Ghostface takes Manhattan. Mostly forgettable, S6REAM is neither bad enough nor good enough to be remembered. This forgettable installment in the SCREAM franchise is written by the brilliant Ready or Not’s James Vanderbilt and Guy Busick, but you wouldn’t know it from the contrived, clunky plot the two screenwriters developed. More violence does not a great horror movie make; the amped violence is employed as a tool to compensate for the vapid storytelling. Overstuffed with characters and lacking in any real suspense or thoughtful plotting, SCREAM VI is what happens when stories are dumbed down for TikTok attention spans and those that eat up YouTube trash. The Ready or Not duo should have spent more time understanding why Kevin Williamson’s excellent original screenplay works rather than creating some insipid fan fiction featuring the iconic Ghostface. Suffice it to say, SCREAM 6 is enjoyable enough for legacy fans, but remaining invested in this movie will undoubtedly prove to be an exercise in tolerance for the absurd.
Four survivors of the Ghostface murders, leave Woodsboro behind for a fresh start in New York City. However, they soon find themselves in a fight for their lives when a new killer embarks on a bloody rampage.
The SCREAM franchise is famous for its (usually) thoughtful social commentary on the horror genre (more specifically, the slasher); by extension, these meta observations are applicable to society in general. Scream VI provides commentary on franchises and (to my delight, as a film professor) film studies! In fact, Samara Weaving’s character is a film studies professor with an expertise in horror (just like me!). What’s ironic is that for all the knowledge the screenwriters demonstrate in a critical analysis of tropes or patterns of a horror franchise, this movie fails to provide anything meaningful to add to the conversation.
The detrimental problem in this lack of anything new is that the movie loses any kind of real thrill; moreover, it loses any ability to resonate with audiences because of failing to tap into those most primal fears at the bedrock of horror. The very tropes the movie highlights are the very tropes that form obstacles that the movie never overcomes. Furthermore, the problematic screenwriting feels like a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy rather than anything innovative. It doesn’t redefine what it means to be a franchise, it falls victim to the same parasitic infection innate in most franchises.
One promise the movie’s publicity makes—and fulfills—is the amped up violence, both in terms of body count and level of trauma. And there are most certainly going to be those that use the violence as a barometer for satisfaction in watching the film. This is a flawed evaluation method because it has little to nothing to do with the actual storytelling methodology nor quality. Due to the exponentially increased violence, the pacing of the movie is in high gear the whole time, leaving little to no room for emotional resets or breathing room to build suspense or any tangible tension. S6REAM is a lackluster offspring of Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson’s desperately trying to evoke an affection for the legacy property.
Because of the overstuffed cast, there is little time to develop any level of empathy for the characters. The only characters to have any real agency are Gale Weathers and Samantha Carpenter. Even Kirby’s character (whom gets a highly anticipated return) is lacking in dimension or growth arc. Other problems in casting include Jena Ortega whom I cannot take seriously as a final girl because she may as well be Rey from Star Wars for all her invincibility and lack of flaws. I never felt once that her life was in any real danger. An important quality for a final girl is strength, failure, and resilience. Tara is lacking in all these important qualities.
Scream VI (and the predestined Scream 7) may prove to be the nails in the coffin for the slasher. It will take a screenwriter(s) or director that cares about going back to the roots and building upon the soul of legacy properties or the tropes to breathe life into the former screen king of the horror genre. In other words, screenwriters and directors that care about story integrity.
