Post by No Personality on Mar 13, 2010 15:17:37 GMT -5
John Carpenter is probably considered the horror genre's single most famous export. I think the reason why, other than the fact that he built his career with a couple highly successful low budget horror films at the box office (Halloween and The Fog), is because those films had his name all over the advertisements. You knew it was a John Carpenter film when you went to see it. However, since the point he became a name in the genre, he's amassed a cult of fanboys who insist he can do no wrong. I've seen almost all his horror films now and, I can't honestly see the reason for the reputation. I appreciate the good work he's done, as I do for any filmmaker. But there's just something about him that makes people look at his action films and say he's the greatest horror director who ever lived. This is a contradiction in terms, but it's the truth- I swear. You can't even separate his horror films from the rest of his body of work. I've tried and people look at you as though you're speaking a foreign language.
Any biography of John Carpenter reads a little funny when you consider how big a name he is in the genre, because shortly after his Avco-Embassy films were so successful, his 1982 Universal epic The Thing absolutely tanked at the box office. Things didn't get much better for him following that. Neither 1983's Christine, 1984's wonderful Starman, nor 1986's Big Trouble in Little China had any more success. In 1982, Universal was playing it safe with a very large host of horror and sci-fi titles, they even acquired the rights to the sequels for the Halloween franchise before dumping them after fans practically exploded when Season of the Witch hit theaters. The most expensive of which was clearly Carpenter's film, seen by the industry as a remake of 1951's The Thing from Another World. Though some say it's not even a remake, but a more faithful adaptation of the original story, Who Goes There?
Now, that's a scary concept. Just those 3 words evoke a great deal of creepiness. Not knowing who is around you, as well as whether or not they're human. It's a terrifying idea. But as for the finished film, it's one of those movies that can't decide what it wants to be. Is it a special FX sci-fi freakshow with mountains of slime and mutated animal parts (mixed with severed / deformed human parts)? Or is it a deep, brooding, introverted existential statement on paranoia and the "hell is other people" of humanity itself? Carpenter couldn't decide. So he put 'em all together and it's not a successful mix. Almost all the dread the film amounts in the exquisite, stylish opening is eventually drained by the film's annoying cast of worthless characters. And just when you think things can't get worse, then comes the parade of... well, imagine all the monsters you see in the movie as floats.
The film is ruled by a kind of checklist of Carpenter's favorite movie genres and ancient character stereotypes. Literally, there are pieces from science fiction, western, and action films plastered all over The Thing. But I have to have my horror just a little more pure than this. I can respect Carpenter for not wanting his film to be easily categorized or compartmentalized, the same as I would any director with this aspiration. And to be fair, taken as a sci-fi film, there are no rules whatsoever to keep it from being as goopy and icky as he wants to be. If anything, it becomes a safety net that lets him think he doesn't have to rope anything in. The pacing of certain scenes is rather tight (the blood test scene has one of cinema's best jump-scares), but you have to wait an awful long time for them to come and in the meantime, while you wait... the film feels like it's been stuffed with filler.
I don't want levity. I don't need a pothead character. I don't need old ignorant-black-man stereotypes. I don't need Wilford Brimley hot-footing around like he's in a western or sling-shooting like Yosemite Sam. These things don't add to the tension, they stick out like sore thumbs. I don't get excited when I see scenes that are clearly being shot and added into the film for the purpose of watching people argue over who should be in charge like this is a cop flick or a piece of military propaganda, or smoke joints, or drink a bottle of whiskey. Too bad it only took an hour and a half for the ending to come. Before that, we get away from the camp too seldom. And even when we do, we have to put up with MacReady's running joke about calling the Norwegians "Swedes." Is there a good reason for it? Not really. It's pointless. Xenophobia? I doubt it.
Basically, Carpenter killed his horror career by going back to action after The Fog. The two are wildly different genres. He tried to fuse the two sensibilities together. But he had already prefected his brand of horror before Escape to New York. So, the decision to change his approach was a mistake. I think the reason people in fact marvel at The Thing is because they already love Carpenter's action films. I still haven't seen Escape yet. I saw part of it on television and it looked ridiculous. Consider me someone who prefers human horror over action horror any day of the wek. The simplest, low-tech way is always more impressive. Here, there's more action than fear. The focus is more on the external pieces than the internal puzzle. If you took out the 20 minutes of this movie that actually qualify as thought-provoking, brooding, and scary - the ending - the same people who make up The Thing's cult fanbase would still love the movie.
