I initially set out to write an introduction to this year’s horror movie binge showing how cheap horror movies are to make compared to how much money they end up making. I was going to use that to show how people like horror movies regardless of whether or not they’re original, repetitive, or really, any good. I think there’s a pretty cool discussion to be had about what that says about people, and how fear is something we intrinsically respond to even when we know the fear we’re being exposed to isn’t real. But, I’ve written way too fucking much about these fifteen movies already, and that thought ended up being much too long for an introduction. It probably means I’m too longwinded as a writer, but whatever. You’ve already started reading this, so you’re screwed.
What I will say about horror movies is that originality is as important as it is unimportant. The main thing that makes horror movies so interesting is that it takes talent in good, old-fashioned storytelling as well as filmmaking to make a great movie. There are so many recycled plots, settings, and characterizations in horror, that it takes someone with incredible skill to make an effective horror movie. Whether you’re tackling a haunted house story, a slasher film, or the zombie apocalypse, if you’re talented enough, you can make it good. You can probably say something similar about any genre of film, but what makes horror different is how adaptable the genre is. You can make a zombie action film, a zombie comedy, or a zombie documentary, and any of them can be worthy films. You can’t really make a romantic comedy documentary, or a comedic thriller. The possibilities with horror are endless because fear can be in anything, which allows the genre to mesh with everything. So, originality is necessary, even if it’s nearly impossible to make something truly original.
So, horror movies are fantastic, and I love them. You probably do too if you’re reading this. Cool. We have something in common. Now feel free to continue reading what I thought of these movies (all ratings out of four stars):
15. Eraserhead (1977) **
I find the majority of David Lynch’s work stylistically impressive, but thematically lacking. It isn’t that his movies are devoid of any substance – just that they feel like fairly simple, straightforward ideas dressed up to feel more profound than they actually are. I guess that’s pretty much the definition of pretentious, but the term has such a negative connotation that I don’t feel completely comfortable applying it to Lynch. He’s at least saying something.
Unfortunately, I didn’t find Eraserhead any different than the other Lynch films I’ve seen. It’s a surrealist nightmare about a man’s fear of parenting that, at only 89 minutes, still feels extremely padded. I credit the film for trying to tell its story visually with minimal dialogue, but…it’s just kind of boring. Made for $100,000 over the course of five years, it’s a glorified student film. Like most of Lynch’s movies, there’s an idea, an interesting premise, and a strong emphasis on atmosphere over narrative. That’s not necessarily something I’m opposed to, but Eraserhead doesn’t so much tell a story visually as it does use its images to reinforce an idea over and over and over. Once you get what Lynch is trying to say with the piece, the rest of the film feels redundant. Fuck it, he’s pretentious.
14. Maniac Cop (1988) **1/2
Maniac Cop is the kind of movie I love to defend, regardless of whether or not I actually like it. It’s so full of social commentary that it’s impossible not to at least admire the effort. We movie nerds call this a noble failure. At its core, the movie is about how the New York City police department is not just failing to serve and protect the city, but making it more dangerous. The movie examines institutional dysfunction, but disguises itself as a slasher film. That’s an interesting, clever premise. The issue is that the movie itself is just kind of bad. It’s hard to tell whether or not the writing and acting are intentionally campy, which is a pretty terrible sign. Overall, the movie feels like Season One of The Wire meets They Live, minus the insight of the former and the glorious camp of the latter. The movie even commits the cardinal sin of wasting the brilliant Bruce CAMPbell, a man who has a career strictly because he’s impossible to out-camp…camp.
That said, there’s just something enjoyable about watching bad movies with noble intentions (which explains my almost positive rating). The movie was panned by critics and didn’t even make a million at the box office. Yet, somehow it spawned two sequels, so there’s at least some sort of audience out there that feels like I do. Maniac Cop is the exact kind of midnight movie I like to watch – one where I can laugh at how bad it is, while also thinking a little about what it’s trying to say. The end result is something that’s probably impossible to come up with intentionally, as it seems really easy to end up with something incredibly pretentious or just plain God-awful. I probably have too much of a soft spot for these kinds of movies (I flat out LOVE They Live), but I’m totally fine with that.
