Film Review: VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED (1995, John Carpenter)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 99 minutes.
Tag-line: "Beware the children."
Notable Cast or Crew: Christopher Reeve (SUPERMAN, SOMEWHERE IN TIME), Kirstie Alley (CHEERS, STAR TREK II: THE WRATH OF KHAN), Linda Kozlowski (CROCODILE DUNDEE, CROCODILE DUNDEE II), Michael Paré (STREETS OF FIRE, EDDIE AND THE CRUISERS, THE PHILADELPHIA EXPERIMENT), Mark Hamill (CORVETTE SUMMER, BODY BAGS, STAR WARS), Peter Jason (THEY LIVE, MORTAL KOMBAT, 48 HRS., DEADWOOD), George "Buck" Flower (BACK TO THE FUTURE, THE FOG).  Music by John Carpenter and Dave Davies (of "The Kinks").  Cinematography by Gary B. Kibbe (THEY LIVE, IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, BODY BAGS).  Screenplay by David Himmelstein (POWER, BAD COMPANY), based on the novel by John Wyndham (DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS, THE KRAKEN WAKES).
Best One-liner:  "Well, ain't ya gonna do somethin', or ya just gonna cry like all the other little pissants? Well do somethin', goddammit!"

VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED '95 has a less than stellar reputation, and, sure, it feels a little more like a feature length X-FILES episode than a Carpenter film,

and yeah, Kirstie Alley doesn't make for the best "Cigarette-Smoking Man,"

and maybe there's some dodgy CGI,

 Or is that CG-eye?

and on the poster, the children's faces are weirdly compressed like the graphic designer was trying out Photoshop for the first time, and the best pull quote on the back cover seems to be "One scarifying trip!" from the New York Times.  Despite all of this, I really stand by VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED; it's an effective thriller, and while it's not as memorable as the gloomy, psychotic fantasia of IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS which Carpy directed the previous year, it's deeply atmospheric, often suspenseful, and occasionally fun.  I reject the claims that it doesn't "feel" like a Carpenter film––and in fact would like to take a moment to judge a few elements of VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED in context of the greater Carpenter oeuvre.


#1.  The ambiance. Atmospherically speaking, it's incredibly solid.  Shot mainly in Point Reyes and Inverness, California––the same locale as THE FOG––we have plenty of seaside beauty, melancholy landscapes,



and a warm, almost Norman Rockwell-by-way-of-Stephen King vibe.


For me, the "likability" of the community in a piece like VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED is paramount, and Carpenter establishes his "Midwich" as a nostalgic idyll, a refuge from a complex world.

And everything was going so well...


#2. The emptiness.  Dean Cundey, who served as Carpenter's lead cinematographer from 1978-1986, was a master of capturing the blank spaces Carpenter frequently seeks.  To Carpy, the void is often scarier than the boogeyman––for instance, watch the closing shots of HALLOWEEN, THE FOG advancing on deserted streets, or the ominous corridors of the Antarctic base in THE THING.  Post-BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA, Gary B. Kibbe became Carpenter's go-to cinematographer, and his style is slightly drier, his colors a little more muted, his visuals a little crisper.  (Kibbe's more of a meat n' potatoes cinematographer, while Cundey was prone to flourishes of the baroque.)

In the film's first major setpiece––whereupon the entire town loses consciousness and a mysterious and dark force impregnates the fertile women––we are treated to static images of townspeople, passed out in the midst of their everyday activities.



It plays to Carpenter's fascinations, but Kibbe puts his own spin on it; I think that the fusion of their sensibilities is much of what comes to define latter-day Carpenter.


#3.  The music.  Carpenter teams up with Dave Davies, co-founder of The Kinks, on the score, and it's a curious one.  The major theme feels like mid-era Carpenter synth work, but the incidental tracks are lower-key than usual; lots of Ry Cooder-style guitar strumming, moody strings, and low-key percussion.  It often sounds more like the soundtrack to a drama than a horror film, but when the stops come out (on a climactic track like "March of the Children") it's a more orchestral version of the relentless, pounding Carpy sound we've come to expect.


#4.  Carpy cameo! As "Rip Haight" (an acting pseudonym Carpenter also used on MEMOIRS OF AN INVISIBLE MAN), the "Man at Gas Station Phone,"


Carpenter seems to be wearing Jerry Seinfeld's wardrobe (down to the enormous white sneakers) while he makes a phone call from a Midwich gas station.  His only real character flourish is checking the change tray for leftover quarters.  I theorize that he's still playing "Paul," Annie's boyfriend from HALLOWEEN (see: #8 from my review), a voiceover-only character who whinily browbeats his babysitter girlfriend into picking him up, during which she is murdered by Michael Myers.  I like to believe that Paul moved to Midwich later in life, where he is often stranded at gas stations and must call his ladyfriends for rides.


