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Showing posts with label Why Midnight Movies Matter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Why Midnight Movies Matter. Show all posts

November 29, 2009

What's My First Name?; Or, "Why Dark Star Matters"

(TO YOU, THE READER: Have a horror, sci-fi, or cult film you think matters? Want me to take a shot at it? Email suggestions for future "Why Midnight Movies Matter" columns to frommidnightwithlove@gmail.com, and I'd be more than happy to feature your favorite film here!)


For my second attempt at pointing out why I think a Midnight Movie matters, I chose a film that started the career of two filmmakers and has overcome a shoestring budget to still be floating around the galaxy of midnight cinema 35 years later. That film is John Carpenter and Dan O'Bannon's Dark Star.

Phase One: Introductions
John Carpenter needs little introduction to horror fans. In 1978 he hit a horror home run with Halloween, which started the slasher craze and became the highest grossing independent film of all time, and followed it up with a string of genre hits like The Fog, The Thing, Escape from New York, and Christine that made him the head of genre cinema through the late 1980's (when he got a raw deal from filmgoers on three straight fantastic films - Big Trouble in Little China, Prince of Darkness, & They Live - but that's a different story for a different article).

Dan O'Bannon is slightly lesser known than Mr. Carpenter, but has made an impact on sci-fi and horror cinema in his own way. In 1979 he conceived the story behind Alien and wrote that film's script, and followed up by writing the criminally underloved Dead & Buried and later the blockbuster Total Recall; as well as writing and directing cult smash The Return of the Living Dead.

Saying that these men have been important to cult cinema is an understatement. But what a lot of people don't know about either filmmaker is that they both made their cinema debut while collaborating in film school at USC on Dark Star - a philosophical sci-fi parody that went from 45 minute, 16 mm film festival hit to 83 minute, 35 mm distributed film after being found by producer Jack H. Harris (who also backed The Blob, which makes me think I need to worship him.)

Phase Two: Tight Corridors, Dark Corners, Aliens, & Dan O'Bannon
Early in Dark Star, there's a scene where the ship's computer (with a female voice that could easily earn it the name Mother) informs two of the characters, Boiler (more on him later) and Pinback (played by O'Bannon himself) that it's time for Sgt. Pinback to feed the alien. If you're like me, you were expecting the alien to not be a beach ball with feet glued to it. Seriously, look the the left. Beach ball.

What happens next? Well, the alien gets loose. Suddenly - we've got an alien loose in the ship, crawling through ducts, lurking where our characters can't see it, attacking when the moment seems right. In fact, it gets so bad that our character decides to take up arms and dispose of the pesky alien. Do I even need to state the connection to O'Bannon's work on Alien? Didn't think so.

Additionally, many of the sets inside the ship, though less intricate due to the budget of the film, clearly foreshadow the imagery of Alien later on. There are also shades of Star Wars in the ship's corridors and computer systems, and that's no surprise either - George Lucas hired O'Bannon to work on effects for Star Wars after seeing Dark Star and liking his work.

Phase Three: Cynicism and Apathy: The Carpenter Way
In case it hasn't been evident so far, I'm a big fanboy when it comes to John Carpenter and his work. Among my favorite aspects of Carpenter's style is that there always seems to be an underlying theme of apathy from the characters and a cynical stance toward authority and government. This is evident from minute one of Dark Star, as we're introduced to a video of a man who appears to be speaking for all of Earth sending a message to the crew about their great work. It's a polite, well-plotted message, that instantly gave me the feeling that these people weren't really worth much to the bigwigs back home.

Additionally, the character of Boiler seems very much like characters we'd see in his later films. A broad-shouldered fellow with a bushy 'stache, Boiler is the kind of guy who'll bring out the heat ray gun for target practice, and also the type of guy who'll turn an uncaring ear when more sensitive characters are talking about their concerns. In short, he's the uncaring alpha dog type, who of course never ends up solving much despite his self-perceptions. The character had me thinking of Richard Masur's Clark from The Thing or even the thugs from Carpenter's last theatrical film (thus far) Ghosts of Mars. Carpenter always seems to like having a "tough guy" in the cast to use as necessary, and Boiler is a great example of that in his earliest film.

Phase 4: "What's My First Name?" - Fluid Concepts of Identity
Outside of the scenes involving the fantastic Bomb #20, one of my favorite bits is a simple dinner scene on board the ship in which three of our four characters engage in a conversation about their identities. It begins with the stir crazy Pinback talking about how he came to be on the ship by being mistaken for a crew member that killed himself before launch, a story so kooky we're never sure if he's telling the truth or not. The self-focused Boiler turns away from Pinback's story and starts talking to the acting captain, Doolittle, wondering whether Pinback told them this story 4 years ago, and Doolittle begins to show a little bit of his own confusion as to his predicament. Boiler asks him what the fourth crew member's (who prefers to isolate in the observation deck) first name is and, after a long pause, Doolittle looks up confused and asks: "What's my first name?"

