Earlier this week I had a very six degrees of separation kind of night, flowing from one train of thought to another like a slow moving ADD victim.  It all started with me searching through Hulu for a video clip (damned if I remember which one) when I stumbled across an episode of the Late Late Show where Craig Ferguson interviewed Stephen Fry.  What was intriguing about this particular show was the lack of studio audience and a return to the interview format of its Tom Snyder days. (intro, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, outro)

What struck me most about this interview was the raw intelligence on display.  Fry is known for his wit and savvy, but Ferguson brought out his A game as well.  For Christ’s sake, tautology was used during the course of their conversation.  When’s the last time you even heard that word on television?  There were many choice nuggets like that which made the entire show a true joy to watch. 

The one sad thing about the interview was noticing how much Ferguson has to dumb himself down to fit the comedic structure of late night television.  It also made me miss watching the BBC which tends to have a lot of intelligent discourse in its programming.  Mental stimulation isn’t always a requirement for my entertainment, but it is difficult to make it the standard and not the exception with the quality of today’s fare.  I don’t know if Ferguson will attempt it again, but I found his experiment to be incredibly successful and entertaining.

Having tasted 40 minutes of Fry’s charm I was compelled to find more.  I didn’t have A Bit of Fry and Laurie handy so I pulled out V for Vendetta instead.  Even though his part is small, Fry’s performance is fantastic and in its final moments heart wrenching.  Natalie Portman also has one of her better roles in this film.  As talented as she is (Leon the Professional is still my favorite) she’s damned inconsistent, fluctuating between painfully wooden (Star Wars prequels) to blandly generic (Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium).  Perhaps she’s one of those actresses that only shines when the source material is especially good?  There’s no denying that Alan Moore’s mad genius is some of the best material out there when it’s not being fucked with, like the painful to watch League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, a textbook case of Hollywood screwing the pooch.

As I continued to watch V for Vendetta I began dissecting Hugo Weaving’s performance.  Here you have a character, V, whose face is never shown yet at any given moment the audience knows exactly how he’s feeling.  He does this merely using the inflections in his speech and the movements of his body.  I honestly don’t know of any actors—other than Doug Jones—who could pull off such a nuanced performance without relying heavily on facial expressions.  As extensive as Weaving’s career is, I think that V for Vendetta is one of his best performances ever.

And this took me to my final pondering of the night, a consistently parroted bit of writing advice which is "show don’t tell" usually followed by "less is more".  Having someone holler these phrases at you while you try to create something isn’t terribly helpful, but when you can experience solid examples of this in action, like Weaving as V, you begin to see the true power behind the ideas. 

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[I WILL BE DISCUSSING CRUCIAL AND ENDING SCENES FOR THESE FILMS.  IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THEM, PLEASE DO YOURSELF THE FAVOR OF ENJOYING THEM UNSPOILED BEFORE READING THIS POST]

While watching a couple of favorite films over the weekend I was reminded as to why I keep popping them into the DVD player and enjoying them thoroughly no matter how many times I’ve seen them.  Then I remember seeing them for the first time in the theaters and that’s when I start to get angry.

It has long been said that people are going to the movie theaters less frequently preferring their big screen TV’s and surround sound systems at home to the often times overpriced and infuriating experience of a Cineplex.  When you stay at home the experience is consistent; your comfy couch is always comfy, snacks are plentiful and your movie is always in perfect view.  When you go the the movie theater the comfort of your seat varies greatly, snacks are borderline robbery and getting a good seat is a roll of the dice.  Then there’s the audience…

Going to the movie theaters is more of a social experience designed to amplify your enjoyment of the latest celluloid creation.  Sadly that is far from the case unless you actively seek special screenings for film lovers or hit the indie house circuit.  The average audience is a mixed bag to say the least.  Some go to make fun of the latest “popular thing” unable or unwilling to let themselves and those around them enjoy it (just because you don’t like it doesn’t give you license to be a DICK).  Others go as a means to escape their lives yet bring said lives with them (when the hell was taking your toddler to the re-release of The Exorcist a good idea?).  Finally there are those who think that the theater is merely an extension of their home and proceed to behave in any indulgent manner they wish (why are people STILL talking to the screen?).