Halloween Kills the momentum of H40 (aka, Halloween 2018), leaving audiences wondering why they should care about anything that happens. While the brutality is amped up to an 11 with a comedic touch, the plotting is a complete cluster that ultimately has little to no purpose. Twitter was all a’buzz with the news that the virtual screeners for press were delayed until Thursday evening; and after I saw Halloween Kills in the cinema Tuesday night, I can see why Universal made that strategic decision. It’s simply not good. Is that to say it’s a bad movie? No, it’s not bad; but the storytelling is a significant disappointment compared just how fantastic Halloween (2018) was. This sequel merely functions as filler material between Halloween and Halloween Ends. In a manner of speaking, Halloween could’ve ended with this one had the tertiary installment not already been shot. This movie doesn’t even try to justify its existence; it’s as if it knows that it’s bad, but did what it could to thrill audiences with the return of Michael Myers as much as possible. And he certainly delivers creative kills, some of which, have a hint of dark comedy. So if nothing else, you will be entertained by the brutality of The Shape, and even laugh at his twisted sense of humor. He’s no Freddy Krueger, but I like the touch of comedy in some of the kills.
The nightmare isn’t over as unstoppable killer Michael Myers escapes from Laurie Strode’s trap to continue his ritual bloodbath. Injured and taken to the hospital, Laurie fights through the pain as she inspires residents of Haddonfield, Ill., to rise up against Myers. Taking matters into their own hands, the Strode women and other survivors form a vigilante mob to hunt down Michael and end his reign of terror once and for all.
While this sequel is incredibly brutal, I appreciate how none of the kills are gratuitous nor does the camera linger on the violent acts or results thereof. However, the camera does linger on a subplot that is bonkers bad and pointless, except to provide social commentary on the negative impact of mob mentality. The idea of commenting on mob mentality shows that there was some attempt at thoughtfulness in the story; unfortunately, it was a slapdash attempt to provide substance in this otherwise forgettable sequel.
What makes a good sequel? That is perhaps the question that the writers, producers, and director David Gordon Green should’ve thought about when outlining this followup to the smash hit Halloween 2018. If there is already a predetemined trilogy, then the middle movie should deliver develop key characters and the plot should leave us with a feeling of all hope is lost. Now, this movie certainly leaves audiences hanging precariously at the end, and there is a very significant kill, but there is no substantive character development or meaningful plotting anywhere to be found. It’s simply a Michael on a rampage movie, with some moderately interesting exposition and backstory. What this movie did in 1.5hrs, it could’ve easily done in 20–30mins. While I may be exaggerating a little, it’s hyperbole to illustrate the fact there is so little substance to this movie. The plot is a real cluster.
What does work in the film? The kills. You will be highly entertained by the brute force in Michael’s kills. Massive carnage awaits audiences. No one is safe, and Michael proves that he truly is the unstoppable killing machine that is filled with evil. I appreciate how much care was put into the kills and how to show them. Wish that same level of care was found in the writing. You will also enjoy seeing familiar characters from the original film! And there is a particular character that I was absolutely delighted to see, because their appearance was completely unexpected–that I would actually see them! Those couple of moments made me smile.
After watching this movie, I still feel that Halloween H20 and Halloween 2018 are the stronger Halloween sequels. Between the two, I actually like H20 just a little more. Speaking of which, H20 has a much better story and more substantive character development than Halloween Kills. Furthermore, H20 is far more entertaining and fun to watch, not to mention the plot is significantly more structurally sound. There aren’t any real standout moments in Halloween Kills, and from what I can remember, no emotional nods to the original or Halloween II.
Perhaps the tertiary installment Halloween Ends will be the A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors of the Halloween franchise. Even though Freddy’s Revenge is a better film than Halloween Kills, it’s still seen as a point at which ANOES may have died, but thankfully Dream Warriors swooped in to save the day with its outstanding characters, plot, and story. Many prefer Dream Warriors to the OG (not me, but I do place Dream Warriors as a close second behind the OG). Here’s hoping that the final film in this trilogy will have the soul of the original film but take us to new places.
Ryan teaches American and World Cinema at the University of Tampa. 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 or email him at RLTerry1@gmail.com! If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with him.
