Showing posts with label phenomena. Show all posts
Showing posts with label phenomena. Show all posts

Friday, September 18, 2009

Help Me...Kill the Fly(s)



It may be cooling down up here in New York, but tell that to the sudden gang of musca domestica currently loitering in my apartment. Following an unsuccessful (though quite inglorious) lecture to my cats in my Lt. Aldo Raine voice, I spent about two hours swatting my walls with more fervor than Homer Simpson on Wacking Day. 

Naturally, this early hunting season got me thinking about where these winged little monsters fit in the realm of horror cinema. Since most don’t bite or have photogenic faces, the choices are not surprisingly limited but still, I submit my list:

Psycho

Who can forget the iconic last scene of Hitchcock’s classic, the grandmother of all slashers? Tucked under a blanket, a now catatonic Norman Bates stares ahead as a housefly buzzes around the head leased out to the spirit of his overbearing mother. Sure, she’s not a fan of hygienic blonds, but I guarantee you’ll never find Mama Bates’ fingerprints on a swatter.

The Fly 1958


If I were to make a list of the most disturbing scenes of all time, you can bet a beehive that the final moment of  Kurt Neuman's sci-fi horror classic would edge out any 70s midnight gang rape or scatological torture fest. There’s something that never fails to send sharp chills up my spine every time I see that closeup of a man-fly mummified in a silky spider web, shrieking in terror as a magnified arachnid approaches its prey. Is it the Munchkin-like plea for help? The fuzzy detail on the predator’s eight-eyed face? Or the mere fact that poor Andre Delambre’s best case scenario is to be crushed to death by a rock. Whatever the answer, those 45 seconds remain a nightmare, no matter how many legs you have.

The Lost


...and speaking of disturbing films...
This 2005 adaptation of Jack Ketchum’s novel is essentially a character study of one charismatic, insecure, attention craving psychopath. If you didn’t get that Ray Pye  was a human monster by the opening scene (where he guns down two innocent females simply because they may or may not be lesbians), then leave it to those pesky parasites to cue us in. Like a taller Pigpen with a shotgun license, Pye is constantly followed by an entourage of insects. We never actually see the flies, but a sublte, yet definitely audible buzz accompanies Pye throughout the film, particularly when his unstable blood seems to boil. There's no explanation for the sound, but the decision sends a clear message about the sheer wrongness of a man about to explode like an exterminator's flea bomb.

Phenomena


Before she danced with the Goblin King or survived Russel Crowe's mood swings, a teenaged Jennifer Connelly starred in this 1986 low fat giallo directed by Dario Argento, where she played a lonely exchange student whose only real friends are Donald Pleasance, his pet monkey, and creepy crawlers. While trying to survive a snooty prep school and solve a few murders, Connelly keeps her whithering sanity by smiling at the kind of things we normally step on. You may remember the striking movie poster and cover art where Connelly's face is half covered by (drum roll) flies! You'd think this would be a major scare factor of the film, but the spiders, wasps, and other multi-appendaged creatures play only a supporting role, occasionally making quick appearances to help our heroine navigate through murder scenes and elude a psychotic murderer. It's an interesting red herring of sorts in one of Argento's restrained, yet very solid little film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer


Despite the presence of Paul Reubens, Rutger Hauer, and future Oscar winner/90210 regular HIlary Swank Josh Whedon’s first foray with California’s favorite undead huntress is, to put it simply, not good. So why does it make this (admittedly reaching-for-straws) list? Mostly because it contains a trick I've dreamed of carrying out: spitting a thumb tack at a wall and impaling a fly in the process. Sure, there are other ways to impress your friends or principal--like earning good grades or crushing beer cans on your head--but getting Dwight Gooden-like aim with a lethal pushpin? That's the true path to popularity.

The Fly 1986


You'll often find Cronenberg's doomed love story/ickily frightening classic battling John Carpenters's The Thing for best remake of all time, and rightfully so. Few films occupying the horror shelf contain such a perfect combination of sadness and terror and not surprisingly, we can put all the blame squarely on those flying black bodied buzzers. Just like its predecessor, this version features an earnest--if also romantically insecure--scientist attempting to teleport himself, only to be hampered by one tiny stowaway with a dynamic combination of DNA. Rather than the wacky trading places of the original, Jeff Goldblum's Seth Brundle and the unnamed insect get to mesh. After some parallel bar hijinks to rival Kevin Bacon's Footloose gymnast routine, Brundle's body morphs into a 6' tall oozing, sugar eating/regurgitating/eating again creature that can neither keep its dangly parts nor shake its love of leggy auburn haired journalists. Favorite fly-ish moments? Tough call. Is it Geena Davis' nightmarish childbirth scene that makes women around the world turn down any advances coming from a man with coarse body hair? Goldblum's heartbreaking self discovery about becoming a fly who dreamed that he was a man? The best arm wrestling scene of all time (said as I duck punches from the Hands of Steel). All are remarkable enough, but for me, it's that final moment where a now unrecognizable Brundle stares into the barrel of a shotgun held by the weeping Davis, his inhuman eyes saying everything his nonexistant tongue now can't.

Mosquitoes may have their bites and bees their stingers, but for now, let's take comfort in the shortened life cycle of the annoying, if harmless housefly. And Hollywood, take note: when I'm reaching into the pocket of Kristy Swanson's Buffy, you know you need to start making more films.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Jeepers! Jennifer's Creepers




Allow me to start with a totally shallow assertion that has nothing to do with horror but everything to do with my personal jealousy:




Jennifer Connelly has and has always had one of the most fantastic heads of hair in the history of cinema. Possibly mankind.