13. Eight Legged Freaks (2002) ***
Look, I’ll be perfectly honest with you – any movie that’s set in a down-on-its-luck, financially collapsing town called…wait for it…Prosperity, is something I’m bound to like. It’s a kind of ham-fisted irony that can only be pulled off in a self-aware, absurd comedy. It’s a story so rife with clichés that the only way to make it entertaining is to knowingly poke fun of those clichés. Eight Legged Freaks is a kind of pretend horror movie where the main characters aren’t ever in any actual danger, and the supporting characters exist solely to die a gruesome death. A prerequisite for this kind of movie? Bad acting. Enter David Arquette, the heavyweight champion of bad actors (Yes, that joke was made because he was a professional wrestler at one point. And yes, that follow up sentence explaining the joke is there because I wasn’t sure how many people would actually get my clever joke. So much for subtlety!). Arquette is the absolute perfect guy for these kinds of movies. In fact, I’d like to officially petition that he ONLY makes so-bad-they’re-good horror comedies from here on out. Congratulations David, I’ve found your niche. Actually, he’s probably been doing that for quite a while now, but who the hell sees David Arquette movies anyway? This review isn’t really about the movie, is it? Well, fuck it, what else can you say? Ham – good. Comedy-horror – good. David Arquette – good?
12. Them (2006) ***
This French-Romanian home invasion film bookends itself with scenes involving an arguing mother and daughter who end up being the film’s first victims and a “big reveal” that I’m not about to spoil. The two scenes serve as a way to give what easily could have been a simple, albeit well-constructed, genre film a little heft. Without giving too much away, the ending allows the audience to confront the film’s villains, and by extension, the real world fear they represent. It’s a common horror movie tactic – the faceless attacking force you don’t understand serving as a stand-in for some larger, concrete issue. It’s one of the big reasons I’m so drawn to the genre, as it allows for a virtually limitless amount of commentary.
Them also works as a “put yourself in the characters’ shoes” movie. It’s a genuinely suspenseful film with characters who act like I think most people would – they do some very smart things, and they do some very dumb things. The movie also shows some greatly appreciated respect for its audience by not dumbing itself down and ending with the standard bloodbath most home invasion movies spend their entire running time building towards. Instead, it builds towards…nope, not going to tell you.
11. Horror of Dracula (1958) ***
I’m probably too young to fully appreciate Terence Fisher’s take on the Dracula myth (and now that I’m into my 30s, that’s an excuse I’m going to use any chance I get). Everything I’ve read on the film lauds Fisher and Christopher Lee, the man who plays the count, for their updated, modern, or edgy take on the material. Dracula is much more in line with Bram Stoker’s original take on the character here than in previous versions – until 1958 he was typically portrayed as a charmer who was much less violent and menacing. Fisher and Lee created the template for the character that has become the norm in popular culture now. But without the familiarity of those previous versions, this updated, revisionist take on the material was lost on me. This just mirrored how I’ve been exposed to Dracula all my life. All of this certainly spurs a discussion about how the normal and acceptable are flimsy concepts subject to the whims of society (which defeats the purpose of labeling them such in the first place), but that’s neither here nor there.
Despite being out of my element regarding the film’s historical context, it still manages to be an enjoyable experience. If the idea behind the movie was to make a radically different film version of Bram Stoker’s novel, the movie is still very much interested in the myth. The familiarity most people had with Dracula at the time plays a large part in why the movie moves at such a fast pace without feeling underdeveloped. Take how the movie introduces Dracula – it jumps right into Jonathan Harker arriving at Dracula’s castle, and instead of using a handful of scenes to traditionally develop the villain, he’s introduced to Harker (and us) in one long shot as he descends a staircase and walks directly towards the camera ending with a close-up. It’s unnerving because it plays on the Dracula myth since we know it’s him walking directly toward us. It’s an excellent bit of filmmaking.
