actually produced by a small English company, Tigon.  Reeves wanted an English actor,
Donald Pleasence, ( Dr. Loomis from the mental institution in
Halloween I and II).

     I am a big fan of Pleasence.  If you can find it check out the obscure Charlton Heston movie Will Penny  (one of Heston’s personal favorites) for Pleasence’s incredible performance.  A truly scary portrayal, a man you pray you’ll never run into.  I caught myself more than once, picturing Pleasence doing some of the scenes Vincent Price was doing, and very effectively.

     Having said that, I think that Reeves got most of what he wanted out of Vincent Price. Price’s tendency to ham it up, that slight wink to the audience; these are nowhere to be found.  Price is cruel, unprincipled, cold as ice.   But he never overdoes his performance.

       A lot has been written about Reeves’ outlook, which is bleak, especially for a movie made in 1968.  As in Night of the Living Dead, you find few heroes able to follow their ideals and show people a path out of prejudice, festering jealousy, and apathy.  In this climate, the few good people are swept away in the flood.
They are quickly turned into victims, or blind seekers of revenge.

For a long while, Hopkins can corrupt all who listen to him

  In 1984, a brilliant theater director and playwright made the jump from the stage into movies.  Stuart Gordon was virtually an unknown outside Chicago.  Out of all his choices, he decided to make a horror movie, a decision based most on money factors.

Reanimator got a standing ovation at the Cannes Film Festival as a midnight feature.  American movie critics had good things to write about it too.

Gordon’s movie (co-scripted with Dennis Paoli and Brian Yuzna) deserved all this word of mouth.  Although cheaply made, the writing, directing and acting were professional and more.  You probably won’t think about this until later—watching this picture is like riding a roller coaster.  But to make the absurdly crazed story work, everyone involved had to play it straight.  To the nth degree.  If you’ve seen Reanimator, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

Stuart Gordon; Despite a “too much ain’t enough” approach to
style, he is generous and thoughtful in his interviews

The plot is loosely based on an H.P. Lovecraft short story.   It’s not easy to describe Lovecraft’s fiction briefly.  His great strength was his imagination—to see further and deeper.  Edgar Allan Poe had a
similar gift.  The years that passed between Poe and Lovecraft were filled with scientific discoveries and advances.Lovecraft used some of these as a jumping-off point. For example his fascination with other dimensions. Invisible to virtually all, but still there nevertheless; strange forces, strange creatures awaiting a chance to break free.

Another gift Lovecraft had– the insight to see
the limitations of science.  In other words,
scientists might say– this stuff you’ve dreamed up:
survivors of the Old Gods, creatures from other worlds,
other dimensions, black magic, witchcraft, cannot be proved
scientifically.

I think Lovecraft would answer this way: Science has its own limitations, it can’t account for everything.  No way can our science disprove it either.

Lovecraft’s biggest weakness?  Probably, his characters.  Although many of them narrate their stories in an overstated, borderline-hysterical tone, Lovecraft doesn’t develop them much.  As generous a person as he was said to be, he doesn’t seem that interested in the people in his stories. He married and had women friends but few female characters—the only memorable woman I can remember appeared in ashort story called The Thing on the Doorstep.

Gordon, Paoli and Yuzna had the imagination to ask:  What if Lovecraft had pushed the sexual limits in his stories as far as they could go, along with everything else? What would that look like?  As far as I know, no Lovecraft adaptations before had asked that question.  The Reanimator team tried something taking real courage:  Take Lovecraft’s vision/imagination and flesh out the characters including their sexuality.

Hardcore Lovecraft fans may not necessarily like what the writers came up with.  But I think they would admit that to interpret Lovecraft in any way that does him justice, you need great imagination.  I think this movie does that…at the very least.

And briefly:  For all his ‘overstatement’ Lovecraft knew how to use a story to set you up.  Go back and re-read The Rats in the Walls…how flat, how mechanically the narrator tells the story…till the last page. Crazy things happen–much earlier in Reanimator, yet slowly but surely its story is also setting you up for an out of control finish.

You meet Herbert West right away,  a student in a European medical school, unsuccessfully trying to bring a dead man back to life.  The authorities have a strong suspicion West killed the man.  But they let him go, in return for his promise to get out and never come back.

The next time you see him, he’s a student in Arkham, Massachusets.  The staff at the new school is unsure; is he is a genius, or a psycho?  What they don’t know is that West is like a silent avalanche coming straight at you.  He’s picking up right where he left off, and they may as well try to stop a tidal wave.

West doesn’t even bother sucking up to the people in power at Arkham.  He’s about as far as you can get from a people person.  West is interested in one thing and one thing only—a compound he’s created that can bring the dead back to life.  All it takes is an injection of the bright electric-green liquid.  The substances West used are never explained—you have to take his brilliance for granted.  But for all his genius, he is the ultimate accident about to happen.

The first to be swept up in the tidal wave is Dan Cain, a bright, kindhearted, dedicated medical student. Dan is already in a difficult situation.  He is in love with Meg, the beautiful daughter of the medical school dean.
Dean Halsey is a basically good man, but over-attached to
Meg, and an arch-conservative.  He’s always gotten along with
Dan, but would go ballistic if he knew his daughter was having sex
with him.  And Dan has no money; he is on scholarship, a
scholarship totally at the dean’s discretion.

From out of nowhere, West barges into Dan’s life.  (To ease his money problems, Dan has placed an ad for a roommate.)  In no time, West sizes up the situation with Dan and Meg.  He blackmails Dan into letting him stay. Meg feels intuitively that Dan is in deep deep shit already.

The reality is even worse.  Dan’s cat goes missing.  Meg finds the body in West’s refrigerator. West denies everything.  But days later, Dan hears ominous noises and follows the sounds down to the basement. There he sees West, struggling to get the now-crazed cat off his back.

West talks about his discovery.  His formula will work on lifeforms dead less than 12 minutes, and their brain not traumatized.  He mentions overcoming the “6 to 12 minute brain death,” something Dan knows well.  (He lost a patient, only days before; someone he was sure he could revive.)  West’s words strike a deep chord in Dan: “We can defeat brain death.”

Dan–in awe of the possibility of defeating death

Dan is torn between disbelief, disgust, and an overwhelming wish to give mankind this great discovery.  He allows West to
inject the cat—again.

“Don’t expect it to tango,“ he tells Dan. The cat screeches quietly, then loud.  “Birth is always painful,” West says.

Dan sees that West is out of control—anyone with a pulse can tell.  But West’s self-confidence, his dream of  defeating death—all this touches something in Dan.  He doesn’t want to lose another coded patient when he could be using this weapon.

West reminds me of Hitler—a man who believes in the purity, the ultimate greatness of his vision.  He will let nothing stop him.  Humanity, individual lives are minor factors compared to the supreme force of his will, translated into heroic deeds.

Dan is like the German people who followed Hitler.  They took a leap of faith in the man’s character, because they wanted so much to believe in the greatness of his vision.  They were desperate for someone who told them…You want glory?  I can give you glory beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed.