Sweet on the outside, sour on the inside. Avisually impressive attempt to provide a thoughtful exploration on duality and identity, is overshadowed by heavy-handed ideology. Nia DaCosta delivers audiences a spiritual sequel to the cult horror film Candyman (1992) that is grounded in much of the lore of the original, yet forges a new frontier that simultaneously serves as a vehicle for horror legend Tony Todd to pass the hook onto Yahya Abdul-Mateen II. DaCosta is joined by writer-producer Jordan Peele and screenwriter Win Rosenfeld to “tell everyone” who dares to look in a mirror and call out his name five times. Admit it, even in our most rational state, we are still a little apprehensive to stare at our reflection and call out Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candym–. That’s the power of horror films! These fictional stories on screen have their mystical ways of affecting the collective conscious in such a manner that we change or question our behavior. Another great example of this effect is the iconic highway scene in Final Destination 2. And challenging audiences was certainly what the three screenwriters had in mind when writing the story for Candyman (2021). Unfortunately, the agenda-driven message steels the focus away from the stunning visuals, and ultimately fails to effectively paint a portrait of reality that invites all to engage in the important conversations the film is trying to have, instead, alienating audience members that don’t share the filmmakers’ opinions. Suffice it to say, this film is Peele for the course.
In present day, a decade after the last of the Cabrini towers were torn down, rising star artist Anthony (Abdul-Mateen II) and his partner move into a loft in the now gentrified Cabrini. A chance encounter with an old-timer exposes Anthony to the true story behind Candyman (Todd). Anxious to use these macabre details in his studio as fresh grist for paintings, he unknowingly opens a door to a complex past that unravels his own sanity and unleashes a terrifying wave of violence. (IMDb)
If you’ve never seen the original Candyman, don’t worry. While having seen the original will certainly help audiences to appreciate world-building and backstory elements, there is enough context given to help those that may be unfamiliar. Following the screening I attended, I heard individuals negatively critique the retconning of plot elements in the original; truth is, the parts of the original that were reimagined to fit the backstory of 2021’s Candyman were thoughtfully adapted.
While I have my reservations with the film, I would be remiss to not highlight the excellent direction, cinematography, editing, costuming, production design, and even the performances! Visually, the movie is stunning! All the mise-en-scene elements work together to create a BIG SCREEN experience. And talk about outstanding performances. Back in the heyday of the slashers (late 70s through the 90s), we did not expect to be impressed by the performances of the cast. And while there are notable exceptions of horror films WITH brilliant performances, usually it’s not expected. Over the last 7–10 years, horror films have been stepping up their performance game. The lead and most of the supporting cast will all captivate you. Unfortunately, there are useless characters like Brianna’s (Anthony’s girlfriend’s) brother and his boyfriend. Having no real affect on the plot, this interracial gay couple was little more than a token that could be removed from the movie, and the movie still play out the same way. However, if it weren’t for these two characters, the movie would be lacking ANY humor. So I suppose that was their purpose, to add humor.
There are so many beautifully crafted shots and shot sequences in this film. From juxtapositions of the old meeting with the new to geometric shapes and lines, there are many excellent compositions. The production and set design and lighting, of this film, are used in similar ways that the designs in expressionism are used. Expressionism uses the design of buildings, costumes, lighting, and camera angles to externalize emotions, psycho-social states of being, and ideas. And with expressionism being part of the formula of horror (expressionism+surrealism+Poe+Freud), it makes sense how and why there would be this care shown in the mise-en-scene.
All the backstory elements are communicated through the brilliant use of shadow puppets. The shadow puppet sequences are perhaps my favorite recurring diegetic device used in the film. Not only do these shadow puppets provide exposition, they also move the plot forward in action and subtext.
The idea of shadow puppets as a storytelling device is best explored in Plato’s Cave. French film theorist Jean-Louis Baudry likened the movie theatre to Plato’s famous allegory Plato’s Cave found in Plato’s Republic. But since we’re not all film or philosophy theorists, here is a quick explanation of Plato’s Cave:
The allegory states that there exists prisoners chained together in a cave. Behind the prisoners is a fire, and between the fire and the prisoners are people carrying puppets or other objects. This casts a shadow on the other side of the wall. The prisoners watch these shadows, believing them to be real. Essentially, what Plato is exploring is the concept of “belief vs knowledge.” The prisoners (or audience) in this analogy believe the images on the wall as reality; when in actuality, it is only the puppeteers version of reality. The analogy goes on further to describe a prisoner breaking free and venturing from the cave out into the real world. Two things happen (1) the newly freed prisoner completely rejects the imagery in the cave and returns to warn the prisoners of their one-dimensional view of reality, and risk being killed for a radical view, or (2) the freed prisoner fears or cannot reconcile actual reality and retreats back into the cave, where there is comfort in the surroundings, to warn the prisoners not to leave. Therefore, this highlights how a lack of knowledge leads to blind belief.