#5.  George "Buck" Flower.


A veteran of six Carpenter films (THE FOG, ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, STARMAN, THEY LIVE, BODY BAGS, and this), Buck Flower can be seen here doing what he does best: getting hobo drunk.  As "Carlton" the school janitor, Buck has many opportunities to be irascible and sloppy, and one of my favorite moments in the film sees him taunting the Aryan, telepathic children––with destructive results.


#6. Peter Jason.

Jason, a familiar face who's worked with Carpenter on seven occasions (PRINCE OF DARKNESS, THEY LIVE, BODY BAGS, IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, this, ESCAPE FROM L.A., and GHOSTS OF MARS) has a small role as one of the new "fathers" in the community.  He takes his bit part seriously and exudes the proper pathos, even though at least one-third of his screentime sees him hurtling toward a propane tank.  Nice work, Pete!


#7. Since his appearance in a Tobe Hooper-directed but Carpenter-produced segment of BODY BAGS, I think we can technically count Mark Hamill among the Carpenter stable of actors.

Here, he's kind of "Jeffrey Combs-ing" it, playing a local preacher with wild-eyed fervor.  He shouts things like "We need fingerpaints!"

Luke Skywalker: "We need fingerpaints!"

and eventually attempts Rambo-style revenge against the telepathic children

with mixed results.



#7.  Mobs, mobs, mobs!  Many Carpenter films clobber the audience with a mob of drooling, violent, and wild-eyed maniacs, from the "Street Thunder" gang in ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13 to the "Crazies" in ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK to the "Lords of Death" in BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA to the book-addled masses in IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS to the vamps in VAMPIRES.  Other times, the mob is governed by a hive mind––a quieter, more BODY SNATCHERS-style horde––like the ghost lepers in THE FOG, the duplicates in THE THING, the aliens/yuppies in THEY LIVE, the possessed in PRINCE OF DARKNESS, or the ghosts in GHOSTS OF MARS.  VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED has both types of mob: in the eerie, uniform children we have the latter:


and in the (eventually) reactionary townspeople, with their torches and FRANKENSTEIN rakes, we have the former:

It's a grand convergence of two of Carpenter's most pervasive themes.

Moving beyond the Carpenter-centric analysis, I'd like to delve into a few other elements that really work (and a few that don't) in VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED.  I appreciate that Carpenter lingers on the "pre-birth" sections of the novel, something the 1960 version downplays (Carpenter, with a 99 minute runtime, has more opportunity to extrapolate than the tight-as-a-drum, 77 minute original).  

One of my favorite scenes from the original novel sees a mother changing her baby's diaper, but then: "in changing the baby's napkin she had pricked him with a pin.  Whereupon, by her account, the baby had just looked steadily at her with its golden eyes, and made her start jabbing the pin into herself."  This creepy happening, sadly, appears in neither film version, though Carpenter transposes a similar scenario to the kitchen, where a mother (Karen Kahn) is unable to stop herself from submerging her hand in the boiling stovetop while her toddler daughter stares her down with alien detachment.

It's an effective, cringe-inducing (in a good way) bit of tension.

The lead "Child of the Damned," Mara (Lindsey Haun), is perfectly cast.  She's able to construct an icy, malevolent presence

and has a genuinely otherworldly stare, even before the CG-eyes kick in. She could've played THE BAD SEED, easy.

Michael Paré shows up in a bit part with an "aw-shucks," Americana likability,

and Linda Kozlowski (of CROCODILE DUNDEE!) carries the proper emotive substance as a concerned mother (though I wish they'd given her more to do than look sad and occasionally panicked).

Christoper Reeve, one of my all-time favorites, basically steals the show as a likable, small-town doctor who tackles the problem of the Children first-hand.

 

He's completely "present" no matter how ridiculous the scene, and he injects a great deal of dramatic weight into his performance, even when his scene partner is Kirstie Alley. 

Speaking of whom, the less said, the better.  It's not that she's "terrible," per sé, she's just miscast. We're to believe that she's a slick, upper-level government epidemiologist, a "Men in Black" type, and is playing it not so differently from a certain bar manager.

She struggles with the tone and several of her line-readings are jaw-droppingly bad.  It really should have been somebody like Laura Dern, Diane Lane, or Anjelica Huston.

Anyway, I'm not calling it essential Carpenter, but it's pretty damn good.  Four stars.