Again and again, Dan does his best to clean up the mess that West (actually both of them) has caused.   He ignores what he sees; that reality means little to West. That West sees every obstacle life throws them as one more chance to use his liquid and observe the results.

If you have never seen Reanimator, you may be getting the wrong idea—that this is a tragic story, a grim experience.  A plot
about missed opportunities, like the Hammer Frankenstein series. But the movie changes; slowly but surely its irony, its twisted sense of humor begins to show itself.   Speaking just for myself, horror and comedy are usually a miserable combination.  But every once in a while, adding subtle comic elements does work.  The Howling (I) is a good example.

The humor starts to bubble up to the surface at just the right moment—West and Cain have reached the point of no return.  West is confident again after bringing the cat back.  Ready for the big enchilada…human beings.  But you can’t perform this experiment without some major risks.

Their plan to minimize the risks means sneaking into the morgue.  Then look for the best possible subject—a body recently deceased, the least amount of head trauma.

And still, things go wrong…big time. Their cadaver of choice, a big muscular guy, is suddenly awake, psychotic, throwing the two men around like rag dolls. Dean Halsey shows up at the worst possible moment.  By the time the cadaver is dead again, it has strangled Halsey to death.

West may be crazy, but he can think on his feet.  And he has a plan—his usual.   When in doubt, whip out the liquid and his syringe.  He injects the dean.

Halsey is back…insane but alive.  West somehow creates an explanation made-to-order.  No criminal charges (yet) for West and Cain.

They don’t realize yet they have a problem as serious as criminal charges.  Turning Halsey into a lunatic has opened the door for a sociopath who’s waited a long time for this.  Dr. Hill.  Only Halsey held more power than Dr. Hill, whose quiet, thoughtful manner hides a devious, sleazy core. Hill sees West and Cain as enemies he must stamp out.

Dr. Hill–even his severed head is dangerous

Cain’s dream of benefiting mankind is already evaporating fast.  What started as a quest for progress has now turned into duel between West and Dr. Hill.  For Hill it’s all about power and fame. Lobotomize Halsey so that he can never be cured.  Force Meg to marry him—he has always had a secret obsession with her.  And steal West’s formula. Two egos the size of Mt. Everest, about to butt heads

Much of Reanimator’s humor is the “did he just say what I thought he said?” variety.  In one scene, West injects his liquid into a severed head.  The head lies silent on West’s table.  West taps it impatiently with a pencil. The eyes struggle to open.  West’s  scientific curiosity is unending.  “What are you thinking?  How are you feeling?” he asks the head.

West–unending curiosity

It’s easy to forget how well-done the characterization and acting
are, in the midst of so much bizarre, nonstop action. Gordon’s creative view includes this:  A movie can’t scare you if you don’t care about the characters.  Meg, played effectively and more by Barbara Crampton is one example. You definitely care about her.  She searches for some way to stop the madness that the man she loves—Dan, is getting pulled into.  And her father becomes a near-zombie; you feel her desperation.

On the DVD’s commentary, Gordon does not come off as I expected… chuckling like crazy over his own ingenuity. Instead he is gracious in praising the acting of Crampton and David Gale  (Hill) under trying circumstances. Paoli talks about the creative process; how attached he became to West’s character.  How he (Paoli) could move his story ahead, based on how alive West had become, in his mind. I think the filmmakers’ decision to leave out
any tongue-in-cheek attitude was absolutely right, the only way to play this.  They got what they wanted and I am grateful.

   Note—From Beyond was released in 1986 with an
R rating.  Years later, the deleted material was
rediscovered and edited back, into the unrated DVD.  This
is the version the filmmakers originally hoped to release.

Unfair as it may be,
From Beyond will likely be compared with director
Stuart Gordon’s earlier movie,
Reanimator.  Reanimator may well be better
but don’t let that blind you to what’s good in
From Beyond.

People may feel–not much of a story.
From Beyond feels like more of a rush
job–not enough time available to develop the plot, the characters.
But that’s not such a big deal; Its focus isn’t plot so much as
breaking down barriers.

What sort of barriers?  First, barriers
in the scientific sense; the search for new dimensions, hidden
sensory awareness, concealed worlds.

Second, breaking barriers simply by creating
its outrageous plot and characters.

Like a peeping tom, you get to watch people
change, as they surrender to forces from their subconscious.
As Bubba Brownlee the streetwise detective says, “It’s
changing us…and not for the better.”

Detective Brownlee; streetwise but unprepared for the
Resonator’s effects

Like
Reanimator, this movie is based on a short story
by the horror/fantasy/science fiction writer H.P. Lovecraft.
Lovecraft died fairly young in 1937.  Unlike most of
us, he was alive when Einstein published his Theory of Relativity,
the Wright brothers flew the first plane,  physicists gained
insights into energy levels within the atom, and many more
scientific ideas came to light.

Like another excellent writer of that era,
Algernon Blackwood, (The
Willows, The Wendigo), Lovecraft became intrigued
with other dimensions.   People are still fascinated with
these questions years later—remember the
Little Girl Lost episode on
Twilight Zone, (1962) expanded in 1982 as
Poltergeist.

Like Poe and Ambrose Bierce, Lovecraft
ventured deep into dark, grotesque environments.  A cynic
could say that Lovecraft’s fiction is not ideal movie material
because it’s virtually lacking in sex and humor.  Both
Reanimator and From Beyond add
sex by the shovel-full, and also a bit of humor.  Still,
these movies (and Gordon’s later Dagon) manage to
capture Lovecraft’s spirit better than anything before or since.

From Beyond is not
particularly strong on ideas.   I doubt very much this is
what the filmmakers had in mind. In one revealing interview,
Carolyn Purdy-Gordon, the director’s wife, summed it up:
“Stuart’s approach is: ‘Too much ain’t enough.’”   The
filmmakers are fixed on being as outrageous as possible.
Aiming more at a series of shocking scenes than a well-told
story.   This approach is not that different from Dario
Argento’s, although its style is quite different.

The story’s message, perhaps:  Until you
really get your shit together, there are places you need to stay
out of.

Two scientists, Pretorius and Tillinghast had
created a resonator, with the power to expose them to another
dimension.  Pretorius, the more reckless, has had his head
twisted off, and returns as a slimy mass able to change his form
at will. (Most of the special effects are quite good, especially
given the limited budget.)

But Pretorius, like so many people you’ve
known, finds that his massively increased powers don’t solve his
sexual and ego problems. Despite all he’s seen and his new powers,
Pretorius is still the same loser as before.  Tillinghast,
who knows him best, describes Pretorius as sexually impotent and
fixated on S&M.

Now Pretorius has monstrous powers, but he has
remained an abuser.  He only talks a better game.