Even if you get a decent audience their ability to understand or connect with the film is not always the same as yours.  That’s where my anger starts.  Two movies I saw over the weekend on DVD were also two movies that were marred by my theater experience. 

The first one, which everyone should recognize in one form or another, is Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet.  This Shakespeare via MTV creation was surprisingly good.  Baz mixed in his love of music (which was refined to epic levels in Moulin Rouge) with fantastic actors (both newly minted and grizzled veterans) into a hyperkinetic, visually stunning, reboot of the classic tale.

This was my first introduction to Luhrmann’s work (I now own his Red Curtain Trilogy) and I remember it blowing me away in the theater.  The curious intro of a television set coming closer while reciting the iconic prologue only to be followed by a smashing wall of sound, images and words, only to end with the title, massive white blocked letters searing the start of the film into your eyes.  I was hooked from the get go. 

We all know how this tale ends with the star cross’d lovers dead in each others arms.  When Romeo takes his poison only to find Juliet alive, the moment is powerful indeed.  Juliet lets out a cry of utter despair that stems from the base of her very soul.  This moment, moving and poignant, was destroyed by an audience that failed to recognize it for what it is.  They laughed, uncomfortable in their ignorance, choosing to deflect instead of absorb.  Watching that same scene now I can still remember how much their reaction upset me.

The second film is a more recent one, but still dealing in dark moments.  Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is what many consider a turning point for the franchise when the magic and wonder of youth is left behind for the grim reality of Voldermort’s return. 

Based on the 4th book in the series this is the tipping point for Harry’s world.  Somber color palettes, harrowing challenges and a pervasive sense of dread saturate this complex little film which valiantly tries to sow the seeds that are to be reaped several films later.

This is extremely heavy material for the series to deal with, but something the fans have been waiting a long time for, the top of the main story arc right before we rocket toward the inevitable, a climactic battle between Harry and Voldemort.

Again the film builds toward a defining moment when we see just how high the stakes are for Harry.  After a fierce confrontation with the Dark Lord himself, Harry teleports back to Hogwarts with Cedric’s body in tow (at the behest of Cedric’s spirit).  Wracked with the pain of the battle, the pain of seeing his parents and the pain of his friend’s death, Harry collapses onto Cedric’s body crying with every ounce of his being.  The crowd slowly realizes all is not well and Diggory’s father joins Harry in his wails of grief.

What does the audience do in this pivotal scene?  Laugh.  Laugh at Harry’s tears, laugh at Cedric’s father crying “My Boy!”, laugh at everything meant to move the human heart.  Again they expel their own discomfort by shattering the carefully crafted emotional resonance of the scene.

These are just a few of the reasons why I now dread going to see films in the theater.  Unless it’s a comedy or action extravaganza, which tend to be the safest choices in the public arena, I worry whether or not my experience with a film will be ruined by the uncaring and thoughtless.

There’s a scene in House of Sand and Fog that made me cry.  Not welling up in my eyes to be easily sniffed away, but full on tears streaming down my face.  That one moment was full of such naked honesty and raw emotion that you’d have to be dead inside not to understand it.  If I had watched that scene in a theater instead of (thankfully) at home, I think I would have gone into a rage at someone destroying my connection to the moment with their inability to comprehend it.

This isn’t always 100% the case, I was able to enjoy the emotional impact of The English Patient in a theater, yet that was a rare instance where the audience was really an audience.  I don’t know what changed the general populace’s ability to feel with their movies whether it comes from a change in emotional maturity or a need for simpler, less engaging fare.  King is a Fink (aka Jessica & Julie) try their hand at this puzzle, but I’m not sure if it’s Hollywood training alone that has created this audience deficit. 

I feel as if some wire has become disconnected within the cultural consciousness, like we’ve returned to the times of Rome when bread and blood would appease the plebeians who had long grown apathetic to anything other than the baser pleasures.

HAVE YOU HAD THE EMOTIONAL POWER OF A SCENE RIPPED FROM YOU BY CALLOUS  MOVIE PATRONS?  DO YOU THINK AUDIENCES WILL EVER RE-ENGAGE ON A DEEPER LEVEL WITH THEIR FILMS?