Fans don't love the so-called paranoia aspect. Not apart from what Ennio Morricone's music suggests on its' own. There is no paranoia exhibited by the characters, only anger. It's the special effects scenes they're really rave about. Just listen to Greg Nicotero talk about Rob Bottin for 5 minutes. But before this movie (ah...a simpler time), Carpenter's focus on horror was to balance the characterization with the atmosphere. Each was used to cover the other and they worked in harmony. His movies weren't almost 2 hours long. And, to be crude- Michael Myers wasn't shown killing a victim for 3 minutes straight. That's because people wouldn't be scared of him if he were overexposed. We knew he was always there, but he was always kept in the shadows and or you'd only see parts of him. That's because it takes a balance between him being seen and suggested for him to remain effective in the movie. And while you'd see him, you also saw: the sky at night or during the daytime, the breeze blowing, pumpkins and/or trick or treaters. Atmosphere. The two were combined and one never upstaged the other for minutes upon minutes at a time.
Carpenter's atmosphere always evened out or covered up the weaknesses in character writing or the odd imperfect performance. And the acting wasn't strained so much by ultra-long stretches of dialogue, passes that just said the same thing over and over again. Basically, it took forever in The Thing for Chiles to say: "if I was an imitation... how would you know it's really me?" We waited forever for someone to say that, yet we knew it from the beginning. By the time it comes, I've grown impatient. The point of waiting through everything we have to wait through in this movie is that Escape from New York turned Carpenter into an overindulgent action director. He lost his taste for deep-rooted, deep-focused, slow-burning horror with this movie. Maybe the increasing budgets were to blame, maybe the constant shifting between science fiction and action and horror did it.
After The Fog, the only time Carpenter would again realize the deep-rooted, deep-focused, slow burn again would be in the touching, sweeping, romantic alien-fantasy drama Starman. Something tells me the guy should have stuck to drama. He could probably have made another powerful feature had he. He certainly proved with that seminal 1984 film he could create something beautiful with serious characters and a deep, internal focus on emotion and relationships. When Carpenter made his name in the horror genre, he was the guy who gave cheap movies a great big-budget feel. He had the eye and the heart and the brain of a bigger director. When he got the chance to make more expensive films, he grabbed it and never looked back. Now I suspect his reasoning for that (based on what I've heard about him) was a better paycheck and nothing else. Instead of continuing to innovate with lower budget, he stretched his remaining talents to the breaking point. Although he did rebound a little with his 2005 Masters of Horror episode, "Cigarette Burns."
For all the hype The Thing receives, the creature during all its' transformations is never actually seen becoming anything new. It's always just a lump with really unpleasent pieces hanging from it. Like The Blob - although the blob always was an actual blob. This movie never had the chance to let the darkness of humanity really influence us. But it caved in to the shallow and over-the-top nature of old fashioned "man's" men stereotypes. It didn't have enough balance between the truly brooding character moments which are few and far between (MacReady's scene with the tape recorder) and the usually poop-like phases of the creature's evolution. The creature is meant to basically body-snatch the characters, leading to an And Then There Were None scenario. Were it more suggestive rather than overt, I would have something to be terrified by (presumably, after the film is turned off).
But it takes minutes at a time for this creature to transform with each new phase. Leaving the characters basically just standing there, watching it, like stunned animals. And far beyond the point in any quasi-realistic situation where people would know to do something. The film's characters already make this film nearly interminable, but Rob Bottin's effects make the film like actual torture. And this is done for the benefit of the audience. Because it's a freak show. It's what Carpenter figures the audience paid their good money to see. The initial reaction to the film in 1982 was, justifiably- revulsion. And Carpenter remains sensitive to this day about some of the criticisms the film received. One person even went so far as to call him a "pornographer of violence." Which is almost a little unfair. But only because of the one-liners that exist in almost every attack sequence.