2015 HALLOWEEN COUNTDOWN

1.  SCANNERS (1981, David Cronenberg)

2.  MICHAEL IRONSIDE: MENTAL SABOTEUR (2014, Karen Stetler)

3.  NOMADS (1986, John McTiernan)

4.  THE STUFF (1985, Larry Cohen)

5.  THE BEACH (2000, Danny Boyle)

6.  CHILD'S PLAY 2 (1990, John Lafia)

7.  NIGHT OF THE DEMONS (1988, Kevin S. Tenney)
8. ...

Only now does it occur to me... SUPERMAN III

Only now does it occur to me...  oh, well allow me to explain.  I saw SUPERMAN III when I was kid, and while I successfully blocked most of it out, I definitely remembered sequences like "good Superman vs. evil Superman in the junkyard" and "villainous businesswoman transformed into robot" and "ski slope on top of skyscraper" and "Superman being a dick and ruining the Olympics."  You know, all the important stuff.  

Anyway, I decided (I don't know what got into me) to revisit this fine flick the other day, and was struck by the absolute lunacy of one scene in particular, so, here goes:  

Only now does it occur to me... that there is a scene in SUPERMAN III whereupon Richard Pryor, clad in a twenty-gallon foam cowboy hat, unveils a suitcase full of booze (including Kingsley Amis' favorite gin, Booth's)

and commences to get security guard Gavan O'Herlihy (the legendary reverse-mohawk'd villain Fraker from DEATH WISH 3) drunk as a skunk

so that he (Pryor) can hack into a computer and alter the orbit of a weather satellite so that he can ruin a crop of Columbian coffee because he's been blackmailed into doing so by Robert Vaughn who wants some petty revenge?!

And did I mention that all of this is accompanied by an instrumental version Roger Williams' Euro-pop-meets-country-western hit "They Won't Get Me," produced and synthesized by none other than sunglasses-wearing Italian madman Giorgio Moroder?  Madness, I tell you!

Junta Juleil's Top 100: #100-#96

Alright, here we go, ladies and gentlemen:

#100. AMERICAN GRAFFITI (1973, George Lucas)

Ah, how I love the late 50's, early 60's nostalgia pic, of which AMERICAN GRAFFITI is the beloved grandaddy. Though I and many of the genre's admirers cannot lay claim to having experienced the era firsthand, so many films which I deeply enjoy (THE WANDERERS, STAND BY ME, CHRISTINE, etc., etc.) use it as an effective template for imparting profound lessons about the nature of adulthood and what it means and feels like to be on the cusp of it, the cusp of that storied abyss. (They also use it as an effective template for cramming in as many great Oldies tunes as is humanly possible!) In retrospect, I can't help but feel that these films go even further, sort of imparting mythical lessons about what life was like Before Things Got Shitty, or the fairy-tale time When People Had Something To Look Forward To. Now perhaps I'm being somewhat facetious, but it certainly feels that way these days. Regardless, this is a humanist masterpiece with a vital young cast (Ron Howard, Richard Dreyfuss, Cindy Williams, Charles Martin Smith, Paul Le Mat, Candy Clark, Mackenzie Phillips, among others) and a bittersweet ending that speaks toward What Came Next. It's George Lucas (or was it really Marcia?) at his best.

#99. SOMEWHERE IN TIME (1980, Jeannot Szwarc)

I'm not exactly a fan of the 'Romance' genre by any means, but the genuine aura of tenderness and melancholy which flows forth from this movie can play my emotions like a piano. As he has proven again and again, Richard Matheson's mastery of time travel as a narrative device is rarely (if ever) matched; he tackles it not as science, but as a reverie, an abstraction, a wandering sense of nostalgia and regret. John Barry's score is a pleasure to the point of pain, and Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour's connectedness easily make us forget about pop culture personas like "Superman" and "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman." A beautiful film, and one which didn't blow 'em away at the box office, but which has inspired a rabid cult following, including an extremely dedicated fan club which predates the Internet.

#98. RUNAWAY TRAIN (1985, Andrei Konchalovsky)

A prison escape film, of sorts, which passed through the hands of Akira Kurosawa, Paul Zindel, Eddie Bunker, and Golan & Globus before it became white-knuckle reality. RUNAWAY TRAIN is scraping steel, snowy vistas, blood and oil and grease and steam. The sheer, absolutely brutish intensity of Jon Voight and John P. Ryan is mind-blowing- we see men become animals, we see animals become men. Eric Roberts gets in on the action, too– this thing is a goddamn master's course in acting. One of the most potent, well-constructed thrillers in recent memory.