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It has always fascinated me how editing and pacing can affect stories.  The first time I came across this was on the Fight Club: Collector’s Edition DVD, which showed alternate editing for several pivotal scenes in the film.  It opened my eyes to how subtle changes in a camera angle or focal point during a scene could convey a completely different message.

The Limey (a completely underrated Soderbergh film starring Terrence Stamp) repeatedly used minor changes in the same scene to elicit different emotional flavors.  Even simple conversations are taken to another level when the dialogue continues but all we see are the emotion ridden faces of the actors involved.

One unique way of playing with theme and tone is by re-cutting trailers to established movies.  YouTube is littered with them, but here are some solid entries.

Scary Mary

A Christmas Gory

Then again you can go in a completely different direction with some surprisingly good results.

Shining

There’s an entire niche community around re-cutting trailers.  I’m all for folks flexing their creative muscles by taking the known into unknown territory because sometimes a little change in perspective can create truly original work.  Just look at Wicked.

WHAT MOVIES OR BOOKS DO YOU THINK HAVE BENEFITED FROM A CHANGE IN PERSPECTIVE?

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The theme continues as I dive into crooner films.  Listening to "The Sound of the Strip" I frequently heard songs sung by Bobby Darin.  I had a passing familiarity with the name, but really didn’t know anything about the man.  His songs were always filled with personality from ad-libs during the song to his little chats with the audience, not to mention a great set of pipes to belt out those notes.  Intrigued by this talent, I decided to check out his biopic film Beyond the Sea.

This film had a lot going against it right out the gate.  Kevin Spacey writing, directing, producing and starring in the film reeked of vanity project which many critics voiced.  The screenplay went through so many revisions and screen writers that the WGA had to arbitrate on the crediting.  Also, it came out mere months after two spectacular music biopics, Ray and De-Lovely.  In spite of all this, it did a great job of bringing Bobby Darin’s tale to a whole new audience.

One of the film’s saving graces (or major failings, depending on who you ask) was Spacey’s decision to record his own vocals.  I felt like he did an amazing job of not only sounding like Darin, but capturing the essence of his showmanship in the tunes.  The supporting cast is surprisingly star studded with John Goodman, Bob Hoskins and Kate Bosworth joining in on the fun.  As much as I didn’t want to, I found myself comparing it heavily with De-Lovely.  Both tales are about prolific, talented musicians who had very troubled lives.  In De-Lovely, Kevin Kline was Cole Porter, oozing the man with every look, gesture and song.  Kevin Spacey, on the other hand, looked like he was having a ball playing Darin, but fell short of becoming the man.  He was more a rabid fan in the throes of wish fulfillment than an actor bringing the character to life. 

I’m not knocking the performance completely, but I had a hard time believing it was Darin and forgetting it was Spacey on the screen.  That coupled with the method in which the movie unfolds made suspension of disbelief especially difficult.  Fantasy sequences, flashbacks intertwined with present time and references to it all being a movie didn’t gel well (as opposed to The Life and Death of Peter Sellers which pulled it off beautifully), instead jarring me out of the story and making me question what was happening on the screen.

Storytelling quirks aside, Spacey’s performance had a strength and charisma befitting the late singer.  He was every bit as brash, arrogant and unwavering as Darin was in his heyday.  There were several flashes of greatness in the film, teasing you with what it could have been in another director’s hands or if Spacey had done the role much earlier in life.  In the end no one really has the balls to make films like this anymore so I have to give Spacey the credit he deserves for being tenacious enough to chase this project for 17+ years.

With its numerous flaws and bad timing, it didn’t do well at the box office with the studios labeling it a flop.  It’s definitely not in my top selections for music pics or Spacey flicks, but I could see myself dipping back into this flawed little gem to enjoy its heartfelt music and flashes of greatness.

Has anyone else seen this battered underdog of a film?  Am I far off base or right on the money?

