Many people remember the
Pigeons from Hell episode of
Thriller as the scariest prime time show we ever
saw, period; possibly the best episode of anything scary
on TV. This kind of praise might well create unrealistic
expectations for people when you see it again…or a kind of
anticipation/backlash for those seeing it for the first
time. Like…let’s see this masterpiece I keep
hearing about.
Watching it recently, I felt I was of two
minds. Like I was staring at a horrifying childhood
memory…but in the harsh light of day. Some of its flaws were
clear…hard to miss.
On the other hand, I felt an intense
reaction as the end-credits ground to a halt;
I don’t want this to end. And more than that; being fairly sure i had felt like
this before, other times I’d seen it.
That is an emotional reaction–hard to
explain. Such conflicting emotions. I had moments
where I imagined someone slowly picking apart its story
logically. I don’t enjoy being that person but often that
side of me takes over. I zero in on plot inconsistencies…let
my cynical side control me. Other times I switch to a more
visceral viewpoint–admitting the consistencies, yet feeling–this
experience was
way more than the sum of its parts. I hope I can explain that
last part.
First,
Pigeons introduced America to a new mythology–to
a creature virtually none of us knew before. Even hardcore
horror fans had trouble remembering a movie…or a novel with
anything resembling it. We knew the basics, the legends for
example of vampires, werewolves, maybe zombies. But what was
in that old house didn’t fit any of these categories. And
remember, we weren’t seeing this in a movie theater on a
weekend. This thing was visiting our house…maybe staying a
while.
Tim and John Branner are everyday guys on
vacation far from home–they might be us. For the first time
in their lives they are in the Deep South. A place not many
of us in 1961 had been once, let alone a place we knew well.
When their car is trapped on a muddy back
road, everything changes in a heartbeat. Just a stone’s
throw away, they find a deserted mansion from pre-Civil War days.
Tim, an easygoing pragmatic guy sees it
simply as one more adventure, a small bump in the road. (Tim
(Brandon de Wilde) might remind you of Todd (Marty
Milner) in the Route 66 series.) His
brother John is the opposite–instantly on edge…from the moment he
hears a sound like a feral cat, or a puma…or something more
sinister.
Pigeons flock in front of the house–John
continues towards the front door anyway. He cannot admit he
could get scared off by pigeons.
Just as he gets close to them…that same
eerie cat-like noise. They take off–are they attacking him
or just spooked by the sounds? The first idea feels
ridiculous…yet we wonder if we would react as he does, in
near-terror.
John–immediately fearing the house’s spell
Again, that contrast as the
brothers camp out inside the house. Tim sees a roaring fire,
comfortable sleeping bags, more adventures tomorrow. John is
locked into the sounds–and preoccupied with the memories of
sounds. For a long while he stares at an old portrait
hanging near the fireplace. A beautiful dark-haired
woman. Yet something strange we can’t identify. The
camera stays fixed on it a little too long. Meanwhile, the
pigeons crowd the windowsills–their noises keep John
restless. He finds it impossible to calm himself.
The portrait
Sometime later, both of them asleep.
John awakens to a wordless melody, someone singing. The
voice coming from the second floor. He stands–sleepwalking
or in a trance. He slowly walks up the staircase and turns
left into the wide hallway.
Soon after, Tim awakes, follows him
upstairs, into the hall, screams–
John faces him, blood oozing thickly down
his face. Eyes open wide but without expression, without
recognition. He holds a hatchet tightly.
“John!” Tim screams. No
response. John comes nearer, swings the hatchet straight at
his brother’s face. The hatchet misses Tim by inches; for a
moment it stays embedded in the wall. Tim turns and
runs–down the steps, out the front door. John follows him
slowly.
.
Tim–facing a brother turned murderous
So much, and we can make no sense of it. A hunter finds Tim
unconscious in the woods and calls the sheriff. His name is
Buckner. He asks Tim what he remembers; Tim, shaking with
terror, tells him everything but realizes how insane his story
sounds. Impossible yet he feels the truth of it in his
gut–his brother set on killing him, “But he was dead!”