Despite being centuries old, the allegory is appropriate for filmmaking. After all, the audience watches images on a screen. We’re meant to believe it to be real, but we know it’s false. Only when we step out of the theater back into reality can we take what we’ve learned in the cinema and apply it to our lives. In a literal sense, a movie is just a series of images. But digging deeper, they present unique ideas and themes that we can take with us into the real world. Numerous movies utilize this concept in their plots and themes. You have probably seen films where a character believes one reality and then becomes exposed to another, greater reality and is never the same. In the case of 2021’s Candyman, DaCosta, Peele, and Rosenfeld have metaphorically trapped the audience in an ideological cave to present their versions of our reality that exists outside the cinema’s doors.
The movie has some great kills! But it highlights a moral problem plaguing this movie. From the art gallery to the critic to the girls at the prep school, the only victims, to meet their gruesome demise ON screen, are white characters. While there are a couple of off-screen deaths of black characters, the only ones in the visible mise-en-scene to meet with Candyman’s iconic hook are white. Had this movie been directed and/or written by a white writer-director and only killed and disparaged black characters, there would already be a #cancel campaign on Twitter. In my five years as a film professor and seven years as an active critic, I cannot ever recall a horror movie (in particular, a slasher movie) that ONLY killed black characters and disparaged the black community in virtually every scene from the opening to the closing. So if that would not be tolerated by the public–and for good reason, a movie released like that in 2021 (or ever) would be in incredibly poor, despicable, disrespectful taste–then the inverse should not be acceptable here.
I get what DaCosta, Peele, and Rosenfeld are trying to do with this horror movie. From the time of Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu, horror has been used to comment on societal observations to either warn of an impending dangerous ideology, to provide allegorical material that can be used as a framework to better understand marginalized groups, or even to challenge systems or institutions. Which is why horror is often far more truthful than a straight drama. Of course, one can make the argument that this is a fictional film in a fictional Chicago, which is not untrue; however, the problem therein is that little (if anything) in this fictional Chicago sets it apart from the real world, except for the supernatural character of Candyman, because these filmmakers have a point to make. But the problem here is that the very people that these writers want to challenge are the very people that are being unfairly represented in the movie. How is any of that constructive to the conversations of race relations and policing??? Short answer: it’s not.
The symbolism I did appreciate in the film are the moments that we explore the duality in ourselves and our environments. This is represented through literal and metaphoric reflection. Mirrors (or reflections) are regularly used to communicate duality. One of the best examples in recent years, in how mirrors are an effective cinematic device, is the mirror scene in I, Tonya. Just before her final competition in the film, as Tonya is applying her high contrast makeup, we witness in the mirror the internal struggle. On the outside, she is this accomplished figure skater (probably the best athlete the sport has ever seen) but on the inside she is tormented by her mother, her abusive marriage, and what she did or didn’t know about the incident. Likewise, in Candyman we explore the history and identity of Anthony and his neighborhood. Anthony has a secret in his past that has been painted over, that is trying to resurface, and his neighborhood of Cabrini Green has a sordid history that it has tried to cover and hide behind a fresh coat of paint. History is always there. It cannot be erased. And if it’s not dealt with, it can become a specter and haunt you and your environment. The mirrors and other reflective surfaces of Candyman are brilliantly used to communicate this idea of duality.