In one scene, the identity of each character is either established to be constant or changed entirely. Boiler, who's already been determined as the crew member least interested in the reasons for their predicament, continues to present the same manner as he has the rest of the film, but the other three characters are brought into a different light immediately. Questions are raised about Talby (the observation deck recluse) and his lack of interaction with others, and it's made clear that his peers don't know much about who Talby really is. Pinback is shown to be sporting two personas, and it seems like he's willing to take on a different role depending on the situation he's faced with. Doolittle, who seems like the most stable of the bunch previously, suddenly becomes a man who has no certainty of his role in the mission, let alone his place in life. And that's where the most interesting connection to O'Bannon and Carpenter's future lies in my eyes.

Carpenter's films have often centered on a character's identity, but have also at times completely ignored the importance of knowing who someone is. In Assault on Precinct 13, much is made of criminal Napoleon Wilson based on his reputation, but he's unwilling to tell others how he got his nickname - reminiscent of Boiler and his attitude of superiority (Though Wilson is far more charismatic than Boiler). The Thing is Carpenter's most obvious identity focused film, where the events of the film call into question whether or not each character is who they say they are, which is similar to Pinback's story of actually being a technician who stepped into the suit of the real Pinback, the same way the Thing steps into the skin of it's victims (This could also go for Jeff Bridges' character in Starman, who steps into a dead man's life to get into his adventure). Talby is a mystery who we never learn much about aside from his philosophies on existence, similar to nameless characters in Carpenter's later films like Roddy Piper in They Live or Donald Pleasence in Prince of Darkness. Talby, like these characters, becomes an instrument for his beliefs instead of a person, and it's not really necessary for us to know his name. Doolittle's lack of faith in who he is and inability to even remember his name is similar to the transformation we see with Keith Gordon's lead in Christine, who loses track of his identity as his obsession with the titular vehicle overcomes the subconscious parts of his brain.

Not to be outdone, O'Bannon's films borrowed identity concerns from these characters too. Dead & Buried and Return of the Living Dead both have a zombie theme, and the idea that others become different creatures that no longer have their human sense is evident here, especially when Boiler gets overly angry late in the film. But the most obvious example of a character doubting his own identity that O'Bannon wrote is Arnold Schwarzenegger's character in Total Recall. The parallel between Doolittle's "What's my first name?" or Pinback's belief he might be Bill Freug and Arnold's "If I am not me, then who the hell am I?" is blatant.

I've wasted a lot of words on talking about a silly little sci-fi parody, but while watching it I couldn't help notice how much of it I'd seen paralleled in later films. Dark Star is a little film with no budget that may have been a little too spaced out, but the signs are there that bright futures were coming for these two filmmakers. Seeing those signs is more than enough to make me think Dark Star is a film that matters in the history of midnight cinema.


November 15, 2009

Rebel Without a Blob; or "Why The Blob Matters"

This weekend, I've decided to divert from my normal format to submit a look at a pair of films that loom large in my image of midnight movie history. Of course, I'm talking about 1958's The Blob, and its 1988 remake. Dismissed often as secondary sci-fi/horror fare, I'd like to take some time and look at aspects of both films that makes them stand out for reasons other than the fact they feature an amorphous killing machine.

(Plus, it gives me a chance to post that ridiculous French poster for the original that you probably are still staring at with a puzzled look on your face.)

Phase One: Irvin S. Yeaworth, Jr.'s The Blob
Backed by cowboy producer Jack H. Harris, 1958's version of The Blob gives us a simple story that doesn't seem to be much on the surface. A meteor crashes to earth outside a small town, and an old-man discovers the smoldering ball's contents. Those contents soon envelop his arm, and two smooching teens named Steve and Jane (Steven "Don't call me Steve yet" McQueen and Aneta Corsaut; both making their film debuts) find him and take him into town. From there, those contents - which consist of one blob, if you haven't figured it out yet - spread and terrorize, and it's up to the kids to figure out how to stop it before it's too late.

When I look at this version of The Blob, I immediately am reminded of another of my favorite films of the 1950's - Nicholas Ray's Rebel Without a Cause. The famous James Dean picture focuses on an image of teenagers of the time period, and on how quickly parents, elders, and authority figures are to pass judgment on youth. (Assuming you can get past the fact that few of the actors in either film are or actually look like teenagers.) The Blob doesn't hide its impression of Ray's film, nor should it. But The Blob does something that Rebel Without a Cause didn't - more on that later.

Looking at The Blob as an adult, I can't help but look at the first impression given of the teens in the film. The first scene of the film has Steve making the moves on Jane, even though he seems to be having some trouble remembering her name. However, when the old man who's clearly in danger comes in to play, the character becomes a caring individual, focused on helping out a stranger in need. After getting the injured man to a doctor, it's back to goofing around with some friendly rivals, leading to street racing and a run in with the local police. It's safe to say our lead, at least by '50s standards, is intended to be something of a delinquent. It's also safe to say that his friends, who're heading to the midnight spook show due to reports of "unprotected women"; aren't the most reliable people around.

It's also easy to see how little adults believe in these characters. The heroine's father is also the school principal, and brings his own preconceptions to the table - when finding out his daughter has been mixed up with the police, he immediately blames Steve and states that "that boy" won't take out his daughter again. The police are entirely skeptical of any reports of blob activity, and you'd expect them to, but their doubt seems to be more due to the source of information - again, Steve - than the fact that an amorphous jelly-like creature is highly illogical.

I'll come back to this version of The Blob shortly, but I'd like to jump ahead 30 years for a moment...

Phase Two: Chuck Russell's The Blob
I don't need to take as much time to review the plot of 1988's version, as the introduction of the meteor and its blob is the same. However, there's a difference in characters, as we've got a trio of leads this time out. Paul (Donovan Leitch) is a football star who seems to be a pretty nice guy, and he's taking out cheerleader Meg (Shawnee Smith, lookin' great) after a big win. However, they run into the already blobbed old man at the same time as local bad boy Brian (Kevin Dillon) and all three are soon caught up in the shadow of doubt that the police, doctors, and parents cast upon their story.

It's especially interesting to see the portrayal of the teens in this Blob due to the horror films that had inundated theaters throughout the decade. With the slasher film booming throughout the first 3/4ths of the decade, the perceptions of teenagers in a horror film were at an all-time low. Russell's film does feature a couple of characters that fit these cliches, particularly Paul's football buddy Scott, who specializes in boozing babes and unbuttoning blouses (which leads to one of the film's best blob moments), but the movie does seem to shake those trends, especially when the focus shifts to Dillon's Brian, who's blatantly drawn as a rebel that seems to be a throwback to '50s films like The Wild One.

The adults aren't much different. The sheriff, played by veteran character actor Jeffrey DeMunn, confronts Brian early in the film for no reason than to intimidate him; while Meg's father (Art LaFleur) suggests a muzzle for Paul due to one of Scott's pranks gone wrong. Like the original, the sheriff's deputy (Paul McCrane) seems to have it out for the kids in an irrational manner, setting up some great scenes late in the film. The most level-headed adult seems to be the local Reverend (Del Close, who appeared uncredited in the "other" Blob film, 1972's Beware! The Blob), but he plays a crucial role in the ending that puts the adults' capacity for reasonable thought in further jeopardy.

So, we've got two horror films that feature a killing ooze and a bunch of untrusted teens as the focal point of our human story. If I were a betting man, I wouldn't bet on a happy ending. And this is where the tales of The Blob shake free and become something more than we're used to.

(Here There Be Spoilers! You've been warned!)
Phase Three: The Youth Shall Set You Free
And finally, here's my point. We've got two films in which we're following delinquent youth who're out too late and living too recklessly. We've got a bunch of adults who don't know what to do, but know they don't want to trust the kids. Let's look at our options.


Considering the influence of Rebel Without a Cause and other pessimistic "youth gone wild" films of the 1950s, there's not a lot that would make us expect anything from the kids in The Blob. Looking at the 1980s horror, as I mentioned above, teens aren't expected to do more than the "Four Fs" (Flee, Fight, Feed, and Fornicate). And, the decade also seemed pretty set on making teens pay for their careless behaviors. Despite the probabilities, The Blob, in both settings, seems to be a story that offers some faith in these teens.

In the original version, Steve and Jane are dead set on bringing knowledge of the impending situation to the town. This leads them to interrupting the police and a late night movie, and even to setting off alarms throughout town, but their "delinquent" behavior is always shown to be with the noblest of intentions. And, when it comes down to the ending and the rest of the town's teens are called in to help the principal, there isn't a moment of hesitation.

In the remake, Dillon's Brian is a rebel to the core, and early film interactions clearly identify him as someone who most wouldn't trust in any situation. Moreover, the characters that do trust him and the other teens seem to be the first to come across the deadly Blob. This leads to a finale that features many characters assuming he can't be trusted, despite the actions the viewer has seen him take to protect others from extinction. Seeing the character become a hero despite his uncaring nature is a great thing to witness.

As someone who works with delinquent teenagers on a daily basis, I can't help but smile when I see horror films taking the approach these two films do. Most writers and directors take the easy out to create obvious heroes who fit the "All-American" standard, but the Blob makers look at the world differently. They seemed to know that there are youth out there who, despite their exterior appearance and focus on leisure activities, are willing to step up and be responsible when the need presents itself.

There's a moment in the final minutes of Yeaworth's original that speaks volumes to this theme. Jane's father, accompanied by 12-15 teens who've abandoned the spook show to help, has to make a choice to break his own rules in order to help the town stay safe. It's a small gesture, but seeing a man who seems to have spent most of his life dismissing the teens by resorting to actions that fit his stereotypes helps confirm my vision of the film. Despite cliff-hanger endings that make sure to inform us there's always a danger out there, both films do their best to remind us that the young people of the world, even if we don't trust them now, hold the keys to our survival. And there are plenty of them that will survive and do us proud.

So, that's my take on the inner workings of The Blob. If you've read this far, thanks for comin'. Happy Blobbing!