Dr. McMichaels is a psychiatrist assigned
custody of Tillinghast, whom the authorities believe murdered
Pretorius.  Her brief journey into black leather doesn’t
teach her much either.  Probably she managed to keep her
sexuality in check before.  Now she is unable to control her
wilder urges.  But as you would expect, being touched by
someone as slimy as Dr. Pretorius brings her only disgust.

I don’t want to let ourselves, the viewers,
off the hook so easily either.  The bizarre, sleazy sexuality
we view allows us to indulge our idle curiosity, our morbid
fantasies.  Remember how innocent Dr. McMichaels looks at
first, in her white dress and large eyeglasses.

Hard as it is to admit, I bet many of us have
tried to picture sex between such a woman, and a shapeless, slimy
creature from another dimension.   That lots of us, riding a
train, perhaps sitting at a business meeting, have had similar
fantasies about someone dressed in perfect style and revealing no
emotion.   The more sophisticated, out of reach, and straight
out of Elle or GQ  they
look, the more intense our daydream.  I suspect that we’ve
had fantasies of being Dr. Pretorius for a day (remember his
classic piece of dialogue:  “Humans are such easy
prey.”)

So many of Lovecraft’s short stories begin or
end in insane asylums, with a character’s mind blown-out,
overwhelmed by the enormity of their experience.  In
From Beyond, Tillinghast (the closest thing to a
traditional hero) is accused of murdering his colleague, then
diagnosed as schizophrenic.

Dr. McMichaels’ professional reputation gives
her the authority to take Tillinghast back to Pretorius’lab.
The only condition; they go accompanied by a police
detective, Bubba Brownlee.

Here’s where you get a taste of
the bizarre imaginations of Gordon and screenwriter
Dennis Paoli.  In a scene worth the price of admission, Dr.
Pretorius, believed dead after having his head torn free of his
body, reappears.   Transformed into a mass of unknown life
form.

Pretorius tells them he did not die…only
“passed beyond.”   Adding   “I am master here.”
Then changing the subject, “Who’s the lovely woman?” The same
imagination and flair that made Reanimator such a
revelation.

Dr. Pretorius–not dead, but…passed beyond

Unfortunately, Dr. McMichaels has developed a real
taste for the resonator’s effects.  Tillinghast and Brownlee
are convinced it is dangerous, much like a physical addiction.
But McMichaels’ interest in the pineal gland, and in the
resonator’s ability to erase sexual inhibitions overcomes her
caution.  While the two men sleep, she turns the
resonator back on, its force blowing her dress away from her.
When Tillinghast comes upstairs, she kisses him
passionately.

Then Pretorius is back, part human,
part…something from the next dimension.  He pulls her against
him, licks her cheek, feels her breasts with slimy, elastic,
elongated

Dr. McMichael’s sex fantasy… turned really ugly

Tillinghast runs down to the basement to
disconnect the main power source but is attacked by a huge
worm-like creature.  Pretorius transforms into an organism
with an orifice that envelopes McMichaels’ head.  Both
creatures seem inspired by incarnations of
The Thing, made only a few years before.
Finally Tillinghast is able to cut the power, shut down the
resonator.

While Suspiria is well known
for its bright blues and reds, From Beyond uses a variety of
pinks, magentas, violets and purples to underline its atmosphere.
These shades do the job, lending each of these scenes a
bizarre, out-of-control feel.

What other scenes make
From Beyond such a powerful experience?
Take a look at the scenes where the pineal glands take
people over.  (This gland is not fiction; it is a
small structure located in the brain.  After much research,
its functions became understood, but not until the 1950’s.)

But in this movie, the pineal gland functions
like an id running berserk.  Pretorius and Tillinghast’s
enlarged pineal glands actually resemble small snakes poking out
of holes in their foreheads.

Tillinghast wakes up in the hospital and
begins to stagger around with a sudden appetite for human brains
(best served raw).  At first, he has to settle for getting
diseased brains he finds in hospital waste bins.  Shots from
Tillinghast’s point of view show things around him in bright,
iridescent colors— more vivid because the real corridor is
practically all black and white–it looks like a cheap video game.

Dr. Tillinghast–craving brains  

You sit there thinking–it can’t get much weirder than this.
Then it does.

Again, don’t be in a hurry to compare this one
with Reanimator.  Just be thankful for
Gordon, Paoli and their sick minds.

     Dead Alive is an easy movie to dismiss.  It features non-stop humor, most of it over the top and too camp-y to believe.  But its approach to the humor is similar to Reanimator; It doesn’t try to be cute in its attitude and give you a lot of knowing winks. This is
one of many signs of the still-developing, but enormous talent of
its director, Peter Jackson, later to direct Heavenly Creatures, then the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

The basic story seems simple, but there’s more going on than you notice at first.  Lionel, one of the two main characters, will probably strike you as the ultimate mama’s boy, a complete nerd.

Owing to that, you expect him to react in some horrible way to a different woman.  That another woman will treat him well, then pay the price.  Several times in the story you expect him to snap completely.  Anthony Perkins all over again.

The charm of this movie is watching how differently things work out.  You are primed for this moment where he loses it, where we get the real Lionel; he is off on the serial-killer express.

It doesn’t turn out this way.  The other main character, Paquita, senses the good in Lionel.  She is not the woman you think she is: a good-hearted but hopelessly naïve person; not able to see how damaged the guy is, until it’s too late.  Paquita may not be book smart but she is brave, loyal, and has learned a lot from the folk-wisdom her family gave her.

To be fair, Lionel is no Norman Bates either. Again and again, he tries his best to be kind to his mother, Vera.  She is unable to return kindness to anyone, though.
All she knows is selfishness and a desperate desire to keep
up appearances.  Things fall apart when mother is bitten by a
rare monster-monkey while she visits the zoo.  Instead of heading off to the ER, she calls a nurse to treat the wound. Big mistake.  The toxins from the monkey will soon kill her and turn her into a zombie.

Lionel’s mother–bitten    

Dead Alive will no doubt be fun for people who enjoy its many tributes to earlier movies.  Most of us enjoy that.  What you may miss though, is a strange sort of back-and- forth between Vera, in a feverish delirium with her festering wound, and her fantasy about Lionel and Paquita having sex. Vera’s infected wound, swelling and pulsing, is contrasted to the increasingly hot sex; the wound finally bursting and spitting out liquid like some foul ejaculation.  Except for David Cronenberg’s movies I can’t remember ever seeing sex associated with a festering wound before.

You get a hilarious dinner scene, complete with obnoxious, boring conversation, while suddenly Vera’s ear falls into custard dessert.  Then Vera is dead from her infection.

Remember Norman Bates cleaning up after his mother?
Lionel seems headed in the same direction.  He seems
more concerned with getting the blood off the floor than in his
mother’s death.  But Paquita doesn’t just stand there watching.  She suddenly remembers her grandmother’s prophecy about the man she, Paquita, loves—”Dark forces are amassing against him.“  She is still unable to help him right away. But you get the feeling that she will do more, later on.