It is clear that DaCosta is a gifted director, but I hope that she works with different writers in the future that can find that balance of commenting on or raising awareness of something important, but also finding the ways to bring everyone to the table for a thoughtful discussion. The power of cinema, and in particular horror films, is that it can bring diverse groups of people together from all walks of life to both be entertained and challenged through screams, jumps, and laughter.
Ryan teaches American and World Cinema at the University of Tampa. 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 or email him at RLTerry1@gmail.com! If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with or meet him in the theme parks!
This. Is. ALIEN. You are with. Sigourney Weaver. Aboard the spaceship Nostromo. Caution. The area you are en-ter-ing is extremely dan-ger-ous. Something has gone wrong… If you get why I punctuated that the way I did, then you remember the ALIEN scene on the former Great Movie Ride at Disney’s Hollywood Studios (oh how I miss that attraction). Ridley Scott’s science-fiction horror masterpiece that convinced you that “in space, no one can hear you scream” is still the definitive science-fiction/space horror film. Furthermore, it reinvented the space-horror movies from the 1950/60s. Sitting between Halloween and Friday the 13th, this film came as a surprise for the horror genre because it countered the direction that the horror genre was going by reimagining the emerging slasher genre in a setting that is more terrifying and limiting than a house or town in which a serial killer is slaughtering teenagers. Just 10 years after the Apollo moon landing, this film takes on characteristics of that which is frightening about this new frontier that we are exploring. What if there is a killing machine monster out there? Scary stuff.
Until ALIEN, movies and TV shows set in space depicted a clean, optimistic, new world. ALIEN subverts this expectation by delivering a used, broken-in, aged space. The Nostromo was nothing like the U.S.S. Enterprise from Star Trek or the Star Destroyers from Star Wars. The design of the Nostromo communicated a dirty, dingy space that is far less appealing than the world of the United Federation of Planets. The effect of this upon audiences was fantastic because it made the future look far more realistic than anything that had come before it. The world of ALIEN truly felt like a future that was used. Indirectly, this intentional design also shows us that the passengers aren’t heroes, highly intellectual explorers, or uniquely skilled individuals. The rough design of the Nostromo parallels the roughness, lack of refinement in the characters. Again, they feel like real people, a people that we could connect with in ways that we could never connect with the characters from space-horror and monster movies in the past. The future, as illustrated in this film, is relatable. From the design of the Nostromo to the development of the characters themselves, audiences are invited into a world stepped in expressive meaning and emotion.
Beyond taking the horror genre into space and integrating some of the psychological horror and slasher elements outlined in Psycho, Halloween, and others, Scott’s Alien also provided horror audiences with a new type of final girl, social commentary on gender roles, heteronormativity, and human sexuality. Much like the Freudian components of Hitchcock’s Psycho, this horror film also explores the deep fears and desires that are often suppressed by the subconscious. Furthermore, the film also explores the fears associated with child birth by “impregnating” men resulting in body horror trauma. The counterarguments to heteronormativity is manifested in Ellen Ripley as an androgynous female who behaves in a very masculine way, the film provides an opportunity to talk about gender roles.
Although Ripley is, for all intents and purposes, not even on our radar for nearly 45mins into the film, following a tragedy, she is thrust into the forefront of this mission. Scott’s Alien dared to challenge the status quo in order to deliver the first female action hero, and place her in center stage. The long and short of it is that Ripley subverts the typical science-fiction hero trope to embody both the feminine and masculine to redefine what a hero is within the sci-fi/horror genre. Breaking gender norms for the time, she was neither arm candy, simply a side kick nor required rescuing by a male character. Her character and actions were not defined by gender. She is our final girl, and so much more. Not only did the character of Ripley contribute significantly to horror, she also broke ground for female heroines in the world of cinema at large.