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Writing is my favorite method of creation, weaving entire realities that exist solely in your mind until pen is put to paper and the words are allowed to escape.  The physical sensation of being in the midst of a furious writing session is felt from head to toe, supercharging your fingers as they hammer away at the keys.  I would equate it to the feeling you get when someone you like first returns those sentiments, a kind of heart skipping, skin tingling wave radiating from your very center.  As much as I love writing—its process, completion and subsequent consumption—there is one major drawback, its extremely solitary nature.  Being alone with one’s thoughts is a occupational necessity and quite calming from time to time, but for me personally, it is the least appealing aspect.  I (by my very nature) am a social creature, not just in the normal human tribe sense, but in a way where I actually thrive when immersed in it.  It’s my love of social interaction that makes many people question how I can be in the Information Technology field.  Their assumptions always veer toward the awkward, introverted stereotype which contradicts my comfortable, extroverted manner.  As much as I relish the joy of creation via written word, my natural tendencies to seek out human contact can cause friction with the process. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about this inner dichotomy of mine, trying to analyze my internal workings in the hopes I can find a suitable compromise.  Using writing as the creative foundation, I investigated other possibilities.  Some involved writing, but in an office setting where the ebb and flow of corporate America would satisfy my needs.  Others focused more heavily on the human aspect, but dealt with shilling wares or selling goods, neither a very appealing prospect.  Finally, I began comparing my other passions which were equal to writing.  That’s when I had a minor epiphany (and major *facepalm* moment).  Film is a passion that I consume as fervently as literature, if not more so in recent years.  I looked back at my experiences with Script Frenzy or the short lived film project my brother and I were going to undertake.  In both cases I truly enjoyed script writing, finding the format new and invigorating, yet the brainstorming with others, hashing out different aspects of the concept, and debating who would handle each filming duty, electrified me as well.

As luck would have it Lateral Action (one of my favorite blogs) recently published an article about film making.  Titled “How to Succeed in Hollywood”, it was guest authored by a husband and wife team.  Joke and Biagio (with an equally named blog) have produced several popular shows such as Scream Queens and Beauty & the Geek through their Joke Productions company.  Their article dispelled the “creativity = success” myth of Hollywood fame, instead detailing how creativity coupled with the ability to execute those ideas is what will lead you to true success.  My appetite was whetted by this post so I promptly dove into their website, which I found down to earth and brutally honest.  They weren’t bitching about running out of Evian at remote tropical locations or only flying business class when doing press junkets in Europe, but revealing war stories from deep in the trenches, steeped with battle tested tips.  From their 4 year labor of love documentary “Dying to do Letterman” to the Do’s & Don’ts of Working with Celebrities, I found all their articles deeply informative and missing the fluff you usually find with Hollywood blogs.  If you took what they were sharing you could easily build a step-by-step guide to producing your own project, navigating the Hollywood maze and building a successful career.  I was stoked after devouring this wealth of knowledge.  Finally, I had a real world picture of what production truly entailed, with all its ups and downs. 

Wearing creative blinders is something I always want to avoid and without variety my passions fizzle out quickly.  I will continue writing short stories (eventually graduating to novels), but having another avenue in which to funnel my creativity is exciting.  The satisfaction of writing a solid script then the pleasure of collaborating with others to make it come to fruition, is the kind of balance I could use.  Hollywood isn’t my goal, just the joy of the process.  I don’t want to stop there either, possibly diving into other outlets like graphic novels.  My plan is to use the tools I already have, pick up a couple more (through books, blogs or people) and aim for a multi-faceted approach (à la Neil Gaiman).  The one trick pony method has been leading me into a rut, but I feel that diversifying will help me continue my momentum.

I’d love to hear what methods you use to keep from going creatively stagnant? 

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I’m not one to normally post videos, but I couldn’t help sharing this.

For more delicious re-enactments I recommend the following:

• The Exorcist
• The Rocky Horror Picture Show
• Reservoir Dogs *Bleeped Version*
• Star Wars
• National Lampoon’s: Christmas Vacation

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The movie adaptation of a novel is an old standby for the film industry.  When ideas run dry, they’ll rape and pillage the local bookstores for what’s hot (or offbeat), hoping to capitalize on a built-in fan base.  Sometimes this plan goes very well (i.e. Harry Potter), spawning amazing films that add to the novel’s creation.  Other times it goes horribly wrong (i.e. I, Robot), either totally crapping on what the novel achieved or disrespecting the source material so much that the only similarities between the two is the title.