Sometimes, you can watch a movie, and find yourself asking, for example, “What if this character had made the opposite decision 15 minutes ago?” or “How would this scene look if this movie was a heavy drama instead of a light comedy?”
Questions like these went through my mind, about this point in Dead Alive—so many of the situations reminded me of Psycho.  Lionel, like Norman Bates, is clearly trying to do the right thing.  He does not want to reveal his mother’s death and tries to hide all traces of her.

But “doing the right thing” works out better for Lionel than for Norman Bates.  You don’t expect this mama’s boy to do what Norman could not—ask for outside help and get it. Lionel  moves  away from the bad mother’s spell, and reaches out to Paquita  (and her grandmother) for help against the “dark forces.”  And she helps him by giving him an amulet which will save him over and over again.

Paquita–always there for Lionel through all the horror

No doubt about it, Lionel does need plenty of help. In no time, he has a whole houseful of zombies to take care of.  Besides his mother he soon has her nurse, the minister, a monster baby (inspired partly by It’s Alive and by Baby Herman from Who Framed Roger Rabbit) and a gang of thugs he met while digging up his mother’s body.  He feels that all of them are his responsibility to care for, and he does all he can. Yet he is also trying to escape his Joan of Arc martyr tendencies.  He wants more from life than just a second dysfunctional family.  When his sleazy uncle shows up and wants the house, Lionel says he can have it.   And he means it too.

Monster baby

     Dead Alive finds outrageous humor in these plot twists and turns.  Much of the humor is camp-y.  Check out Lionel’s armor as he enters the basement to tranquilize his mother.  And the overhead light swinging crazily, as it did in the Psycho basement when Lila (Vera Miles) finally learns Mrs. Bates’ secret.

Lionel needs to tranquilize his zombie-mother just to keep her quiet at her own funeral.  Mother and son wind up in a bizarre embrace during the service.   Lionel can’t even dig up his mother’s body without aggravation.  He is surrounded by thugs who taunt him.  Ironically, his mother shows up to save him (a brief but effective tribute to the original Carrie).  This lucky break permits
him to bring her back to the basement, the first of many other
zombies to hang out there.

Meanwhile, his uncle has invited a whole bunch of his friends over to party.   The worst kind of rowdy trash. You get a bad feeling you’re going to see a train wreck where the party people run smack into the zombies. The situation is not so different from the wind-up in the original Dawn of the Dead, one of the most violent movies ever at the time it was released (1979.)
Peter Jackson deserves a lot of credit for dealing with this nonstop splatter with a surprisingly light touch.  Making it
disgusting without any real viciousness is a task that somehow he manages.

Dead Alive is one of the goriest, over-the-top movies you will ever see.  But it is also fun (and not just for real sickies).  And it could be most affecting for anyone who has ever had a crush on someone, but was held back by a dysfunctional family of origin and their own shyness.

This may sound hard to believe but take my word for
it.  This is a true original.

    Sometimes you have to accept a movie on its own terms.  Many critics would mention I Walked With a Zombie as an example.  Like these critics, I feel that the mood it creates is what is important.   Mood is more important than the plot, at least
as important as the characters. Suspiria is even more of an extreme case, with characters and plot not well developed at all.

   But in many ways these two movies could not be more different.  It’s like comparing Mozart to Foxey Lady (Jimi Hendrix).  One is subtlety itself, one grabs you by the throat.  Both movies have their share of faults and both have the courage of their convictions, something I respect.

   If you were forced to pick a category, you could say that Suspiria is about witchcraft. Yet the movie barely scratches the surface of history, practices, and folklore in witchcraft. This won’t come as a big surprise if you’ve seen other movies by its director, Dario Argento.  You might describe some as “murder mysteries” but you’d be disappointed if you watch them for the detective work.  Finding out the murderer’s identity and their dark secrets isn’t a big deal. Not much explanation for anyone’s “motivation.”

   What you do get is a beating, from the pounding, surging music, from the endless bright red and blue colors, from the voices veering wildly from soft conversation to screaming, from the facial expressions, especially the eyes wide with terror.

   Not just the brilliant red and blue colors, but the way Suzy is made to look tiny; her courage is even more memorable

     Suspiria was said to be an influence on John Carpenter’s original Halloween and it probably was.   But while these  movies were made about the same time, there are serious  differences.  In Halloween, the frequent, jumpy camera movements and close shots of people standing alone and vulnerable keep you on the edge of your seat.  Most of the time these are false alarms.   Only
you can’t relax because enough of them are the real thing.

   Suspiria, too, sets you up for some major violence.  Unlike Halloween, it’s no great surprise that the violence comes.  When and how it comes is the big surprise.  (You do get some
false alarms too.)  In my opinion, both of these movies broke
rules when they came out.  Halloween appeared to over-use the false alarms, Suspiria appeared to over-use both the lead-ups
and the scenes of gore.  Both changed film styles. Neither movie is for everyone.

   For instance, it’s not easy to take Suspiria’s plot seriously.  Suzy Bannion, an American ballet student, travels all the way to Germany to attend one of the world’s best dance academies.  The night she arrives, a student is killed inside the school. The police find few clues to the murderer’s identity.

   Suzy has no interest in living at the school and immediately finds an apartment to share near-by.  But during her first dance practice, she passes out.

   She wakes up in a room at the school.  A medical “expert”, Professor Vertegast, says she must rest for a week and take a specially prepared diet, including red wine with every meal.  The headmistress tells Suzy that her roommate Olga has generously brought all her things over, so that Suzy can move in.  (Exactly what Suzy did not want to do.)

    That night, fly maggots drop from the ceilings by the hundreds in each student’s room.  The headmistress, Madame Blanc, blames a shipment of spoiled food stored in the attic, the floor above the rooms.  Not exactly what you expect at a world-class school you have travelled 3,000 miles to attend.

   Maggots force the ballet students into temporary sleeping quarters

   It sounds far-fetched and it is.  But the plot does the job.   Suzy is the only character you have a chance to identify with, and she never gets the opportunity to plant her feet on the ground.  From the minute she walks out of the airport into a driving rain, she moves from chaos to…more chaos.  Her hair tangled from rain and wind, she hails cab after cab.  They pass by as if she is invisible. The driver who finally stops for her appears to be sealed off like a tomb.

   When she arrives at the school, no one will let her inside.  A girl runs by her in terror.  The only words Suzy catches are  “secret flowers.”

   Next morning, Suzy returns to the school. The headmistress is friendly enough, but you sense something false about her.  She announces that the student murdered last night was Pat, the girl Suzy saw running away.  For most of the remaining story, it is clear that Suzy’s special diet is drugged, as though the school authorities want her as sedated as possible.

   Okay, clearly not the best of story lines. But what is so memorable about Suspiria’s style?

   You already sense it the minute the airport door opens.  The wind blows Suzy’s clothes so hard they rise insanely; she looks as though a ghost has literally grabbed her. Intense music begins to play.  The sound is like a harpsichord, possibly synthesized.   Seven notes repeated over and over, loud.  Then whispering voices, La la la la la la la, in time with the melody, even louder.

