INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1956) Throwback Thursday Review

A timeless, terrifying motion picture! Based on the Collier’s magazine serial turned book The Body Snatchers by Jack Finney, directed by Don Siegel, and produced by Walter Wanger (of Cleopatra infamy), this Allied Artists’ motion picture is the single best representation of the fears and anxieties of the 1950s. But the beauty of this particular picture is that its themes including the fear of conformity, loss of identity, dehumanization, loss of individuality, and even vulnerability are still relevant today, perhaps even more so than they were at the time this seminal horror film was released. 

In Santa Mira, California, Dr. Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy) is baffled when all his patients come to him with the same complaint: their loved ones seem to have been replaced by emotionless impostors. Despite others’ dismissive denials, Dr. Bennell, his former girlfriend Becky (Dana Wynter) and his friend Jack (King Donovan) soon discover that the patients’ suspicions are true: an alien species of human duplicates, grown from plant-like pods, is taking over the small town.

While this film sits comfortably in the horror/sci-fi subgenre, it shares a lot of characteristics in common with film noir. Between the recurring narration, a central character in over his head, and the fact events do not turn out favorably for the central character, it pulls on the best of the film noir apparatus to craft a highly unnerving cinematic story that prompts one to think about the state of the world around him or her. 

Perhaps in its day, Invasion of the Body Snatchers was a commentary on the threat of communism/socialism on the American republic, but that is not the only subject to which this film can speak to us decades later. Could it still be read as a warning against the threat of communism today? Sure. But, communism doesn’t look or act like it did back in the 1950s. That’s the danger inherent with famous allegorical films such as this one; the well-known danger is pigeonholing it into only ever meaning what it meant back during the days of the Cold War. When in fact, this film can be read as a commentary on a variety of topics, depending on the worldview of the audience member. 

Whatever the form the existential enemy takes, whether you choose to read it as a commentary on communism, socialism, nationalism, or woke-ism (more accurately defined as applied/reified postmodernism), this film speaks to that which is defined as a threat to one’s present existence. When we label what this film is about, we limit its potential to speak to us. So, it’s better to read the film through its various themes versus defining what the enemy is. From beginning to end, the film depicts events and behaviors that rob individuals of expression, identity, competition, entrepreneurship, and choice in exchange for homogeneity, group think, forced societal roles, and emotion. Ostensibly, this film is about an enemy that seeks to dehumanize and force conformity upon everyone—a world in which everyone is equal and exactly the same versus a world in which we are all equal but definitely not the same. The film demonstrates what happens when we are asleep to the threat of the enemy, and it comes in like a thief in the night. And when we finally recognize the threat, it’s all but too late for us, for humanity, for freedom.

The film begins laying the pipe for the second act reveal of the pod people all the way at the beginning. It’s a scene to which many may not pay particular attention; it’s the scene wherein Miles notices that the Grimaldi vegetable stand is no longer open. One of the characteristics of a society that demonstrates a lack of support or simply opposes free enterprise (or by extension the marketplace of ideas), is manifested in this imagery. Farmer Grimaldi abandoned his private farming business in exchange for supporting the planting and harvesting of the alien pods. Other disturbing imagery is the crisis between the second and third acts wherein Miles and Becky are told that the pod people (replicants of their human counterparts) mean them no harm and want to provide a peaceful existence. The real horror here is that the peaceful existence comes at the cost of freedom and one’s unique identity (all the traits that make one a unique man or woman). These pod people are devoid of any genuine emotion, only exhibit the pretense of it, and see individualism as a threat to their existence.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a call to action; it’s a wakeup call to all those that watch it to stand vigilant against tyranny, to stand guard against threats both seen and unseen that seek to undermine what it means to be human. Furthermore, the film posits the idea that the deadliest enemy may not be the one that can be viewed with the naked eye; rather, the deadliest enemy is the one that sneaks in unbeknownst to most individuals. Or maybe it comes disguised as something that sounds great on the surface, but only seeks the destruction of uniqueness, freedom of expression, the marketplace of ideas, and the human dimension of existence. 

Due to the timelessness of the message of this terrifying film, we are drawn back to it time and time again. We are reminded to stand guard against an enemy that seeks to destroy our very way of life. It’s a story of survival and the great cost of freedom. A recurring theme throughout the horror genre is the theme of survival, and Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a brilliant exploration of how to survive against mounting odds that appear unstoppable. Horror films have a way of causing us to rally, causing us to come together in support of our right to survive. There is no other genre that inspires us to fight the enemy like a horror film.

Ryan teaches Film Studies and Screenwriting at the University of Tampa and is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Interested in Ryan making a guest appearance on your podcast or contributing to your website? Send him a DM on Twitter. If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with him.

Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

OPPENHEIMER film review

Sensational! Christopher Nolan’s highly anticipated cinematic spectacular Oppenheimer is an extraordinary motion picture that delivers a story as explosive as the subject matter. Not since Nolan’s earlier work on pictures such as Memento and The Prestige have I enjoyed both the form and function of his stylistic brand of filmmaking. Although the film chronicles the development, use of, and subsequent scientific and sociological affects of the A-Bomb, the story it really about the rise and fall of J. Robert Oppenheimer. Moreover, the subtext of the story is one that carries with it such commentary as the true cost of notoriety and serving one’s country and the destructive nature of unsubstantiated witch hunts. It’s a character-driven story more than it is a plot-driven story about the creation of the A-Bomb.

Oppenheimer is the story of American scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer and his role in the development of the atomic bomb. The film explores how one man’s brilliance, hubris, and relentless drive changed the nature of war forever, led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and unleashed mass hysteria, and how, subsequently, the same man’s attempts to end one World War began a Cold War that would last for nearly fifty years.

While I have some reservations in the structural integrity of Nolan’s plotting in this film, which no strangers to my blog should know since that is often where I am hardest on films, his plotting and characterization hasn’t been this strong since Memento and The Prestige.

It should come of no surprise that Nolan’s latest motion picture excels in technical achievement. And I am not mentioning that to in anyway detract from that achievement; but, I mention that because had the film simply been an exercise in pushing the boundaries of filmmaking, then it would be another intentionally avant-garde vanity project. Which, it is not. Oppenheimer excels in both form and function; it shows care for both how the motion picture is montaged and presented and for the function of both plot and character.

With few exceptions, whether the plotting of a film is linear or non-linear, the plot should still follow foundational storytelling conventions to achieve the full impact it desires. Contrary to a postmodernist view of rules of art, just because one breaks the rules does not mean that a work of art or endeavor is somehow more substantive or meaningful in value. Nolan strikes a fantastic balance between form and function in this picture to completely transport audiences to the world of Los Alamos, NM in the mid-20th century.

Not since Dario Argento’s masterpiece Suspiria have I witnessed a motion picture employ the use of lighting, color (or lack thereof), and score to such a fantastical and effective level. These visual and auditory elements combine to immerse audiences in both the narrative and emotive dimensions of Oppenheimer’s story. Never overshadowing the story, but working in tandem with it, the visual and audible elements of the mise-en-scene craft a picture that simultaneously feels part of our world and yet somehow other worldly. Moreover, the story of Oppenheimer is told through both subjective and objective camera placement. In less experienced hands, this could have proven to be disastrous, but Nolan demonstrates his command of the screen in the uncanny combination of both.

One of the most stylistic montage and editing devices used is the black and white (more accurately described as grayscale) imagery for a specific timeline. And it would appear to my observation that it is indeed grayscale stock film–not desaturated in post-production. This observation is in part gleaned by way of the effects of lighting on the film stock. From a story organization perspective, this use of grayscale film stock helps in understanding the part of the non-linear timeline in which we find ourselves.

Where Nolan often struggles is in character authenticity. More times than not, the characters in his films are often lacking in believability, relatability, and vulnerability. Not that his characters are generally flawless, but they have demonstrated a lack in that which makes us most human. Each and every character in this film feels incredibly human–true to life. Whether or not the film is an accurate representation of the real-life counterparts, is not something on which I can comment. But, the characters, as presented, are relatable and feel authentic within their world. On the topic of characters, Nolan also injects humor into this film, which isn’t characteristic of his past films; and that use of humor helps to provide tension relief as an emotional reset between dramatic beats or scenes.

The central theme in the film is the true cost of notoriety and serving one’s country. And this is expressed primarily through Oppenheimer’s relationship with the development of the A-Bomb, but supplemented by his interactions with Albert Einstein, and therein Einstein’s relationship with his Theory of Relativity and success as the greatest scientific mind of all time. Or, as Oppenheimer puts it, “the greatest scientific mind of his day.” The story has to be seen to truly felt, but Oppenheimer spotlights how when one’s usefulness is seen as exhausted or no longer relevant to one’s country, that one is disposable.

We not only witness this in the film, but in real life as well. To this day, there are those that fought for their country that are not treated with the dignity and respect they both earned and deserve. The film paints a rather negative portrait of federal government operations as it relates to international and domestic policies. Suffice it to say, after Oppenheimer delivered the A-Bomb, he was soon thereafter cast aside as his (objectively reasonable) opposition to further development of weapons of mass destruction began to influence policy decisions. And this rise and fall story isn’t relatable to merely the government, but can be said of any company or organization that hails one as a visionary one minute, but after the project is realized, the same company or organization moves on. Fame is fleeting.

While many brilliant scientists were undoubtedly envious of Oppenheimer’s commercial success (except for Einstein, whom was a soothsayer of sorts), perhaps the rise and fall of Oppenheimer serves as a reminder that there are many whom have had notoriety forced upon them, but the oft infamy that follows can create a figurative prison out of which there is no escape.