The most shocking thing to take place in any of these extended transformation scenes is a group of dogs are slaughtered in closeup and the violence looks very real. Which is the one moment where I had to stop and ask myself if this film really was meant for entertainment value. I personally find all the mutation scenes to be really gross but I know a lot of people really like gross. I have no problem with that. But, what's entertaining about murdering innocent, beautiful animals who want - but never ask for - our kindness in return? It's sick anytime this is done in a film and expected to be realistic. More than anything because human violence in film is like a reverse cannibalism. And I agree, it's more comfortable to watch something horrible happen to our own kind than someone we take care of. It's actually a lot like violence toward children. Except lacking social relevance, since animals don't make executive decisions.
What the spectacle nature of the mutation sequences really transform is what had the potential of being a restrained and tight paranoia piece into an out-and-out freakshow, like a circus of oddities. Which does nothing to add to any mood of suspense to the film. These scenes stop it dead in its' tracks. I don't even think they enhance any later fears the characters really have. Since there is a certain kind of elevation of terror lacking once the characters look upon the creature as what it really is- lumps. Rob Bottin's work in Joe Dante's films previous, The Howling and Piranha, was flawed only because of the low budgets, but Bottin's and Dante's usage of them to enhance the films proved skillful because they utilized balance. Here, it's freaky and grotesque. Which may knock your socks off if you're seeing the film for the first time. But will never scare you on repeat viewing. Rather, the sequences are just so disgusting, they make me want to turn the film off.
I don't think these scenes are well-placed in a movie where it was started and designed all along to be a commentary on people. Not things. Once the things show up, the people are taken completely for granted. Although, really the only victim of this is Kurt Russell. Who I do admit did a great job making a good, strong character out of MacReady. But just like his character, he's working alone. Others try but they drop the ball repeatedly. I'm apt to blame Carpenter a little more than any of them. Or the writing. But, Carpenter's made lots of disappointing or bad movies based on good ideas. The problem is almost always that overindulgece so trademark to him beginning with this film and Christine. If the transformations had focused more on the real people... I might have been impressed. But it's like a sideshow - it takes you away from the buildup the music and cinematography provided us with. What this movie desperately needs is restraint! Over-the-top works for horror / monster movies that don't care about being serious (Gremlins comes to mind). But The Thing wants so much to be serious. And there wasn't enough internal fear. There was too much external action.
On the plus side, John Carpenter is a visual master of the genre, so his films always look amazing (at least, he was and they did in the 70's and early 80's). This one is no exception. 1980's The Shining and 1974's Black Christmas had already captured the creepiness and starkness of being somewhat isolated in winter conditions. But, The Thing is much colder. Credit to Carpenter for managing to get some real dread from the viewer about potentially being in the characters' position and possibly freezing to death in the incredibly cold Antarctic climate. The film is literally a harsh snowy desert, which Carpenter at times paints with red and blue light. Not as pretty as Argento's 1977 masterpiece Suspiria, but still it shows an incredible promise Carpenter wasn't able to live up to. Ennio Morricone's score for the film sounds like he's trying to imitate Carpenter's previous scores somewhat, or the style of them. Overall, it's not nearly as effective because the movie is so flawed. But apart from the movie, or when certain scenes are isolated- it's fabulous. I think I already mentioned the ending. It really is incredible. Right after the blood test scene, things really start cooking. No more worthless attempts at humor or confrontations. Things finally get really cold, quiet, and serious. That's the way the movie should have been!
When the big effects scenes in The Thing are pretty much over, the film actually becomes beautifully and disturbingly eerie, dark, and very enjoyable. When MacReady and a few survivors are walking through the camp, discovering Blair's secret, and making final plans. This is what the entire film should have been like. No scene previous really made this film. But this ending is actually on par with Carpenter's earlier and excellent work in the horror genre. Prior to this, the character confrontations had an unforunate tendancy for the obvious. And leave me saying "I get it, move on already" a lot. I didn't sense any genuine intensity. Or anything more than yelling- which is overused in some horror movies (Romero's Day of the Dead being another). The only character I felt any real darkness radiate from was Richard Masur's dog-keeper. And the only character I felt any fear radiate from was MacReady, which is one of the reasons I mentioned he did a great job- though his whole "I just wanna go get drunk" was like a screenwriter giving up.