The movie naturally builds to a faceoff between Peter Cushing’s Dr. Van Helsing, and Lee’s aforementioned Dracula. The whole thing is a bit theatrical, but it feels pleasant and classy as opposed to over-the-top silly. Dracula manages to feel threatening, even if the movie doesn’t seem to really care about the characters that have been killed. It’s a credit to Lee’s performance (he only had 13 lines) and Fisher’s direction that Dracula has some real menace. The film is worth seeing for that alone.
10. The Uninvited (1944) ***
Lewis Allen’s 1944 haunted house movie is more melodrama with a horror twinge than full blown horror. On the surface, it seems very much like a Rebecca rip-off (Alfred Hitchcock’s 1940 Best Picture Winner), but there’s enough working just beneath the surface to make Allen’s film something different entirely. The Uninvited is remembered in Hollywood lore as the first movie (or at least one of the first) to treat ghosts seriously. In the Hitchcock movie, the character of Rebecca functions as a ghost, but it’s never overtly stated that she actually is one (In fact, you never see her at all.). The Uninvited drops the implied haunting of Rebecca and populates its abandoned manor, Windward House, with real world apparitions. The estate, purchased for a suspiciously low price by a brother and sister pair played by Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey, ominously sits atop a rocky English coast line. The siblings purchase the house on a whim while on holiday from one Commander Beech (Donald Crisp). Windward House has been in the Commander’s family for quite some time, and his granddaughter Stella (Gail Russell) is strangely drawn to the house. We soon find out that there’s a devilish past to the house, and the narrative unspools from there.
The Uninvited isn’t going to surprise anyone in where the story goes. What may have been revolutionary in 1944 is pretty standard in 2013. Instead, what we get is a pretty tame, fairly innocent ghost story on the surface. However, lurking just beneath is quite a bit of racy subtext involving lesbianism, and some less-racy-but-still-interesting stuff about belief and denial. The film is often seen as a parable for lesbianism in how there are two ghosts (one good, one evil) fighting for a young, twenty year old girl. There’s also a character in the film, Mrs. Holloway, who’s so fiercely loyal to her dead “friend and confidante” that it’s hard not to see her as a lesbian. The movie doesn’t seem to be interested in condoning or condemning homosexuality, just simply presenting it. Again, in 1944, that was incredibly risqué. Contrasting belief and denial involves the brother and sister characters (as well as a doctor character who enters the picture about halfway through, a classic example of a man of science not believing in the supernatural). The sister is adamant that their newly purchased home is haunted and accepts it much quicker than her brother, who justifies and rationalizes away the ever increasing possibility that their latest acquisition probably requires some help from Peter Venkman and Ray Stantz. All of this makes for some interesting internal dialogue post viewing, even if they’re essentially background noise. Still, it helps make the movie something a little more than just a haunted house genre exercise.
9. Sinister (2012) ***
Sinister is equal parts fantastic and frustrating. On one hand, it’s a rare legitimately good American horror movie that isn’t a remake of an older movie or foreign film. On the other, the inclusion of one painfully blunt scene threatens to derail the whole thing. The film’s plot concerns itself with a true crime writer, played by Ethan Hawke, who moves his family from town to town as he investigates crimes from the past in order to pen his next big hit. This time, he’s moved his family to the actual location of the crime, which happens to (shocker!) be haunted. To make matters worse, he’s hidden this fact from his family.
It’s a pretty standard setup for a haunted house film, but the movie uses it to delve into the idea of parents putting themselves and their careers over their children’s futures. The movie does a really good job of setting this theme up through natural character development and plot progression. It helps that the haunted house portion of the movie is genuinely scary, and not in the “wait for the creepy music to stop and then have something jump out” kind of way. If there’s a slight flaw with the way the haunting is handled, it’s that it begins to feel repetitive after a while. Hawke’s character stays up into the wee hours of the night to write and do research, and that’s inevitably when weird shit goes down. I found that easily overlooked since, again, it was frightening and seamlessly woven into the theme. And then…the scene happens. Just before the film hits its climax (insert orgasm joke here), there’s a scene between Hawke and his wife where they have an argument about their marriage, their kids, and all the other familial problems they're facing. Literally every point or idea the movie has so skillfully addressed is outlined in explicit detail. It’s a forced, clumsy way to play catch up for any audience members who didn’t follow what the film was trying to say. It reeked of unnecessary insecurity. The filmmakers did their work perfectly up to that point. Have the confidence to let your work speak for itself!