   Suzy’s cab reaches the school, as the rain still pours down.  The outside walls an intense red color. You see Pat run past Suzy.  Suddenly Pat is in a forest, with endless thin white trees.

   Then Suzy is gone in the cab, and Pat is
somehow back inside the school.   She is dressed in white,
but the bright red walls and lighting all but turn her clothes the
same red.  The style of the lobby is like some exaggerated
art-deco.

   Pat is alone again in her room.  She stares out the window at a bright blue night.  Just as the red color in the hallway practically drowned out every other color, now blue does the same here.   Pat looks further out, then sees a pair of eyes in the blue night.  Nothing else, just eyes.  Then madness…chaos.  You will want to see it for yourself

   No doubt, critics have analyzed the roles of the bright reds and blues, and the use of white in Suspiria.  Blue dominating the screen definitely highlights many violent scenes, such as Sara’s (Suzy’s best friend) desperate attempt to escape a room on the top floor. While a killer tries to use a razor to lift the latch, Sara
focuses in on a lone white window in the upper right part of
the screen.  White appears to represent peace, salvation… a
way out.  Another, much quieter scene shortly before this:
Suzy and Sara, both in white suits, alone in the school’s huge,
ancient swimming pool.  Like the window in the later scene,
they are virtually the only white parts of a scheme that would
otherwise be solid blue.  In this overwhelming blue, they float like white angels.

.

   Suzy and Sara; angels in a sea of evil   

   One advantage of using the witch theme in the under-developed plot:  it gives Argento the freedom to allow anything to happen with no explanations.  The maggots. A faithful, peaceful guide dog suddenly turning on his blind owner.  A room at the top floor of the school filled thigh-deep in razor-wire, wall to wall.  An evil figure, his or her identity never revealed, stalking the school, carrying a straight razor.

   Again, a vulnerable creature in a landscape with unseen predators

   I don’t know if Argento wanted, or chose the American actress Jessica Harper (Inserts, My Favorite Year) for the role of Suzy.
But Harper turns out to be very good.  Her voice doesn’t betray much of her feelings; it remains calm throughout most of the craziness she goes through.  For a long time, you aren’t sure if that calm voice reflects Suzy’s passivity, or her strength to endure all she is forced to go through.  In contrast, her large, expressive eyes provide most of the clues to her soul.

Suzy–overwhelmed, terrified…but unwilling to be intimidated

   But when Suzy finally finds herself without help and alone, you
see her courage.  Not only is she ready to venture into the
forbidding top floor, (where she imagines her one friend, Sara,
either captive or dead) she is willing to take on the witch whose
spirit still controls the school.    Like John Carpenter soon afterwards, Argento was willing to take his style into uncharted waters.  This movie has its faults but it is an original vision.  And it grabs you by the throat as he intended.

    Even before the credits finish, you can tell Night of the Hunter won’t be your average western…or thriller…or anything else.  You hear music—straight out of the most savage  westerns.  Music that screams out: a killer’s coming—Lee van Cleef… maybe Robert
Mitchum?

And facing the killer down–John Wayne… Gregory Peck?
No, a young boy alone, really alone, in a world of chaos.
Abruptly, the music changes into a child’s lullaby, “Dream Little One, Dream.”  You can’t figure out what’s going on, but if you have a pulse, you are getting curious.

Night of the Hunter is now ranked as an American classic, a world classic.  Yet when it was released (1955) it did not make money.  Its director, the great actor Charles Laughton worked long and hard to get everything the way he wanted.  He dreamed of directing more movies.  But the poor showing at theaters stopped him cold—he never directed another.

One problem–the movie was hard to put in a category.
Second, maybe 50’s audiences felt it was too creepy—they had
enough anxiety in real life, thank you.  Soviet Union moving into Eastern Europe.   Atomic bomb tests.

Most of us wanted something reassuring— something telling us basically, if you go to church  every week, then things should be okay.  One good example–The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit.

But in this movie, almost everyone believes in God and the church… at least they claim to. Yet the most devoted man of God—the self appointed preacher Harry Powell is a serial killer. Many are taken in by him.

People are narrow-minded, often mean-spirited. Most 50’s movie-goers were looking for escape… and this wasn’t it.

No one can forget Harry Powell, the fanatic with one hand tattooed “LOVE” the other “HATE.”  The riveting sermon using his hands that he preaches at a minute’s notice.

Robert Mitchum’s iconic role–sociopath posing as a man of God

But overshadowed by this great character and Mitchum’s great
performance is an under-rated character and performance—the boy John Harper, played by Billy Chapin.   His career shorted out
before the 60’s even began; he was still a teenager.

He is a kid forced to be a man.    People around him want to help but they are useless.  His world is in free fall.  John becomes hard as nails—by necessity.Yet later you see his need for love…his acceptance of love—it hits you like a mule’s kick.

Billy Chapin as John; a forgotten actor giving a much under-rated performance

The story begins with an overhead shot of a small town on a river.  Far from the noise and stress of the big city.  The good old days…

Not for long.  A group of young kids approach cellar stairs behind a house.  Sprawled on the stairs the dead body of a woman.

Next, Harry Powell driving through the countryside and small towns.  Loudly asking God what’s next for him. He says he hates women wearing anything provocative.
But when you see him next, he’s in a burlesque theater.
You have a bad feeling—a religious fanatic with some heavy
compulsions.

Harry Powell watches the burlesque show

Meanwhile a young brother and sister sit quietly, not knowing their peace is about to be shattered—forever.

Suddenly their dad appears, on the run after a bank robbery: he killed two people. Only a minute to tell his son John everything.

I’m hiding the money I stole.  Only you will know where. You can’t tell anyone where it’s hid.  From that moment, John is thrust into an adult’s world.  Again and again, the movie reminds you he has no choice.

The father, Ben Harper is sentenced to hang.

Sharing Ben’s cell is the same fanatic, sentenced to
30 days for car theft.  Ben talks about the money in his sleep; Harry is desperate to know where the cash was hidden. Ben quotes the Bible; “a child shall lead them.”

You see John’s new life—all quiet desperation. Kids sing a nasty song about a guy being executed—they don’t care if John and Pearl hear them.

The movie goes out of its way to make Harry seem a
force of nature.  The proverbial wolf in lamb’s clothing that
eventually finds us.  You see his shadow as a train speeds
by; he sings a hymn loudly.  A man mentions meeting him.
Next the preacher is in town.  Doing the dramatic ‘Love
and Hate’ parable again.  John stares at him with pure
dislike; he knows bullshit when he hears it.

But John is finding out fast that no one else can see through Harry.  The store owner Mrs. Spoon is taken with the preacher from the beginning, and she is someone people listen to.  She is shallow, vain, ignorant…and sure about her small-minded opinions.  Her words are important in getting Harry to stay, and in getting Willa, John’s passive mother to marry him.