Tim realizes fast that Buckner will
not, can not believe him. He no longer cares what
anyone believes. Much more frightening is the hunter’s
reaction. When the sheriff tells Tim he will take the man
and search the place, the hunter suddenly takes off running–out of
his own house, into the darkness.
Slowly we find ourselves sinking in
quicksand; one set of folklore, then another, then another.
Tim knows virtually nothing about the Deep South, or the
plantation age, or the source of the black magic that killed his
brother yet caused his dead body to stand up and swing the
ax. Later he hears voodoo mentioned, maybe zombies.
But he wonders if that can explain all he has seen. Most
chilling are the sheriff’s reactions. He is not only someone
who grew up here but seems afraid of nothing.
Buckner wants to see where John died—Tim
goes back with him. They stand in the hallway, find the
blood on the floor. But when they enter a bedroom, Buckner’s
lantern dims then goes out—completely. Slowly, the sheriff
backs down the stairs. As they reach the first floor the
lantern is instantly bright again.
Already we know this man—someone you want
on your side. This makes his words more chilling:
“Whatever it is up there, I’m not gonna tackle it in the dark.”
Then a few minutes later, “Whatever it
is, it’s probably laughing at us right now…” You picture
this man’s life, often alone in the darkness, in the backwoods,
counting on no one but himself. No one to take his back when
he deals with backwoods people—some, the kind of folks we would
meet ten years later in Deliverance.
Now he is struggling to make his decisions. Those changes of
heart make us uneasy. The sheriff is no philosopher, not
someone with much imagination. Unlikely to get tangled in
thought—he sticks to the facts. But between the lines in
what he says—a strong sensation; something is
festering here.
People have been abused; their rage has
created something monstrous. In those pieces of stories—more
than a suggestion of cruelty. No one mentions the hundreds
of years of slavery, but it is always there in the
background. A curse on this land, still causing more
pain. A bloody war these people lost, its painful aftermath.
The Blassenville family owned this house;
people near the top of the economic heap. Buckner tells Tim
they had a mean streak in them. They treated their
servants brutally. All but two ran away. Three
Blassenville sisters; the stories say they left the house after
that; no one knows for sure. Stories people heard that
those last two servants turned to magic—or voodoo, to get some
kind of revenge.
You suspect they had plenty of reasons;
that the cruelty they suffered bred more of the same. The
sheriff knows the last servant, Jacob, he still lives close
by. They enter his cabin; Buckner wakes him, says he needs
answers.
Jacob mentions the other servant, Eula
Lee, and magic spells she once wanted from him. Tells them
too that Eula Lee was a half-sister to the Blassenvilles. He
leaves it unexplained that she was their servant too. Then
he stops himself— he can give away no more secrets. That if
he does, the big serpent will send a little brother. A
moment later, a snake in his pile of firewood kills him
instantly. What is “the big serpent”? We want
to know… but we don’t want to think about it too much.
Earlier the sheriff told Tim what he
planned to do—wait inside the house and see what happened.
You sense he wished he had a better choice. But cannot think
of one. Tim goes back again with him. Later, he hears
the same wordless singing John did—drawing him upstairs.
More magic you know nothing about—people led to death
by sweet melodies.
Tim and Buckner…waiting
The rest of the plot makes it difficult to
reveal more without giving things away. I remember watching
a few movies like this; not knowing how to write about them,
having to give up.
This time I will try; I feel this is
worth it. To add only this: Remember this is
1961, a television series. It all had to be shot
incredibly fast. It sounds corny but I will say it
anyway—when you watch this, try to get in touch with your inner
child.
As much as you can, check your cynicism
at the door. Leave yourself open to some American Deep
South/Caribbean mythology. I think you will find it worth
your time.