Like Clarice Starling in Silence of the Lambs, Ridley is also someone who is equal parts female and male. In fact, you could argue that she takes on more masculine characteristics as the narrative plays. This playing with the roles of men, women, and their respective bodies and minds can be realized when viewing the character of the xenomorph as the “monstrous feminine.” The monstrous-feminine is a psychological construction generated by male anxieties about the female body and sexuality. Scott’s Alien depicts the maternal body as monstrous. More specifically, the film repeatedly examines the scene of birth or origin. Interestingly, there are three different representations of the concept of birth in the film. In terms of the production design, Alien can be likened to a gothic horror set in space. Scott’s brilliant design conveys to the audience the extreme isolation and claustrophobia. There is also an fascinating dichotomy in the worlds that are represented in this film by pitting the mechanization and technology of the organization for which our explorers work and the monstrous origin world of the alien, which we learn more about (whether you like the films or not in the prequels).
Your central character need not always be the first or second character we encounter in a screenplay. This is true with Ripley as she emerges as the central character midway through the film. However, we are given hints at her destiny throughout the first act in subtle ways. It was important to the plot to establish her as a woman in order to make her actions later on in the film so kickass and assumption shattering. Had she been seen as “masculine” or strong from the onset, then we would not be as impressed with her actions–we would expect them. Part of her power as a strong female character in horror is taking what we assumed about her (or a female character in general) and subvert our predisposition. Whereas Ripley is not the first female heroic character in a horror film, she is one that never becomes subjected to the male gaze or becomes some fantasy version of a woman. Even though female heroic characters who wear sexy clothes, wield phallic guns, or use their bodies as femme fatals can be strong characters, they are still some heteronormative fantasy for a male screenwriter or director.
Essentially, the aforementioned female characters lack an authentic humanity. Ripley is strong, vulnerable, independent, scared, mortal; these elements that make her believably human. There is so little suspension of disbelief in her character that she could nearly exist in real life. Furthermore, her character is incredibly complex; she exhibits strong intuition and intelligence, chutzpah, is brash, talks about PTSD, outspoken, rigidly wants to go by the book instead of saving a man’s life, has a natural beauty but doesn’t spend much time on hair or makeup. All these traits portray someone who has incredible depth and dimension. She is a survivor. No matter how grizzly, messy, constricting, or frightening her soundings become, she remains steadfast, collected, and brave. As the 1970s saw many changes in censorship, ratings, guidelines, etc., the ability to show gorier, more visceral body horror special effects, and on screen violence allowed Scott to confront the character of Ripley with cinematically innovative ways to test her resilience and survivorship.
The character of Ellen Ripley is also a strong pillar of the American horror film by virtue of her representation of gender politics. Even before it became popular, in more recent times, to use both male and female characters in motion pictures as a conduit to comment on the state of affairs for a particular group within our society, Ridley Scott crafted a visual masterpiece that did just that. Highly innovative, forward thinking, and progressive. The subtext of the film confronts us with a woman trying her best to fit into a man’s world. In addition to that subtext, research into the screenplay for this film shows that all the characters were written as gender neutral. Interesting stuff, right?!? Another gender-related observation in the character of Ripley, is her both metaphorically and physiologically clothing herself in masculinity all while remaining a women. In one scene, Ripley steps into a space suit. And this space suit can be read as Ripley playing the role of a man while remaining a women at her core in order to challenge the patriarchal system to prove that she is capable of anything that a masculine hero is.
Ripley is a highly intelligent character, realizes that about herself, and does not allow herself to be patronized or undermined. She does her job aboard the Nostromo like a legit boss. She knows procedure and protocol, and will follow it in order to protect her crew. Figuratively, she is protecting the ship from being willfully penetrated by a foreign object. This could be read as a commentary on rape. She is forcefully overruled, and we all know what happens next. Further commentary depicts male characters “forgetting” that Ripley is the senior officer. But because she is female, they feel they know better. I bet they wish they had followed her orders. Although much of what I’ve written deals with the masculine qualities of Ripley, her character would not have been as powerful a character if it wasn’t for her feminine side as well. When all hell is breaking loose, she soothes the nerves of the crew and offers comfort. Exemplary motherly qualities. Had a man been in her role, then he would most likely have not exhibited such love for the crew. Her success as a hero has as much to do with the touch of a women as it does the chutzpah of a man.