What I find interesting is when they start digging into short stories for their ideas.  With a novel, the issue you have is too much source material, so they can trim, re-arrange and mold it to fit the 90 minute visual medium.  With a short story, you have a clever idea at best, possibly a twist or two and that’s it.  Instead of trimming, they end up stretching or sometimes fabricating whole new elements to tack onto the original narrative.  Again, this is a hit or miss.  Many of Stephen King’s short stories were adapted for film with varying degrees of success.  For every 1408 there’s a Lawnmower Man.

What got me thinking about this was Clive Barker’s Midnight Meat Train, a short story from his Books of Blood collection.   During his workshop at the Fangoria convention (post) he mentioned that he was quite happy with the director’s cut of the film.  At the time I had heard of the movie, but was unaware of his connection to the source material.  Quickly getting a hold of that version, I didn’t end up watching it until last night.  For the record I would like to state, Vinnie Jones is one of the scariest motherfuckers I’ve ever seen on film, right up there with Tony Todd (Candyman) and Doug Bradley (Pinhead).  He’s always been a menacing character (Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels), but he focuses it all on the perfect execution of this role.

The movie is about a photographer who stumbles upon what he thinks is a serial killer slaying people riding the subway late at night.  His obsession with this man leads him down a dark path, to say the least.  When it comes to film adaptations, I find that watching the movie first and then enjoying the source material will allow me to enjoy them both.  Since it’ll always be a watered down version of the original by virtue of its medium, the written word will end up giving me more of what I enjoyed from the film.  I liked this movie quite a bit, especially with Jones’s amazing performance.  Immediately after the film finished, I dove into the short story.   It’s the one story I intentionally skipped in Books of Blood.

Once I started reading, it became apparent that the movie had structured things differently in order to accommodate the transition to silver screen.  Characters and situations were changed with the overall narrative stretched.  For the first time in a long time, I found myself preferring the film to the written word.  As good as Clive Barker’s idea was, it suffered from the limitations of his delivery method.  We spend far too little time with the protagonist in order to have any emotional investment and the same goes for the villain.  Everything happens so fast that it’s over before it builds any real momentum.  This was one of those tales that would have benefited from being turned into a novella and I guess, in essence, that’s what they did with the movie.

Not to mention, Vinnie Jones’s take on the character—either because of the script, director or his own spin—was far superior to the short.  In the story the villain felt like a minor obstacle before the ending, but in the movie Jones was a force of nature, relentless and unforgiving in his task.  Also, the stakes for the protagonist are upped in the film, giving him more than a passing interest in dealing with the Butcher.  All in all, it was a great adaptation of a short story and one of the best in my opinion.  The reason it flopped in the box office was because Lionsgate decided to only release it in “dollar theaters”.  Why they would do this is beyond me, but such are the decisions of major movie studios.  Some bean counter somewhere thought it was a fiscally smart decision.

It was nice to see that someone not only got an adaptation right, but did it better, which is a rarity in Hollywood these days.  Quality, especially in regards to horror films, is usually not top of the list.  There’s a certain lack of respect for the horror genre, unless its those few directors/writers that understand it can be just as powerful as any drama.  Frailty comes to mind.

What short story film adaptations have you come across that elevate or disparage their source material?  Do those familiar with Midnight Meat Train in both formats agree with my assessment?  I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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When crafting a narrative there are many tools you can employ, depending on the type of story you’re telling, the POV involved and personal style.  One technique that can add richness to your stories is foreshadowing.  The general idea behind foreshadowing is to drop hints to the reader regarding events that will occur later in the tale.  This can be done through imagery, word choice, reoccurring situations/actions and many other forms.  Subtlety and moderation are key when using this.  Think of it as a light chime, making it’s presence known to the reader without drawing too much attention, as opposed to a sledgehammer beating in the reader’s skull with it’s obviousness.

The quickest way to go through a tangible example of this technique in action is not recommending you read a 350 page book and come back in a couple of weeks.  Instead I will use a more easily digested form of storytelling, film.  For the purposes of this post, we’ll go with one of my personal favorites, Shaun of the Dead.

<SPOILER ALERT>

I will be discussing this film in specific detail, mentioning plot points, character interactions and possibly the ending.  If you haven’t seen it, please do yourself the favor of picking it up.  This is an incredibly funny movie that honors its genre roots (zombies) and experiencing it for the first time as words on a computer screen is not the way to go.