#97. THE PENALTY (1920, Wallace Worsley)

Some of you know that I'm quite the Lon Chaney devotee; I've said in the past "from his achievements in self-mutilation to his mind-blowing makeup effects to his mastery of the crazy-eye to his portrayals of mad jealousy, mangling frustration, and unfettered pathos; he assembled a vast body of work that really can't be matched for variety, commitment, or poignancy- and half of his films are lost!" The man's masochistic streak and tortured countenance are well-demonstrated here in THE PENALTY as he plays a frightening gangster named "Blizzard" whose legs were mistakenly amputated as a boy. The apparatus he uses to sell the effect is astounding, as are the nuances in his facial expressions, particularly given the fact that he was in enormous pain and hence prone to losing consciousness for the duration of the shoot. This is silent melodrama at its finest: whether it's slugging you in the gut or tugging at your heart-strings, you feel as if you've utterly surrendered yourself to the experience– it grabs you by the lapels and takes you for a ride, and isn't that what cinema's all about?

#96. ACE IN THE HOLE (1951, Billy Wilder)

Ah, the "newspaper flick." They're full of gritty, fast-talking men who're part-time wordsmiths and full-time swindlers, the sort of men who'd rather die than see some rival publication get the scoop. Enter Kirk Douglas, a gal-slappin' sonofabitch named Chuck Tatum who turns manipulatin' the masses into a spectator sport. I applaud this film and its ridiculous cynicism; it knew that that the days of aw, shucks truth-bending ("when the legend becomes fact, print the legend," anyone?) would one day give way to poisonous, THEY LIVE-grade distortions on a global scale. The alternate title was THE BIG CARNIVAL, and how goddamned right they were, what a big fucken carnival, indeed. As this list progresses, I'll likely say that a number of films seem prophetic in today's world (including this one!), but then again I suppose the repressers of the truth have always been sonsabitches; just who knew to what scale they'd end up takin' it? ACE IN THE HOLE is a movie that takes you by the throat, leads you toward the glory of "The Information Age," and shows you a few of the uglier pit-stops along the way. I also highly recommend: SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS and NETWORK.

Coming up next...some Carpy, some Polanski, and possibly the biggest, baddest tear-jerker of all time!

Film Review: STREET SMART (1987, Jerry Schatzberg)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 97 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Morgan Freeman, Christopher Reeve, Kathy Baker (EDWARD SCISSORHANDS), Andre Gregory (MY DINNER WITH ANDRE), Jay Patterson (MCBAIN), Rick Aviles ('Rat Man' in THE STAND), Erik King (Doakes on Showtime's DEXTER), Mimi Rogers (WEDLOCK, THE RAPTURE), Leslie Carlson (VIDEODROME). Music by Robert Irving III and Miles Davis.
Tag-line: "Everything you say can and will be held against you."
Best one-liner: "I will show you the streets, man."

Whenever Cannon pulls off a genuine prestige picture, I feel as if it's like your zany kid brother inexplicably made the Honor Roll and you're like 'How the eff did he pull that off?' cause he spent all semester breakdancing in the lunchroom, eating Charles Bronson's ice cream confections, and palling around with Michael Dudikoff. The only real 'Cannon elements' are the sheer audacity, the number of references to shoving objects up asses, and the (Miles Davis + slap-happy bass synths) soundtrack.

And maybe a few of the costumes.

Regardless, Palm d'Or winner Jerry Schatzberg (SCARECROW, THE PANIC IN NEEDLE PARK) and writer David Freeman (THE BORDER) assemble a first-rate critique of modern journalism, which, with uncommon evenhandedness, eloquently tackles issues regarding race, sensationalism, the educated elite, and the justice system. The performances are top-notch: Christopher Reeve as the wanna-be muckraker whose high-horse is a bit shorter than he'd like to believe;

Morgan Freeman as "Fast Black," the volatile pimp who'll affably share a Yoo-hoo with you one moment,

then smash it and jab its shards into your neck the next;

Erik King as Fast's quiet, brutal lieutenant (in a belly shirt and visor sunglasses); Andre Gregory as Reeve's douchey, elitist publisher ("Your moral courage sells magazines!" is his patronizing reassurance); Kathy Baker as a likable, defiant hooker (in a nuanced and astonishingly realistic performance);

Jay Patterson as a determined District Attorney; and a macabre bit part by Rick Aviles as Solo, the pimp ("I'm the only man you're gonna need...Don't lie to Solo."). There are all sorts of wonderfully orchestrated awkward moments, both in terms of comedy (Reeve's worlds collide when Fast attends a high-society soiree) and suspense (Reeve trapped in a car beside Fast as he threatens to slice up one of his ladies),

and the denouement (involving a descent into manipulation and 'Gotcha!' journalism) does not disappoint. Four stars. To the Go-Go boys, I say: Fine work.


-Sean Gill