Another motherly quality found in Ripley is her persistent urge for the crew to function as a group. Through the brilliant cinematography, we are consistently shown a group that is fractures and continually fails to band together until it is too late. Interestingly, each character meets his or her demise because of a tragic flaw and failure to group together to function as ONE crew instead of self-centered individuals. Had the group functioned as one, then more may have survived. This hypothesis is witnessed in the Ripley in Act 3 because she essentially embodies all the good qualities found in the other characters (think Captain Planet). She combines what everyone did well into one character. That is why she is the final girl. Only by combining all the qualities of the crew was she able to go toe-to-toe with the Xenomorph killing machine.
There are actually three prominent female characters in Alien. Ripley, the Xenomorph, and The Nostromo. Although Ripley is our central character, I would be remiss to not mention the other two that could be analyzed individually themselves. Much like Ripley exhibits both masculine and feminine characteristics, so does the Xenomorph with a mouth that oscillates between vaginal and phallic in nature. And finally, The Nostromo ostensibly gives birth to all the astronauts at the beginning of the film; and therefore could be referred to as the mother ship. Playing around with gender does not stop there. The facegrabber impregnates a male character and he gives birth to the Xenomorph. Underscoring so many elements and conflicts in this film is this idea of subverting gender identity with the intent to horrify by tapping into primal heteronormative fears. And let’s face it, child birth is terrifying.
The extent to which the special effects still hold up terrifying well in this motion picture is just one of many reasons why CGI can never replicate the way real like bounces off real objects and into the camera lens. Practical effects have literal depth and dimension–nothing simulated or recreated here. Practical effects offer the actors the opportunity to engage and interact with the world in which their respective characters live, work, play, and sometimes die. The single scene that stands out to me, and remains one of the best of all time is the “chestbuster” scene.
What an entrance! In addition to terrifying the audience, it threw the cast for quite the loop too; furthermore, this scene represents the first good look we have at the alien creature, even though it’s in its infant stage. Interestingly, the actors were literally taken by surprise because they had a general idea of how the scene was going to play out, but they were not informed as to specifics. Suddenly, Kane begins thrashing around so violently that everyone has to hold him down on the table, requiring everyone to move in closely to the body (a prosthetic one at this point). Just as the crew is holding onto Kane tightly, the alien BURSTS through Kane’s chest! His innards and blood spew everywhere! The actors’ reactions are grounded in realism, because these are authentic, unrehearsed reactions, which only adds to the gravity of the entire scene. Genuine reactions. You cannot get that with CGI. I mean, how is one supposed to fear for their life when acting next to a tennis ball on the end of a stick or string???
Unfortunately, all the sequels failed to live up to the substantive nature of the original and devolve into a generic futuristic action-adventure series; but the original ALIEN delivered a nightmare-inducing “haunted house” meets Jaws movie set in the far reaches of space where “no one can hear you scream,” and provided us with the breakthrough character of Ellen Ripley.
Ryan teaches screenwriting and film studies at the University of Tampa. 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 or email him at RLTerry1@gmail.com! If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with or meet him in the theme parks!