Seriously. It positively glistens. I thought about digging out those 3D glasses that have been sitting on my nightstand since My Bloody Valentine because the shine was that bright that I needed the shade.


Creepers, aka Phenomena, is a 1985 horror/thriller/mystery by Italy’s favorite hit-or-miss surrealist Dario Argento.  While it never attained the popularity of some of his earlier giallos, it did boast an awfully impressive poster that hung on display in my local video store throughout the late 80s. 


A few years before entering the Labyrinth, Jennifer Connelly played Jennifer Corvino*, the impossibly gorgeous poor little rich girl with a natural kinship to insects, chimpanzees, and a wheelchair-bound Donald Pleasance. While her superstar father is off filming on location, Jennifer is sent to an exclusive yet terribly lax boarding school in a creepy European village ("People call it the Swiss Transylvania." “Why?” "I don't know. They just do.") run by one severe ice queen and a frumpy bee-a-phobe/former Mrs. Argento. Despite her glorious mane and celebrity pedigree, Jennifer has some difficulty making human friends. Perhaps she should stop sleepwalking (a major sign of snobbery, according to the cool kids) and start listening to the Bee Gees, who get a major shout-out from a 14 year old girl who not only sports a Bee Gees t-shirt, but also makes a Bee Gees reference in class, just in case you didn't know that she liked--you guessed it--the Bee Gees.




As we expect from any good Argento heroine, Jennifer finds herself caught up in a violent web of nightmare imagery, slow motion death scenes, and oddly mismatched musical scoring that ranges from 80s metal to electronically mixed opera. (One can't help but wonder how acting against the beats of the band formerly known as Goblin gave Ms. Connelly an edge in fighting creatures known as goblins.)




But back to the story: A creatively violent killer has been hunting teenage girls and while the cops are pretty clueless about how to catch him, they are smart enough to call upon invalid entomologist Pleasance for some pointers on when the murders took place based on corpse worms. He in turn sends the young Jennifer out to investigate along with a sarcophagus fly. Remember how that lovable lug Luto was friends with rocks, so when trouble was brewing he could let out a howl and boulders would come a’rollin? Jennifer has a similar relationship with creepy crawlers, be them stinging wasps or sweet lil ladybugs. As you might guess, this comes in handy more than once, although Argento is skillfully restrained in avoiding insect excess. 




Call it Suspiria: The Middle School Years. Like Argento's best-known classic, there is an eerie Snow White vibe that threads itself throughout the story, from the dark-haired ingenue lost in the woods to a witch's house with its own juicy secrets. I won't go any further for fear of spoiling what is an original film culminating in one of the most bizarre (yet in hindsight, very strongly foreshadowed) climactic end scenes I've seen in some time. Personally, I'm always intrigued when a filmmaker like Argento scales back to tell a smaller, more personal story (similar to George Romero’s Martin). Supposedly Argento has said Creepers one of his favorites, and I can see why: this is an intriguing, teasingly paced film that slowly pulls the audience in and leaves them with a finale that’s somehow simultaneously hysterical, horrifying, and damn adorable.


High Points:
Two very different but most excellent decapitations


Donald Pleasance and Jennifer Connelly, particularly during their shared scenes




One word, two times: Swarm


The entire last 20 minutes


Low Points:
I have a pet peeve regarding 'special guest stars' in films. Since the movie-making process is a temporary thing, isn’t everybody involved a guest? Thus, when the music of Creepers is provided by 'special guests' Iron Maiden, Motorhead, and more, what does that mean? Did they do all their recording on a party boat?

Lessons Learned:
Exclusive private schools in Switzerland are run like reformatories, with forty kids to a desk-less class. Expect sudden outbursts and mass chanting of “Screw the past!” and “Richard Gere!”  to occur during literature lessons.


Insects + 13-year-old girls make fantastic detectives, especially when investigating a violent serial killer known for killing 13 year-old-girls




Sophie is French


Winning Line:
“Please. I’m a foreigner and I’m lost.”


Repeat Offender:
Like many horror films centered around a beautiful woman, this one includes a subplot in which someone is trying to stick her in a mental asylum




Doll Alert:
Patience...a creepy little image starts the beginning of the gloriously Grand Guignol ending.


Rent/Bury/Buy:
Buy: This is included in Mill Creek's Drive-In Classics Pack, but only as the edited American version. My copy clocked in at a mere 83 minutes. The uncut film is out there, with 20 minutes of extra footage (much of it dialogue and plot based) and while I always champion the cheap, I would recommend the investment. Fans of Argento will enjoy his signature style wrapped around a film that is genuinely different; general horror lovers should love the fantastically sublime finale; Jennifer Connelly admirers can be creepily pleased to see she was pretty much always a ridiculously beautiful downer, even as a young teenager. I, on the other hand, continue to envy her even more now that I see she spent her childhood with both Jim Henson and Dario Argento.

*Maybe it's my Long Island experience talking, but the name Jennifer Corvino so does not sound like the virginal maiden Connelly's meant to represent. There's something about the Italian Americanness of it (pronounced in my head in a flat smoker’s voice as ‘Jenifah Cahvino’) that calls to mind a hairdresser with press-on nails and acid-washed jeans. Is it just me?