Maybe this was the biggest reason people disliked
this movie in 1955, for not  taking that populist attitude.
That down-home, salt-of-the-earth people may not be
educated, but they have instincts; they can spot a liar by
intuition.

Here, they often come off like Mrs. Spoon.  Not
just foolish but self-assured in their foolishness.  A good
talker with Bible-knowledge can sucker them.

A facade no one sees through

Once again, you watch John, unable to control what
happens around him.  He can only try to stay strong.
His mother, without much will of her own, soon agrees to
marry the preacher.  John snaps at Harry: “You’ll never be my
dad.  You’ll never make me tell—“

He catches himself a second too late; he knows Harry
knows.

The honeymoon is painful for Willa.  Not so
much that Harry says sex is disgusting, but the way he throws it
in her face.  Telling her—look at yourself in the mirror (she
is not even  dressed slutty).

Willa becomes a powerful speaker at Harry’s prayer
meetings.  But even she can finally realize Harry wants more
than preaching.  The subject of the stolen money will not go
away.

Willa has a realization.   A strange one. She tells Harry the Lord brought him into her life to deliver her from sin.  The money is gone but that no longer matters, only her soul being saved.

Harry’s reaction is quick and brutal; he stabs her to death.   Next day the grieving preacher tearfully tells Mr. and Mrs. Spoon that Willa drank, took the car and ran away. But he will do the right thing by his kids.  All the while, the hand tattooed HATE stares right in your face.

Here, the movie goes furthest into horror film territory.  The next time the children see Harry, they watch him through a filthy basement window.  John suspects (correctly) that nothing can stop Harry now from hurting them.

So much of the next stretch is shown from the kids’ point of view—watch the shot where Harry talks to them from the
top of the basement stairs.  For the first time he shows them
his knife…and mentions using it on ”meddlers.”  Both kids
know he means it.

John’s plan is to say the money is in the basement—and somehow get the time to escape.  But Harry’s not stupid—he tells both kids to come down with him.

You see Harry put a hand on John for the first time;
forcing his head against the top of a barrel.   Harry pulls
out his knife—like someone about to make a ritual sacrifice.
Pearl can’t take anymore; she tells him the money is inside
her doll.

Before Harry can move, John drops a heavy shelf on
him.   For a second it looks like both are within reach of a
furious monster…then Harry’s foot slips on a glass jar. Terrifying; you remind yourself, these are children.

They get a rowboat.  The look of the movie is suddenly different.  Dark sky, large bright stars; more like an illustration from a kid’s book.  Almost as if the children have left the everyday world and entered a fantasy. But ‘fantasy’ is not the same as ‘safe.’  You see a shot of their rowboat far off, and much closer, a thick spider web—the boat seems to pass right through it.The message is clear—Harry is part of this dream world.  On a stolen white horse, he patiently follows the river road.  Days pass.  Once in the dead of night, John hears him singing a hymn as he rides by.  “Don’t he
ever sleep?”  John asks himself.

Exhausted, half-starved, the children reach a muddy
riverbank and sleep a long time after sunrise.  A shot of the
daytime sky; dark clouds but a holy light breaking free.  A woman calls to them, sounding tough, like a disciplinarian. But lighthearted music makes you feel that first impression is wrong.  And the words she speaks tell you for sure: “Gracious, so I’ve got two more mouths to feed.” Unconditional love.

Pearl is more than happy to find a new family. (Four other kids live with Rachel Cooper, this gracious older woman.)  John is afraid to trust anyone.

Slowly, you feel him open up, risk trusting Rachel. When she takes the kids into town, people know her eccentric ways.  But they definitely like and respect her…John can see it.

Rachel tells a Bible story.  Everyone faces her except John.  But he listens to every word. When the two of them are alone Rachel tells John to get her an apple.  A long pause.  “And get one for yourself too.”

Not for the first time, she asks him about his parents.  Hesitantly, John puts his hand on top of hers.
It’s a powerful moment.  His need for love was not dead; only frozen inside him a long time.

But it was certain Harry would find John and Pearl. He rides up to the house on the white horse.  You want to believe he has finally met his match; someone who sees him for what he is, who will risk everything to protect her children.

You want to believe that John’s time in Hell may finally end.  Life has taught him the world is not a safe place.  He has met bad people, actively ignorant people. His mother was passive she failed her kids.  His (real) father made a decision too, one that left his kids alone. Much later in the movie, you see an owl looking for food, then a rabbit.  From inside, Rachel hears the rabbit’s scream.  “It’s a hard world for little ones,” she says.

Rachel (silent film star Lillian Gish)–the first to protect John and Pearl

Rachel is special, unlike anyone John knew before. Not that she knows everything.  Her oldest foster child Ruby fools her a long time, sayings she goes to town for sewing lessons.  She is actually hanging out with town boys.

But Rachel never claims she knows everything.
More important, she knows how to forgive.  Watch the
scene where Ruby tells her she’s been lying.  Rachel
understands what Ruby was looking for– love.  Ruby thinks
Rachel will hit her.  “Did I ever—“   Rachel starts to say– you know right away she never has.  A “Christian” in the best sense of the word.

John finds Rachel after a long time drifting. Without a father, with no one to guide him.  A cynic could say it was actually John who caused a lot of his own pain by keeping his word about the money.

They have an argument.   But remember, John is just a kid.  A kid trying to function as an adult…but still a kid, with a kid’s emotions.  You can’t judge him like an adult.

Like so many other child actors, Billy Chapin (John) crashed to earth and never came back.  Watch this movie and judge for yourself how much we lost.

    The years spanning the mid 60’s and the early 70’s saw some major changes in American movies, and in movies worldwide.  Barriers on nudity (The Pawnbroker, Women in Love) violence (Bonnie and Clyde, The Wild Bunch), sex (Barbarella, I am
Curious Yellow) and language (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Tropic of Cancer) were smashed… dramatically and rapidly.  Not to say this new freedom meant  everything in those years was better than before—it was not.  Watch Mandingo, or Zardoz, and judge for yourself.

But many adventurous filmmakers took advantage of what was given them—with startling results. Carrie, written by Lawrence D. Cohen, and directed by a young Brian De Palma, is a good example of such a daring attitude paying off—big time.  Carrie was based on the first novel published by a young unknown named Stephen King—soon to become the best-known writer in the field of horror.  Its plot is rather simple, its characters not all that deep.  The
dialogue is nothing great.

But dialogue is not what Carrie is about.  It features some deeply intense acting from Siss Spacek (Carrie).   Other stand-outs are the up-and-coming John Travolta, Amy Irving, and Nancy Allen.  Not to mention the first movie in years by the veteran actress Piper Laurie.And Carrie is loaded with images that add
up to the impact of a tidal wave.

You know this only a few minutes into its story. As the credits roll, you become a privileged viewer in a high school locker room.  In slow motion, girls walk, fully nude out of a steamy shower.  The effect is more sensual than pornographic—you sense their freedom, their confidence. Their whole lives are ahead of them and they know it.  They seem comfortable with their bodies, and have a sense of belonging.