</SPOILER ALERT>

Shaun of the Dead is “British romantic zombie comedy” starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.  As you can tell, it’s far from your run of the mill story.  Shaun (Pegg) is flatmates with socially repulsive Ed (Frost), who also happens to be his best friend.  Stuck in a dead end job and in a rut with his girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield), he just can’t get his life going.  Luckily for him, a zombie apocalypse comes along to shake things up.

This movie is very well written, not only using foreshadowing heavily in its shots, situations and dialogue, but also creatively telling its story in many non-standard ways (the TV segments are fantastic).  Looking over this film with a critical eye, it’s basically ALL foreshadowing.  The script is so packed with references to what will happen next, that the observant viewer can tell how the movie will unfold the moment the zombies appear.  I’m not saying it’s predictable (far from it), but you end up catching new things with every viewing.  Since there are a plethora of examples, large and small, I’ll pick out some of the most effective. 

The title sequence is outstanding, incorporating a montage of everyday life in England.  As you can see, most of the people are already living a zombie-like existence, so the fact that they died never really changes anything.  When they re-enter the film as brain hungry fiends, most of them have the same exact facial expressions.

When Shaun first bumps into his ex-girlfriend Yvonne (Jessica Hynes) while walking home from the bus, you get your standard issue awkward reunion chit chat.  When Yvonne asks Shaun “how he’s doing” he simply replies “surviving.”  The next time these two meet their conversation starts the same exact way, except “surviving” is especially apt after having navigated his little troupe thru zombie infested back alleys.

Two other examples involve the character of Pete (Peter Serafinowicz), Shaun and Ed’s other flatmate.  When Shaun first takes a piss, he’s on his way to work.  When all’s said and done, he fixes the medicine cabinet mirror to find Pete right behind him, which leads to a conversation in kitchen where Shaun tells Pete to “leave him [Ed] alone”.  When Shaun takes another wee, he’s on his way out to save Liz.  This time when adjusting the mirror Pete is right behind him in the shower as a zombie.  When they’re in the Winchester, zombie Pete ends up taking a bite out of Ed’s arm, while Shaun shouts “leave him alone!” before giving Pete a wicked headshot.

The second Pete moment is after Shaun is dumped by Liz.  Ed and Shaun are playing records loudly after getting their drunk on.  Pete comes in for a heated confrontation since it’s 4 in the morning on a Sunday.  At one point Pete yells at Ed “…you wanna live like an animal, go live in the shed…” which is exactly what happens at the end of the film, when Ed’s a video game playing zombie chained to the wall.  Ed also gets a good one in, muttering under his breath “Next time I see him, he’s dead.” When Ed and Pete next meet, zombie Pete makes a snack out of him.

There’s also the “you’ve got red on you” comment that Shaun keeps getting, in the beginning because of a leaky red pen and later on because he’s covered in zombie blood;  the military trucks racing around in the background, only to end up being deus ex machina for Shaun and Liz; and Shaun’s Mom (Penelope Wilton) asking what Liz wanted for lunch “Cause these days a lot of people don’t eat meat”, right before all hell breaks loose.  Little touches like this, add flavor to what could have otherwise been a clichéd flick.  The foreshadowing in Shaun of the Dead enhances the comedy, keeps the movie fresh after multiple viewings and adds depth to the character interactions.  You can tell that the writing was a primary focus, allowing this mashup of average film plots (horror & comedy/romance) to transcend into a cult classic. 

Injecting this technique into your writing, can create complexities in your narrative that enrich the initial consumption and encourage repeat readings. 

_______________________

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

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When it comes to watching/enjoying a film, I love a good slasher or monster movie as much as the next person (and probably a little bit more).  When it comes to absorbing the material and being stimulated intellectually by its themes, nothing beats personal horror.  My definition of personal horror is when the protagonist’s journey is one of self doubt, internal terror and an uncertain grip on reality.  Creatures, supernatural forces and other things may play a part, but the core of the narrative is tied to the characters.  Finding a good “personal horror” film isn’t always the easiest and there might be some disagreement as to whether or not a film falls into this definition, but here are a few that always come to mind.