Unbridled blunt force carnage. Academy Award winner Russell Crowe’s rampage-filled Unhinged hits theatres this weekend. And if you’re in the mood for a throwback B-movie well-suited for the indoor big screen or a drive-in theatre, then hop in the driver’s seat. Unhinged is the kind of movie that is so bad yet is actually a lot of fun–the one time you will ever watch it anyway. There are really only two acts in this movie; the rushed setup with an attempt to attach some deeper meaning to the gnarly violence that starts immediately and the lengthy showdown. But you won’t care that it’s a shallow, vapid plot; you are there for three reasons (1) to see Crowe go absolutely bonkers (2) the unhinged brutal, cringy no-holds-barred violence and (3) the scarily realistic car chases through this unnamed city in this unnamed state only known as America’s Heartland. The manner in which The Man stalks Rachel (and later, her son) reminds me of the same pattern of actions we get in many horror movies. While this movie is not a genre horror movie, it is very much horror-adjacent. Moreover, this horror-adjacent movie nearly follows the same tropes as a slasher. Slasher? That’s right. And get this–I found this particularly interesting–Russell Crowe’s lumpy misogynist is credited only as The Man, and where have we seen such a vague, anonymous description of a character before? John Carpenter’s original Halloween with Michael Myers being credited as The Shape. When viewed as a horror-adjacent movie, you will likely enjoy it more. The fact that we are never told much about The Man’s motivations, makes his over-the-top kills, his look, and his barbaric behavior incredibly campy. It’s this level of camp that makes the movie serviceable, and even fun during the violence and high-impact car chases; one could say the car chases are fast and furious. Director Derrick Borte delivers a guilty pleasure action-thriller that is sure to keep you entertained for its relatively short fun time. He knows precisely what kind of movie he’s direction, and rocks it! And you now what, it looks like the director and Crowe has a fun time making this schlock fest. Even actors of Crowe’s repute need a cathartic movie every now and again.
Unhinged is a horror adjacent action-thriller that is built upon something we have all experienced–road rage. Only, this story takes everything you have ever feared about what could happen after you honk your horn to bizarrely unpredictable levels culminating in a terrifying conclusion. Rachel (Caren Pistorius) is running late taking her son to school when she meets The Man (Crowe) at a red light. When the light turns green, he sits there. After she lays on the horn a few times, races past him, and gives him that look, you now the one (as we’ve all done it), she finds herself and everyone she loves the target of a man whom, in his own words, feels invisible and is looking to leave his mark on the lives of those whom dismiss him, in deadly games of cat and mouse.
The movie starts with a stylistic montage depicting violence in the streets of America, particularly road rage. Incidentally, this movie seems to have predicted the current and recent outburst of violence in the streets, months prior. So for some, these images may hit a little too close to home. Or perhaps they will be a wakeup call for how we treat one another, because you never really know if the person standing next to you is about to go over the edge because of continued brushes with trauma. Often times, an opening montage such as this one is used to prime the pump, if you will, in order to setup social commentary or other existential critique on the events that are about to unfold. Unfortunately, this setup really goes nowhere, except to remind us that we really never know next to whom we are standing, or sitting in your car. Early on in the film, just before the deadly cat and mouse road rage game sets into full motion, The Man comments that (and I am paraphrasing), “people nowadays feel as though they should ever have to apologize to anyone for anything.” And perhaps there is a nugget of truth in that because apologies do seem to be fewer in number than they used to be. Newsflash: sometimes we are wrong or have wronged someone else, be it intentional or unintentional. So, apologies and forgiveness should be in our arsenal before grudges and rage.
Talk about bloody. This movie sets the bar ridiculously high with its opening scene of The Man obliterating his axe wife, her lover, followed by torching the house. But the bar doesn’t stop there; the ante literally keeps going up. This man displays the most extreme forms of sociopathy, and he is virtually unstoppable, just like a classic horror slasher in the vein of Michael or Jason. Perhaps he isn’t lurking in the shadows, isn’t wearing a mask, doesn’t have a trademark weapon, or doesn’t come with catchy music, but he is still a slasher! Even when he is shot, he keeps going. And is always right on the bumper of Rachel. While you will likely not care about ANY of the characters in this movie, you will enjoy the campy slasherness of The Man. Unfortunately, The Man also doesn’t give us any reason to root for him, as is the case with Michael, Freddy, or Jason. The Man is a disgusting representation of toxicity of every kind. But, he does know how to put on a show for the audience.
Word to the wise, should you encounter a vehicle sitting at an intersection when the light turns green, I wouldn’t honk your horn. If you do, then you may unleash a sociopath that will literally stop at nothing until you apologize.
Ryan teaches screenwriting and American cinema at the University of Tampa. 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 or email him at RLTerry1@gmail.com! If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with or meet him in the theme parks!