Something else too.   As the excellent commentary to the new Carrie DVD points out, the nudity has another purpose.  Generally, films of this period saved nude scenes for late in the story.   This scene tells you you’re dealing with filmmakers not afraid to do anything. Be very afraid.

One girl, Carrie is left to shower alone, and the contrast with the others is painfully obvious.  Carrie is an outsider, rejected by all.  She is not comfortable with her body.  During the shower, Carrie gets her first period, and unlikely as it sounds, she has never learned what to expect. Her reaction is pure terror.  She runs, nude into the locker room, desperately seeking help.

Intense fear and shame

None of the girls shows the least bit of compassion.  Instead, they throw a shower of tampons at Carrie, chanting “Plug it up!  Plug it up!”

Only the gym teacher Miss Collins understands what Carrie is experiencing.  The way Carrie reaches out for her makes this obvious.   But in order to calm her, she must slap Carrie in the face—hard.  At the same moment, a light bulb abruptly shatters—a sign of worse things to come.

Miss Collins wants to help but has only a clue how deep the
family problems go

Carrie is taken to the principal’s office. The administration appears to understand that Carrie never learned about periods.  But they don’t know where to go with this.  In addition to their lack of concern (they call her “Cassie” three times in a row) Carrie senses, correctly, that they simply wish to get rid of her.  An ashtray on a desk begins to vibrate intensely—then breaks.

You follow Carrie home.  You expect the ultimate
dysfunctional family, and you’re right.  Carrie lives alone
with her mother, a religious fanatic in the worst sense of the
word.  Not only does she show her daughter a complete lack of
love, she is obsessed with sin and sinning.   Someone who
rules totally by force–not one to be reasoned with… and proud of
it.

She is convinced that Carrie is filled with sin. Later you will find out her reasons.  But looking back on the story, it’s no real surprise.  Mrs. White slaps her several times, then locks her in a closet.  In this closet, Carrie is forced into close range with a statue of St. Sebastian, body pierced by arrows.

Mrs. White; Abuse she justifies as doing God’s will

That week, Miss Collins announces that the entire gym class will be punished for their treatment of Carrie. Most of the class accept this matter–of-factly, but one girl, Chris (Nancy Allen, who later married De Palma) defies the teacher, and begins to plot her revenge.  At the same time, prom announcements go out, and students begin making their plans.

One girl, Sue Snell, decides to make things right with Carrie.  Sue asks her boyfriend Tommy to take Carrie to the prom.  Carrie accepts.  Sadly, Sue’s plans are on a collision-course with the violent revenge thought up by Chris and her boyfriend Billy.

For the first time in her life, Carrie stands up to Mrs. White, over the issue of  the prom. You already know that Mrs. White sees the prom as the Devil’s work, a place for evil doings.  But Carrie stands her ground, and goes ahead, despite her mother’s warnings of doom and damnation.

Carrie’s yearning for love is unmistakable

Without giving away too much of the plot, the prom starts out like a dream come true for Carrie.  Then suddenly, all Hell breaks loose.  The trap set by Chris and Billy does its deadly work.  Sue is helpless to stop it.

Amy Irving, who played Sue, mentioned that
many viewers misunderstood what went on, thinking that Sue was part of the revenge plan too.  On a second viewing, you can
see clearly that Sue is not.   But the first time you watch, things happen too fast—the action is hard to follow.

Brief moment of pure happiness away from home

Carrie lets her powers loose and people die. The gym, with its perfect prom setting, is turned into chaos, then into an inferno.  In seconds, people are crushed to death, electrocuted, burned alive.  Those who die are bad people, good people (including Miss Collins who always did her best to protect Carrie), and indifferent people—it is strictly a matter of chance who survives.

Carrie’s world destroyed   

Carrie walks slowly home, her face filled with expressions of agony and terror.   Desperate for comfort. You may remember Robert Frost’s famous line of poetry;

“Home is the place where, when you have to go
there/ they have to take you in.”

That is all Carrie gets from her mother, to be taken in.  To Mrs. White, Carrie is now a lost soul. Even Carrie’s pleas to her mother to hold her, are in vain.

Life for Carrie has become ultimate emptiness.No one to sympathize with her, much less be a friend.
The world, that her mother warned her about again and again, has turned out to be as just as bad as Mrs. White promised.

An insane response to insane events–Carrie lashes out

But the true horror; Home is every bit as bad as the outside world.

Sissy Spacek, no longer unknown by 1975, but not famous yet, was a revelation in Carrie.  Her large eyes and face full of expression keep you riveted to her. To say that you feel her pain is the ultimate understatement.  How many of us as teenagers let ourselves trust someone we didn’t know that well, and suffered deeply for trusting them?  How many of us, feeling unloved and hopeless, wanted to act as Carrie does?

You may be a teenager, recently a teenager, or someone with memories still fresh in your heart; memories of wounds that cut you to the bone. Carrie may well reopen the pain of those old
wounds, whether you suffered them out in the world, or behind
closed doors where you lived. I can’t speak for everyone.But I feel a lot of us have a part of ourselves that longs (if only for one second) to take the revenge Carrie did. This movie allows you to experience the mix of joy and horror in that revenge.

Some of us are fortunate enough to experience a novel, poem,
painting…or movie, that strikes us as perfectly planned, all the
way from the outline in the artist’s soul.

Maybe you felt it right away.   Or maybe you read about it, or learned about it from someone who loved it too.   A friend, a review, a teacher.  Someone who could interpret the artist’s vision.  What they dreamed of creating… how they went about doing it—going from a simple idea to a finished piece of work.

Don’t expect this from Pet Sematary.

You won’t feel the filmmakers, especially Stephen King (who wrote the novel and the screenplay) knew exactly where they were going.   Not everything fits together… not by a long shot.

Yet not only is this a pretty scary movie, it may leave you with unanswered questions you think about a long while.  Disturbing questions.

The DVD commentary mentions that it took King a long while to publish the novel Pet Sematary.  Not much explanation, but
strong hints that the book’s themes hit close to home.  Like  the novel’s family the Creed’s, King and his wife had young
children then, and lived in a house close to a highway with trucks
speeding by.  Like the young Ellie Creed, King’s daughter had
a cat killed on that road.  Writing it had to take a toll on King.

The movie starts out bland.  The Creed family moves from Chicago to small-town Maine.  Louis, the father starts a job in a small-college infirmary.  Rachel, a home-maker, daughter Ellie, full of life; perceptive, endlessly curious, and subject to strange dreams.  Their son Gage just starting to walk, and as full of life as Ellie—a sweet, sweet child.

Their new house a dream-come-true, in every way but
one.  It’s located just off a busy highway, filled with huge
trucks travelling from a local manufacturing facility.  Day
and night these monsters speed by.

The Creed’s bond right away with their new neighbor, Jud Crandall.  A huge, gruff looking guy, Jud is actually full of kindness and warmth.  The Creed’s are neighbors he has longed for.

Right away the Creed’s ask Jud about a path near their house.  Jud shows them where it leads, a cemetery (misspelled by a child) for dead pets, many of them killed on the road.  Most of the markers are hand-written, in phrases a young child would write.  Only Rachel finds it frightening. Jud’s take?  Not a scary place, but a place of rest.

His first day on the job, Louis encounters death.  A student, out jogging, hit by a truck, killed instantly.

Ironically the dead student, Victor, becomes a sort of angel for Louis, doing his best to steer him away from danger.  The first night Louis sees him in the bedroom, he is sure he is dreaming.

“Who said you were dreaming?” Victor says. He leads Louis down the path to the pet sematary, then warns him.  “The barrier is not meant to be crossed.”

Thanksgiving.  You learn about bad blood between Louis and Rachel’s family.  No explanation, but bad enough that Louis refuses to visit.  While his family is away, Louis takes a phone call from Jud.

Ellie’s cat, Church, on the road, run over.

Louis and Jud know how much Church meant to
Ellie.  It’s Jud who gives Louis the idea to bury the cat in the other pet sematary—actually a Micmac tribal burial ground.

Church is back the next day.  Not physically changed much, but…different.  Real mean.

Church–brought back to life

Finally Louis gets the story from Jud. As a boy, Jud had a dog he loved.  When the dog died, Jud was heartbroken.  A ragman, half Micmac, told Jud about the burial ground.  Jud buried the dog there.   The dog returned—as savage as Church is now.

Louis and Jud hoped to spare Ellie from the pain of
death.  The plan works better than expected.  Church is
vicious with most people, yet treats Ellie pretty much the same.

Ironically, the Creed family experiences death nevertheless.  Missy, their housekeeper, diagnosed with terminal cancer.  Unable to deal with the unending pain, she chooses suicide.

Ellie finds some peace in talking to her dad about life after death.  Louis does not follow any organized religion, but has faith just the same in an afterlife.  “I believe we go on,” he says to Ellie.

But Missy’s death reminds Rachel of her sister Zelda; her slow painful death from spinal meningitis.  Her family never explained why, but her sister got no outside medical care.

“…like a dirty secret,” is how Rachel describes her situation.The burden fell on Rachel, still a child. Many felt that the scenes of Rachel caring for Zelda were the scariest in the movie, and I can’t argue with that. Could her family have experienced some kind of inappropriate shame about Zelda?  No one will say.  Clearly they had money to spare.    Rachel has never asked them about it.

When Zelda finally died, Rachel was relieved…to the point of joyfulness.  The guilt about her gladness still haunts her.

Zelda–memories Rachel wants to forget

But worse tragedy will strike the Creed’s; the worst misfortune a family can suffer.  No big surprise; death seems to follow them.  Jud’s words:  The road, the road, the road.  A beautiful breezy fall day, a kite soaring in the sky.  Jud and the Creed family in harmony
with the season, with their world.

A few miles away, another monster truck.  Thedriver blasts loud, primal music, Ramones music.  A bringer of sure death.  The Creed’s lose sight of Gage for just a few seconds.   But enough time.  Gage never has a chance.

You know what happens next.  Louis, unable to face his grief, will wait until after Gage’s funeral, dig up his body, and bury him where he buried Church.  Already knowing the odds; Gage will come back a monster.  Louis ignores Victor’s warning about crossing the barrier.

You expect this movie to deliver on its promises of terror, and it does.  I won’t throw in many spoilers.

Leave it at this:  The excellent directing, screenwriting and acting succeed at a difficult job– making the horror in this story believable.

Why is the story so unlikely to be believable? Think about it.  A sweet young kid, returning from the grave, now a demon… These scenes should have been unconvincing, could easily have been embarrassing, if handled badly.  Give everyone credit.

I remember renting Pet Sematary when it first came to video stores. My own kids were young.   My feelings then; the story
played dirty.  Any time you use a child’s death this way, you are playing dirty.

Two brief insights 25 years later:

First, none of us gets to say what someone can or
cannot write about.  Neither can we cannot limit where
writers get their inspiration.  On the DVD extras, you see
King watching the movie being shot.  King is all smiles.
But what he went through in creating the book is another
story.

Second, if you hold up older movies as measuring
sticks for comparison, saying Pet Sematary crosses the lines of decency.  You may be forgetting the savage beating movies like
Horror of Dracula, Peeping Tom, and Freaks got when they were released.  People then, convinced these movies played dirty.

Speaking as a fan of all those movies, I don’t ever want to get old and talk about the good old days.  I want  people free to experience barriers smashed, the way I did, watching Psycho, Night of the Living Dead, The Exorcist.

Still, by mainstream standards, this is a grim, pessimistic, ugly story.  Louis’ decision comes from love, not evil motives.  He only wants a chance to get back the life his family had, for Gage to experience growing up.

To a fundamentalist Christian, for example, Louis probably sinned deeply; interfering with God’s plan.

But I doubt that’s where King was coming from. The story of a sinner getting his just desserts would not be as scary as this.

Scarier still, King possibly had no point to make at
all.  Maybe the real-life death of his own cat simply created
a story inside him, and he followed where it went.  The cat’s
death made him imagine something worse.

We can be amateur psychologists and ask if Louis “loved too much.”  Not likely.   Not enough evidence.  I think King wanted all of us to be dragged into Louis’ agony—to make it a universal experience.  You would lose that by making Louis over-possessive, a bad father, a workaholic.

One way I think the story does play dirty.  It forces every parent of a child who died accidentally to re-live that agony.  Part of the American Dream is the universal human dream—the joy of watching your kids grow up.  In a different way, movies like Ordinary People make you feel the impact of having that
dream grabbed away.

Ordinary People shows you a family’s struggle to get over a boy’s death; his older brother, his father and mother.   Father and son finally deal with the pain and survive the grieving process.

The mother had never learned to deal with pain; she retreats.  First by pulling back into herself, second by literally leaving the family she loves.  She has to turn away, to stay alive, to keep her sanity. Many saw her character as empty…or worse.   Always smiling, always capable of saying the right thing, yet giving no nurturing to her son Conrad.  One fairly negative review described her as a monster.

But watch the movie again; she is not a monster. She is someone with no other way to deal with death.

I don’t want this to sound like a paper for a literature course.  To say:  The resurrected Gage symbolizes this or that.  But I will for a moment.

Gage the monster may be the quiet horror the mom, Beth, feels in Ordinary People.   The horror of what can happen to your life at random, with no one to blame. No one responsible.   No one to say, “It’s not your fault,” in a way you believe it.

In fact, no one can say anything that can ease your
pain…those words don’t exist.  You feel that you have failed,
that your life will never be the same.  By giving you a taste
of these feelings; that probably is the way Pet Sematary plays dirtiest.

Gage