Even after that scene, the movie sees everything to its logical thematic conclusion, which results in a pretty unconventional, ballsy ending. I really loved everything about this movie, aside from that one scene. It’s the only thing stopping Sinister from being at, or very near, the top of this year’s list.
8. Inferno (1980) ***
First things first: Giallo. From Wikipedia, "Giallo films are generally characterized as gruesome murder-mystery thrillers that combine the suspense elements of a Hitchcock film with scenes of shocking horror featuring excessive bloodletting, stylish camerawork, and often jarring musical arrangements." These kinds of movies are often more interested in creating moods and atmosphere than they are in establishing and following a plot line. In case you were still wondering, Inferno falls firmly into the giallo camp – I didn’t just randomly bring that up for absolutely no reason. Designed as the second installment in Dario Argento's Three Mothers trilogy (The first installment, Suspira, is probably the definitive and most highly regarded giallo film.), Inferno jumps right into the story assuming/not caring if you’ve seen part one.
The interesting thing is that it doesn't really matter if you've seen Suspira because the plot doesn't really matter. Neither do the characters, for that matter. Sure, there are perfunctory attempts at a story, and the movie is technically populated with characters, but not in the traditional sense American audiences are accustomed to seeing. Inferno (and Argento's other movies) is often described as being "an attack on the senses." There's really no better way to describe it, or giallo movies in general. They exist solely to create a feeling of dread. The results aren't profound, but they're interesting because the film emphasizes everything that isn’t standardly focused on or emphasized. It's almost like Argento saw a ton of American films, with their emphasis on story and character, and decided he would do the exact opposite. It makes for challenging filmmaking, and the results are usually operatic and hypnotic. Inferno is probably my least favorite of the giallo movies I've seen, but it still succeeds at what it tries to do. It's a movie you'll remember for scenes, the score, and the violence. It leaves an imprint, which is more than can be said for many, many supposedly better films.
7. The Host (2006) ***
The Host is a 2006 South Korean monster movie (not to be confused with the 2013 American movie written by the Twilight chick, because you can go fuck yourself if you think I'm ever watching that crap) in the vein of the numerous Godzilla movies. Kaiju (strange creature in Japanese) is actually the correct term for these kinds of movies, but I have no idea how that word is pronounced, so I'll keep calling them monster movies. The Host, directed by Bong Joon-ho, is actually the highest grossing South Korean movie of all time. That’s impressive…I guess. The Host is a messy movie about a messy family that gets involved in some messy business. It’s really three movies in one – a Kaiju (I lied, I’m using it) movie about a monstrosity wreaking havoc on a city’s population, a character drama about a broken family coming together, and a political commentary/satire on the American presence in South Korea and South Korea’s own inept government. It’s hugely ambitious, largely unwieldy, and a really good time.
The biggest issue with the movie is that Joon-ho tries to pack so much into this just-a-hair-under-two-hour film that some of the emotional impact is negated. There simply isn’t enough time to fully develop these characters while doing everything else the film is interested in. The family angle isn’t a complete failure, and the ending is genuine and appropriately bittersweet. But, it’s easily the weak point of the movie. It’s something recommended to anyone looking for a fresh, original take on the monster movie, or for something really weird and different.
6. The Brood (1979) ***
The Brood is a pretty tough movie to evaluate. On one hand, it’s a very low budget, terribly acted, Canadian horror film from the late 70s that got middling reviews when it was released. On the other, it’s an early David Cronenberg movie (renowned maker of some tremendous horror movies like The Fly and Videodrome), has a central idea that’s really smart and well written, and was recommended to me by none other than Edgar Wright. Now, this might be where you point out that I’ve never actually met Edgar Wright. I don’t care what you say. I read an interview with him where he had nothing but glowing things to say about the film. So, in my mind, he recommended this movie to me, specifically. And we’re good pals. We might even go to the pub later for a pint. See? British lingo. I’m clearly legit.
