Tuesday, October 22, 2024

Only now does it occur to me... PHANTASM IV: OBLIVION (1998)

Only now does it occur to me...  that by PHANTASM IV: OBLIVION, the saga has truly become the "UP" series of horror films. I'm referring to the famous run of Michael Apted documentaries which follow the same set of children as they grown up in increments of seven years (thus far, from age 7 to age 63).

From the first PHANTASM in 1979 to the this fourth installment in 1998, we've watched A. Michael Baldwin, Angus Scrimm, Reggie Bannister, and Bill Thornbury take an entire twenty year journey. (Just wait until I get to 2016's PHANTASM V.) 


A. Michael Baldwin's "Mike" on the same lost highway in 1979...

 

...and 1998.


With PHANTASM IV: OBLIVION, Coscarelli wanted to take the series back to its roots––that is, surrealistic, melancholy horror which is sometimes so abstract as to be impenetrable. 

 

He also discovered a trove of unused footage from the '79 film, which he inserts here in a time travel scenario. Because it was not originally intended to be used for time travel, it can sometimes feel a little bewildering, but often it carries actual emotional weight.

I love that these movies have become so (needlessly?) complicated that there's basically a prestige TV series-style recap at the beginning of each installment. I love that we see the silhouette of the Tall Man's (Angus Scrimm) iconic bob haircut before we see his face. I love that there's three full minutes of impressionistic imagery before a single word is spoken.

In bringing the series back to its roots, the bulk of the film is meditative, quiet, and bizarre, much closer to video art than franchise filmmaking. Make no mistake, PHANTASM IV is "slow cinema," and the primary filming location of Death Valley lends it a sparse and almost cosmic quality.

Aside from a brief Civil War (!) flashback, complete with historical reenactors as extras, we probably encounter no more than seven or eight faces in this film. It feels simultaneously small and vast.

One sequence in particular––supposedly filmed without permits on Wilshire Boulevard, very early on a Thanksgiving morning––gives us a striking vision of an eerily abandoned Los Angeles which feels way above the PHANTASM pay grade.

 


In our time travel plotline, we reacquaint ourselves with the "DUNE lady" fortune teller, not glimpsed or mentioned since part I.

Her character, used in concert with symbolic/metaphysical origin story of the Tall Man

actually manages to provide some satisfying (albeit dream-logical) closure to the mysteries of the first film (and without a single midi-chlorian).

Speaking of STAR WARS, I have often written about the ways in which the PHANTASM and STAR WARS series mirror each other. Here, there's a quite overt moment as Mike wanders Death Valley 

while the Tall Man's minions skitter around behind him––it's a playful carbon copy of a scene where R2-D2 is stalked by Jawas in the original STAR WARS.


 

In any event, this is all pretty classy, and for the most part has shed any of the "action movie"-leanings we saw in PHANTASMs II and III.

...However, Coscarelli can't help himself––he knows that there are PHANTASM phanatics who live and breathe for all four barrels of Reggie the Ice Cream Man (Reggie Bannister), in a performance I routinely describe as, "What if Clint Howard were the last action hero?"


And so there's essentially a disconnected B-storyline where Reggie does what he does best: explode cars (there's an action scene which feels like an extended homage to the MANIAC COP series),

attempt to seduce out-of-his-league women who end up being evil beings in disguise

and participate in jam sessions (now that's a true PHANTASM '79 throwback!).


Indeed, the film's commitment to jammin' Reggie & Co. is so ironclad that the ending credits song, "Have You Seen It,"

is written and performed by Reggie himself... in a band he calls "Reggie 'B' & the Jizz Wailin' Ya' Doggies." 


Yep, there's a whole album

And indeed, to continue the STAR WARS theme, this rather... inauspicious band name, I believe, does not refer to the Ice Cream Man's ejaculate, but rather to the obscure, sad, and extremely cursed STAR WARS factoid that "jazz" in the STAR WARS universe is referred to as "jizz." And that jazz musicians in the STAR WARS universe are called "jizz wailers." Was this unfortunate name intentionally coarse? Who can say.

Whew. I'd rather not leave you on that note. So, in closing, let's simply remember that "This motion picture is protected under the laws of the United States and other countries. Unauthorized duplication, distribution, or exhibition may result in civil liability, criminal prosecution, and... the wrath of the Tall Man."