Another observation I make, into the film’s themes and motifs, is the depiction of communism vs capitalism. Unfortunately, the loudest on social media do not likely have an accurate interpretation of what communism and capitalism are. And without getting into details, suffice it to say, the film does not accurately portray either communism or capitalism. So, I worry that many will watch the movie and begin to make connections and associations that are not accurate. On the topic, I’ll leave you with this: destructive ideologies that devalue individuality, based in universal truth and logic, in exchange for group identity based on emotions and impossible utopias is still an enemy of the people today.

This film is not to be missed on the biggest screen AND on 70mm film. Seeing a picture on film is truly magical. The depth lighting and shadow and richness of the color spectrum will always be expressed the best on celluloid. A chemical reaction beats 0s and 1s any day. Oh, and there is no reported use of CGI in this motion picture.

Ryan teaches Film Studies and Screenwriting at the University of Tampa and is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Interested in Ryan making a guest appearance on your podcast or contributing to your website? Send him a DM on Twitter. If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with him.

Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

Sinister Summer: “The Birds” Retrospective Review

“You’ll never look at birds the same way again” (Jurassic Park). Although Dr. Grant was referring to velociraptors, you can say the very same thing about Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. Hitchcock directed more than fifty feature length films, only two of which are horror (Psycho and The Birds). However, he is widely credited, and rightly so, as the director who ushered in the modern horror film, with Psycho being regarded as the first modern horror film. On the heels of the success of Psycho, a film that revolutionized so much about the movie-going experience from movie start times to “not spoiling the ending” (now where have we recently heard that???), Hitch set out to deliver another horror film at the height of his powers.

But what would it be about? He turned to past collaborator Daphne du Maurier, author of Rebecca, Hitch’s first American film. Her best-selling novella The Birds had previously been adapted for radio and stage (I’ve actually seen the stage adaptation, and incidentally I prefer the film), but Hitch decided to adapt it (loosely I might add) for the small screen. That’s right, small screen. He originally intended The Birds to be adapted for his wildly popular and successful series Alfred Hitchcock Presents. But like Jordan Peele did with Us, which I am convinced started out as an idea for his Twilight Zone series, Hitch decided to take the idea from TV to the cinema! So with the decision to adapt du Maurier’s novella into a cinematic experience, Hitch made history.

Not only is it one of the most famous films in cinematic history, it sowed the birdseed for all the “when nature attacks” movies to follow including Jaws and Jurassic Park. This film was also influential in John Carpenter’s The Fog and Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. With the question of why did the birds attack never being answered, it leaves the events of this movie lingering in our minds as a possible reality.

To hear a conversation with me on the CineMust podcast chatting about the must-see status of The Birds and Jaws, click HERE.

When wealthy well-known socialite Melanie Daniels (Hedron) finds herself to be the brunt of a practical joke played by lawyer Mitch Brenner (Taylor) at a bird shop while searching for a gift, she decides to return the favor by buying a couple of birds and dropping them off at his apartment. Upon finding that he spends the weekends with his younger sister and mother (Jessica Tandy) north of San Francisco in the small community of Bodega Bay, she drives to the remote town in order to deliver the birds. Soon after her unannounced arrival, the birds of the town begin to act incredibly strangely.

Following a seagull attacking Melanie, and Mitch’s mother discovering her neighbor dead from an apparent bird attack, the town realizes that the birds are a real threat. Eventually birds, in the thousands are attacking anyone without reason or explanation as to why this is happening. Trapped in the Brenner household, survival becomes the number one priority for not only our central characters but everyone in the town.

At the heart of The Birds is relationships. Relationships ranging from romantic to familial and then between an outsider and the natives of a close knit town. Paranoia is a common theme in this film as well. The characters and their relationships between one another are so incredibly strong and well–developed that you can ostensibly remove the birds from the equation and the movie still works. Now, it doesn’t work as a horror film, but it works as a drama.

The strength of this screenplay, written by Evan Hunter, lies in the complex characters and simple plot. Although the plot is largely changed from du Maurier’s novella, the setting, character dynamics, and the idea of the home invasion are extrapolated from the source material. Outside of the terrifying element of the attacking birds, the film’s subplot is about an outsider invading a close knit community and a de facto love quadrangle between Mitch, his mother, his sister, and his ex. Essentially, Melanie upsets the normal order of the town much in the same way that the birds upset the pecking order of humans vs nature.

The screenplay also delivers some outstanding tonal shifts that are seamlessly woven together. Way before the first bird attacks, The Birds begins as a screwball comedy right out of the 1930s, then changes into a soap opera, then suspense, followed by horror. Lastly, the movie takes one final tonal shift from horror to apocalyptic, complete with dead bodies, foreboding birds, and a lack of resolution. This movie has legitimately inspired the real fear of birds (ornithophobia) in how the scenes were shot and the lingering possibility that this could happen in your own town.