Anyway, The Brood is about a group of dwarf-like children terrorizing and murdering various people. You eventually find out that this group of children is literally being manifested by one woman’s rage, fear, and duress. This woman is going through a divorce with her husband and has deep seated issues with her parents. She’s secluded herself in what is essentially a cult, with a quack doctor whose only interest in his patients is exploiting them for personal gain. The majority of the movie consists of these “children” wreaking havoc on the people she has anger towards. Cronenberg’s idea here is to show the effects this kind of suppressed rage has on your own children. As this blind rage continues to manifest itself in the form of the titular brood, the daughter caught in the middle of the couple’s divorce is increasingly drawn into the story, until the end where…well, I won’t ruin that for anyone interested. It’s worth noting that Cronenberg was going through his own divorce when the movie was written, and he’s even acknowledged that it’s probably his most autobiographical picture.
It really is a fantastic idea for a movie. The only thing stopping it from being among the best I saw this year is, again, the laughably bad acting. That’s likely because of the low budget, but it doesn’t change how truly terrible it is. That said, if I wasn’t already seeking out David Cronenberg movies in my life (you should be too – He’s. Fucking. Awesome.), I’d make note of who made the movie and be sure to seek out his work.
5. Strange Circus (2005) ***1/2
I’m hesitant to even begin to describe what happens in Strange Circus for a couple of reasons: 1. It’s so fucking weird that it’s really, really hard to do so, and 2. Most of the fun is seeing where all this weirdness will go next. Fun might be a stretch because it’s a pretty difficult, dark movie, but it’s literally impossible to predict where this movie will go at virtually any given moment. And the places it goes, to quote one Cosmo Kramer, are “out there.”
The story is structured in three basic parts. The first part concerns a young girl who witnesses her parents having sex (gross), and is then brought into their sex life by her father (grosser). He takes turns having his way with her and her mother, until the mother begins resenting the child for attracting her husband’s affections (grossest). The second part reveals that the entire first part was the plot of the newest novel by one of Japan’s most well-respected authors. The film begins exploring the author’s life through her new, mysterious assistant. Just when you get a handle on where you think this section is going, the film transitions into its third section, where the worlds of the first two parts start blending together until the film’s big reveal. Oh yeah, and the entire movie is bookended with two scenes that take place at an off-kilter circus, from which I can only assume the film takes its name. The only term I can think of to describe the entirety of it all is bat-shit crazy.
That said, this is firmly an art film, albeit an extremely graphic, sexual, fucked up one. It deals with the links between repression and guilt, and how far people will go to keep repressing guilt, including intentionally confusing reality and perception. This approach is two-fold. Firstly, the viewer is subjected to a movie that twists, turns, and changes what it’s about every 20-30 minutes. Secondly, the characters within the film are never what they seem; the “truth” lies beneath the surface. It’s an intelligent way for director Sion Sono to mount the movie, and gives thematic heft to something that, in the wrong hands, could very easily be a simple exploitation film. If (really) weird, graphic foreign movies are your thing, I highly recommend this one.
4. Threads (1985) ***1/2
This movie made me want to hug my girlfriend forever and not let go. Luckily for her, she wasn’t around when I watched it. I imagine it would get pretty tiresome hauling a 210 pound man around with you wherever you go (ba-dum-ching!). Seriously though, Threads is a tough movie to watch. Originally aired in 1985 as a BBC TV movie, the film depicts the lead up to, and aftermath of, full stage nuclear war. Designed as a piece of documentary fiction, the realistic portrayal of this scenario is the exact reason the movie is so affecting. A lot of that realism has to do with the matter-of-fact manner in which the material is presented. The creators of the film used mostly unknown (and in many cases, non-professional) actors in order to make the characters more relatable. A very serious, subdued British narrator periodically gives the audience facts about what has been taking place in the society at large, which serves to reinforce the realism. Initially, the film starts off as a slice-of-life drama akin to something from Mike Leigh, as the nuclear war information is communicated to the audience via radio and television announcements in the background. We get the impression we’re watching real people’s lives unfold. Once the nukes are dropped, it gets rough. Really fucking rough. As I alluded to, it made me thankful I have someone to experience life with, because at some point one of us will inevitably be forced to helplessly watch the other go. If we’re talking about real horror and real fear, isn’t death and everything that comes with it all the way at the top of the list?
The movie is an exceptional piece of realism. In fact, some will undoubtedly find it “too real” and be turned off to the whole production. I can understand that, but that’s not a line of thinking I subscribe to. I can’t say I enjoy movies like Threads, but I will always make myself watch them for the emotions they make you feel. The ultimate goal of any piece of art (I hate using that word, it makes me feel pompous…fuck, shit, balls…there, I feel better) is to make the people consuming it feel something. Threads is successful at doing that, so I appreciate it for what it is – even if it is making me feel something difficult and unpleasant.
3. Deliverance (1972) ***1/2
Going into Deliverance, I had obviously heard jokes about rapist backwoods hillbillies, pig squealing, puuurty mouths, and banjo playing. But, I didn’t realize how little any of that actually had to do with the movie. John Boorman’s film is much more a study of men and nature than it is a horror movie about country bumpkins terrorizing city boys. Sure, that stuff is part of the plot, and used to great effect, but what’s really scary about the movie is how it unflinchingly presents the flaws of the macho mentality.
The film turns the romanticized ideal of man at peace in nature into something disgusting and horrifying. In the world of Deliverance, if man can be his true self in nature, it certainly isn’t somewhere he can go for relaxation. It’s a dangerous, violent, repulsive part of the world. Burt Reynolds’ Lewis, the leader and man’s man of the group of four Atlanta businessmen (and a perfect casting choice, as Reynolds just oozes manliness), is constantly lecturing his friends about the purity of nature and corruption of society. What the film does is turn Lewis’ point of view on its head, both in what literally happens to the character and in showing the failings of his mentality. Examining his character is where the film begins, but he’s ultimately discarded by the film; he’s purely a stand-in for the mentality the movie wants to discuss. The more nuanced Ed (Jon Voight) is much more suited to the comments the movie wants to make; he’s more of a real, relatable person than the exaggerated archetype of Lewis.
The real strength of the movie, and what allows it to make such sweeping comments on masculinity, is the ambiguity involved with various plot points. Lewis is able to convince his companions that the hillbilly he kills was going to murder Jon Voight’s Ed and Ned Beatty’s Bobby, but there’s no way he, or anyone, could KNOW that. The group convinces itself that Drew’s death is from a gunshot despite not hearing one and not being able to confirm it on his body. Ed killing what may or may not be the man they were looking for forces him to confront what he may have done. That confrontation is exactly what the movie is after – it makes its characters hold themselves accountable for what they’ve done and asks them to search for the meaning. The last shot of the film, as Ed wakes up from a nightmare, serves as a condemnation of everything we’ve seen. It’s a complex turn in a complex film with complex insight into the complexities of nature, society, and masculinity – all this on top of being genuinely horrifying.
2. The Innocents (1961) ***1/2
Based on the Henry James novella The Turn of the Screw, Jack Clayton’s excellent 1961 adaptation delivers everything you’d want in a horror film. There’s psychological complexity, a genuinely eerie mood, legitimate scares, and a ton of thematic depth. The setup is right out of the Haunted House 101 handbook – a rich uncle with no time to take care of his adopted niece and nephew hires a governess (a fancy British term for nanny). At first, the kids and the lavish home seem like a dream come true, but everything isn’t quite what is seems. The kids may or may not be evil or possessed by ghosts, and there are secrets within the house walls.
The most compelling thing about the movie is the ambiguity of the plot. The deeper the film delves into its central mystery, the more questions it asks instead of answers. The ending of film is completely open-ended. However you read it is perfectly fine, as the intention of the movie is to beg you to interpret, regardless of your conclusion. I always find it interesting to think about ambiguous movies like this in a broader context, and approach it from the angle of “why make it ambiguous in the first place?” What did, or didn’t, happen oftentimes isn’t the important part if you’re analyzing what a movie, book, song, etc. is trying to say. With The Innocents, I took the ambiguity combined with the “more you know, the more questions you have” angle to be an allegory for faith. Faith exists because there’s no way to truly know your beliefs are accurate, and certain situations can just as easily be read as confirming faith as condemning it.
Regardless of the thematic, existential implications of Clayton’s movie, there’s no denying it’s a first-class haunted house movie full of dark interiors, brightly designed outdoor set pieces, and plenty of bumps in the night. There’s a genuine sense of dread as the governess uncovers more and more about the house and children, and there’s even some creepy Freudian undertones in her relationship with the nephew. This is the quintessential old-school horror film that still holds up today.
1. The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) ****
Before a few days ago, I had always thought of The Rocky Horror Picture Show as “that weird transvestite musical.” That’s 100% true, of course, but I knew very little beyond that. I knew it was THE cult movie, and that people like to dress up as characters from the film and attend midnight showings solely to treat the whole thing as a live version of Mystery Science Theater. So, for my initial viewing of the film did I ignore all this so I could separate the experience from the movie? So I could try to judge the movie as just a movie? Of course not! My girlfriend and I attended one of those midnight showings (the weekend before Halloween no less), and ended up having to embarrass ourselves in front of an entire theater full of strangers (Everyone who hadn’t seen the movie before in theaters had to do the same, so at least we weren’t alone.). The entire experience was straight out of The Perks of Being a Wallflower – an amateur theater group acted the movie out in front of the screen as it happened, people ran around half naked, props were thrown into and around the audience, and one-liners were thrown out by anyone who felt the urge. It was an interesting one-time experience, but it wasn’t really my thing. I like to actually watch movies I pay to, you know, watch. If you haven’t seen the movie it becomes impossible to follow what’s actually going on. It’s weird. That’s all I really got out of the viewing because someone was yelling something any time there was a one or two second pause between lines. The worst, and most annoying, were the handful of people who had done this so many times that they obviously knew the exact moment to throw out canned jokes. It was like the movie had a subtitle that read, “insert joke here,” and four or five audience members would yell out the same joke. They might has well have been yelling, “I’ve seen this movie many times!” It bordered on pathetic.
So, in order to give the movie the fair shake my girlfriend (as a lover of the film) urged me to give it, we rented it a few nights ago and I gave it another watch. It’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. At its core, it’s a film about people, identity, meaning, and how we almost arbitrarily identify ourselves with someone, something, or some group in order to have a sense of purpose. The movie starts off as a kind of 70s counter-culture satire of the square community. “Normal” is presented exactly like I just wrote it. Marriage, church, jobs, politics – all these standard hallmarks of normalcy – are mocked and parodied. The weirdoes are presented as cool and sexy. The movie then transitions into an evisceration of the “weird” hedonistic way of life. We’re shown how that is just as much a façade as the square way. Whether we’re trying to assimilate into society or rage against it, it doesn’t matter. Underneath these false identities people create, these shows we put on, are the things that make us human, the things we hide from everyone. The film is everything art was designed to be – it gives some kind of truth and understanding to what we experience.
It also doesn’t hurt that the movie is wildly entertaining. I mean, it’s a musical comedy sci-fi horror movie that features a transvestite named Dr. Frank N. Furter and references numerous other classic sci-fi and horror films throughout. It’s an inherently silly movie, which makes its profoundness that much more impressive. The movie reminds me of another cult hit, The Big Lebowski, in how it’s become such a touchstone in popular culture that it’s nearly impossible to separate the cult from the film. Also like The Big Lebowski, there’s an amazing work of art lurking behind the hilarious exterior. The things we hide…