Jacob’s Ladder

This has been one of my favorite films for as long as I can remember.  No matter how many times I see it, there’s always something new to discover.  On the surface you have Jacob Singer, a NYC postal worker whose life is slowly unraveling.  Plagued by flashbacks from his tour of duty in Vietnam, demonic visions and transitioning between periods of his life, his grip on sanity is tenuous at best.  Digging a little deeper you find yourself pondering how we construct our own reality, the symbolic nature of the people in our lives and whether or not we’d recognize our descent into madness.

The layered nature of our existence is masterfully handled.  Subtlety (in story and camerawork) combined with jarring imagery keeps you riveted as the narrative flows between themes.  The ending to this movie will lead to many a heated debate, I can damn near guarantee.  And that’s one of its best qualities.  The entire experience can be interpreted in such varied fashions that it never ceases to be new or provocative. 

The protagonist being the only one seeing multiple realities is one of my favorite themes.  I strive to be able to write a narrative that encompasses the uncertainty, self doubt and madness prevalent in this film.

John Carpenter’s The Thing

American scientists in Antarctica are surprised by a group of seemingly mad Norwegians chasing a dog while trying desperately to kill it.  Their helicopter crashes, killing all inside, leaving no explanation for the pursuit.  The Americans decide to bring the dog into their base and that’s when the fun starts.  Easily dismissed as another creature feature, its the intensity of the characters and their situation that make this film a classic. 

Isolation can do funny things to the human psyche which is why solitary confinement so effectively crushes an inmate’s willpower.  Combine that with a violent unknown threat, add a dash of relentless paranoia and you have a pressure cooker just waiting to boil over.  Imagine you can no longer trust your colleagues, hell you don’t even know if they’re human anymore.  Being in a position where every action is second guessed, including your own, yet you could be the only thing preventing the annihilation of the human species. 

Even the conclusion of the film leaves things uncertain further fueling the lingering sense of unease.

Memento

A home burglary gone wrong results in Leonard Shelby suffering a severe head trauma while his wife is raped then murdered.  If that wasn’t bad enough, the injury prevents him from forming any new memories.  Handicap notwithstanding, he attempts to track down his wife’s killer.  Not what you would normally consider horror, but when you look closer, how can the protagonist’s situation be anything other than horrific?

You can no longer rely on the integrity of your own mind instead fabricating an elaborate system that is constantly on the verge of collapse.  Always unsure of where you are and what you’re doing with a single fading goal propelling you forward.  How he didn’t completely lose his sanity is remarkable.  Even so, his downward spiral is inevitable.  His cracks show throughout the film and you know it’s only a matter of time.

Losing your mind is one of my greatest fears. Being lost in one’s own mind would be a circle of hell for me.

Event Horizon

A rescue crew investigates a spaceship that disappeared into a black hole 7 years ago and has now returned.  Standard Sci-Fi fare at first glance, but in reality a vastly under rated horror.  Dr. William Weir in particular (played by Sam Neill) has such an unnerving descent into madness.  Plagued by the death of his wife, you can see him unraveling even before things get dicey.

Once the good doctor loses the plot, its great watching the Captain try to keep it together in the face of sheer insanity.  What I love is that the encroaching madness is not a shared experience (at least not initially) instead creeping up on the characters as they explore the derelict ship.  Little hints or flashes, unsettling them until the entire piece reaches it’s crescendo and all hell breaks loose.  Sam Neill is especially good in these roles, having lots of experience with personal horror (In the Mouth of Madness, Possession [1981]). 

The movie as a whole has a “gothic horror” feel, updated for modern audiences and catapulted into a futuristic setting. The beauty of these themes is that no matter what the time period, they’re universally felt.  Being able to effectively use them without being heavy handed or over the top is a fine line few can navigate.

Honorable Mentions:

• 1408 – Theatrical Release NOT the Director’s Cut.  The alternate ending is so bad it ruins an otherwise fantastic film.  Its a testament to John Cusack’s acting ability that we can spend 100+ minutes basically wat
  ching him lose his shit.
• Lost Highway – Lynch’s films are saturated in personal horror, but his narratives can sometimes be a little difficult minimizing the audience for them.
• Mulholland Dr – See above.
• Eraserhead – Ditto.

In my next post on personal horror I will delve into the literary side of the coin.  For something that’s difficult to pull off with 90 minutes of film, it’s even harder to do with the written word.

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Images courtesy of Wikipedia

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