There is a brilliant lack of explanation of why the birds are attacking not is there any real means of escape for the townsfolk of Bodega Bay, all while chaos reigns supreme in this otherwise innocent seaside landscape. Yet, this cinematic work is a permanent resident of our sociological zeitgeist. Even those who have not seen the film are aware of its existence. And it has gone from screen to live experience at the former Universal Studios Florida attraction Alfred Hitchcock: the Art of Making Movies. The reason why we don’t focus on the lack of an explanation for the birds bizarre and violent behavior is for the same reason that we don’t ask why Bruce (Jaws) is attacking people. We accept it because the film is more concerned with its theme than points of origin expositional dumps. We don’t care about why the birds are doing what they are doing–that’s part of the horror. It’s the same reason why it’s important that we don’t know too much about Michael Myers; if we knew too much about him, why he ticks, then he would cease to be the boogeyman. These birds would cease to be terrifying if there was some sort of natural or supernatural explanation. The unknown is frightening.

There have been many hypotheses over the years as to what the birds represent. The most popular one is rooted in the red scare or communism. And perhaps that is true, but the real villain (character of opposition) is not the birds but the townsfolk of Bodega Bay. The birds are the personification of the mistreatment of and unwelcoming attitudes of the residents toward Melanie. In a similar fashion, the villain of Jaws is the mayor because he is the personification of the folly of man.

When the true oppositional character in a screenplay is an entity, force, or idea, that component has to be personified in a character(s) because film is a visual storytelling medium, so the outdated, nationalistic attitudes of the locals is personified in the birds. Moreover, the ornithologist in the diner stated that if birds of different species flocked together, then all hope would be lost for humanity as we couldn’t stand a chance against them.

That foreboding prediction came to pass as both crows and seagulls (who do not mix together in real life) massed together and terrorized the town and its people. As the birds are the original inhabitants of Bodega Bay, the humans represent the outsiders. This symbolism is also witnessed in how the townsfolk banned together to force Melanie out of the town and in how Mitch’s mother urges him to send Melanie back to San Francisco. All through the movie, there are images and sequences of the way outsiders can be marginalized by the majority of the native inhabitants. Human civilization has long sense been guilty of stigmatizing or marginalizing outsiders.

At the root of the symptoms of intolerance is fear. So, Hitchcock took that root cause of unwelcoming attitudes and mistreatment and adapted it into a timeless horror film. It holds up so well because fear is still evident in how certain groups of people treat another in our lives today. Hitchcock used a combination of blue screen and practical effect technologies to bring the terror to life. And of those two approaches, it’s mostly practical-effect driven, all the way down to the real birds that were used during the production (with proper bird trainers/wranglers).

Three scenes that I want to highlight are the birthday party, downtown attack scene, and the upstairs room at the showdown. Nowadays, these scenes would be full of CGI and other post-production work. The actors would be acting with no birds on set, or very few anyway. For authenticity, puppets, mechanical, and real birds were used for these scenes to increase the realness and give the actors something to truly be afraid of. In fact, so many real birds were used that there were multiple large bird enclosures on the set that used as the temporary home of the stars of the film. In addition to bird wranglers, the American Humane Society was on set every day to monitor the treatment of the birds.

The birthday party scene was composed of rotoscoping birds, blue screen shots of birds, papier-mache birds, and birds that were tied to actors and even more birds that were freely flying within the enclosure built around the set. Although most of the birds remained in the aviary, a few got out. And to this day, there are decedents of those birds living in the rafters of that sound stage on the Universal lot. In much the same way, the students fleeing the schoolhouse and down the hill to the town center–that scene–was accomplished in very much the same way. However, with this one, the added pyrotechnics were incorporated.

The iconic phonebooth was covered in birdseed and shrimp to get the birds to go completely crazy. The upstairs bedroom scene at the end of the movie was completely constructed inside a giant aviary with hundreds of birds. In addition to the birdseed and shrimp that was strewn about the room, real birds were thrown at Hedron. The terror in her eyes that you see in the scene is all too real. No amount of acting can replicate that authentic fear. Despite the very real attack of the birds, Hedron is eternally grateful to have been a part of cinematic history.

The single scene that find is the most fascinating and shows the power of Hitchcock’s innate ability to create suspense with a camera is the scene immediately preceding the schoolhouse evacuation–the scene with Melanie sitting on the park bench with the jungle gym int he background.

Ryan teaches Film Studies and Screenwriting at the University of Tampa and is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Interested in Ryan making a guest appearance on your podcast or contributing to your website? Send him a DM on Twitter. If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with him.

Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry