tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1935156477804728272024-03-05T08:22:42.194-08:00We Who Watch Behind the RowsStephen King in Print and on FilmRik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-27952662869997493892017-10-01T11:00:00.000-07:002017-10-01T12:21:03.031-07:00It (2017)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Aaron:</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Welcome back to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We Who Watch Behind the Rows</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, our continuing deep dive into the works of Stephen King, and the various adaptations thereof. Another Halloween season is upon us, and to celebrate our favorite holiday we’re doing something a little different this time. The biggest horror movie of this year, and, in terms of box office, the biggest horror movie possibly ever, is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, based on Stephen King’s 1986 novel of the same name. Instead of following our usual pattern of discussing the book, and then having subsequent discussions centering around the filmed versions, we’re going to be focusing solely on the 2017 Andy Muschietti version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The original novel is one of those 1000+ page doorstops that used to be somewhat more common for Mr. King, and it would be a bit difficult to give it the attention it deserves at the moment. Rest assured, however, that we will be returning to this property several times in the future. For now, however, if your experience with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> comes only from Andy Muschietti’s 2017 blockbuster, this may be the perfect piece for you.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Film: It (2017, New Line Pictures) </span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s no way around it, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Stephen King book for me. It’s the one I always list as my favorite, and would be the one I would choose if some madman with very specific psychoses put a gun to my head and told me I could only keep one Stephen King novel for the rest of my life. Surely the biggest reason for this would be my age and the way in which I came to the novel. I was in the sixth grade in 1990, when ABC first aired the miniseries version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I was 12 years old and about the same age as the kids in the film (though I was a year or two older than the ages given in the book). I’m not sure if that closeness in age really had all that much to do with my instantaneous love for the miniseries, but it certainly didn’t hurt to have kids recognizably like me as the heroes of such an epic bit of horror entertainment. I can’t really overstate how big that earlier movie was to my younger self. I taped it off of ABC as it aired, and I remember re-watching the first half before the second half was aired two days later. Once the entire thing was complete, I watched it quite regularly. I remember one night at my best friend Forrest’s house where we watched the entire 3 hour and 12 minute miniseries three times in one night, simply rewinding the tape and starting over once the credits began to roll. It was one of those midsummer Alaskan nights, where it never got completely dark and the living room stayed that bluish gray for hours. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I put the novel on my Christmas list for that year, but now I can’t remember if I actually got the novel or just spent gift money on it. By the time I was back in school I had nearly finished the novel for the first time. It would not be the last, and I’ve returned to the book every ten years or so since that first reading. I’ve returned to the movie quite a few more times, of course, as it’s easier to spend three hours watching a film than to find the time to go through over 1,000 pages of dense, meandering plot. The television version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was the first time I ever really noticed Stephen King’s name. Though I know for a fact I’d seen other filmed version of his works, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was just the first one that made me take notice. Through that miniseries I found the novel, and through that novel I found an entire library of books and stories to ignite my imagination. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> kicked off a period in which I read almost nothing but Stephen King (and school-assigned books) for years.</span></span></span></div>
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I say all of this as a quick prelude to give some context for where I’m coming from when we discuss the new movie here. Obviously I love</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and I’ve been waiting for a real adaptation, one that can go beyond the bounds of what was possible on broadcast television in 1990, for a long time. Before we start to actually break down the film itself, Rik, what is your history with this story? I know from previous discussions that you had been a Stephen King fan for a few years by the time the novel came out. Does it hold a similar place in your heart, or has the rosy glow of nostalgia perhaps elevated this one far beyond its overall value?</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik:</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> No, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> doesn't really hold a special place in my heart – not like it does for you and a couple of my other friends – but neither do I dismiss the work. I do think the book is one of King’s more engaging works, except for that one glaring, horribly conceived portion that read as wholly phony to me at the time, and I am sure we will get into that in due course. [It’s the most infamous scene in the book.] Of course, I am roughly a decade older than you, and was into King for about that long by the time you picked up </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for the first time. My favorites from that early period were </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Dead Zone</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>‘Salem’s Lot</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Christine</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Stand</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, along with the short story collection, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Night Shift</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. (And, because I am more movie-oriented in focus than I am fiction, we can throw the movie </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Creepshow</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, for which he wrote the original screenplay, into that mix too.) When I got to It, I was starting to burn out more than a bit on King. Bookwise, right after I read</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in its original release in 1986, while I dearly ate up </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Misery</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Dark Half</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I found </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Tommyknockers</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> quite annoying and unsatisfying. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Maximum Overdrive</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> film (written and directed by King) came and went, not with a whisper but a loud, abrasive death rattle. After the </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> mini-series aired, the double disappointments (to me, at least) of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Needful Things</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Gerald’s Game</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (which I outright hated at the time) pretty much destroyed much of the trust King had built up in me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKgQcdXNEhxHCwkKv9cqNsD90cbeAKW8Oki_OyXUliZpQYLQxBHiMa9R0Tw-4KoQB_sNeTCNzgvjRcag_MK0OfTi-qg_QPXwJs0u9tYRngGTvxI7pASbr8adhTgwfvE3KrLGTewjYFhps/s1600/ItPoster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKgQcdXNEhxHCwkKv9cqNsD90cbeAKW8Oki_OyXUliZpQYLQxBHiMa9R0Tw-4KoQB_sNeTCNzgvjRcag_MK0OfTi-qg_QPXwJs0u9tYRngGTvxI7pASbr8adhTgwfvE3KrLGTewjYFhps/s320/ItPoster.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">And once I began to sense that perhaps King was rather saturating the market too much, I looked for a way out for a while. I did not read horror exclusively – I was more prone to classic literature – but I had for several years began shifting horror-wise to other authors like Charles L. Grant, Joe Lansdale, David J. Schow, Robert McCammon, Jack Ketchum, Skipp and Spector… there’s clearly some splatterpunk in there (though I barely cared about the term as long as the books were fun and gory), but I truly preferred the more elegant, haunting style of Grant. (In case you were wondering, no, I never became a Dean Koontz guy.) But overall, in the late ‘80s and through the ‘90s, I was a Barker man. Solid Clive Barker fanatic, and if there is a chief reason why I abandoned King for the most part, it is my embrace of Barker’s style and vision. But I fell out of even his work by the end of the ‘90s, and horror fiction – and fiction in general – for the most part.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am a fan of the original</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> mini-series, and while I want to forego major discussion of that adaptation (so hard to get around saying “it” over and over as opposed to the title), there is little one can do to not bring that version up when talking about the shiny new version. I think, Aaron, that the problems you detect in that show are pretty universal, especially for those of us who still maintain a love for it. (See?) Having just watched the mini again about a week before seeing the new version in a theatre, the same problems were still there, but the overall excellence of much of the mini was still in existence as well. Tim Curry is ever a joy to watch in almost any role. I still liked many of the kids (I was shocked to find out that the young Bev was played by Emily Perkins from the </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Ginger Snaps</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> series; never realized that before), and the adult actors were for the most part still entertaining to watch. (Harry Anderson, though… I like Harry, but someone needed to dial him down a bit; not a strong dramatic actor no matter what they told him on those “special” episodes of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Night Court</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.) Part One is still better than Part Two, and the ending is more than a bit underdeveloped and disappointing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I said, I quite like the book overall, but the question that has nagged at me since it was announced there was going to be a new theatrical version (in two parts) was: Do we actually need a new version of</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> onscreen? That’s a question that gets asked about most remakes and sequels, and I have asked it recently myself of other films that I have seen (</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Secrets in Their Eyes</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Death Note</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, for example). But, if you know anything about film history at all, it is that there have always been remakes and sequels, and there will always be remakes and sequels. As for King’s works, in my head, I cannot imagine that anyone will ever top the Cronenberg version of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Dead Zone</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (my personal favorite King adaptation) or Kubrick’s non-King version of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Shining</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (sorry, Stephen; it may not quite be your book, but that film is astounding). </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Carrie</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, too, is near perfection in the original version directed by Brian De Palma, but has been remade twice now, and even sequelized. And why even try to remake Rob Reiner’s </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Stand by Me</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Misery</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, or Frank Darabont’s </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Shawshank Redemption</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">? Does it even need to be brought up at all?</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> mini-series from 1990 may not be on the same level of any of these other King adaptations, but I believe that it still warrants the question of “why remake?” ever more. The case is this: even when people point out the flaws of the mini-series from 1990, the fact remains that most of those same people will defend their love for that production even harder. As with you, Aaron, both the show and the book are touchstones for these people of a certain age. You pointed out the relative age of the readers/viewers in relation to the characters, and that is probably a huge part of the deal. I was ten years older and starting to read Bukowski, so I did not connect on the same level with the material at the time of It’s release upon the world. (That’s not snobbery, just a fact of age differences at the time. In the end, King is far more fun to read.) </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have seen discussions about </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> all over Facebook and Twitter in the last few weeks as people make a big deal about seeing the new version and then come back to post about how “it was pretty good, but I still prefer the Tim Curry one”. There are dissenting opinions on this, of course, but I would say the “mini was better” argument has prevailed in about two-thirds of the posts that I have seen on my own social media. I am not going to reveal yet my judgment on the new film, but I will say that going in, there was some heavy lifting to be done. Mostly, that involved the 800-lb. gorilla that is Tim Curry. You can remake </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Rocky H</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">orror on stage or TV all you want, but it is impossible to get past his Frank-N-Furter, chiefly because so much of the cult of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Rocky Horror</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is based around his actual performance of the role, including how to say certain lines. Here, too, is Pennywise the Clown, and they could not have found a more perfect person to embody the role from the very beginning than Curry, an actor not necessarily known for being highly prolific on screen at any point in his career. As a result, when he popped up in the role it had some real impact to this viewer. Would that be the case with the new Pennywise? I have had little experience with Bill Skarsgård, so I had no idea what I would be in for with his performance (though I am a fan of his dad and at least one of his brothers). The director, Andres Muschietti, was known to me only from his 2013 film Mama, which I found to be mildly diverting but that film wore on me due to its quite protracted ending. Another potential problem for me: I hate kid films. That is, I generally hate films with large casts of kids. They always talk too fast, speeding through their lines like they are starving for attention, and there is always the fear of “Disney Channel Acting Syndrome” aka “The Full House Effect”. (Both terms are mine but they represent the same problematic style.) There are exceptions, of course, but knowing the first part of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was going to concentrate (as it should) solely on the characters as kids, I had some misgivings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron, did you have similar thoughts heading into your first showing of the new </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">?</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I usually wait until after the movie has been released to ask “why remake?” Before I’ve seen the film, the answer is always going to be “money.” The studio thought they could get more money out of the property, and that’s usually what got the ball rolling. That isn’t to say remakes are inherently devoid of artistic merit, far from it. Some remakes are passion projects, while others, most commonly in the horror genre, are reinterpretations of stories that update and personalize whatever the filmmakers saw in the original. I am always open to the idea of a remake, if only because so many great films have resulted from going back to the well. I’ll concede that the hit-to-miss ratio is leaning definitively to the “miss”’ column, but when they succeed, they tend to succeed in a big way. John Carpenter’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Thing</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Cronenberg’s version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Fly</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the Donald Sutherland-led </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Invasion of the Body Snatchers</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, even the Bogart-starring </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Maltese Falcon</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was the third version of that film within a decade. All of the films listed above answered the question of “why remake?” so successfully that they became the definitive versions of those stories to many viewers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Additionally, when you’re dealing with a remake to a movie that was adapted from some other source material (novel, short story, magazine article, etc.), you have the added benefit of being able to go back to that source and adapt the parts that got left out the first time around. Everyone has favorite bits from books that were ignored in filmed adaptations, and a remake comes with the hope that those bits might finally be seen on the big screen.This is especially true for </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a novel whose brutality could not be adequately conveyed on network television, and whose often byzantine flashback structure and shaggy world-building had to be pared down to the bone to fit into 4 hours, minus commercials. As an avowed fan of the original miniseries, I never asked “why remake?” so much as I asked “why did this take so long?” The answer to that question would probably be the same as the answer to the question “what are the faults with the 1990 version?” The novel is so massive, so gory, and so potentially special effects-laden, that it was probably not an easy sell, especially now, when the marquee attraction of Stephen King’s name has dimmed considerably, and you’re more likely to see smaller budgeted adaptations of his lesser works than a big tentpole theatrical release (though King is definitely having a moment, and his bankability seems to once again be on the rise).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQIxOXzNA6mh_Kn0H4iwQPqB2zB6vRtQUGg9AuYyKRhQlYiIQyXM8wdhsW8Ttaia65EfvIW1ercGNZBlaPJjsbzpEjlYZj3XF54sJu8KrT21_M_QBveyJgTvgKkG1_gHsBydlvnvBig4/s1600/ItTimCurry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQIxOXzNA6mh_Kn0H4iwQPqB2zB6vRtQUGg9AuYyKRhQlYiIQyXM8wdhsW8Ttaia65EfvIW1ercGNZBlaPJjsbzpEjlYZj3XF54sJu8KrT21_M_QBveyJgTvgKkG1_gHsBydlvnvBig4/s320/ItTimCurry.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The only thing that kept me skeptical of a remake, or tampered my desire for one, was the casting of Pennywise. Tim Curry was such an amazing fit for the role in 1990, and forever linked with that character in my mind. When the film was first announced I actually thought they could find a way to do it with Curry still in the role, as it requires so much makeup and effects work anyway I figured they could easily get Curry back into the baggy pants and oversized shoes. At the very least that marvelous voice had to survive. This was, of course, before the sad announcements about his health, and the stroke that had severely limited his mobility. I had to accept that the role would go on without him, but when they announced who would be stepping into those oversized clown shoes, my excitement took a big hit.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bill Skarsgård is an actor I knew only from </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Hemlock Grove</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on Netflix, a show I hate-watched for three seasons for reasons I could not quite explain. He was insufferable on that show, which was often a function of his character, but it colored the way I saw the actor as well. Much in the same way that I was convinced Jon Bernthal was a terrible actor because of how much I disliked Shane on </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Walking Dead</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, only to realize he can be pretty great once I saw him in a few other films. I still reserved judgement on Bill Skarsgård. I wasn’t going to write him off for appearing on a shitty television show, but I also didn’t see him as a suitable replacement for Tim Goddamn Curry. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wouldn’t say that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has completely changed my opinion of him as an actor, but I will say that I came around to quite enjoy his performance in the role. It took me a few minutes, primarily to get used to the slightly lisping Leprechaun voice he adopts, but I have to admit that Skarsgård completely wrapped himself in the tone of the film and the strangeness of the character. His odd line readings, coupled with some odd camera work whenever he appeared onscreen and body language that was continually… off, all added up to a pretty otherworldly, if showy, performance. I’m not going to play the game of trying to figure out who was better in the role, Skarsgård or Curry, but I will say that Skarsgård did a perfect job for the film he was in, but I wouldn’t give up Curry for anything.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yeah, that is a tough game to play. I agree with you that Curry is almost impossible to give up, but who says one has to give him up? Why not love both performances? Though I was skeptical going in, Skarsgård really did a terrific job in making Pennywise so successfully creepy throughout this film, and you nailed it on the oddness of his bodily posturing and line reading. Some syllables in some words don’t fall quite where you might expect or a line gets protracted strangely and really adds just a touch more weirdness to his every appearance. (This effect also makes his character seem a little distracted at times, and I suppose if you were focusing your energies on frightening multiple children to death at the same time, you might seem distracted as well.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo23Tbm8heqHBKSE1qEhPln5kycbDIcLBwZOQDkjCuxe2sf6FBNIW4cDAfajskmQksNzBPaYfxkEFFqaQwbmKKicaVweJeq7DsHu9PmHjmqs__jhfE8PPTBhxcRxJCtAA8BRQwcBpYjIQ/s1600/ItPennywiseCostume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="670" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo23Tbm8heqHBKSE1qEhPln5kycbDIcLBwZOQDkjCuxe2sf6FBNIW4cDAfajskmQksNzBPaYfxkEFFqaQwbmKKicaVweJeq7DsHu9PmHjmqs__jhfE8PPTBhxcRxJCtAA8BRQwcBpYjIQ/s320/ItPennywiseCostume.jpg" width="284" /></span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something that struck me was the change in costuming between the two filmed versions of Pennywise. Curry’s costuming is a pretty basic clown costume, of the sort you might see on a birthday party clown today, with the only truly strange feature being those sharpened teeth he bears several times throughout the mini-series. I know King created the image of Pennywise to reflect what he perceives as a general fear of clowns, but I have never really bought into that from my angle. I have friends that work as clowns or have either gotten or taught circus clown training. In my head, it is another profession, and when I was a kid, I had the comic Red Skelton on TV dressed up as a clown on his variety show, and it was still a time when you would encounter his clown paintings in doctor and dentist offices. The all-time great clown Emmett Kelly could be seen in clips on Sesame Street or make appearances on The Carol Burnett Show in the days near the end of his life. And, of course, I grew up with Ronald McDonald commercials (and his company’s food) as a staple in my life. To me, clowns were just not scary in the ‘70s.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Curry’s costume seems pretty on target for a clown in the 1950s in the mini-series (the original timeframe for </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It)</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and there is not much difference in style from that of TV clowns like Clarabelle or Bozo, both huge clown stars in the ‘50s period. One could easily see a child being lulled into a state of comfort around the sweeter, calmer version of Pennywise, handing out balloons and promising fun and toys and treats. Which is where the horror comes in, when the teeth get bared, and the mouth opens wider and wider…</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By contrast, the costuming for Skarsgård’s Pennywise seems at first like it is a wise costuming choice, giving him the older, more classic look of a turn of the 20th century harlequin, appropriate to the backstory involving the fire back in 1905. But the costume, and even the existence of Pennywise’s clown persona, doesn’t make sense on a couple of fronts in the new film. Attitudes towards clowns definitely shifted between the 1970s and the 1980s. John Wayne Gacy killed 33 teenaged boys and young men throughout the 1970s, usually dressed like a clown to convince them to do things for him, so the rampant clown fear likely did not exist yet. The public didn’t know he was even dressed as a clown while he committed these acts until he was arrested in late 1978. But Gacy jokes were a big thing in the early ‘80s at our high school, and I am pretty certain that the public took hold of the killer clown thing from that point onward. I remember movies in the ‘80s like </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Clownhouse</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Killer Klowns from Outer Space</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (a personal fave), and those probably helped seal the deal. Also, don’t forget that a 6-year-old Michael Myers kills his older sister with a knife while dressed as a clown in the opening to the original film version of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Halloween</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. The year? 1978.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, the new version of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has its time frame shifted from the late 1950s to the late 1980s (which will eventually turn the adult side of the story in the second film from the late ‘80s to today). Killer clowns have by that point definitely infected popular culture. Does it make sense that Pennywise would attempt to trap kids by luring them in with promises of balloons dressed as a clown? Younger kids like Georgie, perhaps yes. But kids around 11 or 12 in 1989? Kids that are already far more jaded than those in 1957? Clowns were considered to be friendly and openly trusted in the 1950s. Of course, there are always people afraid of them, but not to the crazed state we have now (a lot of that brought on by Curry’s Pennywise, mind you). It would seem to me that Pennywise would be better served to take on the form of a Max Headroom-type character or some other popular ‘80s icon. Or even Superman or Batman to draw the kiddies in unsuspectingly, before he kills them using their fears against them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I really like the more classic, tailored look of the new Pennywise costume, and I think it works to the advantage of Skarsgård, who is quite tall (6’4”), thin and angular, just as Curry’s lumpier, more child friendly costuming worked for his 5’9” height. (Remember, he wore heels in Rocky Horror Picture Show, if you recall him being taller than that…) Where the new Pennywise costume doesn’t work is that Skarsgård looks instantly frightening to even me, who has never had any clown fears in his life before. This might work well on the scare front, but Pennywise can’t kill unless Pennywise gets the kids over to him first. So, the look of the costume is really, really cool to me, and quite creepy, but it is for this very reason that it doesn’t make sense to me in the end.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron:</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I'm with you on not finding clowns scary. I feel, sometimes, like coulrophobia is one of those made up fears a lot of people claim to have, but don't really put much stock in (this is not to say that people cannot be afraid of clowns, just that I think the general widespread nature of the fear has been artificially overblown). The only fear I feel when confronted with a clown is the social fear that the clown might try to involve me in its shenanigans, and I do not want to be performing with a clown. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These days I don’t normally read a lot of articles about movies before they come out, though I used to read Entertainment Weekly, Starlog, and occasionally Fangoria cover to cover and eagerly follow the hype machine promoting cool-looking movies. I made one of the rare exceptions earlier this year, however, when Entertainment Weekly ran an interview with Janie Bryant, the costume designer behind the new Pennywise outfit. I was curious as to the thought process behind the drastically different new look, and found the article to be quite illuminating. Not in the sense that it illuminated aspects of the film, but that it was interesting to read about the amount of thought and research that goes into something like this. In the interview Bryant mentions the many different costuming styles that combined in this one clown outfit, pointing out the stylistic anachronisms that date the fabrics and patterns to a variety of centuries, that the makeup recalls a harlequin more than a traditional clown, and that the costume itself balloons out in several places to recall a spider’s thorax. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAeeb8kcJ8ZNnvTePEZQanfRDhuL4ewxJzM3FzK5LZSRYXMQ8APxTtJFyLyfLloFUEbaauV9TIIWTWpZqXknkqLAwuCvnjCZpTK46WA75a3CqkXWJn9hqtpK5tzL0_xmH2ezKVNH8IGI/s1600/ItNeibolt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="654" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAeeb8kcJ8ZNnvTePEZQanfRDhuL4ewxJzM3FzK5LZSRYXMQ8APxTtJFyLyfLloFUEbaauV9TIIWTWpZqXknkqLAwuCvnjCZpTK46WA75a3CqkXWJn9hqtpK5tzL0_xmH2ezKVNH8IGI/s320/ItNeibolt.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Until I actually saw the film I didn’t place, as you did probably earlier than I, that the costume also looked a bit too frightening for an entity trying to disguise itself to win the trust of children. But then, there are a couple of in-story explanations for that costume, one implied and the other requiring a bit more conjecture. First off: Pennywise is not human, and not of any one time. It awakens approximately every three decades for about a year and a half, and it takes its various forms from the thoughts of the children it preys on. It is entirely likely that Pennywise doesn’t really know what a child would be comforted by, or what a child would find appealing. Second: the Pennywise we see in the film has a slightly different modus operandi from the Pennywise in the novel. In the novel, Pennywise alternates between lulling its victims into a false sense of security and outright terrorizing them. I think the line in the book is that ‘fear seasons the meat’, implying that It will eat anything (and in the novel does eat some adults when the opportunity arises), but that fear just makes it better. In the movie, it appears that Pennywise can only eat when children are afraid. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The death of Georgie Denbrough foreshadows this when Pennywise is trying to lure him into the sewer. In the scene he tries to convince Georgie that he is an actual clown who has been blown into the sewer along with the rest of the circus (which is a detail taken straight from the novel). Georgie is of course initially skeptical, but as Pennywise conjures more of the illusion, bringing to life the sounds of the circus and the smells of the food, Georgie becomes less afraid. There’s a moment where he laughs, at which point Pennywise completely shuts down. His mouth goes slack, his eyes go distant, and he stops responding to anything until Georgie gets nervous again because of the clown’s odd behavior, at which point Pennywise snaps back into predatory action. This explanation is confirmed later in the movie when it becomes clear that It literally can’t fight back when the kids are no longer afraid. So, possibly, the costume is a conscious decision on It’s part in order to always seem a little off, to always keep the kids a little nervous.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was clear to me that Andy Muschietti, along with his screenwriters (credited to Gary Dauberman, Chase Palmer, and Cary Fukunaga, who was originally attached as director), came at this material as fans first and foremost. Whatever faults we could find with the film, it’s safe to say it isn’t work-for-hire hackwork. What drew Muschietti to this book, and what he chose to focus on in the film, may not be exactly what draws me to the book, but that’s a difference of interpretation not appreciation. In fact, when I left the theatre my initial feeling, posted in a brief facebook post, was that I was willing to chalk up any disappointments in the film to my abiding familiarity with the book, and a lingering inability to completely let go the pictures I had in my mind. Since I think people unfairly compare movies to the books they were based on, ignoring that the two different mediums have their own tropes and requirements, I tend to head in the opposite direction. If the movie works as a movie, no matter what it changes from the book, I have to consider it a success, even if I do sometimes go back to that “why remake?” question.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has a wonderful visual look, and captures quite a bit of the feeling of place the book instills. Cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung (a frequent collaborator with </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Oldboy</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> director Chan-wook Park) gives the small town setting a slightly washed out look appropriate to the nostalgic ‘80s time period, with just a hint of grey in all those deep greens and sun drenched fields. At times </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> resembles an indie coming of age movie more than it does a horror film. This is appropriate, because in order for </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to work, the friendship between the seven kids at the center of the story needs to feel real. Equal time needs to be given over to scenes of the kids just hanging out and dealing with everyday kid stuff before they get to the shapeshifting clown. As I exited the theatre after watching </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I walked alongside a group of people who had left the same screening, and listened to one man ranting about how much was left out of the book, and how much could have been cut out of the movie to make room for it. He was upset by one scene in particular, where the Loser’s Club go swimming in the quarry. I had the opposite reaction, enjoying the all-too-brief moments of simple fun and camaraderie between the kids. The novel </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is a weird, meandering, shaggy story, full of countless asides and brief flashbacks within flashbacks, and part of its charm lies in how naturally we get to know these characters, how just hanging out with them brings its own fun. I was happy, at least, to see that translated to the screen, however briefly.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I won’t say those changes were significant roadblocks for me, they were simply alterations I noticed and let pass by. I will say, however, that I was quite hoping to see Mike Hanlon’s first encounter with It finally brought to the screen. When he first meets It, Pennywise has taken the form of a giant bird, nesting in the caved-in basement of the Kitchener Ironworks, which Mike is exploring. It was such a striking image when I read it as a child, and even now as an adult, where I can see more than a few echoes of the topiary garden scene from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Shining</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I found parts of it quite chilling. I didn’t actually expect it would survive to screen in that form, but still, hope springs eternal. This actually brings me to my one real disappointment with the movie: the treatment of Mike Hanlon.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the novel, Mike Hanlon is the silent linchpin of the group. Stuttering Bill is the undisputed, and unspoken, leader of the pack, but Mike Hanlon, although he’s the final person to join the Loser’s Club, is the one that is able to help define what it is they’re facing. He’s also the one that stays behind, the one that remains in Derry and keeps watch for the return of It, calling the others back when it’s clear they have unfinished business. He’s a history buff, a trait inherited from his father, and his knowledge is helpful in figuring out what Pennywise is, and what its goal is. He also, among the kids, has the only truly loving and supportive home life. While Richie’s family also seems loving and supportive, his parents seem more than little exasperated with him. Ben’s mother loves him, but the death of his father and their financial troubles take their toll. Beverly’s father is abusive, Eddie’s mother is overbearing, Bill’s are distant and cold since Georgie’s death. Stan’s parents are mostly not present in the book. But Mike has it pretty good: he lives on a farm with his parents, and though he works as hard as you’d expect a young black kid working on a farm would, his home is described with overwhelming warmth, and he lives with incredible mutual respect and love between him and his parents. Mike is a Loser because of the color of his skin, while the others are Loser’s due to temperament and upbringing. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So I was more than a little let down by the fact that Mike in the movie lives with his gruff and angry grandfather, his parent’s having been killed in a fire in which Mike witnessed their deaths as they screamed outside his door. Further, his role in the movie is drastically reduced, only joining the group near the end of the film, at which point he becomes a glorified extra hanging out in the background. And the film took his most defining trait, a driving curiosity and knack for digging up forgotten histories, and gave it to Ben! But he’s not the only one to get short shrift. Beverly spends most of the movie as a willful, clever girl who has a tendency to take charge, or at least get things rolling when the boys are indecisive, only to end the movie as a silent damsel in distress, a piece of bait Pennywise uses to lure the children to his lair and separate them. In the novel Beverly is the one to defeat Pennywise during their first battle, while she spends a good portion of the final showdown in this film not doing much of anything. It’s a slightly distasteful development for the movie to sideline the only two major characters who aren’t young white men.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik, I know you haven’t read the book as recently as I have, so did the changes bother you, or were you able to let them slide?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I am really unable to identify substantive changes to the story because it has been so long since I read the book and, as stated, it did not have nearly the impact on me at the age of 22 as it did on you at age 12. I know our original plan was to reread the book again before the movie came out, and you are indeed re-reading it now where I am not; I don’t have the time right now for a nearly 1,200 page novel on my current schedule of projects. Yes, I am disappointed that I haven’t because it is exactly this sort of question that can stymie this review, given the subject matter of our website. But I didn’t come into this proclaiming myself to be an expert on Stephen King, but rather as someone who used to be quite well acquainted with his work and who wishes, at least on a low level, to refamiliarize himself with King’s writings and to compare them against the film versions. In this case, I guess that I am failing our cause by not rereading the book, but my reasons for not doing so are exactly as stated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">But, truth be told, even after reading the book when it first came out, I really didn’t take much time to identify what was missing and what was added to the original mini-series. I just remember watching it when it premiered on ABC in 1990, loving the first half, being a little disappointed in the second half, and wishing the mini-series had at least another night of airing to flesh out everything a little more satisfactorily. Just as you are able to do, I usually divorce my feelings for a favored book from whatever I am watching, and able to accept the entities as separate.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOI0a870mwSw1h_FYifWO_gxT5NOCIB259-IJIOsmhtQEcaR6KXp_w3g1zCN6mB5-S92L7u2Yhras1Cs_EGFWZ_an3Dse_-HnwIv-MTccdwKtwbVYlTnSy_c2sAugUZkQKM0BQOLyOyw/s1600/ItLosers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOI0a870mwSw1h_FYifWO_gxT5NOCIB259-IJIOsmhtQEcaR6KXp_w3g1zCN6mB5-S92L7u2Yhras1Cs_EGFWZ_an3Dse_-HnwIv-MTccdwKtwbVYlTnSy_c2sAugUZkQKM0BQOLyOyw/s320/ItLosers.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, however, with a two-part movie series, where the first movie is less than an hour shorter in running length than the entire mini-series, it looks like that time is being spent. But could I readily identify what has been cut from the book and what hasn’t (apart from that one big scene in the book that I hate)? Not down to minor details like you could, but about those details… I have read a lot of responses on social media and in comments on reviews of the movie online, and everyone has something they were glad they left in or were upset was left out of the movie. But most of it seems like mere details, like a kid holding a Lego turtle like he did in the book or a kid wearing a particular t-shirt. This type of stuff might be good fan service, but it really means little in the course of the narrative of the story. I will agree with you on the way Mike Hanlon is handled. In my memory of the story and the mini, Mike is a much larger character than he is in the movie, and I am rather confused as to why his time and character have been reduced so much. So, yeah, I agree that this might be another case of Hollywood whitewashing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think the thing that I noticed most was the changes in the fears of the various kids. No Universal monsters like the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Creature from the Black Lagoon</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> or Frankenstein’s Monster. No big ass freaky giant bird. I understand why they had to change some of the fears; even Pennywise is not immune to copyright law. And it probably makes sense since the time period has shifted. While the kids in the ‘80s would undoubtedly have been well aware of the Universal Monster characters – most of the major Universal Monster flicks were readily available on VHS in that decade – those characters would not have had the same impact as in the 1950s, when those films were arriving on televisions across the country packaged on Shock Theater starting in 1957, the year in which the story involving the kids begins in the book.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But the change in time period is off-putting in a way, because the town and the way the kids behave (for the most part) still looks like it is in the 1950s, even the bike that Ben rides. I found it a little jarring when there would be a New Kids on the Block reference, because honestly, they could have never said the year and I wouldn’t have cared.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron:</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> That is a pretty good point that I hadn’t consciously realized, but now that you mention it I recognize it immediately as true. Aside from a few scattered period details (Ben has a Walkman and listens to New Kids on the Block; the movie theatre marquee lists </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Lethal Weapon 2</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Batman</i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">; the slide projector instead of the family photo album) and general outfits worn by the characters, the film could have taken place in the ‘50s. Even the town of Derry itself feels out of time. The size of the population, the architecture and layouts of various stores, and the look of the main street certainly make the place feel a few decades out of time. That didn’t bother me at the time, though, so until I watch the film again I’m not really going to hold that against it. Likely they were trying to simply make the film feel timeless, despite being set in a very specific period.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">What did bother me, the more I thought about it, was how so much of the shaggy weirdness of the novel was sanded down and slotted into a more recognizable cinematic structure. In the novel we get to meet most of the kids individually before they come together in the end, while in the movie most of them are friends already. That makes sense in a time-saving way, but it cuts out some opportunities for character development, and serves to cut down the already limited screentime for Mike and, to an extent, Beverly. More egregious than that (and really, I’m not upset about them speeding the story along, it’s what movies need) is the decision to make Georgie’s fate a mystery to everyone but the audience. In the novel Georgie’s body is found immediately, while in the new movie Georgie simply vanishes. I know why it was done: it gives Bill a hero’s quest and provides a forward momentum to the film to have Bill driven to find what happened to his brother and locate either his body or where he’s being held. But again it alters the tone (negatively, in my opinion) and limits some of the potential the original story had. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I mention up above that I wished the film had had more moments of the kids just hanging out, and that criticism stands. I think giving the film such a strong forward momentum makes sense narratively, but also lessens the impact of the truly horrific moments. I wish the kids had spent more time at the barrens, building dams and just playing around. Clearly that would have further alienated people like the ones I passed exiting the theatre, but I think it would have made it that much scarier when things suddenly took a turn for the nightmarish. Furthermore, this cuts out most of the interludes and historical scenes from the novel, which help to flesh out just how far-reaching It's influence has been over the centuries. Clearly, the movie can't have everything, and I didn't expect most of those scenes to be in the film, but the fact that It has been in Derry longer than humankind has been around is a crucial part of the novel, and is condensed into a couple of brief implications in the film. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But before I completely turn around and say I hated this movie, I want to reiterate that I really did enjoy </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I had a great time at the theatre watching it and look forward to watching it again. It had a pleasing look, engaging performances from the kids, some eye-catching imagery, and one hell of a charismatic villain. The film hit a bit of a sweet spot for me, and I can envision myself adding this to my annual Halloween season rotation. All that being said, I am a little disappointed in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> as an adaptation of one of my favorite novels. Not only for the reasons I’ve listed above, but also because I think they might have written themselves into a corner for the eventual sequel (coming out in two years). I have to admit I was shocked to hear, as this movie was passing box office milestones for horror films, that a sequel had not yet been written, cast, or greenlit. It’s only half of the story and the studio hadn’t bothered to put much thought into the last half. Not the most encouraging sign. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I feel like all of the efforts to sand down the story’s rougher edges in the first film are going to make it more difficult to dive into the second film, in which the story’s weirder, more cosmic elements really come to the fore. The film had some foreshadowing, especially in how often turtles were mentioned or seen briefly, or that scene where the deadlights appear to be coming out of Pennywise’s mouth, but I’m beginning to doubt that the next film is going to try and tackle the cosmic horror of the novel. Certainly Andy Muschietti’s stated plan to make Mike Hanlon a junky in the next film (while all of the other kids in the Loser’s Club become world-famous successes) just adds to my feeling that he doesn’t have the firmest grasp on these characters, or that he’s aware how that reads in a film that has already sidelined every character that isn’t white and isn’t male.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Putting aside all that junk about comparisons with the novel, what should or shouldn’t have been in the film, and pitting performances and design elements from both versions against each other – and when I say “junk” I am not discounting the fact that talking about all of that stuff is great fun most of the time – ultimately, for me, reviewing this film must be done in lock-step with the way that I review all films. My two primary concerns with any film are whether I enjoyed the experience or not and whether I thought the film succeeded on its own terms. For the new version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I must say “yes” to both counts. I had a remarkably good time seeing the film in a theatre. The crowd only filled just under half of the room, but everyone seemed to be as into the film as I was. Scary? I don’t care about that crap. Only actual humans really scare me at all, but I will admit that the film did creep me out on occasion, even when (or especially because of when) I knew where it was going. People love to be tough and proclaim that something wasn’t scary publicly, but I will tell you when a film gets to me. I liked to be scared, but I don’t like those scares to be cheap. Unfortunately, the industry has largely resorted to jump scares to make their cash, and those are the cheapest, lamest scares imaginable. So I rely on creepiness more than anything to see if the film affects me in any way. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pennywise did get to me on several occasions, and the Modigliani painting effect was pretty disturbing (though it also annoyed me to a certain degree). In the end, it is the real-life horrors in any film that are the most disconcerting, and It comes flush with murderous bullies, coldly uncaring adults at every turn, and child abuse both mental and sexual. That notorious scene in the novel involving Beverly getting it on with each of the boys is thankfully never brought to the screen (nor should it ever) – another way is found to portray the gang’s trust and deep friendship – and I am thankful that if King’s editors don’t see fit to steer The Author away from something remarkably stupid that at least the occasional film production company comes along and says, “Oh, shit… we can’t do that. Why the hell did he do that?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of the kids, while Finn Wolfhard is the comparatively “big” name here (and what a name) because of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Stranger Things</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and he gets the best dialogue in the film, getting to play the foul-mouthed Richie Tozier, it is Sophie Lillis as Beverly Marsh who is real revelation here. I believe she has the toughest and darkest role of the kids, obviously, and I believe she comes off as both memorable and the most convincing of the kids in her performance. (Unlike you, I don’t think she gets sidelined at all, but is the most prominent member of the group, even with needing to be rescued… an unfortunate and unnecessary trope) You mentioned that the character of Mike really gets downsized, and I feel he is completely forgettable once he is there, but I also think that Jaeden Lieberher as Bill Denbrough just came off as a little too much of a wallflower most of the time for me to buy into him as the eventual leader of the group. And maybe you can refresh me on this, but I thought the kids were all roughly of the same age, but the kid playing Ben Hanscom seemed too small for that age. (It was probably his babyface that threw me off, because I know the actor Jeremy Ray Taylor is actually 14 now.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Apart from the period issues we discussed, the film still worked for me completely as an adventure and as a horror film. I had watched the mini very recently, so it was quite fresh in my mind, but I was able to divorce myself from it as I watched the new version and sank quite nicely into my seat and lost myself for well over two hours. Kubrick’s version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Shining</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is longer, but I think this new version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> might be the longest theatrical King adaptation since </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Green Mile</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (definitely the longest at over three hours) in 1999. (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Shawshank Redemption</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is also slightly longer than the new </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.) What keeps me from loving </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Green Mile</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is its sheer overlength (and part of its plotline, which I have never bought into), and as for </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Shining</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, which I love, I still feel every single minute of its length as it slowly drips by on the screen. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With the new </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I didn’t notice that well over two hours had passed until the credits rolled – even knowing the film’s running time going into the theatre – and part of this may be attributed to the fact that I was anxiously awaiting some sort of connective tissue between this film and the hopefully eventual Part 2 featuring at least one of the adult versions of the kids. That tissue never really arrives, though, and I think that it is possible that if you are not familiar with the story already, you could leave the movie thinking the story has been told. If that is the case for the viewer, then I can imagine some of them leaving more than a bit disappointed. Luckily, the filmmakers put a “Chapter One” title on the film just at the start of the end credits, so even the unfamiliar will get the hint that there is more to come.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUoxCLRRg5VOSwRjK5W5xrfrA6chojLlh8VLMv43NdPRtqxaCKMxvSUUr2vpigFv43CkEBh6V3M9dTN-zJbn1M0HkUWjHGjB6bdz8cdTLq7_MQcnIUOW-SAc0fZLR2JnSLbNKwG6UW4E/s1600/Pennywise-Hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUoxCLRRg5VOSwRjK5W5xrfrA6chojLlh8VLMv43NdPRtqxaCKMxvSUUr2vpigFv43CkEBh6V3M9dTN-zJbn1M0HkUWjHGjB6bdz8cdTLq7_MQcnIUOW-SAc0fZLR2JnSLbNKwG6UW4E/s320/Pennywise-Hand.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me, I look forward to the sequel, and this film’s massive success practically ensures it now. As you stated earlier, there is hopefully more to come. On a side note regarding how terrible the publicity machine has become in recent years, I firmly believe that the communication between Hollywood and the public concerning both this film series and the recent adaptation of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The Dark Tower</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> – and its supposed iterations both in film and TV to come, all of them doubtful now – have been incredibly poor. (I will say the same for Universal’s handling of their Monsters franchise, now called (stupidly) Dark Universe, which only moves in stutters and stops and denial of previous films when they don’t perform to industry standards. All I want is a goddamned </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Creature From the Black Lagoon</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> movie…) We have been seeing varying reports over the past two years about whether there really were two </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>It</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> movies planned, but as you pointed out, the second is only now being developed post-success. But I think that in the end it comes down to the filmmakers, and if they manage to keep the same team and allow them to give the same care and attention that they obviously spent on this one, we might come close to the same mood when leaving the theatre in another two years. (Even if the adult versions of the characters were nowhere near as interesting as the kids, for my two cents…)</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Aaron: </b>To briefly respond to a couple of your thoughts above, yes, the kids are generally the same age in the novel, and as I recall they're all within a year of each other. And I also thought the kids in question did a pretty good job, with, of course, Finn Wolfhard stealing every scene he was in due to Richie's motormouthed commentary on whatever is happening. As for the "Chapter One" title, I would not be surprised if that title were moved to the beginning of the movie for the DVD release. It seemed like Andy Muschietti deployed it at that point in the film to pique interest in a sequel, and to let those unfamiliar with the story know there was more coming. But also, at the time he was putting the film together, it was not at all certain that a sequel would be greenlit, so he saved it for the end the way a television show will sometimes end on a cliffhanger in order to get viewers invested enough that another season will be made. Or, if you want to keep it cinematic, the way </span><span style="background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Iron Man </i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">deployed Samuel Jackson at the end of the film to hype the expanding Marvel cinematic universe.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And as for that eventual sequel: I have faith that Andy Muschietti and his screenwriters can stick the landing, even though it's really too far out for conjecture to be worth anything. But then what am I doing here if not comparing, theorizing, and conjecturing? As much as I enjoyed It, and as much faith I have in this same creative team putting together a sequel, I am only worried insofar as, as you say, the adults are inherently less interesting than the kids, and the amount of ground that needs to be covered in the sequel is larger than the amount of ground they covered in this film. I'm worried that a lot of the more cosmic elements of this story are bound to be cut out, and while that doesn't mean the film will be bad, it does make me think that Andy Muschietti and his writers might have written themselves into a bit of a corner. Of course, I am expecting to be proven wrong once we get a chance to see the sequel ourselves, in about two years. Myself, I'm not-so-secretly hoping he just hires all of the kids from the original miniseries to play their adult counterparts (minus, sadly, Jonathan Brandis).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-2800577a-d8f5-6009-e630-33bbf47fd064"><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">Rik’s Rating:</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">7/9</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">Aaron's Rating: 7/9</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, that brings us to the end of another edition of We Who Watch Behind the Rows. We hope you enjoyed this discussion, as we kick off the Halloween season. I'm sure there are a lot of things we've missed, befitting a film with it's origins in such a dense piece of writing, but luckily we'll have plenty more chances to discuss this material. We hope you stick with us for our future discussions as continue to revisit the many worlds of Stephen King.</span></span></div>
WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-88004388155824196912017-09-11T14:02:00.000-07:002017-09-11T15:13:52.014-07:00Carrie (2002) Pt. 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">[To read Part 1 of this review, </span><a href="http://wewhowatchbehindtherows.blogspot.com/2017/09/carrie-2002-pt-1.html"><b><span style="color: blue;">please click here</span></b></a><span style="color: #990000;">.]</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>The other day, you and I were discussing the new series <i>American Gods</i>, which is adapted from Neil Gaiman’s stunning novel. Fuller has proven to be a reliable favorite of mine – chiefly through <i>Pushing Daisies</i> and <i>Hannibal</i> – though I also quite enjoyed <i>Wonderfalls</i> and his ill-fated attempt to bring back the Munsters in <i>Mockingbird Lane</i> a few years ago. (Seriously, I thought it was a cool, edgy try… Eddie Izzard as Herman Munster? Absolutely…) He got a raw deal in being brought into a desperate situation to try to fix <i>Heroes</i> in the middle of its run, but I have liked most of his projects apart from that. (Sadly, I have only ever seen a single episode of <i>Dead Like Me</i>.) And I am excited that he is heading up the latest <i>Star Trek</i> series – <i>Discovery</i> – due out later this year from CBS later, even if I think shifting the show after its premiere to their online All-Access subscription service may not be a wise move. (I am pretty certain the wife and I are not going to spend the extra $$$ to sign up for it, since we have so many pay services already.).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This teleplay was basically Fuller’s third separate scripting job in Hollywood (after writing for </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Star Trek: Voyager</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> in its last season, but first for </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> deep in its run). Fuller also served as an executive producer on </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> (as he did for </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Voyager</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">), but as to his level of involvement with the actual production and direction beyond having input on the adaptation he wrote, I do not know. Even though the script includes many elements not seen on screen before (as we mentioned), I would not say the script is a loving adaptation of the novel, as if someone really wanted to prove that </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> could be done “the right way”. The finished product feels more like rote network fare, has a distinct cheesiness to it almost from the first scene, and is plagued by some amateurish acting from its, yes, admittedly mostly appealing cast (which includes some favorites of mine – Clarkson, Bettis and Isabel – as well as a couple of non-faves: the aforementioned de Ravin and Rena Sofer, the queen of failed pilots).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_0dSc5fdxrhMDMF5t5XGG0e2cBRg4DBoaon5mrjY5ht_DLhv0mxsjtkBcvuhtjcjPcE3znoIKLiU0cC1cRz9RupHsX18ZyjPPSB8nHVD2X_9MYS3hK6hNXm06FcSMBgqktERpp15W4Q/s1600/Carrie_2_Clarkson_Bettis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="660" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_0dSc5fdxrhMDMF5t5XGG0e2cBRg4DBoaon5mrjY5ht_DLhv0mxsjtkBcvuhtjcjPcE3znoIKLiU0cC1cRz9RupHsX18ZyjPPSB8nHVD2X_9MYS3hK6hNXm06FcSMBgqktERpp15W4Q/s320/Carrie_2_Clarkson_Bettis.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Any adaptation of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, outside of having to deal with the looming shadow of the De Palma version, is ultimately going to live and die by its casting of the title character and her mother. First, let’s tackle Margaret White, previously essayed in Oscar-nominated form by Piper Laurie (and eventually by Oscar winner Julianne Moore). Here she is played by Patricia Clarkson. Now, it may be a little bit in the too much information department were I to disclose that I have had well more than one not-so-chaste dream about Ms. Clarkson over the past twenty years or so. Somehow, she just does it for me, and even more so with age. Given this, you would think that I would be all over any part she plays, but you would be quite wrong. I think Clarkson does a serviceable job in the role, and my opinion regarding this is really based on my own assumption of what she should be playing instead. I just don’t like seeing her in a role where her sexuality is repressed to an incredible degree – unless one can work a kinky, fundamentalist Christian dominatrix angle into one’s fantasy, and that will just not do it for me… ever. I don’t even like regular fundamentalist anythings. So, the problem is squarely of my own libido.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think Clarkson does fine in the role, but she doesn’t threaten to take over the film in the way that Laurie and Moore do in their turns at bat, and it is that threat – much in the way that Margaret White’s very presence and lifelong psychosis threaten to consume her daughter’s existence (possibly by killing the girl herself) – that is very much needed in this part. No knock on Clarkson’s acting abilities, but I don’t think she has that extra gear that both Laurie and Moore have shown time and time again that they possess where they can hit an apex of truly unhinged, maniacal abandon if required. Perhaps I also don’t buy the relationship between Margaret and Carrie here because Angela Bettis is nowhere near being a teenager herself, and was, at 28 years of age, the oldest of the three Carries when filming took place. It became almost impossible to believe the relationship between the two, and as I said, part of this is because of my long-standing physical attraction to Ms. Clarkson. It is completely unfair for me to judge someone’s acting performance in this manner, but there it is. I cannot see past this particular glare in my logic. (Despite my insistence to the contrary, I guess that I am quite human after all.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let’s move on to Bettis herself. Aaron, you mentioned previously Ms. Bettis’ excellent job in the film </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, which is exactly the moment where she stuck in my head, though I had forgotten (or didn’t notice) her in roles previous to </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. A past acquaintance at my old, longtime Anchorage gig recommended the film to me for about three months, and I never sought it out on my own, so he finally bought me a copy for my birthday because he was so sure I would love that movie. It turned out that I did indeed love it, and I probably watched </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> about a dozen times over the next month. It wasn’t merely Bettis that caused my positive reaction to </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, as I was really into the pre-stardom Anna Faris at the time, who has a most memorable supporting role in the film. That is not really fair to Bettis, because </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is really a shining moment for her, and interesting supporting parts aside, the film is really all hers. In fact, her performance is an indie horror tour de force, though it would not take much to convince me to drop the “indie horror” part and just proclaim it as a tour de force for an actress who probably deserves more opportunities to shine in the same way. Unfortunately, Bettis has never really broken through into the mainstream. Part of this may be due to her looks, which are unconventional to say the least. While I find her personally attractive, she may not be Hollywood’s normal cup of tea. But she keeps working and I delight in seeing her pop up here and there in bit roles. Along the way, she directed </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Roman</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, another odd horror-romance somewhere in the neighborhood of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, which starred her </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> director, Lucky McKee, in the title role. (She also shot her own portion of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The ABCs of Death</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCi5eB1_LO03b6zp9Q-K3m1HgAy3PEgw7rvp3yb7NoTaF2dvqwUz_YvK7av8j-xUgXKyV3W3HPe_xtggESKWshmRZ19cUHjVsEWPrc0dcbTi1BAbnc3VEUCiYBbHCEZFLm0GISo9vwnPQ/s1600/Carrie_6_Bettis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCi5eB1_LO03b6zp9Q-K3m1HgAy3PEgw7rvp3yb7NoTaF2dvqwUz_YvK7av8j-xUgXKyV3W3HPe_xtggESKWshmRZ19cUHjVsEWPrc0dcbTi1BAbnc3VEUCiYBbHCEZFLm0GISo9vwnPQ/s320/Carrie_6_Bettis.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is more than a small crossroads where Bettis’ performances in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> meet. First off, both films were released the same year (2002). </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> hit Sundance in January of that year and was entered in festivals well into the next year, while </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was not premiered on NBC until November. However, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> did not hit regular movie screens until June of 2003 and then came out on DVD the next month. As a result, the public saw </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> first, even though </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was filmed over a year before. Because the finished product of this version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> looked so dated already when it came out, and because I saw it when it originally aired, it was easy for me to believe that perhaps Bettis used her role as Carrie White as an influence on her portrayal of May Dove Canady, the deeply lonely girl who grew up with a lazy eye covered by a patch and found herself mocked and ostracized by the other kids.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For years, May is kept pretty much imprisoned by her overbearing mother who convinces poor May that dolls are her only friends. As an adult, May fixes her eyesight, but has an overriding obsession that will play a tragic part in her relationships with the people she soon befriends or takes as lovers. For those who have not seen the film, I will leave the plot description there. Like Carrie White, May Canady is awkward and virginal, more than a little unhinged due to her abusive upbringing and seclusion from the outside world, but desperate to find love and acceptance among her peers. To escalate what I started in the preceding paragraph, it is not hard to imagine that the original version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> or King’s novel may have played a part in McKee’s creation of the character of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and possibly of Bettis’ excellent performance in the role. And because the 2002 </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> entered the public consciousness first, I am not the only one to have thought that Bettis’ role in that led to her fine work in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, when in fact, it is the complete opposite. I don’t know whether the producers of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> saw her work in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> at a festival or screening and decided to hire her for </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, but it seems clear from the timeframe that we must use her work as May Canady as at least an influencer, if not the primary one, and not the other way around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bettis is indeed the best part of the 2002 version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. Naturally, I don’t think she equals Sissy Spacek in the role, though I do think she is better than Chloe Grace Moretz in 2013. (We will get to that performance and film eventually…) Since it would be too easy to closely align her take on Carrie with that of May, though there are still major differences, someone who has seen both films may have to divorce their memories of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">May</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> almost completely to watch </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> in order to see Bettis as playing a separate character. This was not the problem in 2002 since I saw </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> first, but May Canady is the defining role in Bettis’ catalogue. Spacek’s looks, especially her eyes and freckles, made her rather unconventional as well, but there was still a noticeable beauty queen look to her in the prom scene where it became hard to imagine that she wasn’t popular already. (In my book, then and now, Spacek is a veritable knockout in that scene.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWlFQ7G1ov92PBcB5nAJ1RSP3FJ12q5gbAyhtWqetB1sp7w7FaWdQcWHZCUrEmMPTzfza8eaMnPYg_1yN9nw_7ulT-hccwXT7ork8oyj7hg1jfoSXpMKp5U3O3AI-8DbFCIbx1J84UU3M/s1600/MAY+%25282002%2529+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWlFQ7G1ov92PBcB5nAJ1RSP3FJ12q5gbAyhtWqetB1sp7w7FaWdQcWHZCUrEmMPTzfza8eaMnPYg_1yN9nw_7ulT-hccwXT7ork8oyj7hg1jfoSXpMKp5U3O3AI-8DbFCIbx1J84UU3M/s320/MAY+%25282002%2529+poster.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bettis has an “otherness” to her at all times that is both what makes her appealing to me but probably works against her in Hollywood. But in a film where that element of otherness is necessary to tell the story of a girl who is possessed of massively dangerous telepathic capabilities that are largely untapped until she finally is pushed to her breaking point, Bettis may be the one actress of the trio who has come closest to embodying the role of Carrie White in a believably physical sense. (This is not to say she is anywhere near what King wrote of the character, because his Carrie was described as having acne, being fat, and having “bovine reactions”. None of this has never been a part of any adaptation thus far onscreen. I would love to see someone try it though; the film would tie in perfectly with the currently sizzling topic of body shaming and acceptance.) Of the three actresses to fill the role, Bettis is the only one to truly possess that otherness, the alien sense that I mentioned that makes her seem most likely to me to have been cast aside by the popular kids at the school. Bettis’ sharp looks combined with her gaunt but wiry physicality is her most remarkable trait in the role, apart from her acting skills.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And when her character finally makes full use of her powers, Bettis also comes off for me as probably the most potentially frightening of the Carries. While the ballroom scene in this version comes nowhere near the remarkable perfection of the original, Bettis seems genuinely possessed as whatever force has overwhelmed her senses seems to focus singularly upon delivering death and destruction down upon the heads of Carrie’s tormentors, real or imagined. Until late in the scene, Bettis stands stock still, her arms straight at her sides, her fingers held together in spear-like points as her powers are spilled outward in every direction, and even employed on people she cannot see directly with earthly senses. The editing is not nearly as tautly conceived in Carson’s version of the events, and so the film is left relying on the repeated vision of Bettis, perfectly still and staring forward, her eyes wide, as fire looms behind her and the sparks and screams fly from the crowd before her. Especially in a such a reduced (though, ironically lengthier and more detailed) vision of the story, this viewer connected more deeply with her Carrie at this point than any other, and the sole reason is Bettis’ stark. threatening physicality in the role.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aaron, did you find Bettis as effective in the role as I did, and where did you come down on the dynamic with Clarkson as her mother?</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I think we’ve actually got a slight disagreement coming up, but first I’ll sign off on your thoughts as to Patricia Clarkson in this role. She is perfectly fine and menacing in the role, and yet lacks the theatricality necessary to really go over the top. On the other side of the equation, we have differing views on Angela Bettis in the role, though we both enjoy her work (here and elsewhere). Bettis may not have been the right age, or the right look for what Stephen King originally wrote, but I find her to be the most believable as a high school student.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You say that Bettis has an otherworldly quality, and while I have found that true of her in other roles, I actually find her the most believable of the three Carries in terms of portraying a socially awkward high schooler. The combination of her body language, stringy hair, not-quite-perfect-complexion, and habit of avoiding eye contact while also awkwardly holding eye contact for way too long when it does happen, struck me as almost painfully realistic. She reminds me of people I knew during my own high school years. Hell, if I’m being honest, she reminds me a bit of myself at my most awkward and insecure. I could actually see this Carrie White as a real flesh and blood teenager, age of the actress notwithstanding.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvflyf8aYIoP0EvH4u2N3Ock2bRP4Be4c93tACaOSp5yrDArD4rLHrdIhhIacstAtvaUDZHdcwdPXesGnXAW1wBqtk5uLy20qID8ekq6g_H26vNf5ljFflQF4jSr3Yg0S14wxUu8QNsKY/s1600/Carrie_3_Bettis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="576" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvflyf8aYIoP0EvH4u2N3Ock2bRP4Be4c93tACaOSp5yrDArD4rLHrdIhhIacstAtvaUDZHdcwdPXesGnXAW1wBqtk5uLy20qID8ekq6g_H26vNf5ljFflQF4jSr3Yg0S14wxUu8QNsKY/s320/Carrie_3_Bettis.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That also, paradoxically, made her the least immediately interesting of the Carries. Realistic human beings are simply not as striking as the more stylized versions of humanity that normally make it to film and television, and I think this version suffers a bit from that. Because you know what isn’t the most entertaining and engaging thing to watch on screen? A realistically awkward, shy, and uncool high school kid. This was, to hear it from Fuller (in an interview for </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Fangoria</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> around the time the film was set to be aired), completely intentional. As an avowed fan of the original, Fuller’s stated goal was to make </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> less of a fairy tale, and more of a realistic tale of teenage angst.</span><br />
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<i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“When we decided to do a remake, we really wanted to ground it in 2002, as opposed to doing a high school show in the ’70s, which is what the original was,”</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Fuller told </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Fangoria</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> back in 2002. He also expressed doubts as to his success in translating such an iconic novel, but in terms of cementing the film in it’s timeframe and presenting a more grounded story, I can assure the filmmakers they succeeded admirably. However, that isn’t necessarily a good thing. The fact that Bettis portrays such a realistic teenager actually dulled the impact of her eventual telekinetic murder spree on prom night. You say she’s the most frightening of the Carries during this scene, but I felt the opposite. Sissy Spacek was so alien, with such an angular profile and those piercing eyes of hers, that she looked positively otherworldly, like an alien or a demon, during her big moment. Chloe Grace-Moretz effectively splits the difference between Spacek and Bettis, seeming earthier but far angrier, like rage personified. Angela Bettis is basically in a trance, standing almost stock still for most of the scene and staring off into nothingness. This isn’t to say she’s bad in the role, of course, just that I found the tone of the ending fairly flat, despite the added carnage (this version is definitely the most true to the source material in terms of Carrie’s wide path of destruction). Some of that lies in the directorial decisions, but I also believe Bettis just pulls back a little too much when she should be swinging for the fences in her performance during this scene.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When a movie gets remade and/or sequelized so many times, I start to look for the reasons behind it. Obviously from a studio standpoint the major factor is always going to be money, but I start to look at why the filmmakers wanted to tell, or retell, this particular story. Remakes allow us to chart cultural and societal changes over the years through how different generations tell the same story, and asking ‘why this story?’ can help illuminate those changes. The problem is this version of </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> doesn’t give us any real answers to that. This film came out three years after the most devastating school shooting our country had seen (sadly, that record has been surpassed). This film was aired less than a year after the most deadly terrorist attack our country had ever seen. The cultural attitude toward violence, particularly violence in schools, had radically shifted, albeit only temporarily, it seems. And yet </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> seems to exist blissfully unaware of these events, and so treats the onscreen violence with neither stylistic flair nor nuanced emotion. It’s just there. Maybe that’s a statement unto itself, but I feel it as more of a missed opportunity.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These problems are most likely a side effect of the original plan to turn this </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> into a weekly television series. Bryan Fuller cited all the proper ‘whys’ when talking about his decision to remake </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">: he invoked Columbine and spoke of his desire to explore the effects of this sort of violence on a small town and how a person would react to the guilt of having done something so monstrous. It’s likely that Fuller held back on all of that stuff in order to get the pilot movie made and seen by the widest audience possible, so that he could then explore the underlying themes once they’d been hooked. I’d like to rate this movie based on those goals, but unfortunately all we have is this one film. An overlong and generally unsatisfying adaptation of a novel that already had one superlative movie for the ages. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Perhaps it was unwise to return to that well once again, especially so soon after the financial and critical flop of </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage: Carrie 2</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. But of course Hollywood increasingly runs on sequels, remakes, reboot, and reimaginings, so just like Carrie herself, this property would find a way to rise from the grave when least expected.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> At last, that’s all for our discussion of the 2002 version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. We have one more </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> that we need to battle: the 2013 version starring Chloe Grace Moretz and Julianne Moore. And contrary to our more recent nature, Aaron and I will make a best effort to have that review posted before October rolls around. See you then!</span><br />
<br />Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-81366166620397052362017-09-09T13:44:00.001-07:002017-09-09T13:44:30.293-07:00Carrie (2002) Pt. 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QhpNcK8ljoRFmFNIRSsdVMFsOMW5GkovfB4tP2uNgbScU-CI0cNM5vqYnl6yGY3U1X-QwBMOXo3ALZIAdoN8SrVWKc6WdaqotKIQiPnNPjPP0hL46pd9Ja00VrJf3N4Diyb4Y6ZjSLA/s1600/We_Who_Will_Watch_Carrie_2002_1200web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="759" data-original-width="1200" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QhpNcK8ljoRFmFNIRSsdVMFsOMW5GkovfB4tP2uNgbScU-CI0cNM5vqYnl6yGY3U1X-QwBMOXo3ALZIAdoN8SrVWKc6WdaqotKIQiPnNPjPP0hL46pd9Ja00VrJf3N4Diyb4Y6ZjSLA/s640/We_Who_Will_Watch_Carrie_2002_1200web.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik Tod Johnson:</b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Boy, are we ever bad at meeting our own announced schedule...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Welcome back to the next installment of </span><b style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>We Who Watch from Behind the Rows</i></b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, our spotlight on the writings of Stephen King and the filmed adaptations of those works. My writing partner, Aaron Lowe, and I were originally intent on using the month of October 2016 (that’s almost an entire year ago, folks!) to post a series of discussions about King’s novel <i>Carrie</i> and the three feature films and single TV movie adapted from it. We were able to get more than half there, but just barely. The month started out well with the discussion of the book, and we jumped right into Brian De Palma’s Oscar-nominated 1976 classic, and then leapt to <i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i> from 1999. Then things went wonky for us, one in a positive way and negative for the other. Aaron had to devote more time to the family once his wife gave birth to their second child, while I had medical issues once more when I sustained a truly obnoxious hip injury that led to months of tests and therapy, and basically made it impossible to sit and write for any length of time.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everything has worked out now though, where we are both itching to get this site (and our other sites) chugging right along again. For </span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We Who Watch</i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, it is especially important for us to be on our game for the remainder of the year, as we have some catching up to do thanks to the spate of brand new Stephen King properties that have hit us in the past couple of months (the first </span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dark Tower</i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> film, the new </span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It</i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> movie, and a new TV series built around the world of </span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mist</i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">; coming up, another series built around and named after King’s legendary town of Castle Rock). You will find a series of recent posts where we have discussed some of these projects after watching the trailers, but first, we need to get these last two </span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> discussions closed for good. Let’s go!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">The Film: Carrie (2002, NBC-TV) Director: David Carson</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>Before I went into the fiction-reading wilderness for a few years, new Stephen King adaptations (or even original films) were a big thing with me. It was probably the early 2000s where I started to having a falling out (and had already mostly stopped reading his books by then). I am not quite sure where I burned out, but it is a good bet that projects like the 2002 television remake of <i>Carrie</i> was one of the reasons I pulled away for a short while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I watched this three-hour (with commercials) version live on NBC in the fall of that year. I was really excited that they were doing a new </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as well. If there is one area where a television adaptation can definitely excel over a theatrical one, it’s in the ability to have more time (as many dedicated readers often dream) to have the full story told as the author intended. Whether such intentions are really taken to heart by the producers and creators of the film or not, I am always going to be one of those people who takes it as a good sign when more scope is granted to a project.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The biggest surprise with the 2002 TV movie is that an actual attempt is made to whisk in details that had been left out of the De Palma version (and would be in the eventual 2013 theatrical remake as well). Right in the opening scene we are shown the character of Sue Snell being questioned by authorities about her involvement in the Carrie White incident, which is modeled after the regular points in the novel (partially told in epistolary style) where her testimony (and that of others) deepens the information we have been given through other sources in the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are some other small bits from the novel ignored by De Palma and his team that have been added to the rendering this time around, but before we get any deeper into them (or even consider if such additions were really necessary), I need to know something. Aaron, did you watch this TV movie when it originally aired on NBC in 2002?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Not only did I not watch it, I’m not even sure I was aware of its existence at the time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Part of me wants to make a joke here about trying to figure out which one of us had the good delay, and which the bad, but yes, I am, for the second time, father to a beautiful baby girl. It’s been wonderful, and time-consuming, and so far we’ve only had to deal with a tiny hail of stones. Sometimes she gets fussy, but we’ve got a nice altar to St. Sebastian in a closet, so we can lock her in there until she calms down.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOgU0gZCH46eIkgSMrOGjtmpXbgjFaKRp6LKUPDHsR8E0yAi0q93ATxrU0GcGsP6hk1plVi0CpeljKh9fKBJGIed_72R5LwyzrLQvoVlhwhbkhw2d3ToLu5gPLXnkz9j6Ul6SLE-dYkY/s1600/Carrie-2002+alt+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOgU0gZCH46eIkgSMrOGjtmpXbgjFaKRp6LKUPDHsR8E0yAi0q93ATxrU0GcGsP6hk1plVi0CpeljKh9fKBJGIed_72R5LwyzrLQvoVlhwhbkhw2d3ToLu5gPLXnkz9j6Ul6SLE-dYkY/s320/Carrie-2002+alt+poster.jpg" width="221" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">You know what? I felt mildly uncomfortable writing that down, when talking about my daughter. This book, and these movies, definitely have a new weight that my younger self would not have considered when first encountering the De Palma film.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">As for this version, I only first watched it in October of last year, when we had originally hoped to finish this piece. It’s possible that I had seen TV spots for its initial airdate or read about it in <i>Entertainment Weekly</i>. In fact, those two things almost certainly happened, yet I have no memory of such. The timing may have been off for me. In November of 2002, I was in the first year of my relationship with my then-girlfriend, now-wife, and I recall I wasn’t watching a lot of television at the time. While you were about to fall out with Stephen King for awhile, I already had, and wouldn’t really get back into paying attention to him for another year or so.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should say that I didn’t actually “fall out” with Stephen King. That implies that I grew to dislike him as an author, when that isn’t actually the case. It’s simply that my literary obsessions moved to a wider array of authors, with a whole new library of titles to read, and I just didn’t keep up with King for awhile. One area where I did most certainly fall out with Stephen King, however, is in his filmed adaptations. It’s well known among Stephen King’s constant readers that the films based on his works are for the most part not very good. That’s nothing new; people are always negatively comparing films to their written counterparts. What really turned me off, however, were the television adaptations of his books. The ‘90s saw a whole slew of TV movies or miniseries based on Stephen King novels and stories, and while they served as an important gateway into his work for me, the novelty quickly faded and the general quality of the films was, to put it generously, suspect. So, even if I had seen some ads or read some articles about this new version of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, I wouldn’t have paid them much mind. It should also be noted that at this time I hadn’t yet read the original novel, which might have had something to do with my apparent lack of interest.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During the opening credits to this version, I began to think I had been ignoring a lost classic, something that had fallen through the cracks and had simply been put out at the wrong time and in the wrong place (i.e., network television in the early 2000s). The film was directed by David Carson (a veteran of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Star Trek: DS9</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and director of the series-bridging </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Star Trek: Generations</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> film, though I won’t hold that one against him), but what was most interesting to me is that it was written by another alumnus of the </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Star Trek</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> family: Bryan Fuller. At the time, Fuller was in the early stages of his career, but following this he would create </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wonderfalls</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dead Like Me</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pushing Daisies</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, and </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hannibal</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Definitely a writer with some interesting visions and macabre tendencies that are right up my alley. On the other side of the camera you’ve got Patricia Clarkson as Margaret White, a pre-Lost Emilie de Ravin as Chris Hargensen, the lovely Katherine Isabel (sadly underused) as Chris’ friend Tina, and Angela Bettis, so charmingly disturbed in May, as Carrie herself.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdQnpna1IOc5ECw2EDPU_PCUetWRwKVKgCUoQqtR4z7KvZlipFzgdy2U-QCeJMoZRfOvuQYgTt8L54ZrB9E0ciwae5JAXyZSkBnqrx2m_GKa-IRIiNKqSM7UwNIjPr-gqNWgsiyJaLMI/s1600/Carrie_4_Bettis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdQnpna1IOc5ECw2EDPU_PCUetWRwKVKgCUoQqtR4z7KvZlipFzgdy2U-QCeJMoZRfOvuQYgTt8L54ZrB9E0ciwae5JAXyZSkBnqrx2m_GKa-IRIiNKqSM7UwNIjPr-gqNWgsiyJaLMI/s320/Carrie_4_Bettis.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">With so many interesting names attached I was sure that I would at least find a lot of worthwhile aspects within this adaptation (as a fan of horror films, I believe you get used to seeing the forest for the trees and grabbing on to anything interesting within even the worst films). Ultimately, I believe that my modest expectation was met, yet nowhere near the levels I was hoping for. A lot of this is the product of its time and venue; early 2000s network television was probably not the best place for this story to be told, and like many films of the time, the producers’ faith in CGI was greater than its limits. The story also feels needlessly padded out. You mention that the longer runtime afforded by television can give the medium an edge over the somewhat more constrained feature film, and yet three hours is more than such a slim novel needed, if we’re being honest.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Rik, you said that this adaptation played a part in your general move away from Stephen King for awhile, so I can assume that you found yourself similarly underwhelmed by this version. But, as you say, this version allows for a lot of the stuff edited out of the De Palma film, like the scene with the hail of rocks from the sky crashing into the Whites’ house during one of Carrie’s frequent punishments, and some of the novel’s epistolary elements. Did any of these moments, or even any of the additions to the source material, liven things up for you?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> There’s the rub. It is simultaneously really cool that the producers of this version did add things missing from the first film that seem so vital in telling the story in the novel and also completely disappointing in that the additions really add very little to the story. And the hail of ice and rocks? Once more, a cool scene in the book that just really plays pretty cheesy in this film, and seeing it onscreen made me wonder if perhaps the scene is just a little too ridiculous in the book as well. [Note: it’s not. It works just fine in the novel.]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You realize in watching the 2002 <i>Carrie</i> (or at least I realized) that De Palma made all the right decisions in slicing the story down to its most primal, necessary elements for relocation to a visual media form. The epistolary style of the original novel is nothing more than basic structure; you can throw out the template if you like and hang the story on some other frame, and as long as you shift the important details and motivations of the characters correctly to the form you have adopted, you could tell the tale however you’d like.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLO3n8nu98tBCIfUB6_mxrskxHqpcjV8NWlOhiVz0JjM2QI-I9GHJsbLgAm-QymfoWwd6qJVc0sshB0o2HtxLANEqxkYYko0zUX8KnuzDIM0noblk9AFsuGaxX5FigmR0b97pz6nw2U8/s1600/Carrie_3_Bettis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="576" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLO3n8nu98tBCIfUB6_mxrskxHqpcjV8NWlOhiVz0JjM2QI-I9GHJsbLgAm-QymfoWwd6qJVc0sshB0o2HtxLANEqxkYYko0zUX8KnuzDIM0noblk9AFsuGaxX5FigmR0b97pz6nw2U8/s320/Carrie_3_Bettis.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To my point, Bram Stoker’s <i>Dracula</i> and Mary Shelley’s <i>Frankenstein</i> are two of the most famous epistolary novels, telling their stories mostly through a series of letters to other parties. Both books have seen extraordinary success in being adapted to other media: stage, radio, television, and most especially, the movies. While hardcore fans (such as even myself at times) long for a version of either book that completely captures each story perfectly in the manner portrayed in their texts, there have been very few attempts overall to do so (though some have tried to varying and debatable degrees of success). The epistolary structure may work on the page for many novels, because it is easy for someone to imagine they have been given a stack of letters and they are discovering some amazing story by reading them in order (or even out of order. But letter reading (or even reading scientific articles about telekinesis, such as in <i>Carrie</i> the novel) really does not allow a story to breathe or open up on a movie or TV screen. Part of this lies in the flashback nature of such writings; the stories are being told of past events, and therefore have no sense of immediacy to the viewer. This can often be deadly in keeping an audience on the edge of their seats, especially to modern audiences.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a result, most versions of either classic novel keep the basic details – most of the characters, locations, settings, and sometimes the time period – and adapt them to whatever structure the filmmakers wish to pursue to tell their version of the story. It may not give us either Shelley or Stoker in undiluted form, but on some occasions, such as the original Universal attempts at both stories in the early 1930s, the results can be staggering and exceedingly popular with audiences for nearly a century. Universal’s </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frankenstein</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> threw out the letters and history of the book, mixed in a large dose of German Expressionism, and thrust the viewer directly into a harrowing night of grave-robbing and scientific madness that would have made Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley crap her knickers had she lived long enough to see such a film. (She would have had to be 134 years old to pull that one off though…) While the 1931 </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frankenstein</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> may have taken place in the past, within itself sans the letters, that past was “the now,” and the viewer was immediately part of the horrifying adventure. By comparison, the first Universal </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dracula</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is notoriously more stage-bound in its approach and rather threadbare, winnowing down the stage play version of the story, which itself already mostly threw out the epistolary trappings of the book. But still, while the play’s story also takes place in the past, it is not told in the past tense. What is happening on stage and in the film is happening now, and the film’s sets and costumes were modern enough (for 1931) that many of the scenes look like they could have wandered in from a party scene in a Norma Shearer movie… well, apart from the blood-sucking Continental who shows up and ruins nearly everyone’s lives. (Then again, he could have wandered in from a Shearer flick too…) Once more, the letters of the book are disappeared, and the characters transported to a world more directly in line with the viewer’s need to be involved in the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The makers of the 2002 version of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> seem convinced that they needed to hew as closely to the novel as they could to differentiate themselves from the De Palma version. There are always large groups of fans that want their favorite books transferred wholesale when adapted, but the structure of a novel scrambled about in epistolary form (though roughly half the novel is still told in prose) is hard to replicate onscreen. Instead of jettisoning the somewhat unwieldy (though successful) structure that contains the story and just making sure they hit the beats of the story and maintain the character arcs properly, the filmmakers boldly tear off chunks of the epistolary sections, such as the post-event interviews of Sue Snell, but ignore the bits where we read documents and news articles related to the case. Excising those last bits is the right move, because it would be extraordinarily hard to adapt such a novel to the big or small screen in satisfactory fashion, but the interviews were really a wash for me as well. The film never really commits to the sections in such a way that they ever convince me they were right to include them, nor do they add much of anything to the film except time. The interview sections don’t work for me at all, serving instead to muddle the pace, and especially in the film’s opening, slowing the proceedings to a deadly crawl almost from the start.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6WDWpfsE-Y05C0D73ypXfKfJpHXIzjRzKolfJfWxQCdnYoOzUXnc1q_FZExkvuCoV-X7cUJYBNBdmRbKTKIQDPPXdNTt5d-H42ohdBoH34lo2ilrKF502sIXQxxUfoX1PTKjYthzWl4/s1600/Carrie_2_Clarkson_Bettis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="660" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6WDWpfsE-Y05C0D73ypXfKfJpHXIzjRzKolfJfWxQCdnYoOzUXnc1q_FZExkvuCoV-X7cUJYBNBdmRbKTKIQDPPXdNTt5d-H42ohdBoH34lo2ilrKF502sIXQxxUfoX1PTKjYthzWl4/s320/Carrie_2_Clarkson_Bettis.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It seems hardly fair at all to compare this version to De Palma’s, but that is why we have this website. De Palma’s film surges forward on kinetic energy throughout; even when opening his film with a seemingly slow, soft focus shower sequence with orchestral accompaniment, there is still a nervy, suspenseful edge to everything. Something is going to snap us out of this haze, and it does, instantly with screaming, crying, taunting laughter, and a girl covered in her own menstrual blood. The De Palma version sets viewers into a nervous state from the start and never lets them go, even up to the climax of the film. In this TV adaptation, director David Carson plunges us right into an interview with a survivor of the Carrie White incident, Sue Snell, as she talks to the authorities. “Tell us about Carrie White, blah, blah, blah”... none of this really needs to be seen. You said earlier that nearly three hours of length may not have been necessary for such a slim novel, and you are right. This viewer felt every extra minute of the stretched out running time, and most of that time was devoted to scenes that could have been better shorthanded by letting the audience simply learn what is happening through the actions of the characters, not by underlining everything with Snell’s testimony.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I think it would be impossible to not compare any of the subsequent <i>Carrie</i> films to the De Palma original. That film just throws such a long shadow over everything else that it’s impossible to not think about it, to weigh the choices against each other and, for the most part, find the other films wanting. I tried my hardest to divorce my reactions from my feeling for the 1976 version, and sadly failed miserably. That’s not to say that I won’t be fair in my critical analysis, because each of these films deserves to be viewed as its own distinct entity (well, aside from <i>The Rage</i>, which is of course, a derivation of De Palma’s film), but when discussing what makes the translation from page to screen work it helps that we’ve got a prime example of what to do, and a few examples of what not to do.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">The thing we seem to keep coming back to is the pace of this version. I rewatched the film this morning, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that two hours twelve minutes (the runtime minus commercials) is too damn long. That’s longer than both of the other versions by over half an hour, and while that may not initially seem like much, you really do feel every minute of it. The infamous shower scene, which opens the other two films (minus a few seconds of volleyball or water polo, and some attempted matricide in the 2013 version) arrives eight minutes into this film, after some schoolroom business setting up the daily ridicule Carrie faces, some gym time (they play baseball this time around), and of course some of that interview nonsense.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">You bring up those interview segments, where a detective (played by David Keith) interviews various survivors of the prom night disaster. Most of these scenes feature Sue Snell, although other survivors show up to offer their two cents as well. We’re in complete agreement as to their uselessness, as they don’t do anything to create anticipation or flesh out the world of the film. One thing that really bothered me about these segments is that they seemed curiously removed from the film itself. Of course, the detective would ask questions which would be related in some way to the scenes we’re about to see, and yet they never really tied together. You would think the obvious format choice would be for the detective to ask a question, and then the scene that followed would take the place of the interviewee’s response, but that isn’t at all how it works here. If this film is meant to be a visualization of the survivors’ recollections, we get way too many scenes that no one would have been around for other than Carrie herself. It feels like the interview segments were just slotted into the existing film rather than the film being built around them. Or perhaps they’re simply a byproduct of this film’s origins on television, because I can see the interview scenes being used to recap things for an audience coming back from commercials, or to create some drama heading into the break.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">There is, actually, another reason for the interview scenes, although I don’t think they were particularly successful in this regard either. The detective initially accuses Sue Snell of being part of the disastrous prank played on Carrie (which is in keeping with the book), but eventually it’s revealed that Carrie’s body was never recovered. We find out in the final moments of the film that Sue Snell, having gone to Carrie’s home and reviving her from nearly being drowned in the tub by Margaret, has helped Carrie fake her death and leave the state. The final scene is Sue Snell driving Carrie to Florida, while Carrie has some disturbing visions in the passenger seat. That’s right, in this version Carrie lives and plans to relocate to Florida, where presumably she’ll only have momentary peace before having to go on the run from The Shop, or something. I think those interview segments were meant to act as a misdirect, to make the viewer (most likely already familiar with the basic story) think that it was all leading to the same familiar ending.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJoqAq-_N79U6RXapuRBl1YU3lU64pp46WbZYV1l1KEVeAvIe2wI-MWJpV-TZukgoVsGmZEAyzB-stKyagmcuPEXT5uSmhPUYEXXb6dDEOKjwD2FhM2LeZA6ZDggh_RbpOCY2Dzr9_Blo/s1600/Carrie_1_Bettis_light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="660" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJoqAq-_N79U6RXapuRBl1YU3lU64pp46WbZYV1l1KEVeAvIe2wI-MWJpV-TZukgoVsGmZEAyzB-stKyagmcuPEXT5uSmhPUYEXXb6dDEOKjwD2FhM2LeZA6ZDggh_RbpOCY2Dzr9_Blo/s320/Carrie_1_Bettis_light.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">After thinking this over, I think the only real way to make a version of <i>Carrie</i> that incorporates the epistolary elements of the novel is to excise a lot of Carrie herself. Imagine a <i>Rashomon</i>-style film that is told only from the viewpoints of Carrie’s classmates and neighbors, where each person tells their own story and Carrie is this mysterious girl at the fringes that suddenly explodes with a fury no one knew existed. It would mean getting rid of a lot of what makes the original novel and film so memorable (i.e., it would be difficult to squeeze in the scenes of Carrie alone with her mother, or practicing her telekinesis). This seems like a storytelling form that would lend itself well to television, where each act break could be devoted to another little vignette. Again, I just think it was the wrong place and the wrong time, as we had only just entered what is now considered the new golden age of television, with shows like <i>The Sopranos</i> and <i>The Wire</i> elevating the form, and network television hadn’t yet caught up. A few years later, with much of the same cast and crew, I think this would have been much more successful. Of course, the <i>Rashomon</i>-influenced style would not have been easily replicable, on a week-to-week basis, as this was intended as a backdoor pilot for a potential weekly series, which the final scene implies.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I say most of the same cast and crew could have made this successful, because after watching the film a second time I’m fairly convinced that David Carson was the wrong director. I’ll admit that he fits pretty well into the style of early turn-of-the-century television, but this version of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is very visually nondescript, and a lot of his choices just threw me off whenever they came up. Almost every scene is full of canted Dutch angles and wobbly handheld camerawork, seemingly without rhyme or reason, whether the scene calls for it or not. He also has the habit, which seemed to be more popular once upon a time, of repeating moments of action from multiple angles and in multiple speeds or with different filters. And not just for big stunts, but for the scene of Mrs. Desjardin throwing a bag of feminine products around in the gym, we get to see her emptying the bag three or four times. David Carson also has a predilection for ridiculous excess that comes out in fairly mundane ways. When Carrie White opens her locker to find it full of tampons, the avalanche that comes out goes on and on to almost comical lengths. Or when the bucket of pig’s blood finally falls on prom night, the tiny bucket seems to have been made out of old TARDIS parts, as gallons upon gallons of blood pour out of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I think about this movie, and when I say it could have been successful if they had made it a few years later, I guess I’m mainly thinking about Bryan Fuller. In a few years the writers and show-runners</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> would have much more artistic control over their works, and knowing Fuller’s baroque, </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grand Guignol</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> style, I think he would have made a much more personal work than what we see here. I want to see the movie made by Bryan Fuller, creator of <i>Dead Like Me</i> and <i>Hannibal</i>, not the Bryan Fuller who was a <i>Star Trek</i> staff writer.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000;">[That's all for Part 1 of our discussion of <i>Carrie</i> (2002). We will post the second part on Monday, September 11, 2018. Honest... we will. It's already written. We swear...]</span></span><br />
<br />Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-64176165002674014892017-08-16T11:38:00.000-07:002017-08-17T07:04:45.381-07:00The Dollar Deal: One for the Road<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Welcome back to </i><b><i>We Who Watch Behind the Rows</i></b><i>, and welcome to the first ever installment of </i><b><i>The Dollar Deal</i></b><i>, where I interview filmmakers about their experiences and ambitions in making short films based on Stephen King's work. For the first installment, I'll be talking with Pennsylvania based writer/director Joseph Horning. On an editorial note, I do want to make it clear that this is not a sponsored piece, we have no connection to the film being made, and this shouldn't even be read as a suggestion to go and donate. I find the project interesting, and I thought the readers of this site would feel the same way. This piece, and potential series of pieces, is meant to be a spotlight on the ever-growing world of Dollar Babies, and the people behind them.</i><br /><br /><i>Joseph Horning has worked steadily in the Pennsylvania film community for the past ten years as a producer, writer, director, and sometime actor. In 2016 he joined up with Curtis K Case and formed CKC Quarterly Productions in order to produce the screenplay for </i><b><i>Where Is My Golden Arm</i></b><i>, and the web-series </i><i><b>Siblings</b></i><i>. His latest project, another CKC Quarterly Productions venture, is a Dollar Baby adaptation of </i><b><i>One for the Road</i></b><i>, the </i><b><i>'Salem's Lot</i>-</b><i>related story that appears in Stephen King's</i> <b><i>Night Shift</i></b><i> short story collection. The film is in the crowdfunding phase at the moment, and you can watch the Indiegogo trailer and then read the interview below.</i></span></span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron Lowe:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> In keeping with the theme of this blog and your project, I'd like to start by hearing your history with Stephen King. How did you first come across him as an author.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Joseph Horning:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Growing up I had a vague idea of who Stephen King was. I had seen bits and pieces of the films adapted from his novels over the years but was never that interested in his work until I heard about the mini-series for </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. There was something about the idea of a clown that could change itself into any childhood fear that struck a chord with me. Now, I was never much of a reader when I was a kid, I had to be forced into reading books for school, but for some reason I wanted to read </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> before the mini-series premiered. It was the first time I ever felt compelled to actually pick up a book and read for fun. I remember my mom saying “You’ll never finish that book” and she was right. The first time I tried to read </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I ended up putting it down half-way through the first chapter. I don’t think I was really ready for the world of Stephen King at that time, especially with how descriptive he can be and how massive that book is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The first book I completely read of his was </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cujo</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. Since then I’ve read nearly every novel he’s written and credit him for my love of books and writing.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">AL:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> We must be around the same age, because that's remarkably similar to my introduction to Stephen King's works. I imagine all those miniseries in the '90s brought a lot of people into the Constant Reader fold. I was an avid reader at that age, so the only thing my mom said when she saw me reading</span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> IT</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was that one of her coworkers had been too scared to finish the novel. It had the reverse effect on me, inspiring a lifetime of awe and wonder at the macabre and spooky. You establish your King bona fides pretty clearly in your Indiegogo video. Out of all of the available Dollar Baby titles, what drew you to </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">One for the Road</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>One for the Road</b> teaser poster</span></i></td></tr>
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">JH:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Well out of all of them it seemed like the most fun to do. I’ve always loved vampire stories and </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">‘Salem’s Lot</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was one of those films that terrified me as a newfound lover of Stephen King. I obviously saw the mini-series before reading the book so it left an impression on me, specifically with the portrayal of Barlow and the other vampires. I know that Barlow is a subject for debate amongst fans and that Rutger Hauer’s performance in the remake is much more faithful to the novel than Reggie Nalder’s, but you can’t deny that his appearance is downright scary! It felt like gothic horror in New England, the kind that H.P. Lovecraft use to write.</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One for the Road</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was an extension of this feeling of dread but it’s more than that. Reading it gave me this sense of feeling isolated, not just because of its setting during a snowstorm, but because of what each character was going though in the moment. Gerard was alone in his quest to find help from Tookey and Booth and when they finally do decide to help him, he’s treated like an outsider as most people from out of state are. Tookey and Booth are best friends and you get the story through Booth’s point of view but even though he’s in the story helping Tookey and Gerard, he really isn’t. He’s alone somewhere, maybe in his bed dreaming, reliving that night over again. As King is fond of doing in most of his stories, the theme that “hell is repetition” plays out well here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It’s just an all-around great horror story that’s short but packs a punch.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">AL:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> We're still working our way through the stories in </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Shift</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> here at </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">We Who Watch</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and one thing keeps coming up is how amazingly succinct Stephen King could be. He's known for his longer works and the epic length of some of his novels, but his short stories can pack quite a wallop at only a dozen or so pages long.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was surprised at the level of ambition I saw in your plans for this short film, shooting in Centralia, harness rigs for the flying effects, prosthetic makeup, are there any aspects that you're nervous about? Any that you're particularly excited about tackling?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">JH:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Anyone who has an investment in the making of a film, whether it’s the writer, director, producer or actors are all excited and nervous at the same time. Anyone who’s said they never felt any trepidation making a film is either lying or has never made one before. It’s a scary process because you go into this thing with an idea of how you want your film to look and sometimes it comes out looking much different than how you envisioned it. That’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes it ends up being better than you could’ve hoped; other times not so much. That’s what I’m most nervous about – the final result of the film. That all comes down to me, though. I’m critical of everything I create so even if it’s good I’m always saying, “Yeah but it would be better if we had done this.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’m very confident in the team I’m putting together to make </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One for the Road</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. When I first sat down with my producer Chris Wagler to discuss locations, sets and special effects my initial thought was that the only way we’d achieve any sort of stunts with levitation would be in front of a green screen. The concern I had with that was matching the exterior lighting at night in a studio. If we had a big enough budget we could do it using the same technique they used in </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">‘Salem’s Lot</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> by sitting the actors on a chair connected to a boom. We probably still could. Chris assuaged my concerns by telling me he could easily build a rig with a harness to lift the actresses off the ground. It’s a pretty simple idea that will have a big payoff at the end of the film if it works.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’ve seen other adaptations where the vampires just move through the scene normally like we do. In King’s story for </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One for the Road</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Janey is described as drifting out of the woods towards Gerard like a ghost. Now you can interpret that any way you want but to me it conjures up an image of her floating on air, the tip of her shoe just brushing the top of the snow. That to me is a frightening image and one that would definitely make our film standout from others. That’s what I’m excited to see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The whole pre-production process is nerve-racking. I just can’t wait to finalize our cast and move forward on production.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">AL:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> From the glimpses you've shown so far, you seem to be expanding the short story quite a bit, from apparent larger roles for the wife and daughter characters, to more explicit ties to the 1979 Tobe Hooper film. Are you using the story more as a jumping off point, or will this be a fairly faithful adaptation?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">JH:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I tried to stay as faithful to the original story as possible though I’ve made some changes, specifically in expanding the Lumley families journey to Maine and the circumstances that leave them stranded in ‘Salem’s Lot. Anyone who’s read the story knows that it takes place in the middle of winter during a violent snowstorm that cripples most of the state. Gerard Lumley and his family get stranded in the snow after making a wrong turn and he has to trudge through the freezing cold to find help from Tookey and Booth who are shutting down Tookey’s Bar for the night.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>C. Augustus Garfield, Joseph Horning, Chris Wegler<br /> at casting sessions for </i><b><i>One for the Road</i></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is where King’s story for </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One for the Road</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> starts, as Gerard comes barreling through the door. What I decided after reading the story was that if it were adapted to a film of any length, the audience would only be shocked by what they see transpiring on screen. They wouldn’t feel any remorse for the Lumley’s, except perhaps Gerard. I wanted people who watch this film to have an emotional response to what happens to Janey and Francie Lumley, so I took what Gerard said in the story about them coming to Maine to visit relatives and added on scenes showing the family together in the car. I wanted there to be an emotional investment so that when the final horror unfolds we’re not only shocked but feel sorry for what they go through.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The other change is as I said with the circumstances leading up to how they get stranded in ‘Salem’s Lot. I explained in my Indiegogo campaign video that we’ve taken liberties with the story since it does take place in the middle of a snowstorm and we can’t just make snow appear out of nowhere. We are going to shoot in the winter but there is no guarantee that there will be snow on the ground. The weather in Pennsylvania can be temperamental. One day it’s 34 degrees and the next it’s in the sixties. So we came up with an alternative to the car getting stuck in the snow. I’m not going to reveal what that is but it’s simple and effective. It also allows me to feature a vampire that hasn’t been seen since the 1979 </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">‘Salem’s Lot</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> mini-series which will be the connector to that film.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">AL:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> How did you get into filmmaking? What inspirations pointed you towards writing and directing?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">JH:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It all goes back to </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. Well, partly. </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT </i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">was the deciding factor in why I chose to work in films but I’ll get to that in a minute.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I was younger I always wanted to be a comic book artist. It’s what I loved to do more than anything. One summer when I was 11 or 12 the high school in my hometown began hosting a Summer Consortium for local kids who were into art, theater, writing and photography. I was enrolled for the art courses but I had to also pick a second course in order to attend. I reluctantly chose photography. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. The teacher I had during that and subsequent summers was Mr. John Doyle. He opened my eyes to how the world looked through a lens, but more importantly he introduced me to the art of filmmaking. We weren’t just there to take photos; we were also going to shoot a short movie. That excited me for some reason and I just jumped right in and started throwing out ideas for us to shoot. Until that point I never really thought of myself as a storyteller, just an artist. But I guess you could say I had to be a little of both. Each character I created had a unique backstory so the impetus of what would become my love of screenwriting was already present.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The first movie I ever made was this ridiculous murder mystery that took place at the school and the following year we made a horror movie called</span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Death Be Not Proud</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I didn’t write that one, I starred in it. It was fun but I never felt comfortable being on camera. I still don’t.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What really cemented me into wanting to make films was </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I loved the mini-series when it first came out but after I read the novel I just started asking myself what the filmmakers were thinking. Yes it was a decent adaptation but the heart and horror of the book just wasn’t there. I decided that it was my duty to re-write the film and make a more faithful adaptation, complete with all of the terrifying scenes that kept me up at night. I started writing in the summer of 1992 without any idea on how a script was structured and I think by that winter I had this amalgamation of novel slash script that was bigger than the actual source material. I still have it lying around in a drawer as a reminder of where I started and how bad I was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The more I studied that better I got but I never would be where I am today if it wasn’t for Mr. Doyle’s photography class and my desire to see </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> made into a purely terrifying film.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">AL:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I still love a lot about the previous </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> adaptation, but agree it's basically half of a great film. Definitely for what it was, a television movie in 1990, it's pretty much the best anyone could have hoped for. That's funny that you wrote a script for your own version of that film, because one of the first things I remember writing was a short script for a sequel to </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Blob</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> in 6th grade. Probably because that first film ends with the blob just dropped into Alaska, where I was born. I never had much talent as an illustrator, but I got so far as making a bunch of index cards with scene illustrations on one side and the actual text on the back. Unfortunately that material has been lost to the ages, but it's a great way to practice your craft; to basically reverse engineer the things you love and home in on what you love about them. Speaking of which...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Your previous short film, </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Field Across the Way</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, carried some real </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Tales from the Darkside </i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">vibes, particularly in the opening titles which gave me flashbacks to the sheer terror that television show's credits used to instill in me. It's listed as Episode 1 of </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Forest of Darkness</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, do you have plans to continue that series?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">JH:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> First off, thank you for getting the reference. </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tales from the Darkside</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was one of my inspirations behind the opening sequence as well as the overall tone of the film. The other was </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Twilight Zone</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I originally wrote the script sometime around 2006 and just envisioned </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Field Across the Way</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as a short film. A few years later my friend C. Augustus Garfield and I developed an idea for a web-based anthology series similar in style to shows like </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tales from the Darkside</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> but based off of local legends in Pennsylvania. We did our research and came up with dozens of stories that we planned to shoot over the course of a year. Even though it was loosely based on an old Nova Scotia myth about the forerunner of death, the first one we decided to shoot was </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Field Across the Way</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> since it was already written. I wrote half a dozen more scripts since then, and we got as far as shooting another film called </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Midnight Coffee</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, however equipment and location issues made it difficult to complete the second episode. Our hope is to resurrect the idea of the web-series after we complete </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One for the Road</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AL:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Most of your work so far has fallen within the horror genre. Would you like to consider yourself a horror filmmaker, or is that a label you might be wary of accepting?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">JH:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I love all different genres, it’s just that horror and thrillers are the ones I gravitate to the most and I have no problem with being labeled a horror filmmaker. However screenwriting is my real passion. The first script I wrote that I was ever truly proud of was called </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Darkness on the Edge of Town</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. It’s a psychological thriller similar to </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Silence of the Lambs</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seven</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> about a flawed FBI agent hunting down a serial killer in Philadelphia. </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Darkness</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> won me my first ever screenwriting award in 2012 from the Philadelphia Film Office. Since then I’ve won the LA Screenplay Festival in 2015 and was a top 20 finalist in the Screenplay Replay Competition and Fourth Quarter Finalist in the Breaking Walls Thriller Screenplay Competition.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Curtis K Case of CKC Productions</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Over the last few years I’ve written some feature-length dramatic scripts with my friend Jonathan Cross and we actually moved ahead with production on one of them called </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Trainer</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. Unfortunately, scheduling conflicts and budget issues caused production to stop early on and we never got the chance to finish the film. I’ve also dabbled in action/spy films with my friend Andrey Nikiforov, another filmmaker from Philadelphia. Our first collaboration was called </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An Unusual Request</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and since then have worked on three other scripts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Most recently my business partner Curtis K Case and I developed a dramatic comedy web-series that was shot in LA called </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Siblings</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. The show focuses on an African-American family who gathers at their brother’s house on the night of his big interview with the Washington Post. He’s running for mayor and wants to bolster his image and numbers in the polls by giving his constituents a glimpse into his personal life; however things don’t turn out like he plans when his siblings arrive and prove to be completely different than they were growing up together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So far </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Siblings</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> has been making the festival circuit and has won a few awards out in California. We’re launching the series on Labor Day and hope to start working on season two shortly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Curtis and I also co-wrote a horror script based on the old Mark Twain jump story, <i>The Golden Arm</i>. That has gone on to be semi-finalist in two competitions last year. I’ve also collaborated with my friend J.P. Hoffman who is a horror filmmaker that’s had some success with shorts he’s produced for Eli Roth’s Crypt TV. We’re in the process of developing original content to present to them for future film projects which I’m excited about!</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AL:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Finally, if budget was no concern, what would your dream Stephen King adaptation be?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">JH:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Well, since </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dark Tower</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> are already hitting theaters I’d have to say I’d love a crack at </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Insomnia</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> or maybe even </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eyes of the Dragon</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. Both are connecting novels in the </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dark Tower</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> series so it would be great to expand upon that cinematic universe. </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Insomnia</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> definitely wins out though since it takes us back to Derry, Maine, home of the Losers Club where Mike Hanlon is still librarian, the place where I fell in love with Stephen King and where “things that disappear into the sewer system have a way – an often unpleasant one – of turning up.”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>I would like to once again thank Joseph Horning for taking the time out of his schedule to answer all of my questions. If you would like to look into </i>One for the Road<i> further, or possibly donate to his campaign, you can follow the link below. I myself will be following the project closely. And of course I'd like to thank you for stopping by, and I hope to see you a<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 9.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">gain soon.</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/one-for-the-road-a-stephen-king-dollar-baby-film-horror#/"><br /></a>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/one-for-the-road-a-stephen-king-dollar-baby-film-horror#/">One For The Road Indiegogo Page</a></b></span></div>
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WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-54871777248581404922017-05-03T10:15:00.000-07:002017-05-03T23:06:44.973-07:00We Who WILL Watch: The Dark Tower (2017)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Well, the hits just keep coming in the world of Stephen King adaptations, this time in the form of a full trailer for the most hotly anticipated King film of 2017: </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dark Tower</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I say it's the most hotly anticipated, but that comes from the chatter and excitement I see online. I myself am surely looking forward to it, but I don't have the same love for the novels as a lot of fans, so that tempers things just a bit. And while in terms of general awareness and the interest piqued among non-Stephen King readers, </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">It</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is probably the most popular adaptation coming out this year, among many readers </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dark Tower</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is slightly in the lead.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A lot of that has to do with the sheer improbability of the sprawling fantasy epic being adapted at all. The first book was published 35 years ago, and the film version has been in some form of development for so long that I don't think anyone really thought it was being made until that teaser poster was released just over a month ago. Casting announcements had been made, promo images had been released, interviews had been given, Idris Elba and Matthew McConaughey (Roland of Gilead and The Man In Black, respectively) had some tongue-in-cheek twitter exchanges in character for the film, and yet we'd been down this road before so I know I never put much stock in any of it...</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Any lingering doubts as to the film's inevitability were laid to rest yesterday with yet another twitter exchange between Elba and McConaughey (or, as is almost certainly the case, the film's marketing department taking over their accounts for a few minutes). The exchange culminated in a pair of teaser trailers for the film, each focused on their respective characters, along with the announcement that a full trailer for the film would be released the next day...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://twitter.com/idriselba">@idriselba</a> I know this. Deal with it. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/DarkTowerMovie?src=hash">#DarkTowerMovie</a> <a href="https://t.co/NdDw4qtD0w">pic.twitter.com/NdDw4qtD0w</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">— Matthew McConaughey (@McConaughey) <a href="https://twitter.com/McConaughey/status/859444480738340870">May 2, 2017</a></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://twitter.com/McConaughey">@McConaughey</a> I deal in lead. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/DarkTowerMovie?src=hash">#DarkTowerMovie</a> <a href="https://t.co/IvpjVKFHCH">pic.twitter.com/IvpjVKFHCH</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">— Idris Elba (@idriselba) <a href="https://twitter.com/idriselba/status/859447167936856066">May 2, 2017</a></span></blockquote>
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, here it is, the next day, and a full trailer has indeed been released...</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've watched it through a handful of times now, and the first thing that occurred to me when the trailer started was the immediate shift in perspective. The film's entire marketing so far has been focused on building up Idris Elba and Matthew McConaughey as these two titans facing off against each other. The posters, the tweets, those two clips yesterday, each serving to make the film about these two characters (who actually don't interact all that much in the source material). The full trailer takes the opportunity to not only introduce Jake, the third major character (so far) in the movie, but it shows us everything from his point of view. That's maybe my least favorite part of this trailer, which is otherwise pretty exciting; the fact that the movie is being sold, however slightly, as another young adult style fantasy where an otherwise unremarkable youth finds a doorway to another world full of epic adventure where he or she has an important role to play. To be fair, that is an aspect of the story, but the novels are so singularly following Roland's quest that it never registers as quite so obvious on the page.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The second thing I really noticed is how much of our world is in the trailer. <i>The Dark Tower</i> series eventually encompasses the fictitious Mid-World, along with every book Stephen King has ever written, but it also crosses over into the "real" world several times. But that doesn't happen until the second book, and the first novel, <i>The Gunslinger</i>, takes place entirely in Roland's world. Jake is a pretty big character in <i>The Gunslinger</i>, but we never actually spend any time where he came from, aside from some backstory he gives Roland. There are a couple reasons for this, of course. The movies probably feel the need to streamline a story that, to be honest, can often feel like it's spinning its wheels.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A filmed adaptation is always someone else's interpretation of any given work, and so changes are bound to be made, but from what is on display here we're getting a mashup of several books at once, rather than a strict chronological adaptation.That is probably in the film's favor, actually, as the first book is not only the briefest, but it also has the slimmest and most disposable story, acting more as interesting prologue to establish the epic world of the series.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rik, I know you've not finished the books, but what did you think of this trailer? Has it given you the desire to jump back into the novels?</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> The trailer doesn't particularly make me want to immerse myself in the books again based on anything I see here, but that does not mean that I wasn't already planning to do on my own already (even apart from my participation in this blog). <i>The Dark Tower</i> books are sort of a sore spot in my Stephen King record. I really found myself fascinated with the first two – <i>The Gunslinger</i> and <i>The Drawing of the Three</i> – and a lot of that could be chalked up to my relative youth at the time. I like the melding of different genres, and the spaghetti western mood that King evoked was something that I was far more "into" in those days than now. (I feel like it has been overplayed by this point in our culture.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Midway through reading the third book, <i>The Waste Lands</i>, my focus was diverted by many things, chiefly the nauseating drama of my first marriage that was destroying my will to live. But another factor was that I was burning out mightily on the Stephen King train at the time. Around the same time that I was reading that third book, I was also hit by King's 1993 novel, <i>Gerald's Game</i>. I hated it, and so did some of my friends. I hated it so much that I pretty much stopped reading King for a few years (except for the occasional dip into something like <i>The Green Mile</i>, which I also did not like all that much). <i>Gerald's Game</i> made me put down <i>The Waste Lands</i> (I was a little delayed on reading it even then) and when my wife took her copy away following her divorce, I didn't have the book lying around for me to pick up once again. That spelled the end of my interest in <i>The Dark Tower</i> series for a good many years, at least until we started doing this blog, which I joined eagerly with the express purpose to reengage with King on an especially literary level (I still watched the movie and film adaptations the whole time) after such a long absence.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Getting to the subject at hand, earlier today, I was discussing </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dark Tower</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> trailer on Facebook with my oldest high school pal, Tony. Both Tony and I were huge fans of King since our teenage years, and we have shared a thousand discussions about the man and his works during our friendship. Tony had some doubts about where <i>The Dark Tower </i>film adaptation was supposed to fall in the series timeline, or if it was even really connected to the series. He wrote, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000;">"Because I'm certainly in the camp of most Constant Readers, who thought 'This movie isn't the novels?'"</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is a sentiment that many share anytime a film is adapted from a beloved book or even a TV series that is reinvented for the big screen. It has always been a tricky thing to gain an audience's trust in a book adaptation. As much as films like <i>Gone with the Wind</i> and <i>The Wizard of Oz</i> are adored the world over, there is still some stickler out there that things the films are travesties because they just didn't capture the world of the book. As an Oz fan of longstanding myself – who <i>has</i> read all of Baum's original stories and a great many produced by Ruth Plumly Thompson and John R. Neill afterwards – while I will say that the underrated Disney movie adaptation from the '80s, <i>Return to Oz</i>, truly captured the actual look and adventure of the books more precisely (seriously, O'Neill could have storyboarded the entire thing), the musical version of <i>The Wizard of Oz</i> is so gloriously wonderful that it takes someone with a heart three sizes too small to appreciate it. And yet, what if it came out in 1939 and everyone said, <i>"<span style="color: #990000;">Oh, it's just too different from the book! Dorothy is way too old and has boobs! Where's the Witch of the North? Why didn't the Tin Man chop himself into pieces? Where is the Queen of the Field Mice? Why is it all a dream? What the hell is going on with all the singing? Blah blah blah..."</span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That's how the internet would have sounded in 1939 had it existed. The world didn't have the immediacy of social media then to render a film, show, song, or piece of art to mush in mere minutes like we do now. Honestly, it's amazing anything makes money at all these days, because half the world wants to tear something down as the other half tries to prop it up at the same time. </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Everyone just has to get their comments in on everything within seconds of seeing them. This allows no time at all for reflection and working through the angles when they are confronted with something that perhaps doesn't fit their idea of what something should be. They don't allow for artists to interpret, to transform, or to give their impression of something.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now, I try to hold back a bit on forming a full impression of a film before I go to see it. I do have an active dislike for trailers that seem to tell the entire story of a film in three minutes. One trailer that at least appears to do this that set me off recently was <i>The Space Between Us</i>. I would start to cringe in my seat every single time that trailer would show up before a movie over the last few months. I am not going to say the film itself is dog-meat (though it likely could be), because I have not actually seen the film. Since two of my strongly felt personal mottos for film-watching are <i><span style="color: #990000;">"Any movie, any time"</span></i> and <i>"<span style="color: #990000;">I will see any movie ONCE,"</span></i> it is important that I tread lightly in regards to my reaction to a film from simply seeing what are only highlights. My reaction to <i>The Space Between Us</i> relied on a stupidly conceived and completely rote attempt at a movie trailer... NOT THE FILM ITSELF.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As to <i>The Dark Tower</i>, reading the comments on the YouTube page and Facebook and Twitter is a largely frustrating affair for someone of my mindset because nearly the vast majority are made up of knee-jerk reactions, from fans or otherwise. Only a handful of people seem to be willing to accept that we are simply seeing a merely 3-minute trailer for the film, that has been edited and arranged to deliver a specific impact to an audience, and that in no way have you actually seen the finished work. <i><span style="color: #990000;">"This movie sucks!" "I love this movie so much!" "Why did they have to change everything so much!"</span></i> All opinions I have encountered this morning, and all of them make it sound like these people have actually seen the entire film. Which they haven't. This is why we can't have nice things, people...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On the plus side, there have been a handful of fanboy and fangirl comments (sorry, <i>fanperson</i> just doesn't sound right) that I have seen that did respond in a more measured, considerate tone, along the lines of my Constant Reader pal Tony. As I mentioned, he has some qualms about the whole affair, but will be sure to not miss the film when it comes out, and is more than ready to form his actual opinion after he sees the movie. He will go in knowing that his opinion will certainly be affected by his love for the books, and for the author, though he is open to seeing just how The Dark Tower movie will fit into the series overall. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Luckily for me, I am in the camp of <i>Once Constant Reader Who Became a Nearly Cold Turkey Non-Reader Mostly Because of Gerald's Game But Is Now Turning Back Into a Constant Reader (Eventually) Because He Co-Writes a Stephen King Blog</i>. Except for a remnant of knowledge involving the plot of those 2½ books in the series I tackled, my head mostly has traces of the mood of King's writing. I have retained very little of the setting of the novels, or how the world appeared. Certainly, I plan to hit the series again before the movie comes out, though – since King himself has hinted that this is not a straight adaptation of any of the books (and the trailer bears that out) but rather a story that takes place after the entire book series. Others have described it as being both a sequel and an adaptation at the same time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Me, I don't care. I am going to see the film whether I start reading the series again or not. If I have any real misgivings from the trailer, it is that it looks like such an amalgamation of every sci-fi/action film of the past 20-some years that I am afraid of just simply being bored by everything that happens in it. I cannot see the poster and trailer images of lurching, overwhelming, upside-down skyscrapers without naturally flashing first on <i>Inception</i>, and then jumping to last year's <i>Dr. Strange</i>, which also gave me serious <i>Inception</i> recall. (Though <i>Inception</i> itself made me flash on <i>Total Recall</i> at points, so everything works in a chain for me.) All of Roland's bullet stuff and mind stuff and action stuff whips up <i>The Matrix</i> in my head, and I can't let go of it. There is nothing wrong with being inspired by other successful films; Hollywood has always been based around doing precisely what others have found rakes in the money. Studios are first and foremost about doing business, not making art. In fact, they might only be about doing business and not art at all. I think my main fear in having The Dark Tower trailer bring to my mind other films so instantly is that it could make casual viewers believe that they have seen this all before (and that can be said of most films in some or even many ways). There is a possibility of boring the audience from seeing the film.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What are your thoughts, Aaron, on how this film might fit into the series? King has really only hinted at that suggestion of the movie version following the book series. Do you think a film should ever be considered part of a literary world, or should it be a separate piece and be held accountable on those terms only?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Before I answer your questions, I want to reply directly to a couple of your thoughts up above. I believe we are in perfect sync with how we view movies and their marketing; that we may hold opinions only on what we have seen. I'm more than happy to say a movie looks like a piece of crap, but if I haven't actually seen it I will refrain from saying it actually <i>is</i> a piece of crap. My goal here with these shorter pieces isn't to pass judgment on a film I haven't seen yet, but to engage in the much more palatable pastime of talking with a friend about our excitement (or relative lack thereof, in some cases) about upcoming films. Conversely, I feel like I should leaven my natural fanboy enthusiasm with some actual critical reasoning behind why I feel the way I do about something that hasn't even come out yet. Like you, I find the initial knee-jerk reactions found on the YouTube page to be utterly infuriating, and it's a level of discourse I will not allow myself to sink to.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was not bothered at all by the moments in the trailer that gave me flashbacks to <i>The Matrix</i> (or, more specifically, the <i>Matrix</i>-inspired <i>Equilibrium</i> came to mind), simply because that is part and parcel of the universe Stephen King created with <i>The Dark Tower</i> series. As unique as it is to describe, it's all been assembled from bits and pieces of other things that Stephen King loves. A little bit of Narnia, a little bit of Sergio Leone, a lot of Tolkien, and eventually some stuff from <i>Star Wars</i>, Marvel Comics, and Harry Potter, of all places. The world of <i>The Dark Tower</i> has always been a mix of intriguingly offbeat and shamelessly derivative. Keeping that ethos going for the film version makes sense to me.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You ask me how I feel about the placement of this film as a possible sequel to the novel, and how I feel about the merging of film and literary worlds, I'll have to play it safe and reiterate that I reserve judgment until the movie finally comes out. I will say that the idea –teased by Stephen King in the image below, which will make sense to those who have finished the series – that this movie takes place after the events of the novels is the single most exciting thing about this project to me. When I saw the image, when I digested what it implied, I suddenly became interested in a project I had more or less felt ambivalent about. It's such an audacious idea, such a simple and clever way to preemptively cut off arguments from fans about the changes to the source material while also retelling the same story for viewers new to the tale, that I must applaud whoever came up with it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I keep saying, I am generally a fan of making changes to a story as you adapt it to a new medium. Stephen King wrote the books; they are the story from his very specific point of view. The movie is adapted by several people, the writers and directors, with their own very specific points of view. That is obviously going to change the flavor of things, as everybody will find something unique out of their favorite stories, and I am fine with people following the thread of that and sharing what the work means to them. In this case, I am not only open to the idea, I am downright salivating for it. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There have been announcements to the effect that a television series will be released which fills in the backstory of this world, some of the moments the film won't have time for, but at this point we don't know how many films are planned for this series. The trailer seems to be jumping ahead into the series quite a bit, but doesn't have an glimpses of Eddie Dean or Odetta Walker, two characters as integral to this story as anyone we have seen so far. Of course, the trailer can only show so much, but I highly doubt the entire story will be told in one film. So t</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">he question now, since you say you'll eventually dive back in to the series, is which books will we have to cover to discuss just this one movie?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Ooooh, first things first... my concern wasn't with whether you or I found some elements derivative of other works; I was questioning whether the inclusion of such elements might turn off a certain percentage of viewers because they so often appear in other films, especially of late. This is why I was discussing the nature of movie trailers in general. I was worried that the very sameness of the trailer after so many even fleetingly similar films might hurt the film's box office. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know that from my own angle, every time that I hear those annoying rumbling brass sounds that Hans Zimmer unleashed upon the world in <i>Inception</i> (which have now become the only sound anyone wants to use in a modern movie trailer), it immediately puts me on the defensive against the movie. The coming attractions before a film used to be a pleasure to dive into as you were settling into your seat; now it is rare that I don't have the stirrings of a migraine already before the film proper has begun. This is especially true if the film you are seeing that evening is an action or sci-fi or superhero flick, because you will get like-minded trailers that all have that sound. (Horror films and their trailers have their own modern set of endlessly repeated skronky, shrieking sounds that drive me nuts today.) And it is no surprise that the trailer for <i>The Dark Tower</i> also uses the Zimmer Sound Effect to great extent. (Seriously, trailer producers seem to have about three moves left anymore, and it is driving me nuts. At least the poster business seems to finally be getting away from the "two big heads" trend.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Something you raise, and this just may be because I have not read into the series that far, or have forgotten a lot of details of ones I read, but you mention how the trailer seems to be jumping ahead into the series quite a bit. Since this film, by various accounts, might be a sequel, might be from a separate world altogether and have nothing to do with the series in actuality, <i>and</i> might be an adaptation of the entire series at the same time, isn't this statement at least partially rather presumptuous? We may be talking about a different world here. What if Eddie and Odetta don't exist in the timeline of this particular telling? (Their names do not appear on the official cast credits, that is certain, but it doesn't mean they wouldn't show up in the series.) Just something that struck me when you stated it earlier.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I seriously doubt that I will get to even one of two of the books in this series before the film version is released, so your question on that may be moot. We may be diving into the film on its own, especially if I already need to reread <i>It</i> before September and possibly <i>The Mist</i> again before the new Spike series. I still need to hit <i>11/22/63</i> and possibly <i>Mr. Mercedes</i>. For some out there, they would jump at the chance to read all of this, and would probably knock them out in a fortnight. That's not me. I seriously have trouble reading fiction at all anymore; I am pretty much hardcore non-fiction these days, mostly science, history, and cinema books. Even with my non-fiction jones, I just do not give myself any time in the day for reading anyway, not even at bedtime. My life right now is watch, watch, watch, write, write, write, watch, watch, watch, write, write write... and if even one thing enters into that rhythm, it throws me off for days sometimes. Yeah, I could call a moratorium on film for a week or two to delve into a King book or three, but that takes real commitment, along with breaking my cinema addiction. If I finally get a regular job, I will have even less time, though it is likely I would use my breaks to read through stuff. And the possible bus/train trips to get to and from work if I don't have a ride that day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">"Waaaaahhhh!!!,"</span></i> you are thinking... <i><span style="color: #990000;">#firstworldproblems</span></i> is what you should post about this terrible dilemma of mine. Yeah, I know... my problems are self-created and self-controlled. I am just being whiny for whiny's sake. I just need to pick up a Stephen King book again and burn through it. And then the next book. And the next book, ad nauseam... You see? Just thinking about it makes me want to dive into a pile of DVDs and never come out again. Why am I co-writing a blog partially about books again?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b> You love it and you know it. And you're doing this for the same reason I am: to reconnect with an important part of your childhood that you've drifted away from, with the goal of recapturing some of that youthful excitement while also revisiting everything with a new perspective and critical eye. If I may be so bold as to presume why you do anything, that is.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The original novel in this series, <i>The Gunslinger</i>, came out in 1982, while the final (at the time) book came out in 2012. That's a thirty year span, with the longest gap between books being six years. Stephen King admits that those gaps caused some minor continuity errors (place names changed between books, characters shifted, and the order of some past events got mixed up), and he used Robin Furth (author of <i>The Dark Tower: A Concordance</i> books) to help keep a lot of those details straight. Given the chance, he's said, he would like to go back and straighten all of those details out, and to smooth out the overall pace of the story. It's a shame he hasn't found the time yet, as reading those versions would be a much more enticing proposition. As it is, I'm excited for the movie, but less so for reading all seven novels in the original series over again, especially since I've read the first couple three times already, and the third book twice. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I guess you could say I'm in the same boat as you are, suddenly questioning my decision to cover Stephen King's dual 'ographies (film- and biblio-). But of course, with that trepidation comes a certain anticipation at seeing how everything strikes me this time around, and of course in discussing all of this with you. That, I suppose you could say, is why I've committed to this blog.</span><br />
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WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-60493774481744731182017-04-26T18:55:00.000-07:002017-04-26T23:42:55.624-07:00We Who WILL Watch: The Mist (2017)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Aaron:</span></b> <span style="color: #0b5394;">Well, the roll-out of exciting Stephen King news continues, with the release earlier this week of a full trailer for Spike's serialized adaptation of King's 1980 novella, <i>The Mist</i>, and it looks like there might be a bit to talk about in there.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For years <i>The Mist</i> topped the list of most wanted King adaptations, the one title that would pop up again and again when I had conversations with people about Stephen King movies. It seemed like such an obvious choice that it's a little bizarre to think that 27 years passed between the novella's publication date and the eventual Frank Darabont adaptation. Perhaps Hollywood just needed to get wise to what the rest of King's constant readers had known for years, that <i>The Mist</i> is a gut-punch of a story with a multitude of monsters fans would love to see on screen, and great potential for filmed interpretations. And now here we are, a mere decade later, with a new version of <i>The Mist</i> heading to our televisions.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Right off the bat, I can admit that my enthusiasm for this project is not nearly as high as some of the other upcoming projects. The idea of doing <i>The Mist</i> as a television series is actually a pretty great one, because the novella is open-ended enough to allow for not only continuation, but a wide variety of stories set within its world. The trailer seems to suggest a few major changes to the novella, most notably the idea that the mist seems to have a malevolent presence beyond just the monsters that hide in it. In fact, looking at the trailer more closely, are we sure there even will be monsters in it? Everything we see implies that the only monsters are human. There's a quick shot that at first looks like a monster bursting through a car's windshield, but look carefully and you'll see it's actually a moose someone crashes into while driving. I'm not opposed to anything I see in the trailer, but I also see nothing in it that really excites me in the way the <i>It</i> trailer did. I also have nothing by which to judge the behind-the-camera talent, as the show was developed by Christian Thorpe, who seems to have had a healthy career in Danish television, but whose work I have not heard of previously.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The show seems to have an interesting look, the cool grey-blue of the mist and the warmer yellow tones of what could either be flashbacks or merely just interior shots. The series seems to be changing a lot, and inventing a lot of new characters, which is a necessity when adapting such a short story into an ongoing series. I know some people are going to be upset by the changes, that's just the nature of these things. Myself, I'm a fan of diverging from the source material. If a movie or TV show is too faithful, I start to wonder what the point of it was, because I could always just read the book again if I wanted the exact same story. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>And yet, we often gripe if an adaptation adds too many new characters and ignores the original ones, or veers away too, too far from the source material, or (and this seems to be the worst offender for many people) doesn't include their very favorite scenes or dialogue in the final product (even if those "very favorite scenes or dialogue" were extraneous to the actual plot of the story or were throwaway lines meant to fill space). Damned if you do, damned if you don't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I agree with you that I don't mind veering from the original, but the approach has to feel organic to me, like it could have been included in the original product if the author had seen fit to turn that direction with the characters. Just creating new characters and locations for the sake of creating new characters and locations makes me wonder why they purchased the rights to such a property in the first place. Why not just create an entire new story (apart from the obvious marketing possibilities of using a name brand like Stephen King)?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am going to say that I am as excited for the new series for <i>The Mist</i> as I am the new <i>It</i> adaptation or the upcoming <i>Castle Rock</i> series. That is, it is still too early to tell much of anything from a mere trailer that isn't roughly the length of the one for that stupid looking movie about the lonely teen boy who lives on Mars coming back to Earth to get busy with a girl (though in a completely wholesome way, of course). You know, the sort of trailer that lays out the entire story to you in strictly chronological fashion, with every beat of the script hit along the way. Here, with <i>The Mist</i> trailer, we don't get that, thankfully, as it is but a taste of what potentially lies within the show. As a result, I am going to withhold judgment on the characters that may be in the new series (honestly, I last read the novella over 25 years ago, and don't really remember anyone in it either, just the mist itself). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am also going to not comment on the look of things either, because scenes in trailers are often shown in altered or (more often) incomplete form from the finished product, whether due to effects shots or post-production not being completed, or cut scenes or scrapped footage being added to flesh out the trailer a bit, or filters being overlaid on the product as well. Trailers are often the very worst way to judge a finished film or series because of all these factors. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The main question for any trailer is this: Did it pique my interest in the property, even a tad? Yes, a tad. I really enjoyed the Darabont version of the story (reminding you yet again that I had not read the story recently even then), and for all I didn't remember about the original work, it really didn't matter because the film was constantly engaging, frightening, and thrilling by turns. That is really what you want from such a film, whether it is adapted from a popular novella or not, and I got that result. Does it look like I will get it from <i>The Mist</i> series? Too soon to tell. I would rather get a couple of episodes into the series, and then maybe we should have a discussion about where we think it will take us from that point. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Until then, <i>It</i>... <i>Castle Rock</i>... <i>The Mist</i>... even <i>The Dark Tower</i> adaptation... I am eagerly awaiting them all equally, but they will each have to do some heavy lifting to win me over ultimately.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> <span style="color: #0b5394;">I think we're in general agreement about this: intrigued but withholding judgment until we actually get to see the show. I will reiterate that I'm less excited for this than I am the other upcoming projects. <i>Castle Rock</i> is exciting for its mystery and J.J. Abrams pedigree; the show at this point could be anything, and it comes from someone with a proven track record in this arena. <i>It</i> is exciting because, not to jump ahead too far, the source novel is one of my all-time favorites. <i>The Dark Tower</i> is interesting because it seemed like such an impossibility for so long that I'm curious to see how they'll tackle the sprawling series of novels (and, if you have read the books and have read any news about the movies, some really exciting and intriguing changes have already been teased). <i>The Dark Tower </i>series eventually ties in to almost everything Stephen King has written, and one of the aspects I'm wondering about is how they'll handle that. With the various novels of Stephen King licensed to various competing studios, will <i>The Dark Tower</i> films be allowed to cross over into the world of <i>The Stand</i> (which is pretty integral to the plot for awhile)? <i>The Mist</i>, on the other hand, just doesn't inspire the same curiosity. Perhaps it's Stephen King overload in 2017 (perish the thought!), perhaps it's the fact that some of the changes in the trailer (the implication that the mist itself is sentient) don't fill me with wonder, or perhaps it's just that the movie is so recent and was itself such a solid adaptation. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But let's not kid ourselves here, I will no doubt be watching this once the series premieres on Spike on June 22nd. Or, to be honest, once it makes its way to Hulu or some other streaming service.</span></span><br />
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WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-69296079942028666282017-03-29T16:00:00.000-07:002017-03-29T16:23:32.261-07:00We Who WILL Watch: It (2017)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGx8_kMgB7EaVWmkyu8LqTTDXG3UGmDVJW01dr95KDDWt-MLDg8E-cLePmhwkeSouCJgjDdOyUJ4HZhr6G_lUNrzYBM0phKfzvyKf1OAsT_6wwaOebPsCBGF6iNzMwhZ3lpZ_Rs2kiWA/s1600/IT-Teaser-Poster.jpg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGx8_kMgB7EaVWmkyu8LqTTDXG3UGmDVJW01dr95KDDWt-MLDg8E-cLePmhwkeSouCJgjDdOyUJ4HZhr6G_lUNrzYBM0phKfzvyKf1OAsT_6wwaOebPsCBGF6iNzMwhZ3lpZ_Rs2kiWA/s400/IT-Teaser-Poster.jpg.png" width="270" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Despite the lack of visible activity on this blog (we're working on it, we swear!), 2017 continues to promise a veritable smörgåsbord of high quality Stephen King adaptations. On the television front, we not only have the mysterious <i>Castle Rock</i> project for Hulu (<a href="http://wewhowatchbehindtherows.blogspot.com/2017/02/we-who-will-probably-watch-castle-rock.html">previously discussed on this very site</a>) but we can also look forward to <i>Mr. Mercedes</i>, a series based on the first book in a trilogy following retired police detective Bill Hodges, and a television adaptation of <i>The Mist</i>, previously brought to the big screen (and fairly successfully at that) by Frank Darabont. Yet the big news still belongs to the big screen, as two of Stephen King's most high profile titles and most long awaited adaptations are nearing their release dates in theatres: <i>The Dark Tower</i>, and <i>It</i>. And, uhm, something called C.U.J.O.: Canine Unit Joint Operations, which is a title I don't even want to begin to parse at this time.</span><br />
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<i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was previously filmed in 1990 as an ABC mini-series that not surprisingly lost a lot of the depth and history of the novel, while </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dark Tower</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> has long been considered a fan's pipe dream: something that no studio in their right mind would ever greenlight in a way that would adequately convey seven books (along with several novellas and spinoff novels) into a feature film, or series of films. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dark Tower</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> has been in some form of production for a few years now, with Ron Howard moving the ball forward with an ambitious plan to release a series of tentpole feature films with a television series to fill in the gaps between theatrical releases. I think everyone pretty quickly assumed that would never happen, and I know for myself I immediately assumed the project would fade back into development hell. And yet here it is 2017, and </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dark Tower</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is now in post-production, featuring a pretty exciting looking cast and a fairly eye-catching poster:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today's big news, probably already known by people visiting this site, is the release of a teaser trailer for </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. This is news that was actually announced yesterday, with a short "teaser for the teaser," because that's how advertising for a movie works on the internet these days. The teaser doesn't offer much, but it is full of all the classic </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> signifiers: the sewer, the talk of clowns, "we all float down here".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Promptly this morning the full trailer was released to the world, and it's full of everything you could possibly want from an <i>It</i> trailer:</span> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's hard to imagine many people being </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">disappointed by what's on display here, as it looks to be a supremely faithful, and supremely creepy, adaptation. I understand many fans were upset about the updatin<span style="font-family: inherit;">g of events for the movie, changing the two settings from the 1950s and 1980s to the '80s and present day, but for several reasons that doesn't bother me. I know '80s nostalgia is all the rage these days (as it has been for, seemingly, three decades), and it could seem like cheap nostalgia, but that's pretty much the same argument that could have been made about the '50s when the novel first came out. Beyond that, it allows the segments following the characters as adults to take place firmly in the recognizable present.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> I will say that I was not aware previously that there are supposedly going to be two separate films – one focusing on the kids experience in the '80s and the other based on their adult selves dealing in the present day – but watching the trailer, I noticed how it was all kids, all the time. Made me wonder where the adults were, and the notion that maybe they were doing two films crossed my mind. Their omission from the trailer does not automatically mean that the adult versions of the children are not in the film itself, and it is also likely that the producers were just attempting to cash in on the current success of <i>Stranger Things</i>. But also likely is the fact that the grown-up versions of the kids will mostly be played by some recognizable name talent, to help put butts in seats beyond the King crowd, and so if it were nothing but a self-contained, single story film, anything more than a brief glimpse of the second half of the book would have the trailer speed-flashing through a series of worried adult faces somewhere deep in its running time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The problem is that I am having trouble finding a more current article than summer 2016 (<i>Variety</i>) and a couple of also not current mentions on the Wikipedia pages for both the film and the book that the two-film production is still a thing. To be fair, I have not dug really deep into my normal research style, because the truth is that I have a lot of bigger fish to fry right now (which is part of the problem of why this website has not updated as frequently as we would wish, including the last couple parts of the ALL CARRIE coverage we promised back in October).<br /><br />One other thing... about that poster for <i>The Dark Tower</i>... all I can think about when seeing it is... <i>Inception</i>. But then again, that is what I was thinking when I first saw the trailer for <i>Doctor Strange</i>.<br /><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b> I also flashed on Inception when I saw that poster, but what quickly replaced my initial feeling of familiarity was enjoyment at how the negative space in the poster makes an image of the Tower itself. That, and if you look closely you can see a tiny Matthew McConaughey walking upside down. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I was also unaware of the two film plan, though I think I, too, read something about it awhile back. I tend to not read a lot of press materials these days, or read casting announcements or interviews detailing plots. Not that I'm worried about spoilers, I just prefer to discover these things as I watch the film, and then go back later to find out the behind the scenes details if I'm still interested. What I did find most amusing about the time frame is that Finn Wolfhard (who played Mike in <i>Stranger Things</i> and will play the young Richie Tozier in <i>It</i>) is apparently having trouble escaping the '80s.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One more note, because we really should save this for when we actually cover the book and movie, is my initial thoughts on Pennywise. Pennywise isn't actually shown very much in this trailer, beyond a couple quick glimpses, a white glove with claws coming out, and that jump-scare shot at the end, but here's a full image of what he's going to look like:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It took me awhile to come around on the costume, and I'm still not entirely sold on it. I'm also still not sold on Bill Skarsgård</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as Pennywise, who I primarily know from his work on </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hemlock Grove</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. That may not be the best work to judge his abilities on, though, as I imagine it would have been impossible for even the greatest actors to make that show compelling. But this trailer has gone a long way towards allaying my fears about the tone of this film, so I'm willing to go with it and say that I am solidly optimistic about this film.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b style="color: black;">Rik:</b><span style="color: black;"> I must say, having avoided <i>Hemlock Grove</i> on your advice (which doesn't mean I will necessarily avoid it in the future if I am bored, and other friends take note... Aaron is one of the few people in the world from whom I take movie or television recommendations. At least, seriously...), I have looked into Mr. </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Skarsgård's fairly short filmography and found that I am severely lacking in having seen anything he has ever done. This is something I cannot say of either his father Stellan or his brothers Alexander and Gustaf, though I can say it of his other brothers Sam and Valter. (But not of his brother Darrell or his other brother Darrell...) As a result, I have nothing on which to base an opinion of him, though as you mentioned, he is barely seen in the trailer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As to the costume, I rather like it. It has an older European circus aesthetic to it, and may be a good choice since our country is littered with fake (and potentially real) evil clowns dressed in what has become acceptable as de rigueur in American clown cosplay. Pennywise is fine and all (and the only reason I even like Pennywise from the merely decent to only OK mini-series is the fact that Tim Curry played him), but what I am more interested in anyway – being a non-human monster guy – is what the spider will look like. Give me a call when that is revealed...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will say that this trailer has me excited about the finished product. I am not the biggest fan of the book, mostly owing to the creepy and tone-deaf child orgy scene (my opinion, but it is what took me out of the book for the remainder of the story, though I did finish it). As a result, I was only slightly excited to see the mini-series. I remember that I almost missed out on recording it at the time of its airing but one of my friends reminded me of it the hour before it aired. And as I mentioned in the last paragraph, my opinion of the TV version runs pretty lukewarm except for a couple of excellent performances in it. I am looking forward to giving the book another shot, this time with even more mature eyes and brain, and think it is pretty swell they are (potentially) breaking the film up into two parts to give the story and characters room to breathe and grow.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Aaron:</b> I have plenty to say in response to your revelations within those last two paragraphs, but I think they'll have to wait for now. What I will point out is that Entertainment Weekly ran an interview with Janie Bryant, the designer of the new costume, and she goes into great detail about her intentions in designing the new look. <a href="http://ew.com/article/2016/08/16/pennywise-costume-stephen-king-it-movie/">You can click here for the link</a>, but be warned that the EW website is a huge mess. One takeaway I enjoyed was the idea that a lot of choices in the profile of the costume are to suggest the shape of an insect's cephalothorax. I do have to admit that some of my uncertainty about the look comes from how... bizarre and wrong it all feels. Our collective thoughts on the two <i>It</i> films will certainly be shared later this year when the film hits theatres; we wouldn't want to ge</span>t ahead of ourselves. And yet all these announcements have us pretty excited for at least one aspect of 2017. We hope you'll stick with us as we bring this site back up to speed and join us on all the creepy good times ahead.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">[One final note:</span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> It</i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, directed by Andrés Muschietti (who previously helmed the Guillermo Del Toro-produced </span><i style="color: #990000; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Mama</i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> in 2013) will arrive in American theatres on September 8th.]</span></div>
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WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-18128341369581207332017-02-22T16:09:00.000-08:002017-02-22T16:27:58.745-08:00We Who Will (probably) Watch: Castle RockAnyone reading this blog, not directed here personally by one of the authors, is undoubtedly aware that Stephen King and J.J. Abrams recently announced a new project together. In typically cryptic Abrams fashion, the news was teased with an odd image tweeted out from Bad Robot, Abrams' production company. <br />
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The tweet led to a youtube video that turned out to be a teaser for a new program on hulu entitled <i>Castle Rock</i>, a name that should be familiar to even the most casual Stephen King readers. Castle Rock is a town in the King's fictional version of Maine, the setting for many of his stories, and referenced in much of the rest of his works. It is, also, the name of a production company started by Rob Reiner after the success of <i>Stand By Me</i>, an adaptation of Stephen King's novella <i>The Body</i>.<br />
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Stephen Kin<span style="font-family: inherit;">g himself was a bit more direct in his announcement of the news, posting the video to facebook with the simple statement "JJ Abrams and I want to invite you to take a trip to Castle Rock. Soon. Be afraid."</span><br />
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As you can see from the video, details are fairly scarce. This being an Abrams production, we now have more questions than answers. What we see primarily amounts to a bunch of character and place names from Stephen King works (and also Richard Bachman, his occasional pseudonym), overlaid with snippets of dialogue culled from those same stories. This doesn't give us a whole lot to go on. Is <i>Castle Rock</i> a series about Stephen King and his works? If so, the dialogue would presumably come from the previously released films, but everything said in the trailer is a new recording. So is it an anthology series pulling from Stephen King's entire career? Possibly, but the interlocking strands we follow, eventually forming a roadmap of Maine, seem to imply that everything is connected. So will this series be a shared-universe style adaptation of the works of Stephen King, a travelogue of his fictional Maine? That seems like a promising concept, but I'm not sure I'd put money on that right now. And what about the prominent inclusion of references to <i>The Shining</i>, which takes in Colorado (where, incidentally, a real-life Castle Rock can be found)?<br />
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The involvement of J.J. Abrams, noted Stephen King fan, is at least a promising sign. Their previous collaboration, <i>11.22.63</i> was a superlative adaptation of one of King's best works, an adaptation that knew what to keep, what to change, what to excise, and what to add in order to fit the serialized format. I'm fairly certain this show will lean more to that side of the spectrum than, say, <i>Under The Dome</i> (which boasted its own <i>Lost</i> alums in creative roles) or SyFy's <i>Haven</i>, which I've written about before and was possibly even more tenuously related to Stephen King than <i>The Lawnmower Man</i>.<br />
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As of this moment, <i>Castle Rock</i> does have an imdb page, but it is conspicuously free of any information. According to Stephen King, our questions will be answered soon. But that just brings up one more question: how soon?<br />
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<b>UPDATE:</b> Between the original writing of this short announcement and my actually getting around to posting it, Bad Robot put out a press release that may answer some of the questions I brought up. You can read it on several other sites, if you so desire, but I'll highlight some pertinent information.<br />
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The press release makes reference to the Stephen King multiverse, and says that "<i>Castle Rock combines the mythological scale and intimate character storytelling of King's best-loved works, weaving an epic saga of darkness and light, played out on a few square miles of Maine woodland</i>" and "<i>an original suspense/thriller - a first-of-its-kind reimagining that explores the themes and worlds uniting the entire King canon.</i>" I'm still unsure how <i>The Shining</i> will factor into this, but perhaps that was used primarily for name recognition in the teaser.<br />
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We also get the names of the showrunners, who will be guiding the show while King and Abrams produce. Sam Shaw, who has written for <i>Masters of Sex</i>, and serves as writer/producer/creator of <i>Manhattan</i>. He'll be joined by Dustin Thomason, another producer/writer on <i>Manhattan </i>and<i> Lie to Me</i>.<br />
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The press release actually makes it sound like the show might not have been filmed yet, but whenever it appears (remember, King said 'soon') it looks like we'll have at least 10 episodes of Stephen King goodness to enjoy.WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-64478604957105120952016-11-16T11:00:00.000-08:002016-11-18T07:23:51.960-08:00The Rage: Carrie 2 (1999)<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron Lowe:</b> And we’re back! Throughout the past couple months we’ve been discussing Stephen King’s first novel, <i>Carrie</i> (1974), and the various filmed versions that resulted from it. So far we’ve discussed the original novel and De Palma’s 1976 movie. Most people are aware of that adaptation, and the more recent remake from 2013, but there are also a pair of lesser known films in between that seem to have made no waves at all. When we decided to cover <i>Carrie</i> as our first novel, I was actually most excited to finally catch up with these forgotten films. I made no assumptions as to their quality, but I was sure the movies would have some interesting facets to explore.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And so, without further ado, let’s get straight into our discussion of the 1999 theatrical release, The Rage: Carrie 2.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The Rage: Carrie 2</span></b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix67LcY61NNXFAk-jL3zZMCuWJea4br9meyIKmWaBkHPdh0Z9J7FsZko-TLVfQ64rBwH5rOS_UCFMr8lkal5uauR7e57Jrs8Z4t56q5qPDKOnVgRsO-IvYpXHxlmgrTlAxpX_RGXUYsXs/s1600/The_Rage_Carrie_2_one_sheet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix67LcY61NNXFAk-jL3zZMCuWJea4br9meyIKmWaBkHPdh0Z9J7FsZko-TLVfQ64rBwH5rOS_UCFMr8lkal5uauR7e57Jrs8Z4t56q5qPDKOnVgRsO-IvYpXHxlmgrTlAxpX_RGXUYsXs/s320/The_Rage_Carrie_2_one_sheet.jpg" width="216" /></a><b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> As I said above, I had never seen </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rage</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> before last week. Not only had I never seen it, but I had mostly forgotten about its existence. This is actually a bit odd for a pretty big-budgeted film ($21 million, for a horror film, in 1999!) given a nationwide release from a big studio (MGM). It’s also surprising for a film based on a book by one of my favorite authors, and a direct sequel to a beloved horror film. I vaguely recall seeing trailers for this film back in 1999, but it quickly slipped out of my awareness. I worked in a video store for years, and every time I’d come across the DVD case it was like seeing it for the first time. “What? They made a sequel to </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">? Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” And yet I never watched the film.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">It does seem a bit odd, doesn’t it? A <i>Carrie</i> sequel in 1999? I’m not sure why the idea to do a sequel was put forward when, at that point in time, a remake would probably have made more sense. <i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i> came out twenty-three years after the original film, a film in which all of the primaries, including the title character, are killed at the end. Of course, not every character died at the end of the original, and Sue Snell’s survival provides the tenuous connection between the De Palma film and this one, which for all intents and purposes is otherwise unrelated.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">So, Rik, I’m curious as to your history with this film. Had you seen <i>The Rage</i> before, or like me did it fall off your radar? And what do you think of the very idea of a <i>Carrie</i> sequel in the first place?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Nope, it did not fall off my radar. In fact, I was not only aware of the film when it came out, I actually saw it in a theatre. I will likely get into some of my specific reactions to seeing it later in this discussion when we touch on story points, but it will not be surprising to find out that I was disappointed, even though my expectations were not great in the first place. Instead of being mad that I spent the money on a movie ticket, I owned my purchase from the start, knowing that I was probably not going to see anything decent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Since then, I did see the film again on video a couple of years later when I decided to watch both films back to back in conjunction with the 2002 television adaption being released (which we will get to in our next edition). I watched the film, for no real reason at all except that I had pretty much forgotten it, for a third time in 2010. (Hooray for film diaries and Letterboxd!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is another connection between the films, and even though it is supposed to be a big reveal in the film at a certain point, knowledge of this connection was widely used in the film’s promotional materials. Otherwise, how would you answer the question, “How is this film connected to <i>Carrie</i>?” Rachel Lang, the main character in this film (she is not named Carrie), and Carrie White from the first film are supposedly half-sisters, because the man who impregnated Margaret White, Ralph White, also got Rachel’s mother, Barbara Lang all knocked up before the events in this film take place. It is also not a surprise that the ultra-fundamentalist Ralph ends up with two women with basically the same whacked-out viewpoint on what is going on with their daughters, and treats them both in an equally shitty way. (He apparently has no problem sleeping around, despite the supposed morals espoused by his religious fervor. Oh, temptation…)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Truth be told, the film could have existed without any such trumped up connection and just had it be the tale of another case of a person with telekinesis whose powers are unleashed under tragic circumstances. The film didn’t even need Sue Snell, but it is interesting to find out that actress Amy Irving, who played the role in both films, sought the blessing of Brian De Palma before taking the role in the latter film. I know Hollywood is in love with sequels and remakes, and they don’t trust original stories or for films to stand on their own feet at all, but I think the half-sister connection is too much of a stretch. I would have rather seen a film, if it had to have any connection to the first film, that saw Sue Snell just move on to another school as a counselor a number of years after the incident, meet a girl who reminds her eerily of Carrie White, and then do everything she can to avoid another similar tragedy. That is essentially what we get here, but the filmmakers have to trick it out to force a double connection.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">How did you feel about the Ralph White connection, Aaron?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b> Well, this is awkward, because your entire statement covers, almost to a T, the exact same sentiments I had prepared to continue this piece. How do I feel about the Ralph White connection? Well, the man certainly had a type, didn’t he? It also suggests other sequels. The timing is a bit odd already; Rachel in this film is roughly the same age as Carrie was in the previous film, which means there’s at least a 22-year gap between the births of his daughters. What about the intervening years? Could Ralph White have been hopping from reclusive religious zealot to reclusive religious zealot, staying just long enough to father telekinetic children before leaving the harried, ill-prepared mother to deal with the consequences? Twenty-two years; we could have over a dozen films about telekinetic teens causing havoc in high schools.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">In all sincerity, the half-sister revelation is wholly unnecessary, as you say. I had the same thought you had; a superior sequel to <i>Carrie</i> could have been made by focusing on Sue Snell and her attempts to deal with lingering PTSD while also trying to atone for her part in the original film’s tragedy by helping a kid in a similar situation. We get glimpses of that film here, as that roughly describes Amy Irving’s arc, but she is in the end a fairly minor character. Sue Snell shows up a handful of times to pretty much remind the audience of what happened in the first film through the use of some helpful flashbacks.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Unnecessary is a word that could very well describe the entire film. I’ll admit that I didn’t hate this movie quite the way I expected to, but I also didn’t think it made a very good case for its existence. I normally dislike that type of critique, because I don’t think a movie always needs a “point,” and it certainly shouldn’t need one that fulfills our preconceived notions. And yet, I kept asking myself “Why a sequel to </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">?” as I watched </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I think this movie would have been improved if the connections to the De Palma film had been lessened. </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> does nothing to deepen or extend the original in any meaningful way, and instead tells a similar story with an updated setting.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6kyItGfV_BwjJCA8jiQuOXhdu10VpCOm10rTokW-tpodVq7n9aHVxZAb15zB4XiH3Jhz0k_6PuE_LvsoLA9PdUZoAowvu1rOlNYSz-MEGaeSZ28x1MSYKR7KN3W2dZ_9NCZmOf3sjptM/s1600/The_Rage_Carrie_2_Euro_DVD_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6kyItGfV_BwjJCA8jiQuOXhdu10VpCOm10rTokW-tpodVq7n9aHVxZAb15zB4XiH3Jhz0k_6PuE_LvsoLA9PdUZoAowvu1rOlNYSz-MEGaeSZ28x1MSYKR7KN3W2dZ_9NCZmOf3sjptM/s320/The_Rage_Carrie_2_Euro_DVD_2.jpg" width="227" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is not exactly a carbon copy of </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, we can still use your tongue-in-cheek synopsis of the original to accurately describe this film: the wrong teenagers pick on the wrong girl with the right superpower at the wrong time. There are some fairly large differences between </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie 2</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, most notably in the demeanor and social standings of the two films’ main characters, but </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage: Carrie 2</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> still feels awfully familiar. Rachel and Carrie both get a taste of popularity through flirtations with popular football players, which serves to further the anger felt by those who seek to punish them. Both films feature a scene in an English class where the aforementioned football players get a chance to prove their soulful sides. And both films have a scene where the heroine bashfully tries on lipstick in a department store while a disapproving clerk looks on.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Those are just surface similarities, while of course there are the broader similarities inherent to stories about a social misfit running afoul of some popular kids and exacting her revenge through the use of telekinesis during a party at the end of the film. But </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> lacks a central metaphor as rich as the menstruation/puberty metaphor in </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, which increases the feeling that this film is a pale imitation of the original. I’m not even sure if there is a central metaphor to </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, other than the typical “high school sucks” attitude most teen horror films adopt.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Rik, this film was originally titled <i>The Curse</i>, which seems more thematically relevant to the first film, although it would of course have fit for this one. I kind of see the title change as one of the many indications of when this film was made in the late nineties, as part of the trend to label all youth oriented marketing as “extreme” in some way. There are a lot of wonderfully stupid details that mark this film as dated to a very particular time period for me, including the lead being a cute goth girl (or goth-influenced, we should say), the random black and white moments in the film, and the fact that someone is killed with a stack of flying CDs. As someone who spent his entire teen years in the nineties, these moments were equally endearing and annoying. How did they strike you?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>Obviously, I couldn’t relate to them in the same way, since my teen years started the year after the first <i>Carrie</i> came out, but I did recognize them as being of their particular time. They were neither bothersome or endearing to me, merely details in what I found to be a rather by-the-book affair. The fact that it is that way is not surprising to me, given that the director is Katt Shea (sometimes credited as Katt Shea Ruben). <i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i> probably represents what was supposed to be her highest point in her filmography, after having a small critical (but not financial) success with <i>Streets</i> in 1990 (with Christina Applegate in what was supposed to be a breakthrough dramatic role) and then some decent notice with a Drew Barrymore thriller, <i>Poison Ivy</i> in 1992. Neither film really thrilled me at all, being what I considered fairly average films, though I am slightly more fond of the films with which Shea started out her career “stripper thriller” subgenre: <i>Stripped to Kill</i> (1987) with Kay Lenz, and even better, <i>Stripped to Kill 2: Live Girls</i>, with Maria Ford. (Because of Maria, I was definitely more fond of <i>Stripped to Kill 2</i> when it played on Skin-emax and other cable channels a zillion times over back in the day. Not sure if I would be into her today though. Tastes, as well as tassels, change...)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think the most striking difference between the films (apart from quality) is the fact that Rachel and Carrie are not similar at all in social status. Carrie was, almost by complete force of her mother’s will, an outcast amongst her peers at school, whereas Rachel not only seems to be fairly well-liked by many, she even obviously has her own complete group of friends. Sure, those friends tend not to be among the actual “popular” set at the school, i.e. jocks, cheerleaders, and rich kids, but what I am saying is that she is not hurting for friendship and attention amongst her peer group. At home is another matter, where her mother – nearly a clone of Margaret White – has been institutionalized (rightly) and she lives with foster parents (the father is played by John Doe of the punk rock group X, one of my all-time favorite bands; he is not that great here as the foster dad though, but pretty stiff, though he is fine in other parts, especially <i>Border Radio</i> and on TV’s <i>Roswell</i>).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rachel is especially tight with Lisa, played by Mena Suvari, who frankly looks better in this film than most of the ritzier, more popular girls at the school. (While </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was released in the same year as both films, Suvari was just breaking through in 1999 with her appearances in both </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">American Beauty</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">American Pie</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">). Rachel and Lisa even have matching tattoos on their arms to show their bond, so naturally you know something horrible is going to happen to Lisa to make Rachel go bonkers. This is where </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> gets any real drive it has, as the boys on the football team are involved in an unseemly game with dire emotional consequences and crippling physical abuse. And, no, I am talking about far beyond just the sport of football itself. The football players keep a “notebook” (I’d call it a diary, but they would probably try to beat me up) in which they assign an arbitrary point system each time one of them sleeps with one of the girls in the school. Since they pretty much dump each girl once they tag her, hearts and minds are broken but the team thinks it just great fun. For Lisa, once she becomes yet another victim of the game, it will drive her to suicide fairly early in the film, when she walks right off the surprisingly easily accessible roof of the high school. (Suvari’s relatively small role would be considered barely above a cameo had she already been famous when </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Rage</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was released). Lisa splats into a car window below, and one of the jocks is even brazen enough – and quite settled into being completely unafraid of any repercussions from their “prank” – to mock her openly in front of the shocked crowd that gathers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The filmmakers apparently based the game on a real life incident that made the news in 1993 when a group that called themselves “the Spur Posse,” pulled an exactly similar stunt on teenage girls in their hometown of Lakewood, California. In watching the film again with the Trump “locker room talk” conversation in the air everywhere, the discussion and playing of the points game added an even grimier layer of filth to the proceedings for me than it did the first three times I saw it. It was already there and creepy enough as it was, but current circumstances can often alter one’s view of information already gained. How did this section of the film play for you, Aaron?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron: </b>That’s an interesting question, and one I’ve actually been pondering since first watching this film. I’m not surprised to hear the jocks’ game of scoring their sexual partners was based on a true story, as I’ve come to realize that in the vastness of the world and human history, everything under the sun has been done, and human cruelty knows no bounds. Surprisingly, however, this view of the jocks was not at all in line with my own high school experience, so I found it to be one of the more tone-deaf aspects of the film.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I have always been a bookish and not particularly physically gifted individual, and yet for a few years I was, strangely, involved in the world of organized competitive athletics. In junior high and high school, I was on both the swim team and the cross-country ski teams. Admittedly that crowd is a far cry from the football team, but I still spent time in the company of people who did play football and other more popular high school sports, and I will say that none of them behaved as unconscionably as the kids we watch in <i>The Rage</i>. The “jocks” I socialized with or shared science class with were, almost uniformly, polite, intelligent, and friendly. There were a few outliers, of course, as with any large group, but they tended to experience an inverse popularity and were not immediately granted acceptance due to their sports aptitude.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDII4iuYnMh3HLP6vNhAFK1qG5FXwsdWhCUR7a36oWmVzcRB3t4SiGyDMwpU8UhyphenhyphenGjB7iFa5UNs__8xh3T-FctmWlJru9jmB0YkI5oAYIFI9JqEMtMmCuq9vZbj8nt-iIhKW_QXed9dWk/s1600/The_Rage_Carrie_2_Bluray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDII4iuYnMh3HLP6vNhAFK1qG5FXwsdWhCUR7a36oWmVzcRB3t4SiGyDMwpU8UhyphenhyphenGjB7iFa5UNs__8xh3T-FctmWlJru9jmB0YkI5oAYIFI9JqEMtMmCuq9vZbj8nt-iIhKW_QXed9dWk/s320/The_Rage_Carrie_2_Bluray.jpg" width="254" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Likewise, I feel that the guys who would behave this way would not have been so popular with the ladies. The girls I knew in high school would, I believe, not have been fooled by the guys in this film. Before you accuse me of romanticizing my high school years, it should be said that this is not a time in my life that I view through rose-colored glasses. I think it’s entirely likely that there were some fairly piggish discussions I was not around for, and certainly my own views of women could be far from enlightened at that age, but I’d say it was just your standard, ill-informed and ignorant talk among adolescent boys with limited experience when it came to the opposite sex. Whatever Mr. Trump would like people to believe, what he said would not be considered locker room talk in the real world, although it would not have sounded out of place coming from the mouth of one of the football players in this film. There’s a brazenness about the boys in The Rage, a shamelessness and entitlement that made it all worse (taunting a girl dead from suicide is a case in point).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Honestly, my first impression of this aspect of the film was that it was all way too over the top. It all seemed to be a bit of “broadcast news expose” fearmongering. “Do you know what your daughters are doing with the captain of the football team?!” Hearing that it was based on true events doesn’t erase my initial feelings, but I will admit that the film effectively made me hate every single one of <i>The Rage’s</i> villains. Very early on it got to the point where I couldn’t wait for Rachel’s ultimate revenge, but I also couldn’t understand why she was buying into their facade. As you pointed out, Rachel is not without friends, she has a job, a fairly stable home life, and seems generally to be well-adjusted. She certainly doesn’t seem like someone who’s always admired the “in crowd,” so I’m not sure why she suddenly gets so excited when she’s invited to parties with them. On top of that she already knows her best friend committed suicide because of one of the football players, and is in possession of proof of the boy’s involvement, proof that could get the boy charged with statutory rape. Why isn’t she more suspicious when all of the football players, and their girlfriends, suddenly start being nice to her?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">This is all facilitated by Rachel’s own burgeoning relationship with one of those football players, Jesse (Jason London), again a development she really should have been more suspicious of. But their feelings are real, as Jesse befriends Rachel out of guilt for his own behavior, and a genuine attraction to her. But that presents another problem for me. Jesse is the male hero of this film, the love interest that is meant to break Rachel out of her shell, in an echo of Tommy Ross from the original. And yet his involvement in the notebook game, and the fact that he sleeps with his girlfriend in front of, and for the amusement of, his teammates is fairly repulsive. Jesse treats his girlfriend, Tracy, pretty coldly after he’s done, and it’s supposed to be because he feels shameful and is turned off by how he’s going along with his teammates just to fit in, but he just seems like a real dick. He’s ostensibly one of the heroes of this film, and I get it, you do what you have to to survive high school. During those years your judgment is not the best and you do some bad things that, if you’re a decent person, you will eventually regret, but I found it hard to overlook his shitty behavior just because he felt real bad about it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">You mentioned that a lot of this film was re-contextualized for you when viewed in light of Donald Trump’s disgusting comments (and actions, let’s not forget about those) about women and his sense of sexual entitlement. I agree with your sentiment, but there’s another instance of real world events changing perceptions of this film that I’d like to discuss. <i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i> was released on March 12, 1999. One month later, on April 20, two students would walk into their high school in Colorado and exact their own revenge on the classmates they felt had wronged them. It’s hard to remember now, after 18 years of school violence and increasingly common mass shootings, but the cultural climate in early 1999 was very different than it is today. In early 1999, it was acceptable to have a black-clad, industrial music-loving, social misfit kill a large number of their classmates, but by late 1999, this film would not have been released.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><i>The Rage</i> cannot be held responsible for Columbine, even indirectly. At the risk of opening up a huge can of worms, I’ve never agreed with the argument that onscreen violence causes real life violence. Possibly I’m biased, because I watch a lot of horribly violent movies and have never been in a fight in my life. For all the pitchfork rattling regarding onscreen violence in the months and years after Columbine, it is interesting to see that apparently no one thought to include <i>The Rage</i> in those condemnations. I don’t mean to completely derail this piece, but it is a sad truth about our lives these days, and I believe it should at least be mentioned here. Of course, <i>Carrie</i> movies did get released after 1999, two of them, and I believe they will each entail their own discussions about American culture as a whole. I’m just wondering if this knowledge affected your viewing of <i>Carrie 2</i> in a way that maybe you didn’t process when you first saw this in 1999, before schoolyard violence had become such a prevalent part of daily life in America.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>I certainly thought about the film briefly post-Columbine, because I had seen it only weeks before, and when the <i>Buffy the Vampire Slayer</i> episode titled <i>Earshot</i> started up a controversy a few months later, I do remember scenes from the original <i>Carrie</i> being used in news reports on the air, but do not recall any scenes from <i>The Rage</i> being shown in a similar way. This is not to say they weren’t used as examples of school violence in movies at that time, but just that I really just recall <i>Carrie</i> being served up because it is a far more memorable and famous film, and therefore more jarring when scenes from it are used to perhaps overdramatize a point on a news program.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think that from all the evidence collected from the Columbine case that <i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i> was never mentioned as a possible trigger for the killers. It is my guess, although the film came out just a few weeks before, that the murderers never saw the film. I saw the film in a theatre (because I am a dope), and a couple of my friends who were with me, but it seems nobody else did. With worldwide figures added in, <i>The Rage</i> came close but did not quite make back its $21 million budget (though that figure is not taking into account marketing and print costs, which would drive it up even further; why these are not added from the outset to the final budget figure is beyond me).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There are a couple of aspects of this film that I do really like. The first is Emily Bergl’s performance. It is a thankless task to be brought in for the sequel (albeit 23 years later) to a film where the actress who played the title role was nominated for a Best Actress Oscar. I don’t want to make this a “Oh boo hoo, poor pampered Hollywood actress gets an opportunity for which most people would kill” scenario, as it really wasn’t that. The part of Rachel was not only Bergl’s very first theatrical role, she only had one other credit on television previous to this film. She was a babe in the woods. While I have problems with the way her character is handled late in the film (some of which Aaron mentioned above), I think Bergl’s performance is about as good as you could hope under the circumstances. She has an appealing presence, enough so that it is hard to believe that every single person in that school isn’t in love with her (or at least has some secret crush on her) in some manner. That may be a failure of casting, if that wasn’t the intent, but it is not Bergl’s fault. When I first saw the film, Bergl seemed to remind me of somebody else, and I eventually figured out it was Carrie Hamilton, Carol Burnett’s late daughter, who appeared in <i>Tokyo Pop</i> (a film that I, at one point, had some familiarity).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The other aspect that I did enjoy is the relative bloodiness of the film, in a way that far surpasses the original film (not counting that bucket of pig’s blood, of course). The filmmakers seem to take a small delight in its violence, whether having Lisa throw herself off a roof through a car window and then have everyone gawk at her or adding the gratuitous detail of having Rachel’s beloved dog run over in the middle of the night. (Don’t worry… the dog lives; he’s just a device to get her together with Jason London and to lead to all the sex stuff.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When Carrie had her big prom meltdown, there was a real sense of otherworldliness to her, as if her soul had transported out of her body, and she was just pure vengeance unleashed. There was supposed to be a disconnect between when she used her powers and her real self, so even when the violence is unleashed on those who have caused Carrie great pain or torment (even her mother), while the audience takes great satisfaction in seeing Carrie take her revenge, it seems less personal to Carrie herself. The prom scene is (for the most part) exits being barred, hoses being moved about and sprayed at people and musical equipment, people getting shocked from the meeting of water with electricity, the gym catching on fire, and then Carrie flipping and blowing up Billy’s car. The only scene (besides Miss Collins getting crushed) that seems overly gratuitous is the final battle with her mother, where Carrie thankfully impales the psycho with every sharp object in the kitchen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With Rachel, while she too seems to go into a sort of trance while exhibiting her great power, it almost feels like the revenge is a lot more personal. Let’s say the stakes are amped up anyway on the embarrassment level: being ridiculed over a lack of knowledge of one’s own feminine hygiene and then tricked into being prom queen where blood is dumped on your head versus having your best friend and yourself tricked into having sex with jocks and then getting mocked publicly about it (and with a suicide resulting in her friend’s case). I think Rachel really has it all over Carrie in the “Need to Get Revenge” department, and I think the results show that Rachel, despite her trance, seems to take a little more delight in her executions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After we see another example of the “X-treme” culture influence (and CGI effects) on the film – where Rachel’s arm tattoo grows and lengthens down her arm to her hand before her attack, like a loyal snake or a vine – the attacks starts out with the party crowd being sprayed with shattering glass, which even beheads one victim. Naturally, a fire will break out and consume many of the guests, but mixed in there is a harpoon that Rachel manipulates and whirls around looking for a victim, finally embedding through a jock’s head but also through the front door where it goes through the peeping eye of one Sue Snell, effectively killing the only original Stephen King character left. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Unlike the De Palma film, this film delights in seeing the blood splattered everywhere and dripping down from wounds. One of the big moments occurs when Rachel uses her power to pick up an entire stack of CDs from near the stereo, fans them out in the air, and then shoots them across the room like so many shuriken into the heads, faces, and chests of several partygoers. It would be a real nifty trick if the Cenobites hadn’t already pulled this gag first (and with far more gore) in <i>Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth</i> back in 1994. Finally, there is a bit where one of the most obnoxious jocks who has ended up in the pool has the pool cover closed slowly over him by Rachel and then we see long shots of him trying to fight his way out of being trapped before he finally gives up the ghost. For a girl who is surrounded by chaos, fire, and screaming victims, and who seems so intent on murdering everyone within range in her blind rage, it is a decidedly dedicated amount of time to spend on one victim, no matter what he has done.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMKJA4Xk5KKK-AgUoM2QYulNFnmyULm3X0dNeahkef5dJncuGY9LIIFCqMy3gSM5oUVhusFE2UNAbkFX4eBHgGzR3iXSUphxPCsxXOE8iIrKN2ehVSc7oflC-NDyrMZlAzk2f5DTtKXE/s1600/The_Rage_Carrie_2_DVD.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMKJA4Xk5KKK-AgUoM2QYulNFnmyULm3X0dNeahkef5dJncuGY9LIIFCqMy3gSM5oUVhusFE2UNAbkFX4eBHgGzR3iXSUphxPCsxXOE8iIrKN2ehVSc7oflC-NDyrMZlAzk2f5DTtKXE/s320/The_Rage_Carrie_2_DVD.gif" width="216" /></a><b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> You mention that the stakes for Rachel – with her best friend driven to suicide and then heartbroken and publicly humiliated by the people responsible – are higher than they were for Carrie – mocked for her ignorance and then embarrassed publicly at Prom – but I actually felt like they were lower. Carrie was a true social misfit, someone who was so far outside of society that she was effectively an alien species walking through high school life. The brief taste she gets of normalcy is so intoxicating, so foreign and earth-shaking, that to have it pulled brutally out from under her understandably destroyed her grasp on sanity for awhile. In <i>The Rage</i>, Rachel is just too normal for the film’s own good. She’s socially adept, and despite the stigma of a mother in a mental institution, and probably some deep-seated psychological issues stemming from her childhood, she seems remarkably well adjusted. I kept expecting her home life to be the source of some tension, because movies tend to only show adoptive parents when there’s going to be some abuse involved, but that development never came. Sure the foster parents seem a bit strict at times, probably not the most loving couple, and maybe a bit flummoxed by Rachel’s teenaged attitude, but they don’t particularly seem like monsters who mentally or physically abuse Rachel. They seem like a pretty normal family to me.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rachel has a small group of friends at school, a regular job, and a stable home life. In other words: she is a normal teenage girl in middle class America. This normalcy works against the film’s goals, because I never quite bought the Rage of the title. Rachel doesn’t seem to be harboring any vast reservoir of pent up aggression, aside from a few scenes where she experiences her powers. I can certainly empathize with a spectacular explosion of anger after what she goes through, but I didn’t quite feel like the depth of her rage was proportionate to what we had seen of her behavior so far. Of course, high school is a time of extreme emotions, and sudden outbursts of rage are to be expected, but the film doesn’t quite set up the extremity of the finale. Carrie White in the original film was an avatar of rage, taking her revenge to biblical levels. Rachel Lang goes bloodier, more brutal, more creative with her telekinetic powers, and I didn’t feel the film had earned that. Although, I also believe that it is to Katt Shea’s credit that she never tries to match, or outdo, the tour de force finale De Palma masterminded.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was one pleasantly dark surprise for me in the finale, which you already mentioned above: the sudden and gory death of Sue Snell. Throughout the film Sue had been trying to help Rachel control her anger and her powers, and had finally struck on the idea of reaching out to Rachel’s mother. It is here that Sue, and the audience, learns of Rachel’s parentage, which gives Sue the idea to smuggle Rachel’s mother out of the mental institution in the hopes that some maternal love could help avoid a catastrophe. Arriving at the party, Sue chooses the exact wrong time to look through a peephole and meets a shocking end. This effectively echoes the journey of one Dick Halloran in Kubrick’s version of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Shining</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">: a character who seems poised to become the </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">deus ex machina</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> that swoops in to save the day, only to be killed in a hilariously perfunctory manner. This does have the unfortunate effect of highlighting just how unnecessary Sue Snell was to the film, but it did make for a memorable moment.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">In the end the rampage is stopped by Jesse arriving to the party and admitting he loves Rachel, which she disbelieves until she hears him saying the same thing on the sex tape that is still playing (filmed from an angle strategically chosen to not show genitalia, which was awfully considerate of those football players). Rachel saves Jesse as he’s about to be crushed by a falling beam, but is crushed in his place. She uses the last of her powers to push Jesse to safety before dying herself. What follows is an odd echo of the first film’s finale, as Jesse looks up from his studying a year later to see Rachel has climbed in through his dorm’s window. Before anything can be said, she kind of burns up and fades away before Jesse jumps awake. I’m not sure how I feel about this ending. On the one hand it underlines a point the film fitfully made, which is that trauma will haunt a person for their entire lives, but on the other hand the film failed to set this up or imbue it with any real emotion. Had the film focused more on Sue Snell, or at least developed that theme more fully, I think it could have been pretty effective. Once again I find myself imagining the movie this could have been, and that’s a little unfair to the movie that we did get, so I’ll leave it off at that.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>While <i>Carrie</i> has been now remade twice more (one for TV and a recent theatrical remake), <i>The Rage: Carrie 2’s</i> failure at the box office seemed to have destroyed any thought of continuing the original series at a ridiculous <i>Children of the Corn </i>pace (thankfully). We will get into those other versions of the story in future installments, and whether they were worthy attempts or not, but I have to look at <i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i> and say that they really fumbled the ball with this one, despite the couple of high points that I mentioned and the fact that they did try to coax a more modern and perhaps reflective story from the source material. The chief problem is that Rachel’s actions do not remain consistent late in the film to what we had seen earlier, and it therefore makes her character ultimately annoying. I would have rather seen her become more self-aware and in control of her powers, and then use them to not just gain her vengeance but to play the boys all along. (Yes, I know it is called <i>The Rage</i> for a reason, but perhaps that could have been the obstacle she truly has to overcome to grow into her true self.) They give us all the ingredients to make us believe that Rachel could turn into a true badass, but then have to ruin it all by being accidentally crushed by her own power. I would have much rather had her live instead of London’s weak character, where she has to live with the regrets of her actions but is strong enough to carry on through a world that is always going to be afraid of the implications of her power.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b> That would be my complaint with this film in a nutshell: <i>The Rage</i> continually suggests the better movies that could have been made instead. Surprisingly, I didn’t hate this movie, or even particularly dislike it. I think it’s clear I have some serious problems with the film, but in general I enjoyed watching it, at least more than I initially thought I would. I found myself looking forward to a second rewatch, because at the very least Katt Shea creates a world that is enjoyable to inhabit for 90 minutes or so, despite the continual ugliness within the film. As you say, Emily Bergl does probably the best you could hope for with this material and character, and in fact I think most of the cast acquits themselves respectably (though, side note: it always bothers me when high school films use actors clearly in their twenties or thirties for the main characters, but populate the extras with age-appropriate teenagers). There is the basis of a good idea in this film, one that would have worked better under the original title <i>The Curse</i>, about how the tragedies of the past inform our daily lives no matter how we run from them, yet the film seems generally disinterested in that. I don’t even want to lay the blame on Katt Shea, who took over as director a few weeks into the production and was given very little prep time and a bunch of reshoots. Perhaps the original script described a better movie. I don’t think this is a film I’ll be adding to my Halloween rotation, but it’s also one I’m pretty sure I will revisit at least once or twice in the future.</span></span><br />
<br />Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-78486835720597296802016-10-28T09:53:00.000-07:002016-10-28T09:53:59.861-07:00Carrie (1976) [Pt. 2]<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #990000;"><i>[Welcome to Part Two of our discussion regarding Brian De Palma's filmed version of Carrie. In the previous edition we discussed some of the changes De Palma made to the source material, along with some of the casting and directorial choices made along the way. But it seems like we only scratched the surface in our discussion of this film, so follow along as we finish up talking about that famous finale (both of them!), Brian De Palma's career in general, and Aaron demonstrate his ignorance of Judeo-Christian beliefs.]</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Luckily, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> falls right into that golden De Palma age (in my opinion), a period that runs from about 1972-1987: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sisters</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Phantom of the Paradise</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Fury</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Home Movies</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dressed to Kill</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blow Out</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Body Double. The Untouchables</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I left out a couple of films on that chronological list for that period: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Obsession</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (1976), because I did not see it until a few months ago (I felt it was more intriguing than it was successful as a film), and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarface</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (1983), because I am actually not a fan of what I feel is a greatly overrated film (thanks to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">MTV Cribs</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for that!), but I will never say it is uninteresting or worthy of appreciation on certain levels. Oh yeah, and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wise Guys</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (1986), because apart from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dead Heat</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Joe Piscopo roles don’t age all that well. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s funny, because I have recently begun talking to fellow film fans on the internet in various groups who all seem to worship every single frame De Palma has shot. I recognize that he has made some really cool films and a few truly great ones, and I used to be a drumbeater for De Palma around the same age as the guys of whom I am speaking. But I am sorry, not everything turns to gold once he films it. He has some real duds, and it will take some incredible heavy lifting on someone’s part to convince me that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mission to Mars</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> or </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Bonfire of the Vanities</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> are worthwhile efforts.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron, before we continue on with more </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, where are you in the Brian De Palma Appreciation Society?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Well, it’s hard to say, actually. I haven’t seen a lot of his movies, including some of the big ones that you list as favorites, but of the films I have seen I enjoy most of them. Several I count as personal favorites, or at least films I return to frequently. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Untouchables</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Fury</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Raising Cain</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and above all </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Phantom of the Paradise</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, which I adore. There are also several films in his oeuvre that I am somewhat less than enthralled with. Like you, I don’t get much enjoyment from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarface</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> or the first </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mission: Impossible</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> film. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mission to Mars</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was a film so dreadfully awful that when some friends and I went to see it theatrically, it prompted one of my buddies to say “that was so bad I want to punch someone” as the credits began to roll. And then there are some films that fall somewhere in the middle, as I tend to find something interesting concealed within almost everything he’s done. Take </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Black Dahlia</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, which disappointed you, while I found the operatic explosion of gothic melodrama and grand guignol violence during the finale to be quite thrilling (even if the 90 minutes leading up to it were a tad dull). Or </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Passion</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a somewhat recent remake of a French film about a professional rivalry with lesbian overtones. Amazingly, De Palma deemphasizes the sexuality in the film, which is completely against his nature, yet the film also includes one of his signature bravura split-screen sequences, and that made the film worthwhile for me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So yes, I guess you could say I’m a fan of De Palma in general, though not one of those people on discussion boards you mention, who worship every frame he films. I feel like this resurgence in critical support is a bit of a recent phenomenon with De Palma, as only a few years ago I remember reading a lot of discussions where popular opinion seemed to consider him an overrated one-trick pony, too in love with the cleverness of his own stylistic tics. Certainly his Hitchcock obsession has been the constant source of some contention, as his critics tend to view it as creative theft while his fans see it as a thrilling integration of cinematic styles. I suppose I’m in the latter camp, as it’s clear that De Palma’s occasional aping of Hitchcock is not a sign of creative bankruptcy, but the result of De Palma thoroughly internalizing the work of a master he fervently admires, and using those techniques to probe at his own obsessions.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjeQT6Y2_69cCPz_-3fG1G2aYYaO4DhWiyt_mG3fFAzqNt3fXu9OszshXOM9hYkcygl_n9vlHV2CjM_7usp7cwgbw9nEsX2EC2vAwYXcc8VY9m9AXJBHk-qvzFz1m07MJKD_JjmzkrnY/s1600/TommyCarrie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjeQT6Y2_69cCPz_-3fG1G2aYYaO4DhWiyt_mG3fFAzqNt3fXu9OszshXOM9hYkcygl_n9vlHV2CjM_7usp7cwgbw9nEsX2EC2vAwYXcc8VY9m9AXJBHk-qvzFz1m07MJKD_JjmzkrnY/s320/TommyCarrie.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’ve approached the finale of this film a couple of times so far, but I think I’d like to postpone that discussion for just a little bit. There’s at least one more bit of casting and characterization that I’d like to get into, and that’s William Katt in the role of Tommy Ross, Sue Snell’s boyfriend and Carrie White’s doomed date to the prom. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the time I first saw </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I knew Katt exclusively from his television show </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Greatest American Hero</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, which I loved as a kid. Over the years I’ve always enjoyed seeing William Katt whenever he would pop up. He has a likable presence, goofy and nerdy in a blonde, all-American way. In some ways, though it’s almost as odd to see him portray the popular jock as it is to see Travolta play the bad boy greaser. It works, however, and for me it fits better than the Travolta casting, because of a few minor changes to the Ross character. In the book there’s a bit of a cypher quality to Tommy Ross, as he’s clearly a good guy, but we see him only through the eyes of others. Always in relation to either Carrie or Sue. There’s enough of an unknown element at play that after the fatal events in the novel, people debate whether Tommy was in on Chris Hargensen and Billy Nolan’s plan to humiliate Carrie. Of course, as readers we know that Tommy’s intentions were pure, but he also seems as easily led as Billy is, though in a much more decent way. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the film version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Tommy gets less scenes but also seems, to me, to be more fleshed out. Take the English class scene in the beginning, where the teacher is reading a poem written by Tommy Ross, while he sits and stares ahead in good natured embarrassment. When the teacher asks for criticisms, Carrie says, almost as if she doesn’t know she’s speaking aloud, “It’s beautiful.” The teacher begins to mock Carrie for not having an actual criticism, much to the general amusement of the class. The scene is framed interestingly, with Tommy Ross in closeup along the left side of the screen, while behind him we see Carrie, sitting at her desk and never once looking up from her book. She doesn’t even seem to notice the teasing, so used to it is she. But Tommy notices, and we see the good cheer drain from his face as he’s clearly bothered by the teacher’s reaction to Carrie, culminating in a muttered “you suck” which the teacher picks up on. In this early scene we’re given to understand that Tommy is a decent guy, smart and soulful, and even at this early stage he understands that Carrie is somebody special. Or at least somebody people worthy of kindness.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One other slight change in the character that I think is noteworthy; we only see Tommy and Sue together a couple of times. In the book they spend much more time together, including a couple of romantic getaways. There is a moment when Sue believes she may be pregnant with Tommy’s child, though this turns out to not be the case. In the film, however, Tommy spends much more time on screen with Carrie, and I always got the impression that there may have been some real feelings between them. Maybe not romantic feelings – Tommy was probably never going to leave Sue for Carrie – but I always felt like Tommy did have some affection for Carrie outside of just going along to appease his girlfriend. What are your thoughts on that, Rik?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtANRaHo1Z4iUli_xALWxY-a-DOUQgPnvVqQGAio6u8T_RJ7gceuS19w0xIqQUPiQakFvSfIeAUHlkiJE3VQ9Jv_bxw8I9FWShI8VgnmYKZKOxD65jFtddKuOZOTcYx7ztEUWHO2W_cMg/s1600/library.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtANRaHo1Z4iUli_xALWxY-a-DOUQgPnvVqQGAio6u8T_RJ7gceuS19w0xIqQUPiQakFvSfIeAUHlkiJE3VQ9Jv_bxw8I9FWShI8VgnmYKZKOxD65jFtddKuOZOTcYx7ztEUWHO2W_cMg/s320/library.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I just felt he was a decent guy who, even with that, would possibly have gone along with the joke like everyone else (because that is basically what you do to get through school and even life sometimes) if it weren’t for the interference of Sue Snell. I think he understands what Sue is trying to do, even if he is a bit reticent, but once he gets into the date, I think he does start to feel something for Carrie. And I honestly think that he could possibly leave Sue for Carrie. I don’t see why it would be so out of bounds. There is the bit with the poem, and the fact that he admits that he didn’t write the poem that she liked. There is the kiss during the slow dance, and if there is a point where you have to decide whether he is playing her or not, it is that moment. When she finds out they are on the ballot for King and Queen, he is pretty open about how stupid the whole affair is, and his approach is “why not go for it?” (the prophetic words are actually, “To the devil with false modesty”), keeping in mind that he knows nothing at all about what is being planned once Carrie is on the stage. I think Tommy is just a good dude, and honestly, as attractive as I found Amy Irving in those days, Spacek looks pretty damn gorgeous in her prom dress, and I think she looks far better than many of the girls who are mocking her at the prom. (P.J. Soles, definitely a cutie in most guy’s books, is wearing a goddamn baseball hat to the Senior Prom!) I don’t see it as a big leap to think that Tommy might actually have a thing for her, given that they did make a connection earlier in the film.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As for Katt, this was the first time he really made an impression on me in a role, as </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Greatest American Hero</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> didn’t come on TV for a few more years (in 1981). I had obviously seen him in guest roles on numerous shows, because I watched </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Rookies</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">M*A*S*H</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kung Fu</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Emergency!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kojak</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (for examples) as a kid, but except for having seen his </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">M*A*S*H</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> episode in reruns recently, I don’t remember him from those shows. His role in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> did make an impression on me, and when </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hero</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> came on, I remembered exactly where I saw him and who he played. More than Hero, I am fond of him from his role in the wacky horror-comedy </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">House</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (1986). I feel Katt never really broke as huge as he should have. He was a good actor with an appealing personality, who had some pretty sharp comic timing. I still like seeing the guy when he shows up here and there. (I think the most significant recent role I remember was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Man from Earth</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in 2007.)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-oXGcmmlbbOYEEYJpgw0tB8i99YOp-J-KkvHMXFjdehfOOSK_Ea8nQV8AfFUNW7FxsDVKGNJYZSG8ssx6lBgLUUca8gr5Iz4vmfbn5W_uslKr-a2I0BLnS8nhRJs9iCA8ozRWCFrDKM/s1600/queen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-oXGcmmlbbOYEEYJpgw0tB8i99YOp-J-KkvHMXFjdehfOOSK_Ea8nQV8AfFUNW7FxsDVKGNJYZSG8ssx6lBgLUUca8gr5Iz4vmfbn5W_uslKr-a2I0BLnS8nhRJs9iCA8ozRWCFrDKM/s320/queen.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Getting back to that dance, whatever else he does in the film, De Palma really serves up a masterpiece of timing, tension, and suspense-building in the prom sequence. (First question I have: with so many people pouring into the gymnasium for the dance, how do Tommy and Carrie get such a prime parking spot, two cars from the front door?) De Palma’s use of his entire toolbelt is astounding in this sequence. The quick cutting between the multiple characters involved in Carrie’s humiliation, or the attempt to thwart it is stunning and almost hypnotic, as De Palma and editor Paul Hirsch juggle slow motion clips of Sue Snell discovering the plan and then being expelled bodily from the dance with closeups of Chris’ eyes and the licking of her lips as she plots to drop the pig’s blood, along with shots of Carrie living (for her) an almost unrecognizable and surreal fairy tale dream come true as she is crowned Queen of the Prom. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZFXSwWYzVGRNhNJti3_Wb8Ut0F4CXwbQ438vPR_lQ0E1EnVXkCesnXMssuUxhrdtlHgNN4faUaJRT7m6Ybv3cmPQNgkrD5Tr1Hlhdxn_kypubjkDcZLIFIHPnw6AbWsQIJMSJzmsK_M/s1600/Carrie-1976-Sissy-Spacek-pig-blood.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZFXSwWYzVGRNhNJti3_Wb8Ut0F4CXwbQ438vPR_lQ0E1EnVXkCesnXMssuUxhrdtlHgNN4faUaJRT7m6Ybv3cmPQNgkrD5Tr1Hlhdxn_kypubjkDcZLIFIHPnw6AbWsQIJMSJzmsK_M/s320/Carrie-1976-Sissy-Spacek-pig-blood.png" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the blood rains down and douses Carrie on the stage, the film stops cold. Except for Soles’ character, Norma, who laughs openly (but in complete silence; thankfully, De Palma never grants her a wild braying moment) and a couple of others in the crowd, everyone else stands stunned by what has happened. Tommy reacts protectively, but is killed by the metal bucket falling from the catwalk. Through Carrie’s eyes, though, everyone is laughing maniacally at her as she remembers her mother’s words that “They’re all going to laugh at you!” Her vision is a kaleidoscopic view of the entire room with closeups of laughing faces, even Ms. Collins, who tried to intervene on her behalf. Carrie loses herself completely, or from another view, finally becomes her true self, and is overcome by her supernatural powers. She wills the doors closed and locked, we get the trademark De Palma split screen with a simultaneous closeup of Carrie’s wild staring eyes and dour countenance next to her upper torso, caked in blood and red light against the starred, blue backdrop of the stage. It is a thrilling image.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When she unleashes her powers and all hell breaks loose inside the gym, and scores of kids and teachers are killed, for me, there is both horror at what happens and also a feeling of retribution at those that truly deserved it. Most don’t realize it is Carrie performing these acts, but some clearly catch on, including Ms. Collins, whom Carrie murders without a flinch and for whom we truly feel sorry. It is the scene where Spacek leaves the stage where her casting becomes the wisest decision they made on the film. The angularity of her body, combined with the cold stare she is able to invoke, while covered in blood and gore as she wades through the bodies surrounded by fire is a moment worthy of the reveal of the Bride of Frankenstein in my mind. Hers is a haunting visage through his segment, which continues through her doing away with Chris and Billy out on the road by flipping and then exploding Billy’s hot rod. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyjEl_d3n_r4ObBIlCB2ygRIDFnKVNBFjgNpSDn3VEs7CHkeSQE8C7hVwMelrO31B-swe8HVK2xSmmE13NPGYwG2bZyS15sH1S3Ca5rXp9kin2fLunTnLwo94sSH3YFjt9LO_prHDHzk/s1600/Carrie-Split-Screen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyjEl_d3n_r4ObBIlCB2ygRIDFnKVNBFjgNpSDn3VEs7CHkeSQE8C7hVwMelrO31B-swe8HVK2xSmmE13NPGYwG2bZyS15sH1S3Ca5rXp9kin2fLunTnLwo94sSH3YFjt9LO_prHDHzk/s320/Carrie-Split-Screen.png" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s funny that, as many times as I have seen </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the prom destruction seems to go on for about a half an hour in my memory even though it is really only a few, tight, well-constructed and conceived minutes. As you mentioned, Carrie goes on a rampage and destroys much of the town in the book, but De Palma is clearly more interested in making the big finale of this film a confrontation between her religion-crazed mother and the daughter whom she considers to be of the devil himself. I feel the mother-daughter confrontation is a wise decision, even if I don’t agree with how literally he chooses to send to Carrie and her mother to hell. Maybe this is just the monster-rampage lover in me – but I would have loved to see Carrie go after the entire town in the movie version. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am sure you have a lot to say about the prom scene, but please carry on into that final clash and the Irving “jolt” epilogue if you would.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I have the same reaction as you; in my memory, the prom scene is much longer than it actually appears on film. That’s a testament to how perfectly De Palma captured and distilled the essence of that scene, but it’s also a bit of a shock every time I rewatch this film. I hate to say this, because it sounds like I’m criticizing the film when I’m actually doing the opposite, but the prom scene is sometimes a letdown to me, because I remember it as being much more epic and, for lack of a better word, brutal. But as you say, the scene is really only a couple of minutes long, and a very tight couple of minutes at that. We may not get the widespread destruction of the novel, or the gory explosion of viscera I seem to hold in my mind sometimes, but we get a perfectly brief flurry of action and violence, exploding outward from Carrie once she reaches her breaking point, and then ending just as quickly when her rage is spent (though not entirely gone, as there are a couple more outbursts ahead).</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgau2rDtWsEhm-zl64UAz7Y0PbnkuvoXZC0EZYb8DdkrcKnB-81m3gXEJ3IMFfqaCjxXU_GJjFx1M-PdW7ryUFVQDMhM0OIs0G3F940LVeuYwFSeeN-C8KUaOJ0-jC3xpXlVfO3sJ0kvCE/s1600/bucket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgau2rDtWsEhm-zl64UAz7Y0PbnkuvoXZC0EZYb8DdkrcKnB-81m3gXEJ3IMFfqaCjxXU_GJjFx1M-PdW7ryUFVQDMhM0OIs0G3F940LVeuYwFSeeN-C8KUaOJ0-jC3xpXlVfO3sJ0kvCE/s320/bucket.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That isn’t meant to downplay the effectiveness of the scene, however. If anything I feel like it speaks to how well De Palma built tension prior to this climax,</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and how effectively he provided a release. The prom, for Carrie, is a dream come true; everything is shiny and and bright, Tommy’s friends are all nice to her, and she has a romantic dance with the most popular boy in school. De Palma gives us only a couple of reminders that something horrible has been planned for this night, until Tommy and Carrie are voted prom King and Queen, at which point De Palma really begins to lay on the Hitchcockian suspense. I really enjoy the connections that are made here in the editing. Sue Snell has snuck into the prom to see how Carrie’s night is going, and she notices an oddly swinging rope which she traces back to a bucket of blood perched over Carrie’s head. Ms. Collins notices Sue as Sue follows the rope back to Chris’ hiding place and has her ejected from the prom. Tommy notices Sue being ejected from the prom and gives an odd laugh, presumably believing Sue is suffering a brief bout of jealousy. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This scene so far has been entirely in slow motion, but while the video slows the editing gets faster and faster, and the signifiers of who we’re cutting between become briefer. Sue and Ms. Collins arguing, a shot of a hand on a rope, a bucket of blood, Carrie smiling, a tongue darting out between Chris’ lips, Tommy smiling, an eyeball, a gym door closing, a rope being pulled. The activity builds to a manic pace, and then the blood falls, and everything stops. Applause dies down, the music cuts out, and all audio is removed apart from the creaking of the rope and bucket as everyone tries to process what has just happened. The reactions here are heartbreaking; the choked sob Ms. Collins gives, the pity visible on the faces of even those who had teased Carrie throughout the movie. P.J. Soles is the only one who begins laughing, to the clear disgust of everyone around her (also of possible note: Soles is the only one laughing, but also the only relevant character that Carrie does not focus on when she hallucinates everyone is mocking her). De Palma gives a minute of silence here, to document these reactions, and then the silence is broken by Margaret White’s warning that “they’re all gonna laugh at you!” which begins circling around in Carrie’s head. I haven’t seen this film nearly as many times as you have, but I’ve watched it frequently over the years, and I still feel a thrill when that first usage of split-screen occurs. I am not surprised De Palma worried over this scene for weeks in the editing room; the final product is as perfectly timed and orchestrated a slice of film as I’ve ever seen.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I mentioned in our discussion of the novel that I felt the proper end would be the confrontation between Carrie and Margaret, and that the scenes after that event felt a little oddly placed because of it. But, of course, I was allowing the De Palma film to influence my reaction to the book. In the book the carnage spreads out from the prom and overtakes almost the entire town, while in the film the carnage is confined to the high school, Billy and Chris, and Carrie’s mother. As much as I would have liked to see Carrie really go all out in exacting her revenge, I’m glad De Palma opted to not go there. Whether the decision was made from a conceptual level to narrow the focus of the story, or whether it would have been a logistical nightmare for them to try and shoot the scene, I believe it turns out to be the proper decision. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1QuM38zinGYuCTHqB-QS_Uqik_GH9NHkwLH8gPmCVCKF1NdKPW0j4ywQ97qtp48D9lRiW7MQdJoVUKnvhg4fUUmdvHit3myEwfVdgTCzn2gtZEtWp-bLYfIrwt3H-n1BTK1cjoy2C7A/s1600/carrie-piper-laurie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1QuM38zinGYuCTHqB-QS_Uqik_GH9NHkwLH8gPmCVCKF1NdKPW0j4ywQ97qtp48D9lRiW7MQdJoVUKnvhg4fUUmdvHit3myEwfVdgTCzn2gtZEtWp-bLYfIrwt3H-n1BTK1cjoy2C7A/s320/carrie-piper-laurie.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Carrie returns home, seeking to apologize to her mother and seek comfort from her, she finds the house apparently empty. After bathing herself of the pig’s blood, Carrie dresses in a white nightgown and finds her mother, who at first seems to forgive her daughter, only to stab her in the back while they embrace. At this point Carrie uses her telekinetic powers to drive every nearby blade into her mother, killing her and effectively leaving her in the same pose the statue of Jesus being crucified that adorned the closet Carrie was locked into as punishment. This is quite different from how the scene plays out in the book, where Carrie returned home with the intention of killing her mother, and does so by using her powers to slowly stop Margaret’s heart (but not before being fatally stabbed). I find the confrontation in the book, and Margaret’s death, to be much creepier and more uncomfortable, while I think the added religious reference in the film elevates the movie to religious parable, in a way. It turns the film into one of those frightening bible passages, like Abraham being commanded to kill his son. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t think I ever had a problem with how Carrie meets her end in the film. Since you’ve brought it up, I can see what you’re saying about the descent to hell being too literal, but I also don’t think I’d ever call De Palma an entirely subtle filmmaker. I think it fits with the outsized religion and hellfire we’ve been confronted with through the film, and I think Carrie’s implosion of grief makes a nice counterpoint to the explosion of rage we saw at the prom. The scene I did have a problem with, for many years, is the final shock of the film, as we catch up with the film’s lone survivor: Sue Snell.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcMMRxG75x_TNu1erQ1oWHIQ2kfG11G4MA0m-uay7kzA6dEwQllqzGDJYd8R8Whwk3gLHgGqADoOgCeeVYzFxtTLt_3XfXUsaotv2pIDosioBAoz4Hkp4RN2c0I3j2HJBG8XUMdc01yc/s1600/end.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcMMRxG75x_TNu1erQ1oWHIQ2kfG11G4MA0m-uay7kzA6dEwQllqzGDJYd8R8Whwk3gLHgGqADoOgCeeVYzFxtTLt_3XfXUsaotv2pIDosioBAoz4Hkp4RN2c0I3j2HJBG8XUMdc01yc/s320/end.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some undetermined point of time after the tragic events of the film, Sue Snell walks along a residential street and turns into an empty lot, a lot with a square of burnt ground in the middle and a ‘for sale’ sign sticking up out of it. This is the lot where Carrie’s house once stood, and if we didn’t understand that yet, it’s made clear by the message left there by some vandal. “Carrie White burns in hell,” someone has scrawled. (I always imagined it was a kid, maybe still in elementary school, possibly with an older brother who died at prom, sneaking onto the property and writing the message out of anger but also getting a thrill from the transgression. I have no idea why I ascribed such a detailed backstory to a person whose existence is only hinted at.) Sue Snell leans down to place flowers by the sign, and as she does, Carrie White’s hand shoots up out of the ground and grabs Sue by the wrist. But it was all a dream, and Sue wakes up screaming while her mother tends her, opining that she’ll never quite recover from the tragedy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCfzOjWvm-6dKO1CWEDgY_M5jcO337FM9I5YzfqHM4ZaypYIvPhVLmi1dnWCTgQLjVeLZ4zLgdwPKIPk7b3zqVYMD32Xjakfa5nxu16QTwmC9IjkZrn6Zd4OUn47jhI6yaEjktXTalPw/s1600/endscare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCfzOjWvm-6dKO1CWEDgY_M5jcO337FM9I5YzfqHM4ZaypYIvPhVLmi1dnWCTgQLjVeLZ4zLgdwPKIPk7b3zqVYMD32Xjakfa5nxu16QTwmC9IjkZrn6Zd4OUn47jhI6yaEjktXTalPw/s320/endscare.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This scene never really worked for me the first handful of times I watched the film. I had always heard the scene referred to as one of the scariest, most infamous shock endings ever filmed, but I could never understand what people saw in it. It felt cheap and meaningless. The equivalent of one of those internet videos where you try and trick someone into finding some hidden puzzle in an image of an empty room, only to suddenly have a screaming skull pop onto the screen once they’ve pushed their noses to the monitor. I didn’t see the point of it; it was a dream sequence, and so not real, and therefore it didn’t matter at all. While reading the book I had this ending scene in my head, and when Sue was thinking she might be pregnant with Tommy’s child, I flashed forward and wondered if maybe the novel’s ending used a similar device to imply that Carrie had somehow imprinted herself on the unborn child. But then of course, Sue turns out to not be pregnant, so my outlandish notion was thrown out. As an adult viewer, I finally came around to the scene when I saw what it was doing. The fires have been put out, the funerals held, the site of Carrie’s death has been razed and cleaned up, and yet the sickness still remains. This event will never remain buried for Sue, who is going to be carrying these dreams with her for a lifetime.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a moment that actually feeds into our upcoming discussion of the sequel, but I’ll save any further explorations for that piece.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Since you have given us a pretty thorough recounting of the end of the film, I will just touch on a couple of points, and also my reactions to those moments.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYKjQ0vBgt7lJPQPxydgcx7TyjVfbj9a_FjVQvsM246-WEM9X45rGNYpJ32cs5zN4Wd4RGDzJJeNzB56998Nss7h8hXvwXCnWX51TQ1uo0GDXH0RJrymUGuaaWjMqsy965s5no31bBJE/s1600/Carrie003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYKjQ0vBgt7lJPQPxydgcx7TyjVfbj9a_FjVQvsM246-WEM9X45rGNYpJ32cs5zN4Wd4RGDzJJeNzB56998Nss7h8hXvwXCnWX51TQ1uo0GDXH0RJrymUGuaaWjMqsy965s5no31bBJE/s320/Carrie003.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First, I must jump in and say that the statue that is shown in close-up in Carrie’s closet is not Jesus on the cross but that of St. Sebastian, a martyr in early Christendom who was, in many depictions, tied to a tree and shot through with arrows. There are very clearly arrows in the figure in the statue, which was not a feature of any representation of the crucifixion of Christ, who was pierced in the side of his torso by a spear. (I thank Nick Cave for keeping knowledge of St. Sebastian and the arrows in my head.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a moment, while Carrie is still out on her prom date, just after she and Tommy have been checked on a ballot as King and Queen, that Margaret White is seen nervously pacing around her kitchen table in a shot from above the ceiling light. In the last scene where we saw her, Carrie had used her power to force her mother to the bed helplessly, and as Carrie left, Margaret spit out scripture from Exodus 22:18, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch a live.” It was already clear at that point, and even at earlier points, that she felt her daughter was wicked and cursed by the devil, but in this scene, we see her leap to sheer madness as she actively makes the switch to committing to murder her own child. With the camera still looking down from the same vantage point, she selects a carrot from a collection of vegetables, most likely planned for a soup or stew originally, and places it on the cutting board. She picks up a large knife, and without holding the carrot in place for accurate cuts, she holds her arm up almost in robot-like fashion and brings it down on the carrot several times, each cut more wild than the last. One cut finally sends the remainder of the vegetable off the cutting board, and she makes a final series of hard chops at the cutting board, in which we clearly see that the object of her violence doesn’t matter. She just means to do damage, and she is most definitely focusing her mental attention only on stopping her daughter however she must. For me, this was a most frightening scene, that a parent can commit to turning on their child so suddenly and sharply (no pun intended).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, when Carrie returns home, she is going to run to the arms of her mother, because no matter what has happened in her life to that point and no matter how much her mother has been the cause of much of it, mama has always been there to comfort her. Even though she and her mother left each other on bad terms before the prom, after what Carrie has been through (and who knows how much of it she really remembers), Mother is all she has left. I am only saying this in defense of years of having friends and other people say things like, “I wouldn’t go back to that bitch!” Assuredly, were I Carrie, I probably wouldn’t either, but I am not Carrie. We can only go with the person we have met in the film (not the book, because it is the film under discussion here), and that person goes back to her mother after all this. There is no way around it. She goes back, and her story ends the tragic way it has to end.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As for the jolt ending, I always rather dug it when I was younger, but I totally get what you are saying about equating to those cheap computer scares on YouTube. There is certainly a parallel here to the “jump scare” brand of horror that is far too popular these days. As I said, I really liked the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> jolt when I was younger, and so it probably points up that were I of a similar age today, I would actually enjoy “jump scare” horror. But I don’t like jump scares now; I find them as cheap and meaningless as you describe them. The weird thing, though, is that I still like the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> jolt. It may be because it was one of the purest, earliest versions of such a shock in a big budget film, not just the scare, but combined with a dream sequence ending. Regardless, I find it still works as well as De Palma intended, and even if I didn’t like it much, the film would feel much less without it. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> wouldn’t be the same.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For years I’ve been of the opinion that in order to make a good movie out of a Stephen King book you have to be willing to drastically alter the text. King is one of my favorite authors, and I clearly have spent a lot of time in the company of his creations, but what works on the page has a habit of not working on the screen. This is why Stanley Kubrick made an all-time classic film out of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Shining</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> by keeping the setting and character names while throwing everything else out the window. Mick Garris tackled the same material in 1997, but allowed King to write the slavishly faithful screenplay, ensuring no one would remember it. In that regard, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is a bit of an odd duck. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is basically the exception that proves the rule; it’s one of the most faithful adaptations in terms of plot and tone, but it also knows when to stray from the text. Most noticeably, the film version of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> features none of King’s signature weird slang (to be fair, the book didn’t have that much of it either). But beyond just the dialogue, De Palma’s interpretation of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(with the assistance of screenwriter Lawrence D. Cohen, who would basically make a career out of adapting Stephen King) makes only minor alterations to the story. Minor alterations that make a big difference. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The relationship between Chris and Billy is softened, and we see less of their interactions than we do in the book. Tommy and Sue’s relationship is given only a couple of scenes, while we get a new wacky scene of Tommy shopping with his friends. We lose a lot of minor scenes, like the one with Chris’ dad threatening to sue the school, and we even get a little less of Carrie. The film not only cuts back on Carrie’s rampage at the end, and cuts out any references to worldwide events after prom night, but it downplays Carrie’s telepathic abilities in general. Sure, she tests her powers with the mirror in her bedroom, and she goes to the library and discovers the word for what she’s been doing, but we don’t get any of the scenes of Carrie “exercising” in her room as she learns to control her powers. This effectively narrows the story’s focus and turns it into a story about the life of this tortured social misfit, with the telekinesis stuff as the powder keg the audience knows must eventually go off.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie is a great lesson in how to adapt a book to the screen; you focus in on the heart of the matter, and disregard any of the small details that don’t speak to that heart. I think anyone reading this piece will immediately understand that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carrie</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is a film that means much more to you than it does to me, but I do think this is a great film, and one I will continue to return to in the future.</span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-7e97b597-0465-3aab-bea8-c013483e167a"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rik: </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since I am just getting back into reading Stephen King regularly, I am going to withhold judgment on how best to adapt a King book to the screen. I feel that you are more able to speak on that subject than I am. But having just read Carrie and then seen the movie version again a couple more times, I would have to agree that De Palma made most of the right decisions in both streamlining the main text for the screen, and in expanding or altering certain characters for the movie. Carrie the movie is remarkably economical in style and storytelling sense given how grandly horrific and bigger the film gets as it moves towards its conclusion. It is about as tightly edited a film as you will ever see in the genre, and I never get bored seeing it again and again over the years. It is always a pleasure.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>[Well, that about does it for our discussion of Brian De Palma's </i>Carrie<i> adaptation. We hope you found it entertaining and enlightening. Please check back in a few days as we delve into </i>The Rage: Carrie 2<i>, the belated 1999 sequel to this film.]</i></span></div>
WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-50528854762682661212016-10-26T19:57:00.000-07:002016-10-28T09:01:40.695-07:00Carrie (1976) [Pt. 1]<div>
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik Tod Johnson:</b><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> Welcome once again to We Who </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Watch </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Behind the Rows. As part of our Countdown to Halloween celebration for October, Aaron Lowe and I are concentrating on Stephen King’s first published novel, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Carrie</i><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> (1974), and all four filmed adaptations of the book thus far.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />In our last edition, we did indeed discuss the novel <i>Carrie</i>, but had some difficulties continuing any further with the talk as the 1976 film version of Brian De Palma looms very large over everything. It was decided at that point to cut bait, and just move on to the next part.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Film: Carrie (1976)</b></span><i>[1976, MGM; directed by Brian De Palma; screenplay by Lawrence D. Cohen]</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> The film version of Stephen King’s <i>Carrie</i> came out less than two years after the hardcover version of the novel was published. King’s hardcover was not a success, but the book was optioned to Hollywood (for only $2,500), and found its way into De Palma’s hands. Production began as the book was released as a paperback, and then suddenly sold over a million copies, giving King his first big hit. Despite the fact that the book was suddenly a bestseller, De Palma made several key changes to the plot, all of which we will undoubtedly go into moving forward because they are quite significant in most cases.<br /><br />As we did with the first part of the <i>Carrie</i> discussion, a sort of shorthand was performed in describing the plot, since the story of Carrie White and the film that resulted from her story are so widely known today. Aaron even pointed out that if you are on this website, then you are probably already a King fan and know the story full well. So, I will make the shorthand even briefer: the wrong teenagers pick on the wrong girl with the right superpower at the wrong time. Sure, there are other details that may be important, like a wack-a-doodle fundamentalist mom, but otherwise, that is the story in a nutshell.<br /><br />I mentioned last time that I watch <i>Carrie</i> quite frequently, guessing that I have seen it at least twenty times (if not more) in the past thirty years since I last read the book all the way through. It is part of my regular Halloween rotation, and I probably visit it at least every other year. My best estimate is that I have probably seen the film around fifty times, counting showings in the early days of home video. And now that I have read the book again, I have also watched it again (and probably will at least once more before this discussion is done). <br /><br />But my first experience with <i>Carrie</i> goes back to its premiere showing on CBS in October 1978 after I had turned fourteen years old. At the time, I had no idea that anything was cut for television, apart from some language, but naturally they had removed the nudity in the shower scene and in the locker room, and the blowjob scene between John Travolta and Nancy Allen. For me, it was just a good, scary movie with some obvious dirty words taken out for television. I didn’t know what I was missing until I saw the VHS. And once I saw it, I watched it a lot.<br /><br />Aaron, what was your first experience with De Palma’s version of<i> Carrie</i> like?<br /><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b> Well, prepared to be underwhelmed, because I don’t actually remember my first viewing of <i>Carrie</i>. I can make a pretty educated guess about the circumstances surrounding my discovery of the film, of course. It was probably while I was in Jr. High, between 1990 and 1992, and I probably rented it from our neighborhood Video City. But even that may be incorrect, because I don’t know if my mom would have let me rent Carrie, an R-rated film, at the time. Perhaps, like you, I first caught the film on late night television in a much-edited form. I don’t know why I can’t recall the specifics of watching <i>Carrie</i> for the first time, when I can remember my initial viewings of many of the other films we’re going to cover, or have covered, even the ones of significantly lower personal importance. <i>Carrie</i> just seems to be a film that’s always been in my life. That isn’t to say that <i>Carrie</i> is a film I have a really personal connection to, as seems to be the case with you, it’s just that the specifics of the movie seem to have always existed in my memory. Certainly it was a part of my pop culture lexicon, and widely quoted, by my freshman year of high school.<br /><br />And yet, even in those same high school years, when I was quoting this movie, and when the film should have at least spoken to my burgeoning misanthropy and occasional desire to see my own school burn to the ground, I never had more than a general appreciation for <i>Carrie</i>. I did like the movie, enough to see it multiple times, but I don’t recall ever feeling a great affinity for it. I have no solid explanation for this, but I suspect I might have come to the film a bit too early. I was a bit of a late bloomer, I guess, sheltered and naive about a lot of things, and I believe I saw <i>Carrie</i> before the concepts of sex and femininity and the biological functions of reproduction were anything more than something we might have discussed once or twice in health class. It was certainly before my own teen angst really blossomed. That might give some explanation for why the film didn’t make a really strong first impression, while also sticking with me over the years. However, unlike you, this film has never entered my annual (or even semi-annual) Halloween rotation. There is a film we’ll cover eventually that I believe fulfills the same function for me as <i>Carrie</i> does for you, but this has always been a film I just happen to pop in every couple of years or so.<br /><br />I must say, I am shocked to hear that you saw this on network television in 1978! And on CBS, of all places! I guess CBS back in the seventies wasn’t quite the “grandparent’s network” that it is today, as that would have been within Norman Lear’s reign as king of socially conscious television, but I’m still having trouble imagining this in an edited form that excises not only the nudity and naughty language, but also, I presume, much of the film’s inciting incident. I’m also imagining what that locker room scene must have been like without any nudity in it, and I’m picturing a flurry of editing that pushes that scene into the realm of the abstract. No wonder catching up with the uncensored VHS deeper into your teen years was such a memorable discovery.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And that locker room scene. Seeing as how </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">it’s the first scene in the movie, we might as well just dive right in. Even as a teenager, without much capacity for critical thought when it came to movies, I recognized the washed out, fuzzy, overly sentimental manner in which De Palma films teenagers cavorting around in their underwear, or fully nude in some cases. The locker room is filled with steam, the music is something soft and airy, the girls are running around in slow motion, and the lens seems to have been smeared with vaseline to make the scene look like a romantic closeup in a movie from the 50s. Watching it with modern eyes the scene has the look of something mocking trashy, “serious” European erotic films, but it all just forms the basis of what De Palma does in this picture. Of course, that serves to make the other parts of the film, especially the scenes between Carrie White and her mother, feel all the more dark and claustrophobic. But at times he overplays the sentimentality of the high school scenes so much that I imagine the film felt nostalgic even when it was new.<br /><br />Rik, as someone who was conscious and aware at the time this movie was produced and released, what’s your take on the time capsule feel of the film? Am I off base in feeling like De Palma set this in a sort of timeless postcard version of middle America? Did you get the feeling, as a kid, that this was a movie set in a recognizable present day?</span><br /><b>Rik:</b> I will answer your question in a second, because it is a subject that I feel is important to the discussion. But first, I want to clarify that the showing of <i>Carrie</i> I saw was a prime time premiere of the film on CBS, not a late night viewing. It seems hard to believe in these days, but while cable TV was around at the time, it did not have even a smidgen of the reach it does today. Without the secondary market of VHS in full flourish yet either, feature films frequently jumped to network television, albeit in drastically edited form, pretty quickly. It is interesting to note that on the day after<i> Carrie </i>premiered on CBS, the very next night they premiered an R-rated film of a very different sort: Network, the one that prefigures much of the bullshit we are in today.<br /><br />To get a glimpse into just how they handled the editing of the shower and locker room sequence in the television version, check out this video that I found on YouTube, that shows clips from the airing on its premiere night on October 3, 1978, including that sequence. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /><br />Pretty ably handled – it is clear they had alternate takes planned for other types of viewings – though it is shocking to realize the tampon-throwing scene made it on television, but hell, that might have appeared on an <i>ABC Afterschool Special</i> in those days. They do, however, cut out every drop of blood from the scene, so you have to just kind of “know” what is going on with her (until the tampons are thrown, that is…) I do find it funny that CBS, as you noted, has a rep as a “grandparents’ channel” (I call it that as well) especially when it has the <i>CSI</i> shows on it, which can often be just as gory as many supposedly notorious horror films that I have seen. And right in prime time. Just as a side note, I recall when CBS premiered <i>Caddyshack</i> in prime time. When it got to Rodney Dangerfield’s big closing line in the film – “Hey, everybody, we’re all gonna get laid!” – the powers that be saw fit to alter it to “Hey, everybody, we’re all gonna take a shower!” Sure, I suppose after a sporting event, you might want to go home and wash off, but it still sounds to me like Rodney is insisting that everybody is going to hang together and do this as a group. Different strokes for different folks.<br /><br />Here is what I get from that opening sequence. I don’t take it as trashing European erotic films so much as I take it as giving easily led male viewers (who would probably make up a bulk of the audience at the time for this film) a glimpse into what is for them a world of mystery and fantasy. Yes, the music is almost ethereal in its loveliness, the camera pans slowly across the lockers and the semi-nude and nude girls cavorting about snapping towels and teasing one another. What straight male in the 1970s and even ‘80s didn’t have the fantasy of girls flirting in the locker room somewhere on the list of erotic daydreams? Films after <i>Carrie</i> would play with variations on this fantasy, such as <i>Porky’s</i>, but De Palma’s goal is one of subversion. The camera, music, and steam set up the fantasy, and then we get the sight of Sissy Spacek in the shower. At first, her time under the water keeps the erotic fantasy mood bubbling along. The image of the water spraying in slow motion from the spout is entirely phallic in composition, Pino Donaggio’s music continues along in angelic fashion, Spacek is seen nude from behind and rubs her breasts and other areas while maintaining an almost orgasmic look upon her face, and eventually she drops the soap in her reverie as she rubs around her pelvic region. The fantasy seems complete. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And then, with a closeup on her thighs… </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the blood comes. The scene is slow to shift at </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">first,</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as the 17-year-old Carrie doesn’t have an understanding of what has happened to her, sheltered as she is from information regarding her womanhood, but the scene is supposed to represent an awakening. It is a double awakening for Carrie, who will find she has grown up after all, despite her mother’s wishes, but it will also increase the pain of her existence as an outcast amongst her schoolmates. She will grow from this point more assured as her supernatural power, and thus her independence from her mother, both increase throughout the film. She will still be ruled by the doubts and fears that have shrouded her life to this point, but she will finally learn to fight back against them, ultimately, to tragic consequences for many, including herself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />And for the viewers, who entered into this film cloaked in an extreme fantasy dominated by male wish fulfillment, they are now awakened roughly and sneakily into the very personal horrors of feminine hygiene (a world in which most men, even the most mature ones, still find discomfort discussing), as blood gushes between Carrie’s legs and she screams in a panic, believing she is dying. The lovely high school girls of the locker room, whom we had ogled so graciously but gratuitously with our eyes minutes before, have now been turned into nothing but horrid, raving monsters, as they throw tampons at Carrie White and chant at her to “Plug it up! Plug it up!” as poor Carrie cries, not understanding what is happening to her at all.<br /><br />So, my answer is “No,” I don’t find the shower scene nostalgic at all. I find it completely intentional in its effort to throw the viewer a curveball from the very beginning, and that its look is chiefly attributable to De Palma’s desire to perform such a misdirection. I don’t think he overplays it all. I think he is showing exactly the amount of deftness that he needs. <br /><br />Now, having given that answer, I must now say, “Yes, sometimes I think the film does feel like it is in a time capsule” but for reasons other than the ones you quoted. There is a scene with Billy (played by John Travolta) and Chris (played by a quite gorgeous Nancy Allen – the future Mrs. De Palma) are riding around in Billy’s souped-up hot rod, drinking beers without getting caught by the cops, causing minor trouble, and doing what we used to call “cruising the Strip” back in Anchorage. There are almost no songs outside of original music used in the film (even the music at the prom is original material by a band performing in the film called Vance or Towers), but one song that is highly recognizable is <i>Heat Wave</i> by Martha and the Vandellas. Since the song was a #4 monster hit back in 1963, you may think that this is the reason that I might attribute a nostalgic feeling to the film. Nope. Hold on there, little buckaroo… <br /><br />At the time that<i> Carrie</i> was being made, George Lucas’ <i>American Graffiti</i> had blown up all over the place, and with it came a huge wave of early 1960s nostalgia. “Where were you in ‘62?” was a catchphrase from the movie’s promotional campaign that caught on all over the place, even with a kid like me who was born in ‘64. I distinctly remember people saying it when I was a kid and seeing it on posters. Post-<i>Graffiti</i>, <i>Happy Days</i> (and its many spinoffs) took over television for a few years, and I listened to as much oldies radio as I did current Top 40 stuff (I wasn’t into rock quite yet). I finally saw <i>American Graffiti</i> when it was reissued earlier in 1978, before I saw <i>Carrie</i> on TV. I have no clue if De Palma meant for the street scene with Travolta in the hot rod while <i>Heat Wave</i> plays in the background to be an intentional nod to <i>Graffiti</i> or not, but what it does to me is trigger a connection. (For the record, <i>Heat Wave</i> is not a song that is used in <i>Graffiti</i>, being a year too late for the soundtrack.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71pPQHx5jLee_RmDA7SEuOOtvzPk-0K_aQElzAfGANA_QhnHYMW5xRsFV6ZLvIgOEFNKcwyhs438CAHZ7x7n2vYWtkfNhBOQaFK4vfLoSMxP7g9lZLnbKAdVOSck5t_aQs8qcEN4_NYc/s1600/John+Travolta.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71pPQHx5jLee_RmDA7SEuOOtvzPk-0K_aQElzAfGANA_QhnHYMW5xRsFV6ZLvIgOEFNKcwyhs438CAHZ7x7n2vYWtkfNhBOQaFK4vfLoSMxP7g9lZLnbKAdVOSck5t_aQs8qcEN4_NYc/s320/John+Travolta.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Apart from Piper Laurie as Carrie’s mom, the rest of the costuming and dress in <i>Carrie</i> is pretty much of the time of its filming. Even hoodlum Billy, listening to oldies radio, looks like guys I had to deal with in 1976 in style and attitude. Because ‘60 nostalgia was a thing when I was a kid, when this film was made, and because everyone’s look is so tied to how it was then, the film will never have a timeless feel to me. It is a film tied to the year of its making, making it a time capsule piece, and yet, because it gets a certain detail or two concerning nostalgia within that time frame (not of that time frame, mind you), that it does have an odd feeling about it.<br /><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b> Watching that video you posted up above, I think it’s clear that an alternate opening was filmed for use on television. This is something I should have thought of, but I guess I was just using modern thinking, or at least the thinking of my own youth. I also find it interesting that the intro not only excises the blood and obscures what is happening to <i>Carrie</i>, the TV edit also seems squeamish about even showing the tampons. You get some “Plug it up!” shouts in there, but it’s much briefer than the theatrical version, and the camera never gives us a good look at what is actually being thrown. By this point it’s clear to the audience what is going on, but it’s interesting to think about the discussions that went into this scene. How much could they get away with cutting out while still keeping the scene coherent.<br /><br />At this point I feel like I’m going to be defending my words even though we seem to be in pretty much complete agreement over all the points you made. I certainly didn’t find the shower scene nostalgic, but I just noticed a lot of retro-seeming touches to the film, and I couldn’t quite tell if all of them were period-specific or if De Palma was intentionally making the daylight high school scenes look a little old fashioned. It’s a product of my age, I suppose, as my entire knowledge of the seventies has come secondhand, through movies and family photos. I did not become consciously aware of the world until the ’80s, after all. You bring up <i>American Graffiti</i>, which is where my mind went as well, and that could possibly explain some of the connection my mind was making. I’m not quite sure if De Palma was aware of that scene’s similarities to the earlier George Lucas film, but it is quite possible, considering pre-production for <i>Carrie</i> shared some resources with <i>Star Wars</i>. (De Palma reportedly handled all or most of the casting interviews for Star Wars). <br /><br />If anything, I agree that the male-fantasy style of direction provides for a nice reversal of expectations a few moments later. I think that’s what De Palma does throughout the film, and where I said “overplayed,” I really meant “heightened”. In a statement that could very well be used to describe most of his career, De Palma heightens every aspect of this film. The daylight scenes have a gauzy, ethereal brightness, like a soap commercial. The darkness is stained and pervasive, all the more imposing for the light that preceded it. In a way you could say every scene in the high school represents a fantasy vision.<br /><br />That tendency to heighten the emotion in everything he does isn’t always successful for De Palma, but here it turns out to have been a canny decision, as this has the effect of making the truly outlandish elements, like the telekinesis or Margaret White, feel somewhat believable. Margaret White is still a monstrous character, horrific and grotesque, but the fact that everything in this film exists at such extremes means that she at least feels like a part of this world. The film goes from the erotic fantasy of the opening credits, to the body-horror of a girl’s first period (not that I think the menstrual cycle itself is horrific, just that it is presented as such in this scene) and the outlandishly cruel teasing, to the bumbling bureaucracy of the high school principal, and finally to the oppressive, yellowing decay and punishing religion of Carrie’s home life. That’s a wild range of tonal shifts that still feel connected and of a piece with each other. <br /><br />In <i>Carrie</i>, the jocks are blonde and blue eyed, the nerds are awkward and bespectacled, the bad girls are bad and the bad boys are worse. De Palma almost turns these characters into flesh and blood cartoons, including the villains of the piece, Chris Hargensen and Billy Nolan. In this film version a lot of their relationship, which in the book is abusive and ugly, is played at times for laughs. Perhaps it’s just the fact that it’s hard to take John Travolta seriously at this point in his career, but Billy never seems threatening. Even when he slaps Chris a few times in the car, the slaps are half-hearted and don’t seem to cause her any pain, and we laugh at her repeatedly referring to him as “you shit.” But then, I’m able to take Travolta seriously in his other De Palma film from just a few years later, <i>Blow Out</i>, so I tend to think this was a conscious decision on Travolta or De Palma’s part. Almost like a slightly more sinister Vinny Barbarino. It’s odd, that in a movie of such extremes, the one thing that’s softened is this relationship.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Do you think I’m correct in my reading of the Chris/Billy relationship? Do you think it’s been softened for the movie, or is it just John Travolta’s goofiness in general?</span><br /><b>Rik:</b> Travolta as Billy Nolan was really hard to accept when I first watched the film. Physically, you go, “Of course, he is Billy!” But at the time, I was a Sweathog fan because I had watched every season of <i>Welcome Back, Kotter</i> (with and without him) and <i>The Boy in the Plastic Bubble</i> and <i>Grease</i>. I had not seen <i>Saturday Night Fever</i> yet when I first watched <i>Carrie</i> on television, so I did not know if he had any range, and <i>Blow Out</i> was still around the corner (and <i>Pulp Fiction</i> was eons distant). We (my friends, brothers, and I) kind of loved Travolta at the time like an errant cousin, so describing him as “doofy” is entirely apt, because frankly, that is exactly how we saw him at the time. We were still walking around imitating Vinnie Barbarino making fun of junkies going “Gimme drugs! Gimme drugs!” with grasping hands, and aping his “Wha-? Who? Where?” catchphrase bit from <i>Kotter</i>. <br /><br />Travolta could play what looks on the surface like a hoodlum in a leather jacket in <i>Grease</i>, but that character is never menacing at all, and is all bark as far as toughness goes. So would Travolta of that period really have been able to embody the increasingly violent and ill-tempered Billy Nolan from the book of <i>Carrie</i>? Not really, but it is a bit unfair given this was only Travolta’s second film role (he did <i>The Devil’s Rain</i> with William Shatner previous to this). Still, people are cast because other people believe they can play the part. I agree the part must have been drastically rewritten, however, to make him less of a cad onscreen. Whether this was to match up with Travolta or not, I don’t know. Maybe they found they had the perfect guy physically for the part, but he was too much of a cupcake at the time. In the end, they toned Billy down, just as they toned down Carrie’s ultimate destructive rampage (though it is still pretty impressive in the film).<br /><br />What they have done with the Chris and Billy relationship is to allow Billy to be blustery and almost casually violent in his reaction to his girlfriend, but of course, oral sex wins out in the end. Despite the fact that the weapon she holds is one of pure sex, Chris is the one who ultimately rules their relationship. She can turn him on a dime in most cases, and knows it fully. I think you are reading the way they are portrayed correctly. They are more cartoonish in their characterization, like most of the kids, but they are no less hateful for it. I think we see in the slaughterhouse scene where Billy has to take over the butchering of the pig for its blood that he can be a true monster when the moment presents itself. I do recall that was rather a shocking moment for me when I first saw it, thinking sweet but dopey Vinnie Barbarino was capable of such senseless harm upon an animal.<br /><br />You brought up Carrie’s mother, Margaret White, and mentioned how she seems to be fully a part of this world that has been rendered to the extreme at all corners by De Palma’s vision. I am not going to argue that point, but Margaret still stands out completely apart from the other characters for the fact that she (as she is in the book) is still somewhat otherworldly in nature, look, and behavior due to the fact that she purposefully sets herself apart from it with her relentless spouting of biblical scripture and her hardcore sheltering of her own daughter in a quite misguided attempt to protect the girl. In seeing this film as a teenager, encountering Margaret White for the first time was an affirmation that I was on the right path, for this was the type of villain I had been battling since I was a child, a holier than thou, interfering parent with her own built-in god complex. Sadly, I at first thought that Piper Laurie, who was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for playing Margaret, was actually a horrible actor simply because I hated the character so much right out of the gate. It’s an effect that I had to learn to shake off as I got older, that the people who essayed truly despicable characters in films were often marvelous at their jobs, but I just could not get past how much I wanted to trample that character to death to enjoy the role or the actor within it.<br /><br />I, of course, think Piper Laurie is more and more marvelous in the part every time that I see it, and I honestly think she is far better than eventual winner Beatrice Straight in <i>Network</i>. She also has heavier lifting to do in this role as well. So, it was surprising to learn in several resources that Ms. Laurie thought she was doing a comedy role from the start, albeit a very dark one, and so played it purposefully over the top to fit the part as she saw it. I can totally see this in watching her performance now, but I wonder how she must have felt in discovering that other actors, especially Ms. Spacek, and even her director, possibly didn’t approach the film in the same way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While <i>Carrie</i> does not have any shortage of villains tormenting her, it is pretty apparent that her own mother is the true “Big Bad” villain of both the book and the film. Because most of Carrie’s problems stem directly from the alternating mistreatment/overprotection provided by her mother, she more than anyone is who Carrie is going to need to get past to either get freedom or release from her hell. In circling back to the Chris/Billy relationship, perhaps this is why those two characters were softened to an extent and at least made a little more silly and pathetic, so that Margaret would not get upstaged as the Big Bad in the end. What is your approach to the Margaret White character, Aaron?<br /><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Aaron:</b> I do remember finding her comedic when I was younger, and not in a good way. I enjoyed the performance, but I always ascribed to it a “so bad it’s good” label, a label I’ve since come to loathe. But as I got older and my appreciation of the film deepened, I came to respect what Ms. Laurie was doing in the film. I never knew that she found her role a comedic one, but after reading that, I realize that’s absolutely correct. It’s easy to see, in her outsized accent and her continuous wailings. The performance is entirely over the top, and would have been ruined by deciding to play everything straight. I mean, how do you tell your daughter you can see her “dirty pillows” unless you think you’re in some sort of twisted comedy? Not only that, but it does give her that feeling of “otherness,” of not belonging with the rest of the people around her. I had said that she felt of a piece with the movie’s world, and I still believe that, but I believe she fits into the tonality of the film, even while standing apart from every other character. <br /><br />Margaret gets one scene in this film that I think was intended entirely as comedy, and that’s when she attempts to sell a bible to Sue Snell’s mother. There’s a little bit of proto-cringe humor in this exchange, where Margaret silently stands outside the door until being invited in, and the other woman visibly tries to figure out how much time she has to spend in Margaret’s presence before it’s socially acceptable to kick her out. This scene is new to the movie, as Margaret in the book doesn’t seem to have the urge to evangelize; she’s happy to just publicly hold everyone around her in contempt. Strictly speaking I have a feeling this scene was included to give Margaret a chance to act with someone other than Sissy Spacek, and to make it clear that she lives within this world. The older characters are all familiar with Margaret and her, ahem, peculiar religious views.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsRjIdISpgH3_UuYq_SVSlSVGHIpH7FFwEJBUWeSV6N-ViATZZI-MpR_sqVQMMmJvWNbpn1p0NRz21rAhKph7734OjhK1Oqo_yteRGeHXTkTp8_13COLEIN-OSXXeBgHtuqu7NDFJvlo/s1600/BJ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsRjIdISpgH3_UuYq_SVSlSVGHIpH7FFwEJBUWeSV6N-ViATZZI-MpR_sqVQMMmJvWNbpn1p0NRz21rAhKph7734OjhK1Oqo_yteRGeHXTkTp8_13COLEIN-OSXXeBgHtuqu7NDFJvlo/s320/BJ.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">That’s not the only purely comedic moment in the movie, and it’s not even the most obviously comedic moment. For me, the most purely comedic moment comes when Chris begins to give Billy a blowjob, and she keeps repeating his name while he reacts the way most movie teens react to oral sex: with wide-eyed confusion and immediate orgasmic intensity. After repeating his name a good half dozen times (not to get too graphic here, but the clarity in Nancy Allen’s clearly ADRed voice in this scene always bugged me a little), Chris finally goes all the way with the line “I hate Carrie White,” which elicits a moment of silence from Billy before he looks down at his lap and utters a confused, “Who?” before the scene quickly cuts away. So yes, in the film, Chris clearly has complete control over Billy, while that wasn’t quite the case in the book. Still, despite being easily swayed by promises of sex, Billy is a violent young man capable of great cruelty. That slaughterhouse scene was a shock to me as well, the first real sign that truly terrible things could, and would, happen. That may be why Travolta was given the job in the first place; we both consider him a bit of a goof at this point in his career, so when he finally, fatally swings that hammer down at the slaughterhouse, the shock hits home. Adorable little John Travolta just killed a pig for kicks... anything can happen!<br /><br />Now that I’m consciously thinking of the comedy in the film, it puts a lot of Carrie’s wackier moments into a new context. Like the scene where Tommy Ross goes tuxedo shopping with his friends. Right in the middle of the scene, mid-conversation, De Palma begins fast-forwarding the film. Not for very long, but the conversation between the three friends is suddenly sped up to a half intelligible squeak for a few seconds before dropping back, in mid-sentence, into normal speed. As a kid I thought this was a defect in the VHS copy I had (shameful admission: I used to make copies of almost every VHS I rented), but of course it was a stylistic choice on De Palma’s part. I’ll admit I’m still a bit stumped on this one. Did he do it just because he sometimes loves to throw some stylistic wackiness into his films? Did he do it because he realized the scene was really boring, and it was a compromise between cutting it out entirely and keeping a scene that further humanizes Tommy Ross?<br /><br />I have more to say about Tommy Ross in this film, and his relationship to both Carrie and Sue Snell, especially in comparison to the book. But for now I’ll throw it back to you. I think it’s clear so far that you’ve internalized this film to a far greater extent than I have, and I’m curious as to your opinions regarding some of the film’s comedic moments.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span><b>Rik:</b> I do not want to get anywhere close to making someone who is not familiar with this film believe that they are sitting down to a comedy. Piper Laurie may have felt it was – and it may have been just how she needed to approach her admittedly out-there role to be able to embrace it – but I do not see <i>Carrie</i> as a comedy, dark or otherwise, nor do I believe that De Palma approached it in that manner. I think it is from all angles first a horror film – very much so – but that in handling its wide array of human characters, it has a few terrific comedic moments, just as there are a variety of other well-turned moments touching on the rest of the emotional spectrum. <br /><br />I do agree with you for the most part on many of the scenes you mentioned as to their effectiveness in a comedic sense, especially in the oral sex scene. (The ADR does not bother me at all though.) The tuxedo scene, which ends up with a tux t-shirt, of course (whose popularity was just getting going in those days, and I remember a lot of my friends had them, though never me), is just one of De Palma’s stylistic flourishes, an attempt to mix things up a bit by being squirrelly with editing. <br /><br />Another one of his common effects is the use of split screen to show simultaneous action in different areas or different characters. We get a taste of it in a couple of places (especially the murderous prom sequence), but I had read an interview with De Palma where he said that the entire destruction sequence was completely shot using split screens. He spent six weeks editing it together, but it just wasn’t working out the way he wanted and was running far too long. So he scrapped that plan and just used split screen shots here and there for added effectiveness and when they seem to work best in a timing sense.</span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>[That's going to do it for today, join us Friday morning for Part 2 of our discussion of Brian De Palma's Carrie, where we'll be going deeper into the plot, that infamous finale, and our thoughts on Brian De Palma's filmography. See you soon.]</i></span></span><br />
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WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-26574267703457073042016-10-16T04:00:00.000-07:002016-10-16T12:09:32.339-07:00Carrie [The Novel] (1974)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7k3dJLawun7h3w7TN8hTLlM_e2YBlH6tHF-4M8KKNU5CR86orpm5YjguxUKWrVVyUkOMfo2BOdxR0RKDB4w_m8rgf6DpZEkat0xvhAJPdZoYujK-GMBZd9T4fm3YAtJguVmm_vH4aTyA/s1600/Carie_1st_1974_hardback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7k3dJLawun7h3w7TN8hTLlM_e2YBlH6tHF-4M8KKNU5CR86orpm5YjguxUKWrVVyUkOMfo2BOdxR0RKDB4w_m8rgf6DpZEkat0xvhAJPdZoYujK-GMBZd9T4fm3YAtJguVmm_vH4aTyA/s320/Carie_1st_1974_hardback.jpg" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1st edition hardback (1974)</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Welcome, friends, to a special super-sized edition of <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows: Stephen King Print Vs. Film</b>. The days are getting shorter, the shadows are growing longer, and Halloween is almost upon us. Even here in our home base of California there is a pleasant chill on the breeze. Rik and I have chosen to celebrate this most wonderful time of the year by turning our attentions toward a novel for the first time in this project, and we’ve chosen, fittingly enough, Stephen King’s first published work. Today we’ll be discussing the novel <i>Carrie</i>, and in subsequent posts we’ll be exploring the various filmed entertainments derived from same. So please, sit with us for a while and join the fun conversations to follow.</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Carrie: a novel of a girl with a frightening power (1974)</span></b><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As a child, until well into my teens, I took part in a semi-regular routine that I imagine is still pretty common to American kids growing up in the suburbs: several weekends every summer I would go garage sale shopping with my grandmother. Not just the ones in our neighborhood, though; our range was wider than that. My grandmother would peruse the classified section of the newspaper and circle ads that looked promising, plotting out the houses and sales we would hit throughout the morning (as any serious garage sale hunter will tell you, the early bird gets the worm at these things). I’m not sure if many local papers still run ads for garage sales – I’m sure Craigslist has cornered that particular market, among other, less savory ones – but I do remember looking through the paper myself, circling ads that listed “books” as one of the types of item for sale.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This was how I acquainted myself with Stephen King: through regular excursions to dig through the stuff others had decided they had no need of. As an avid reader and budding horror maven, I eagerly dug through cardboard boxes full of paperbacks. With little experience and no real developed tastes, I snatched up whatever I could find that looked spooky or scary. John Saul and Dean Koontz were early names I looked out for, but as the summer progressed and the garage sale count grew, I learned to pay special attention to the name Stephen King. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is all a rather tangential way of explaining that my experience reading Stephen King was rather random. I followed no real roadmap, knew nothing of publication dates (and would not have cared if I did), cared not a bit about a book’s reputation or critical standing. If it was written by Stephen King, I put down my handful of quarters for the books (fifty cents was always the magic price when it came to paperbacks in the summers of my youth). I started with It, but might follow that up with <i>Eyes of the Dragon</i>, <i>The Tommyknockers</i>, one of the <i>Dark Tower</i> books, a short story collection. For a few years Stephen King books were reliable Christmas or birthday gifts. <i>Needful Things</i>, <i>Insomnia</i>, <i>Nightmares & Dreamscapes</i>. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I let myself get off on another tangent, when all I’m really trying to say is that there are still gaps in my Stephen King knowledge, and pretty big ones at that. For years I had no idea Richard Bachman was another name I should have been looking for at garage sales (this was pre-internet, remember). There are some pretty famous, important works in King’s career that I still haven’t read, and until a few weeks ago <i>Carrie</i> was one of them. I’d seen the movie several times over the years, of course, but I’d never cracked the novel until picking up a copy for the express purpose of writing this series of posts. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I must say, to rehash a sentiment I’ve had several times already in this project of ours, reading King’s first published novel, over a quarter century after I was first introduced to the man’s works, was an interesting experience, for reasons I’ll get into as we go along. For now, Rik, before we dive in headfirst, I’m curious to hear what place this book held in your own personal canon. I’m assuming you did not miss out on this one, as I did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> It’s pretty simple: Not fully, at first. But it took a while to finally read it all the way through. My mother regularly kept a book sitting on the bathroom counter in our house, and at a certain age, I figured out that some of those books had “dirty” parts in them. I was already quite the avid reader, and was on my own journey through literature in my turn from tween (we didn’t call it then) to teen, which mostly involved some amalgam of science-fiction, fantasy, and jungle adventure. I was just getting into horror through the movies, though I was fascinated by Poe since I was much younger (but for many reasons not necessarily or fully related to horror).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My mom read a lot of cop thrillers, mysteries, supernatural and horror novels, and the popular crap of the day (<i>Jonathan Livingston Seagull</i>, etc.)… basically whatever caught her eye at the checkout stand or bookstore, or that her friends were reading or recommending. In a reverse of such a trend, my friends and I had all, around the ages of eleven and twelve, become really adept at not just snooping out Playboys and Penthouses in our individual houses, but also at ensuring that when those magazines were tossed out in the trash, that they didn’t actually make it to the dump. By the same token, I was good at finding the dirty stuff in books and letting my friends know to watch out for certain novels their parents might be reading and exactly where the best stuff was to be found (chapter and verse, as it were).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At some point, I moved beyond just looking for the racy stuff and dirty words, and actually started reading anything that my mom was reading. I remember Peter Benchley (because this is how I first read <i>Jaws</i> and <i>The Deep</i>), Dean Koontz, James A. Michener (whom I found too dry), James Clavell, Joseph Wambaugh, Michael Crichton, Sidney Sheldon, Harold Robbins, Frederick Forsyth, Judith Krantz, Ken Follett, etc. But I didn’t know Stephen King from Erica Jong at this point, except that Erica Jong wrote a really, really dirty book (<i>Fear of Flying</i>) that my mom read. And thus, far before I could fully understand it (or what a "zipless fuck" was, I sneak read that book as well.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tie-in cover for the 1976 movie; <br />possibly published in 1977 based on <br />the books mentioned on the cover..</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you want to know how I first got into Hunter S. Thompson, it’s because my mom had a copy of <i>Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas</i> in our car one day (I believe it was loaned to her by a friend) when my younger brothers had a really long doctor appointment. I elected to sit in the car (you could do such a thing relatively safely (I was fourteen at the time) in Alaska in those days, and thus, I read the entire thing straight through, with my mouth dropped to the floor in fascination and delight at the language and imagery. It simultaneously insured that my mind would forever be blown (the “doors of perception” were fully open from that moment onward) but it was nightmarish enough that I would never need duplicate what Thompson needed to reach the same state. Though I became an instant fan of his writing, even as a kid I realized that Thompson was pulling a bit of a con despite his “ gonzo journalistic” coating. I felt that even if I wanted to approach a similar style, attempting the same path of personal self-destruction as his (though he kept at it for a good, long while) was rather a cop-out, and so I never even tried… which possibly saved my life at several points. (It’s not like I didn’t have moments where I was intrigued but ultimately chose to walk away.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And somewhere in there, probably after the movie came out since I remember the paperback had a picture from the film on it, I read <i>Carrie</i>. Well, I read parts of <i>Carrie</i>. I am pretty certain that <i>The Dead Zone</i> is the first of King’s novels that I read all the way through, and I know that I also read through the entire <i>Night Shift</i> short story collection at the same time that my mom was reading it. But I do remember picking up <i>Carrie</i> when I saw it, and thinking at first, “This looks like a “girl” book” but then checking it out anyway because there might be dirty stuff. Besides, the girl on the cover was covered in blood. How cool was that? And when I got right into that infamous first chapter in the girls’ locker room at the school… Uh… Ummm…. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To be honest, at that age, despite my burgeoning interest in sexuality, was still a little unclear on the whole feminine hygiene issue, and so the scene rather confused me a bit. It kind of shocked me, but it didn’t stop me from coming back to the book. But I did not read it all the way through at that time. It would be several years later – sometime in the early ‘80s is my guess – after I had read many other King books and seen the De Palma film a number of times, before I finally read the full <i>Carrie</i> novel thoroughly.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> I feel the urge to outline the plot of <i>Carrie</i> a little bit, to bring some newcomers up to speed, but of course that’s ridiculous. Even if you’ve never read the novel, or seen any of the films derived from it, or seen the short-lived Broadway musical, there have still been over four decades of parodies, jokes, and references to this story. If you have consumed any pop culture within the last forty years, you’re likely familiar with the touchstones of this story. Also, the obvious question; why would anyone unfamiliar with <i>Carrie</i> be reading this site?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We all know the plot; social misfit with religious extremist mother is the victim of a cruel prank, leading to carnage and mass fatalities as her burgeoning telekinetic powers are unleashed on her classmates. I bet, even to those who haven’t read the book or seen the movie, that a lot of the blanks in that description have already been filled in from memory. Like the fact that Carrie’s powers begin manifesting themselves during puberty, which arrives with unfortunate timing while Carrie is showering in the school locker room. Or the detail that Carrie’s final revenge on her classmates occurs at prom, where she’s just been crowned prom queen before being doused in pig’s blood. Or even the fact that she’s been asked to the prom by one of the most popular boys in school, who was prompted to ask Carrie by his girlfriend who feels guilty for her part in Carrie’s continual humiliations. How many lines can still be quoted by the uninitiated? <i>“They’re all gonna laugh at you!” “I can see your dirty pillows.”</i> The specifics of this 42-year-old story have been thoroughly absorbed into the pop culture consciousness.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That being said, as someone with a great familiarity with Stephen King’s works, and having seen the film several times, there were still a few surprises to be had. I’d never read this book, but I had read plenty of King’s other stories and novels from around the same period, and still I was a bit surprised with how rough this novel is. There’s something unpolished and brutal about the writing here, and while I pointed that out as a slight negative when discussing his short stories, I found it to be completely appropriate here. Stephen King was less than a decade out of high school when he wrote this story, putting him at maybe the perfect perspective to write a horror novel about teenagers in high school. He was old enough to view the dramas and concerns of teenagers with some mature hindsight (and more than a little contempt), and yet young enough to remember how it actually felt at the time, when so many hormones are rushing through your body that you feel everything more sharply than you will ever again.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Carrie</i> is a bruised book, full of pain and sadness and some of the worst people imaginable. If the characters in this novel aren’t the ugliest King has ever written, he sure tops himself in terms of quantity, by having nearly everyone we meet come across as selfish, cruel, manipulative, and pathetic. To be sure, most of the adults we meet seem like decent enough people, but they remain blind to the horrible acts being committed by their children, and when they are made aware, as in the principle when he learns of Carrie being taunted for getting her period, they are laughably spineless and ineffectual. And as for the kids themselves, the best that can be said of most of them is that they simply don’t care about anybody else, and tease Carrie simply because other kids are doing it. It’s hard to hold that against them, though, because I think that’s the default setting for most people in their teens, when it can often feel like you’re the only one going through what everyone in the world has and will go through. I certainly have shameful memories of going along with some teasing of some random kid I didn’t really know. Nothing near the level of what happens in <i>Carrie</i>, but I think it’s a pretty universal part of growing up that your fear of being seen as the ‘other’ often causes you to go along with the tribe in their attacks on those unlucky enough to be chosen. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2eWswYT3P_1yCX7VtGzRS5GOQO-iPTMNaztxF7QEiZFXrdGd8eC2B53NIfe_F6QzRnaUuL2Lhev3j7WkBvPQcWJIsUbEEBq10z6rnxEOuhfrVhB0xHnGcVwinxgGkmV8QNmWyphx2PI/s1600/carrie_signet_pb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2eWswYT3P_1yCX7VtGzRS5GOQO-iPTMNaztxF7QEiZFXrdGd8eC2B53NIfe_F6QzRnaUuL2Lhev3j7WkBvPQcWJIsUbEEBq10z6rnxEOuhfrVhB0xHnGcVwinxgGkmV8QNmWyphx2PI/s320/carrie_signet_pb.jpg" width="206" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These brief musings aside, reading this novel didn’t really bring anything to the surface. High school was not a pleasant time for me, and as a young man I was quick to move past it, and as a full-fledged adult I’ve mostly made my peace with any lingering resentments tied to that period. That said, I’m also a fairly nostalgic person, still reading authors I loved at that age (clearly, as evidenced by this entire series of writings), still watching movies from that period, still listening constantly to the music of my high school years. And yet, perhaps because I had never read this novel before, I found it stirred no memories nor brought about any maudlin remembrances. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rik, I know we’ve already gone over your experiences with this book, but I’m a bit curious. As someone who would have had a more adolescent connection to the book, and also someone with more awareness of the time period the novel takes place in, how did you react to reading the novel again? Were you able to identify at all with the characters, or did it bring up any memories of your own teenage years? Do you think the characters are unlikable, as I had said, or do you think that’s just my age and general annoyance with teenagers talking?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Well, apart from acquiring some lifelong friends my last couple of years, I liked very little of high school, and sadly, there is enough failure wrapped up in it for me that I will never be able to get past certain elements of it. And reading <i>Carrie</i> again did resurrect for me, however faintly, the ghosts of abusive or otherwise abrasive personalities with whom I also had to deal in attending middle and high school in the late ‘70s. I was certainly no Carrie White (but damn, if I only had access to her power, some assholes would pay with their lives; hell, I'd like that power today), but I had my run-ins with the occasional bully over the years. It always blew my mother’s mind that my smart mouth didn’t have me getting beat up constantly, but I never was, and part of that was being wise enough (most of the time) to either partner with the right-sized buddy at some moments or to show them just enough pure crazy at other moments.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I finally read <i>Carrie</i> all the way through back then, I remember thoroughly despising each and every character who got in Carrie’s face, but I also remembered not having nearly as much empathy for Carrie in the book because of King’s descriptions of her as being overweight and his use of such adjectives as “bovine” in describing a look she gives. As a result, this makes me feel as implicit in their horrid behavior towards her as someone like Sue Snell, who does regret her actions and goes overboard in trying to correct them. On the opposite end, I had nothing but empathy for Sissy Spacek’s Carrie in the movie version, probably because I saw <i>Badlands</i> pretty young, and thus, always had a little crush on Spacek, however strange some others thought she might look. It speaks volumes for my own hypocrisy, since I am now as overweight now in my early fifties as I used to be underweight in my early twenties, but even more for the double standard of Hollywood, that they wouldn’t cast an actress that truly fit the character as written in the book. While she may have still fulfilled the “oddness” of Carrie White’s personality, and may also not have been conventionally “pretty” by Hollywood’s rigorous standards of the time, Spacek was nowhere near the Carrie White physically described in the book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Reading <i>Carrie</i> again was a bit like watching <i>Dazed and Confused</i> for the first time on its release. I liked the film at the time a good bit less than many other friends who totally got into it right away. For me, it was because many of the characters were just a little too close to the surface at the time, especially Parker Posey’s Darla. I love Posey, but her character frightens the hell out of me. And I knew several girls just like that in school in the ‘70s. And Carrie, the book even more than the movie, is chock full of horrid, hazing Darlas. It took me a couple more showings to fully get into <i>Dazed</i> before I really started to love it for what it is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To answer your question about the squadron of unlikeable people in the book, I believe there are people for whom to hang out a shingle of hope. Not every character is completely ugly, even if their original actions might be construed as such. I mentioned Sue Snell, of whom I do believe feels real remorse for her actions even if I believe she does go a little overboard in trying to get her boyfriend to ask Carrie to the prom. Couldn’t she have simply apologized and genuinely tried to befriend and understand Carrie instead? (If she had, I suppose we wouldn’t have the story as it is.) Miss Desjardin laughs at Carrie at first but then feels guilt for it and practically goes fire and brimstone on the girls who perpetrated the shower prank. The principal, too, while acting in protecting the school, still takes up battle against Chris’ lawyer father on behalf of Carrie. Sue’s boyfriend, Tommy Ross, too is shown to be a deeper character than perceived by most people, and without any motivation of his own in the humiliation of Carrie. I feel that while most of the characters we meet are motivated by the variety of sins you described earlier, and are indeed some of the ugliest people he has delineated in his writing, that much like real life itself, there are always good people (or at least the rudimentary elements of them) to be found when you scratch the surface.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think it should be mentioned early on here that <i>Carrie</i> is a novel written in the epistolary form, that is as a collection of other writings outside of just the normal prose style. An epistolary is comprised of a tale through the use of documents, such as letters, sections of other (often imaginary) texts, poems, newspaper articles, quotes, and diary entries, for examples. Since we are in the Halloween season, it is most appropriate to point out that one of the most famous examples of an epistolary novel is Bram Stoker’s <i>Dracula</i>. Although I had read <i>Carrie</i> previously, I had quite forgotten that the book was written in this style, and it took me a little while to warm to its form, as it were. In actuality, the book is about half written in this style, as there are also long sections of the normal King prose at play, but it is still a drastic change, especially late in the book when it turns for a bit into court transcripts in the aftermath of the school tragedy. Aaron, did you enjoy this change of pace from King’s usual style? Did you like the epistolary form, or did you get confused in the switches in style as I did in a few places?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> The epistolary nature of <i>Carrie</i> was actually the one thing I knew about the book, aside, of course, from the plot elements that made it into the movie. In fact, I was under the impression that the entire novel was going to follow in that style, while in fact I think it was slightly less than half epistolary, with the rest being typical King prose. I had expected the novel to be comprised of diary entries from her classmates, letters, and new reports, and I had expected this assembled story to move more or less chronologically towards the fatal dance at the end. The prose portions do move in a strictly chronological fashion, but the epistolary aspects jump around slightly, as almost all of them were written years after the main events of the novel.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That was the most surprising aspect of the novel for me, actually. I’ve spoken before about King’s tendency to foreshadow coming disaster with quick throwaway lines announcing some imminent disaster or character death, and I’ve said this doesn’t always sit well with me. In <i>Carrie</i>, the prose sections are interrupted by memoirs, interviews, and academic research into Carrie White, many of which directly divulge the fates of most characters long before the book reaches that point. I felt it was a successful tactic here, and it added an overall sense of dread, because we kept seeing these articles, and multiple books, written about Carrie White, and while I expected local newspaper articles, I hadn’t expected the numerous sources that actually make up the epistolary aspects of this book. And then another thing; I looked at the date of publication. I knew <i>Carrie</i> had been published in 1974, so it immediately struck me as odd when I realized the book took place in 1979. Combined with the survivors memoirs, the academic history, and the national news coverage, it gave the idea that we may be watching a small high school drama, but whatever came of it was going to spiral out of control and affect the entire country, and quite possibly the world.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The tension is heightened eventually by the fact that, as you said earlier, we do meet some kind and good people in this book. I would say that, tellingly, most of the decency happens away from Carrie White. Carrie’s not present when Ms. Desjardin punished the students for teasing her, she never hears what the principle does to stand up for her, and Sue Snell never apologizes or tells her of her plan. In fact, when Carrie is present Ms. Desjardin slaps her, the principle is insensitive to her pain and keeps getting her name wrong, and Sue Snell takes part in the horrific lockerroom teasing. If we’re to see these characters through Carrie’s eyes, none of them come off as heroic. But then things do change, and there is some decency waiting just before the storm.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnJraKeZ5NiepLebBecLZF3ZIw8hVS_2Yj2VV5EUHKy4M6lGDwn39Ds3ZqvExZ3AJzmIFikYPbpnxB8Jcyj0eDw5rPWBxaLAWpVdyX6e2qA294JRdSoVzrOu3CmEM-xDvSPMWJhVjdBg/s1600/Carrie_paperback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnJraKeZ5NiepLebBecLZF3ZIw8hVS_2Yj2VV5EUHKy4M6lGDwn39Ds3ZqvExZ3AJzmIFikYPbpnxB8Jcyj0eDw5rPWBxaLAWpVdyX6e2qA294JRdSoVzrOu3CmEM-xDvSPMWJhVjdBg/s320/Carrie_paperback.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of the most touching portions of the book comes when Carrie arrives at the prom. You were not wrong to find Carrie unsympathetic initially, as she’s written as a fairly unattractive person, not just physically but personality-wise as well. She’s described as "bovine," and has a habit of responding to everything with an animalistic "ohuh" noise. Once we get into her head a little, we start to see that she’s a normal, if incredibly stunted, young woman, bright and somehow hopeful, but in the early going it’s also not hard to see why she would be so ridiculed. Once the novel gets to the prom, we’re primed for a great disaster, and Carrie herself assumes this is all the lead-up to some new prank, but what happens is a surprise to Carrie, and the reader. Carrie is accepted.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A few kids are mocking, but for the most part everyone is more than happy to accept Carrie. She’s instantly made to feel welcome, to the point that, apparently, she was voted Prom Queen genuinely, and not as part of Chris Hargensen’s revenge plot. Because as it turns out, Carrie wasn’t the focus of everyone’s rage and ridicule. I found this to be a surprisingly realistic development, and I think it’s a viewpoint more kids should be made aware of. When my daughter (quickly approaching her teen years) comes home from a bad day, upset about something some kid has said or done, I often tell her that the other kid is probably at home having a similar conversation with their parents. In school, everyone is miserable, and everyone is dead certain that no one else is suffering. So that moment, when Carrie realizes that maybe not everyone is plotting against her, was truly moving, and it makes the tragedy to come that much more heartbreaking.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of course, some people are plotting against Carrie, though only one person seems to really care. Chris Hargensen has taken her punishment for teasing Carrie especially hard, and while most of the girls are content to take their punishment and grumble about it, Chris fights back. First with her father, who threatens a lawsuit against the school if his daughter isn’t allowed to go to prom, and if Ms. Desjardin isn’t fired, and then by recruiting her bad-boy boyfriend to help exact revenge on Carrie herself.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This was the most troubling aspect of the book for me, the relationship between Chris and Billy Nolan. They are both just the worst human beings imaginable, and their relationship quickly descends from Chris’ childish affections for the bad boy, into actual domestic violence and sexual assault. Chris doesn’t quite realize how bad Billy actually is, and continues to think she’s the one in control. There’s also the somewhat icky, if not altogether unrealistic, intimation that Chris gets off on the violence and seediness. No doubt it’s a combination that exists in real life, and probably fairly commonly, but it was still unpleasant to read, and added to the general nastiness of the book.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Feel free to add your own thoughts, Rik, but also I have a question for you. I knew this book had been published in 1974, so I found it jarring when I realized the prose section of the novel takes place in 1979, while the epistolary sections come from at least the 1980s. I first had to double-check the book’s copyright to make sure I was correct. I’m curious as to your thoughts on this. When I realized what King was doing with the timeline, it gave the book a somewhat sci-fi tinge, and heightened the sense that something world-changing was about to happen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>Yes, jarring is the correct term. I cannot properly say what my reaction was to this reading the book in the years within the (even projected) timeframe of the novel, but I can tell you that right now it is more than a little jarring. I am not one to agree that just because a film takes place in a future timeframe that it necessarily makes a “science fiction” story, because there should be other qualifiers that would make it that. You can tell a romantic story that takes place five years in the future, and without some other aspect – possibly technological or sociological, or even a time travel angle – to make it clearly the type of tale one would regard as a science fiction story, you would then just have a basic romance that happens to occur in the near future. That is not science fiction.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Carrie</i>, however, does have the telekinesis gimmick, which as an unexplained and unverified phenomena of the mind (there are claims as to its reality, of course, but there are also a zillion claims of time travel and body transference) would, for lack of a separate distinct genre, grant it some admission into the science fiction category. The story as told, though, is clearly one of horror. I think if the story hinged more on Carrie being tested over her powers in a laboratory by a government research group or some such organization, then a greater claim to science fiction could be made. I know you only said that elements of the epistolary nature of the novel gave it a slight sci-fi tinge, but I felt it important that any possibly deciding to read the book after going through this discussion understand that such a novel will not be encountered. With its emphasis on the traumatizing effect of Carrie’s upbringing, and the carnage at the prom and afterwards, <i>Carrie</i> is squarely in the horror genre.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here’s something that rereading the book truly brought to the fore for me: the invasion of my too deep memories of the film into my reading now. While I have not read the book in over thirty years, I have probably watched <i>Carrie</i> at least twenty times, if not more, in that span. It is my second favorite De Palma film – <i>Blow Out</i> (1981) being my favorite. When I was first reading my mom’s copy of the book in small sections, but not the whole thing, as a teenager, I had not seen the film, so everything was new. When I finally sat down to read the entire book in the ‘80s, I had indeed watched it numerous times by then, so that full reading was already intruded upon by the style and tone set by De Palma.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chief among these was the presence of John Travolta in the Billy Nolan role. Perhaps it is because he went on to become a huge movie star and cultural icon, but it was hard for me to read the Billy parts without picturing Travolta on every page. Certainly I know the other characters by the actors who played their parts by look and name, but he is the only one who completely overrode the written version to remain rooted in my mind in the part. Sissy Spacek is so different from the Carrie in the book that I never imagined her once while reading, and this might because she is described and fleshed out as a character far more than Billy is in the text.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I do not want to get into a discussion at length of the first film version here, Aaron, for that is the topic of the next piece that we will post. But it does lead me to ask how easy it was for you to separate the quite famous film – which you have already said you have seen several times – when reading through the novel. You mentioned there were still several surprises to be had in the reading, but how did the film color your reception on the page of some of the most famous scenes, such as the school prom or Carrie’s ultimate confrontation with her mother?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Before I go into your question, let me offer a quick defense of my “sci-fi” descriptor. I agree that the book is clearly horror, and any reading that resulted in it being classified as science fiction would be completely off base. However, the jumping ahead in time, and the intimations we get of how telekinesis has been treated by the scientific community, did give me some <i>X-Files</i> vibes. Or, as I actually thought while reading the book, it reminded me of The Shop, the shadowy government agency that shows up in a couple of Stephen King books and short stories, most notably in <i>Firestarter</i>. We get hints in some of the epistolary passages of <i>Carrie</i> that scientists have isolated the genetic mutation that leads to telekinetic power, and that mandatory testing of all children is a distinct possibility. This put me in mind of The Shop studying and training telekinetic kids for their own nefarious purposes, which is pretty close to what happens in <i>Firestarter</i>. In fact, given King’s occasional tendency to write novels covering similar ground, almost as if he’s playing “what if?” with a scenario he finds too rewarding to limit to one narrative path, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire idea for <i>Firestarter</i> and The Shop came out of unused ideas for <i>Carrie</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As for your question, put simply; it didn’t color my perception of the book all that much. Unlike you, I’ve probably only seen the movie a handful of times, and the last time was about two or three years back when I showed it to my wife, who had never seen it before. I don’t have quite the familiarity with the film to the point where it superseded my own interpretation of the characters, with only one major exception; Billy Nolan. The Carrie White in the book is so different from Sissy Spacek in the movie (though she is great in the movie) that I didn’t have any trouble mentally distancing the book from the film. For the rest of the characters, they’re described and portrayed pretty close to what they ended up casting in the film version, and so I have to admit that I did picture Piper Laurie as Carrie’s mother, or William Katt as Tommy.Ross. The only time this caused any disparity was with Billy Nolan, who, as played by John Travolta, is a bit of a no-good doofus, entirely wrapped around Chris’ fingers. In the movie Billy is clearly a bad kid, but, well, he’s also doofy young John Travolta, so he never feels dangerous. By contrast, Billy in the book is absolutely dangerous, more dangerous than any of the characters seem to realize, and I think his awfulness struck me harder because I kept picturing Travolta in that role.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgp-FtNuI1pRg32guZ-ZSWOdD6nCrxaC8f2DsDVeZ1-bz3Bo2k9le1a5gpC2yANL3NvAd6oWn9ZznyGSoihn002wDXXMZpJ-OmypUzblJc7SP2Dmd5_whpN7uoX-zkTtkFCb4qmPeaYc/s1600/Carrie_paperback2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgp-FtNuI1pRg32guZ-ZSWOdD6nCrxaC8f2DsDVeZ1-bz3Bo2k9le1a5gpC2yANL3NvAd6oWn9ZznyGSoihn002wDXXMZpJ-OmypUzblJc7SP2Dmd5_whpN7uoX-zkTtkFCb4qmPeaYc/s320/Carrie_paperback2.jpg" width="199" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The novel’s ending is a bit different than the one in the film, which we’ll cover in our next piece, but for the most part the difference is one of scale. The film’s big scene of carnage is the prom, while in the novel the prom is just the beginning. Carrie White almost completely destroys her town, setting fire to buildings and killing passersby as she walks home to her mother. Their reunion quickly turns fatal, as Margaret White finally follows through on her oft-repeated attempts at killing her daughter. Although Carrie is mortally wounded at this point, she still has enough energy to kill her mother and flee into the night, where she runs across Billy and Chris, killing them. Perhaps it’s my age and the fact that I’m two decades removed from high school, but I didn’t quite find this as triumphant as I think I would have in my teen years. What struck me more was the buildup to the carnage, how effectively King had taken us from unease with Carrie to outright sympathy, and how the final pages before the blood pours down from the ceiling carry a dread weight. We know what’s coming, we know it’s inevitable, we’ve even seen what the aftermath will be, but we still hope it won’t happen.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Through the book’s finale, as soon as Carrie starts unleashing her telekinetic abilities, we’re presented with the idea that Carrie is broadcasting her thoughts to the town at large. Everyone that sees her, even those who have never heard of her before, know her name and the pain she is in. Following this signal, Sue Snell finds Carrie, bleeding and dying, and they share a final moment. In fact, this is almost their first moment, as the two don’t interact at all throughout the novel, outside of the group teasing in the beginning. It’s a great moment, and though I think it’s a bit narratively lumpy (the truly appropriate place to end the story is clearly with the confrontation between mother and daughter), I have to give points for turning an emotional scene into a quietly horrifying one, as Carrie forgives Sue, just in time to die and force Sue to experience the pain of her death from Carrie’s point of view. I was disturbed by Sue’s attempts to mentally untangle herself from Carrie as she realized what was about to happen.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It’s easy to see why this book has been adapted so many times; at it’s core it’s a pretty simple revenge-of-the-underdog tale, and those speak to everyone on some level. I feel like we’ve already delved into the film a bit more than we might have wanted, but that’s OK; we’ll still have plenty to say about the films. I’m really looking forward to tackling them, especially the more recent films. There’s some interesting changes to the cultural landscape that happened between the novel’s publication and when the sequel and remakes were filmed, and it should be fascinating to see how those films address them, or ignore them as the case may be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> You didn’t need to defend your “sci-fi” descriptor, because I did still agree with it in certain ways, mostly from the telekinesis angle. But I am rather glad you did offer up a small defense, because in doing so, you brought up The Shop and <i>Firestarter</i>, which was a point I had planned to mention, as I had a similar feeling. I am actually rather glad he moved those concepts on to the later stories for the most part, because I feel it would have weakened the novel at hand by diffusing it from its primary purpose too much. (And whatever one may think of <i>Firestarter</i> the movie – which I find to have been dreadfully filmed – the book is far, far better.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was going to react to a couple of your other points right here, and then I noticed, four paragraphs later, that all of my points were in comparison to the De Palma film, because I just watched that fresh again a couple of days ago. Since I would rather not burn up all of my thoughts right here, I think that I am going to choose to “carry” those over to the next “<i>Carrie</i>” installment (sorry, I had to make the horrid pun at some point, so now it is out of my system), where we will tackle that film directly, and I am sure we will reference back to the book a zillion times in the process.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I must say, while we both had mentioned how horrid we found the characters we encountered, I really enjoyed digging back into <i>Carrie</i> the novel again. We had entered the Stephen King realm a tad slowly in discussing a few short stories – and the tentativeness was almost purely on my own suggestion – but now having gone through one of his novels, I am eager to hit another one in the near future.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> I’m in agreement. This was a lot of fun to catch up with (an odd descriptor, considering I called the novel “bruised” and “full of pain and sadness,” but it’s true. Stephen King is (and was, even this early in his career) incredibly skilled at writing in a clear style that encourages continued reading. I read a lot of books, and although I’m not the world’s fastest reader, I make up for it in time spent reading. And yet whenever I get a new Stephen King novel, I finish it within a day or two. Granted, <i>Carrie</i> is a far briefer story than most of King’s published novels, but I still burned through it in two not-that-long sittings.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have a feeling we still have more we could discuss about <i>Carrie</i>, but like you, I’m ready to get into the films. I’m sure we’ll be doubling back this way to discuss the source novel in our upcoming pieces. So, I’ll finish up here by saying that, yes, I look forward to covering another novel in the near future. Although maybe we should build up to tackling <i>The Stand</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>[Stayed tuned in the very, very near future for our next discussion, on Brian De Palma’s 1976 Oscar-nominated version of <b>Carrie</b>, here on <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows</b>.]</i></span><br />
<br />Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-3803966822074278982016-09-19T06:20:00.000-07:002016-09-19T08:19:04.429-07:00"Carrie" On, My Wayward Sons...<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aaron here, with a quick announcement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You may have noticed a distinct lack of activity here recently. After a pretty promising start, our plans for regular activity on this blog hit a few snags. To paraphrase a certain blockbuster, life finds a way to ruin all your wonderful plans. This time, however, the plans were disrupted for entirely joyful reasons. Rik has been busy on a string of exciting projects both personal and professional, and I, for my part, have been busy doting over a lovely newborn daughter. I can't speak entirely for Rik, but life these days has been pretty good. Just not entirely conducive to unpaid blogging.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recently our schedules have begun to stabilize enough that we've been able to discuss the future of this site, along with our other venture, <i>Visiting and Revisiting</i>. In the case of We Who Watch, we've decided to celebrate our favorite time of the year, Halloween, by tackling one of Stephen King's novels in a special, super-sized series of posts (as if our regular posts hadn't been long enough). So far in this project we've been going through the short stories in Stephen King's first collection, <i>Night Shift</i>, and we've decided to spend October discussing his first published novel, <i>Carrie</i>, and the four subsequent films.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yes, you read that correctly, <b>FOUR</b> films. There's the classic 1976 film directed by Brian De Palma, a little remembered 1999 sequel (<i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i>), an even less remembered 2002 made-for-TV remake starring Angela Bettis, and the more high profile theatrical remake released in 2013 that starred Chloë Grace Moretz.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We're making this announcement ahead of time in order to give anyone who wants to play along a chance. The novel is pretty short, and can be finished in one or two dedicated sittings. However, a couple of the movies may require a bit of searching. <i>Carrie</i> (1976) is currently streaming on Amazon Prime, and will be available to stream on Hulu as of October 1st. The DVD can also be obtained through Netflix's disc-by-mail service. The 2013 remake is available for rent through iTunes, or Netflix's disc-by-mail service as well. The tricky ones will be the 1999 sequel, which is available for streaming only through an Amazon Prime Starz subscription, and the 2002 remake, which is unavailable for (legal) streaming anywhere. Both discs are unavailable through Netflix. There is, however, a reasonably priced set that includes both of those films, as well as the original 1976 version, on either DVD or Blu-ray. Homework in this case is optional, of course, but I for one am looking forward to finally checking out these two almost-forgotten adaptations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you want to play along at home, hopefully this announcement gives you enough time to prepare. Keep your eyes peeled, because we'll be back in October with a string of posts centering around Stephen King's <i>Carrie</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-31122990378824188452016-08-26T12:00:00.000-07:002016-08-27T07:13:34.647-07:00The Woman in the Room [Pt. 2]<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Welcome back to <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows</b>, and our discussion of <i>The Woman in the Room</i>. This time we delve into the 1983 short film based on that story, adapted by one Frank Darabont. The film is available on YouTube in its entirety, in two separate videos. Both of those videos are embedded below for your convenience:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Woman in the Room (1983)</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Written and directed by Frank Darabont</span></i><div style="line-height: 1.38;">
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Stephen King started making deals with student filmmakers allowing them to adapt his shorter works in 1977, which means Frank Darabont is a few years away from being the first official Dollar Baby, although he is part of what we can consider the first wave, and he’s definitely the most successful graduate of that program. To hear Darabont himself tell it, though, he was unaware of King’s policy when, as a twenty-year-old with no movie industry experience, working various odd jobs, he wrote King a letter asking if he could make a short film based on <i>The Woman in the Room</i>. Three years later, the film was released, and was successful enough that Darabont submitted it for consideration at the Academy Awards (it did not get nominated, but was reportedly on the short list). It was also one of the very few Dollar Babies to be officially released on a home video format, and no less an authority than King called it “clearly the best of the short films” made from his work.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Time will tell if it actually is the best (and certainly there was a much less crowded field of competition for that title in 1983), but one thing is certain: Darabont’s film is the most professional Dollar Baby we’ve watched so far, and it’s easy to see why it was given a VHS release in the ‘80s. Even if it’s not the type of thing I’m normally drawn to, and not something I see myself returning to time and again, I can appreciate the skill that went into making this film on a minuscule budget, with very little experience. The film could easily stand alongside more professional releases from that same time period. I kept thinking back to the nonexistent Stephen King television series you speculated about in our <i>Night Surf </i>piece. <i>The Woman in the Room</i> is the best argument I’ve seen so far for an anthology series based on King’s work, a series that would allow aspiring and established filmmakers adapt the stories to their own strengths, as Darabont has clearly done here.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I said in the first part of the discussion that I don’t find King to be a very emotional writer. Certainly he gets us invested in his characters so that we feel concern for their outcomes, but I’ve never been really moved by his love stories or his more intimate moments. That was clearly not the case for <i>The Woman in the Room</i>, which is the most nakedly, affectingly emotional King has ever been. It makes sense, then, that Darabont would be drawn to this story for his first film. Darabont has, through his three feature length King adaptations, proven that he is at least as concerned in the emotional subtext of the source material as he is in the more fantastic elements on display. <i>The Shawshank Redemption</i> and <i>The Green Mile</i> are melodramatic and heartwarming in a way that King films don’t normally attempt (though to be fair, those elements are present in the original stories as well), to the point that many people don’t actually realize King had a hand in writing them. Even Darabont’s adaptation of <i>The Mist</i> added a gut punch of grief to the gory bleakness of King’s original novella, so there is a very clear through-line in the stories that Darabont has adapted, and the elements to which he seems drawn.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> And if they ever did make that Stephen King anthology show, how about Frank Darabont direct every single episode? Look, Darabont clearly gets King. A few directors have done a great job of adapting King to the big screen, but there have been far more misses than hits as far as quality overall, and even more misses as far as capturing what was so entrancing on the written page in the first place. But Darabont has yet to really make a misstep, even if I am not quite so enamored with </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Green Mile</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as many people are. (The film is still pretty good, I just didn’t connect with King’s story either at the time. But that was one of those rare spots in the late ‘90s where I sneaked back in for a peak at King’s writing, and then slipped back out because what I found was lacking.) There is a clear artistic connection between the two that I am surprised hasn’t been developed even further than it has.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know that, just between ourselves, I displayed some reticence in tackling the Dollar Baby films at first; in fact, we both wrestled over it. It was mostly because finding a lot of the films is really hard, if not downright impossible in many cases. And then there is the quality factor. It is one thing to criticize a bigger budget, Hollywood feature film adaptation of a King story that has been produced by a professional crew and actors, with the intent of global distribution in theatres and on home video or on television. Those things are fair game for critics and the public alike to rip apart or praise as they see fit. Once art is in the public eye, have at it. But Dollar Babies are student films, and while, as art, they should be prone to the same critical measures as anything else, you really don’t want to pound someone too hard who made a ten minute film for about $127 with amateur actors and his best friend Andy holding a rented boom mike with shaky hands. You don’t want want to shatter the dreams of the next Spielberg (unless, of course, you would prefer that you did) with a blistering review of a short he created simply to pass his film studies class.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then we knuckled down and watched the five films we could locate for our piece on <i>Night Surf</i>, and I was fairly astounded by the wide variety of stances based on the same exact material. None of them were great, most of them were wildly off the mark as far as I was concerned, but a couple were fairly entertaining, and all of them (even the worst) seemed to capture at least a little snippet of the original story – whether in mood or fully captured scene – within their generally clumsy attempts at adapting a major writer to the screen on the cheap. While there were a couple of versions that I never wish to revisit again (at least, not in the low quality scrubs available on YouTube or elsewhere), I found the experience enlightening overall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Enter Frank Darabont and his version of <i>The Woman in the Room</i>. Aaron, I am sure you’ve done a bit more research into the background of the making of this film than I have. From its very first frame, <i>The Woman in the Room</i> shows a higher degree of craftsmanship than the Dollar Babies we have watched thus far, and even if it is still a student short, the feel of the film at least approaches the standard look of television programming at the time of its release (1983). Frankly, it almost looks good enough that one could convince me that it was an episode of the 1985 revival of <i>The Twilight Zone</i>, that ran on CBS for a few years in that decade. However, I had only seen this one a long time ago on video, and apart from remembering that I had seen it at some point, had rather forgotten that it was actually pretty well done. What about you? </span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> One quick clarification: This was not technically a student film, this was an independently produced short film from someone who would go on to become a highly successful director and screenwriter. A minor distinction, considering Darabont’s youth and means at the time, but an important one. Frank Darabont made this film without the benefit of school backing, meaning he had to scrounge together the money to get it made, and he spent several years filming it on borrowed or rented equipment, editing it himself in his bedroom. For Darabont, who had not yet had a job in the film industry when he began the project, this was more than just a means to a passing college grade, this was his shot to prove himself, and to adapt an author who clearly meant a lot to him. I want to make the distinction because I mostly agree with you; I think this is at least as good as a lot of the stuff that made it into <i>The Twilight Zone</i> remake, and surpasses the quality of many of the other anthology shows of the time, like <i>Tales from the Darkside</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Each of the Dollar Babies we’ve seen so far has shown, at the very least, glimpses of talent. <i>The Woman in the Room</i> is the first one to show equal amounts of skill, passion, and an innate understanding of the source material. That understanding doesn’t mean the source material went untouched, of course, as <i>The Woman in the Room</i> makes a few excisions, and one major addition, to the story it was based on. Frankly, I’m OK with that. I’ve never been one of those people who negatively compares a filmed entertainment to its written origins because of what it changes or omits. I want a movie to change things around a bit, otherwise, what’s the point? I know we criticized some of the <i>Night Surf</i> shorts for the way they seemed to miss the point of the original story, or for how far afield they strayed from the events as written, but there is a difference here. A work of art has to have some resonance to the artist, or there will be no resonance for the audience. When it came to some of the <i>Night Surf</i> shorts I had trouble understanding, through their alterations, why they chose to adapt that particular story. I didn’t get the impression, even from the best of the bunch, that the story held any real significance to the filmmakers. With Darabont, on the other hand, it’s blindingly obvious that the story struck a chord in him, that it has some special meaning. Why else would he choose to adapt Stephen King, and then stay away from the monsters, the gore, or the spookiness?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJm9kGhZjOJw_if8VtefLbOiAAhhqTD20OIzZ4jk6XRntFnu_HLdyaMOMnKOGu8STHgtPbd0k_HnGep54jsVWGTX-o6CcEGnGmYgWXYoI6zAciwl4N0zXVNTUfZUxQnraaXYZ6x-glss/s1600/Brian_LIbby_Prisoner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJm9kGhZjOJw_if8VtefLbOiAAhhqTD20OIzZ4jk6XRntFnu_HLdyaMOMnKOGu8STHgtPbd0k_HnGep54jsVWGTX-o6CcEGnGmYgWXYoI6zAciwl4N0zXVNTUfZUxQnraaXYZ6x-glss/s1600/Brian_LIbby_Prisoner.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brian Libby as The Prisoner</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The biggest change Darabont makes is with the addition of a character known only as Prisoner (played by Brian Libby, a prolific character actor who has had small roles in each of Darabont’s King adaptations). In the short film, John (Michael Cornelison) is a lawyer, and we see a short scene where he consults with his client, who is on death row, and asks him conversationally about what it’s like to kill a person. This character, a grizzled Vietnam vet who channeled his experience of the atrocity of the war into a career as a hitman once he got back home, seems like a character type King himself might have written. The scene itself is probably a bit too on the nose, as Brian Libby’s every line of dialogue is meant to subconsciously reverberate with the decision John has to make. It’s so directly addressing him that the character never feels like a real character, but instead feels like a totem, an oracle that John needs to hear from. But of course, that’s exactly what he’s meant to be in this story, and both actors (who would were in the midst of, or the beginnings of, healthy careers) are good enough to sell the scene.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rik, I feel like this scene is the most obvious focal point for most discussions based around the short story and the short film. How did it sit with you?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It’s funny, you mention that both actors were in the midst of or at the beginnings of healthy careers, but when I watched <i>The Woman in the Room</i> again, I couldn’t place either actor at all and had to look them up. Sure enough, they have been acting a long time, and Cornelison has had a lot of stage success. But I could probably only pick Libby out of a police lineup and that is just because he is large and imposing. When I look at their credits, it turns out that I have seen a lot of their films and television shows, but it’s for a lot of parts like “Perimeter Guy” and “Employee #1” and “Embalmer”; even in films that I remember seeing, I cannot remember who they were.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And this is not to say that they are not both very good in their roles in this short. They do a fine job, and I have to say Libby is particularly appealing in his part as the convict. I agree with you: I don’t mind when a director or a screenwriter veers from the original work being adapted as long as the divergence adds something to the story that adds what you termed resonance to the work at hand. I think we both agree that it was what was so frustrating about the <i>Night Surf</i> shorts. They each took a different tack with the same material, but all of the shorts, even the barely best ones, really missed the point of the material, missed the painful, nostalgic soul at the center, the dying of the light, the slowly vanishing heartbeat of humanity. When I saw that this film was a half hour, I was really wondering just how Darabont would be able to carry what is rather slight material that far. Certainly it would be hard to make a feature film out of this story without greatly expanding it by giving both the son and the mother full backstories. And maybe Darabont felt that summing the slim story up in just fifteen minutes was just too brief a visit with these characters, like maybe to feel the real punch in the gut of the situation he had to draw it out at least a little bit. So maybe that is part of why he felt he needed to stretch it out and add an extra scene. But I really like the extra scene he did add.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I like the familiarity between the client and the lawyer. There is certainly a level of trust that has been established, the light smiles in jokes about courtroom attire that are easily accepted between the two, and there is a definite air of relaxation in even the lighting of a cigarette that signifies these two have spent a good deal of time together. Even when the Prisoner gets riled up about something, he is able to be defused by a steady gaze or a smirk. I enjoyed their interplay, and it would be interesting to see if these two would ever be friends “on the outside,” as it were. (Of course, he is telling the lawyer the story of how he killed a buddy of his, a guy who saved his life at one point in Vietnam, so you may not want to know him on the outside.) </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael Cornelison as John</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When they do get to the meat of that discussion, about whether killing someone ever meant anything to the Prisoner, I feel like the relationship between the two characters serves to make the scene perhaps not quite as maudlin as it might have been in lesser hands, even hands as inexperienced as Darabont’s at that age. You say it is perhaps too on the nose; I agree, yes, but it does allow us to see another side of John that we otherwise would either not have gotten to see (we get to understand, in short order, both his professionalism and his basic humanity in one scene) without perhaps plunging into a series of all too obvious flashback sequences. And as such, I think it is a wise addition to the story.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Although I do find the Prisoner scene a bit too obvious, that’s not as much of a complaint here as it would be in, as you say, lesser hands. Because you’re right; Frank Darabont “gets” Stephen King, but more than that, he also “gets” the mechanics of storytelling in much the same way that King does. The Prisoner sequence is essential in this story as Darabont tells it, because it humanizes Johnny and addresses his dilemma directly without having him break into tears and wail that he doesn’t want to kill his mother. It’s also, as you point out, important to get an outsider’s look at this character, to show us something outside of Johnny’s own head or perceptions. And it is, admittedly, entertainingly written. Much more gratifying than a series of generic flashbacks.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Stephen King’s short story is largely plotless, achronological, and full of impressions rather than concrete incident. That sort would be impossible to translate to film, unless you wanted to make an avant-garde, experimental film, which Darabont clearly was not interested in. Looking back over Darabont’s career, many of his scripts have been for potentially nostalgia-riddled movies like the remake of <i>The Blob</i>, the sequel to David Cronenberg’s version of <i>The Fly</i>, an unproduced Doc Savage film, and the script for <i>Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein</i>, as well as various episodes of <i>Tales from the Crypt </i>and <i>Young Indiana Jones</i>. Of the four movies Darabont has directed, three of them are set in the fifties, and one of them takes its cues from the creature-feature monster films of that era. Frank Darabont is a man clearly enamored of the films of Hollywood’s “golden age”, and as such uninterested in making impressionistic arthouse fare.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So how, then, do you go about filming an impressionistic story while also delivering a clear, audience-friendly, narratively simple film? Well, in this case, you whittle the story down to two or three important events, add a character to make external some of the internal struggles John is going through, and add a brief dream sequence. If I’m being honest, the dream sequence is probably cheesier and more on-the-nose than the Prisoner sequence, but we’re speaking comparatively, here. Although now that I’m nitpicking the film, I realize the obviousness of these aspects, but as I was watching it they didn’t bother me at all. More importantly, in the film as it exists, these two scenes are necessary.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of the joys I’ve been getting out of this series of discussions with you lies in how deeply we delve into tiny moments. Some of our pieces so far have rivaled the original short stories in terms of length, and that’s allowed us to really explore different aspects of them. I’m not going to claim that our casual discussions here are encyclopedic, exhaustive, or even very academic, but it is a level of critical evaluation I don’t normally indulge in, outside of the odd college course. What I said up there about how Darabont “gets” how stories operate is true, because at this young age, with no formal training, he was able to distill Stephen King’s story to its elements, and then mold them to his own personal vision, and the resulting film is structurally satisfying and emotionally powerful. I wouldn’t say I’ve always been a fan of Darabont (I’m both looking forward to and dreading the day when we cover <i>The Green Mile</i>), but he has an eye for crowd-pleasing entertainments.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Darabont deploys the Prisoner scene at the right time in his film, turning it into the centerpiece of his short. It sheds light on the main character and adds shading to his emotional state, while also breaking up what could have become monotonous. Even the dream sequence serves a similar purpose, so who cares if it’s a bit more obvious than I normally like? Darabont had a limited amount of time with which to tell his story, and very limited means and experience. Things have to be more direct in a short film like this, where we don’t have time to get fully acquainted with the characters and their histories.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Wrap-Up</span></b><br />
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I would say that I am neither a huge Darabont fan or a detractor. His greatest work is obvious, I greatly admire his take on <i>The Mist</i> though I dislike a couple of casting choices, I am cool on (not cool with) <i>The Green Mile</i> (I need to do a rewatch, but neither am I a fan of the story), and I have never fully seen <i>The Majestic</i>. That pretty much evens things out as far as his directorial efforts go for me.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We started this piece ages ago and much has happened in our lives since we started it. I feel it is time we put this thing to bed. I think this is a pretty terrific short film that has held up marvelously over time. I don’t think it is great, but it’s pretty damn good considering its origins and the fact it was made for about a buck-thirty-seven. Like the story, I will plan to revisit it again in the future, and perhaps not wait quite so long the next time. But it is such a downer, that that “not wait quite so long” is still going to be a few years if I can help it.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I believe we are in agreement on Frank Darabont (although I would be much harsher in my estimation of <i>The Green Mile</i>, but I’ll save that for whenever we actually focus on that film); he is a talented filmmaker who has created some works I love, some I modestly enjoy, and then some I just don’t care for. I figure I’ll always have a fondness for him, if only for his part in bringing forth the 1988 remake of <i>The Blob</i>, which is a pretty fun film that, while probably not underrated, still deserves to be seen. If I’m being honest, Darabont skews a little too much towards the emotional side of the spectrum, veering often into cheap sentimentality and schmaltz, but I think he acquits himself quite nicely here. <i>The Woman in the Room</i> never gets too maudlin, although it has every reason to.</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We also seem to be in agreement on this film, and while I enjoy it, I don’t see myself revisiting it, or the story that inspired it, anytime soon. It was a revelation, to be reminded of an aspect of King’s writing that I had forgotten (or, more likely, ignored), and it was interesting to see the humble beginnings of an Oscar winning director. I appreciate the ways in which the story affected me now that I’m older and, maybe, a little wiser (very little), but neither the story nor the film are the sorts of entertainments I normally seek out, so it may be awhile before I head this way again.</span><br />
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Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-53898623169748613482016-08-24T15:30:00.000-07:002016-08-27T07:15:16.732-07:00The Woman in the Room [Pt. 1]<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is finally time for another edition of <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows: Stephen King Print Vs. Film</b>, an ongoing and exhaustive exploration of the works of Stephen King and the films derived from them. As always, Rik and I are here to discuss our reactions, thoughts, emotions, critiques, praises, musings, and, of course, our personal histories with the stories in question. For those wishing to read along at home and join the discussion, we are currently working through the short stories that make up Stephen King’s first collection, <i>Night Shift</i>. We have previously covered <i>Graveyard Shift,</i> <i>Night Surf</i>, and <i>The Mangler</i>, and this time we jump ahead a bit for a slight change of pace with <i>The Woman in the Room</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Story: The Woman in the Room</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>[Night Shift, 1978; Original to the publication]</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe2PPAp1sV-NzTbFXGJnmFckJUTUptO-tm_RS1oWEUu8iCwN8ibIwYBayKM07LUAnUK7TTpqnUY-QkPpvAIDV6b9Ymwf4tWBsNgx-U6ZupsdK_a4fxvtjFSsh4zoiGOLio-rztjdVLqE/s1600/Night_Shift_hand_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe2PPAp1sV-NzTbFXGJnmFckJUTUptO-tm_RS1oWEUu8iCwN8ibIwYBayKM07LUAnUK7TTpqnUY-QkPpvAIDV6b9Ymwf4tWBsNgx-U6ZupsdK_a4fxvtjFSsh4zoiGOLio-rztjdVLqE/s320/Night_Shift_hand_cover.jpg" width="190" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> I said in the brief intro to this piece that <i>The Woman in the Room</i> represents a slight change of pace for our young blog, but now that I think about it, this is a larger gearshift than I initially thought. Not only are we skipping all the way to the end of the <i>Night Shift</i> collection (up until this point we had been more or less going in published order), but also we’re covering our first story to not feature any sign of the supernatural or fantastic. There are no demonic machines in <i>The Woman in the Room</i>, no rabid mutant vermin, and no apocalypses, unless you count the deeply personal, emotional kind. The tone here skews closest to the mood-piece that was <i>Night Surf</i>, but it lacks a hook as splashy as a humanity-destroying plague. Despite his evident love of the genre, not everything Stephen King has written has fit under the horror banner, and this stands out as an early example of his more conventional fiction.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At this point I’d normally begin talking about when I first read this story, and what memories I have associated with it, but right now any tale I told would be a lie, because I literally have no memory of reading this story. I know I did read it, I know that for a fact, but as I was reading along nothing stirred my memory. For everything we’ve covered so far, events would unfold in my memory slightly ahead of me reading them, and yet everything in this story was brand new. That’s not entirely surprising, because once again we need to take into account the age at which I first read these stories. As I said in an earlier piece, I was around thirteen or fourteen years old at the time, and so the stories that really stuck with me were the more outrageous, gory, macabre, and vicious tales. I wasn’t really in the market for more mature meditations on death and loss, and so <i>The Woman in the Room</i> failed to make a huge impression on my younger self, and I just never revisited it over the years in the way I did with some of the other stories in this collection. I think that’s for the best, actually; I think I’ve rediscovered this story at an age where I can now fully appreciate its style and themes.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Before I go too much further, Rik, I’d like to hear your history with this story, if you have one. Did this one make any sort of impression on you when you first read it as a much younger man? Have you had occasion to revisit it over the years?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> As I mentioned in our previous pieces on the stories that make up <i>Night Shift</i>, I have not read the collection in well over 25 years. So the answer would be, no, I have not revisited it at all. And frankly, apart from having seen Frank Darabont’s student film version of <i>The Woman in the Room</i> many years ago and keeping a nudging awareness of that short film’s presence in my more cinema-oriented mindset (despite my also not having seen in it in over a quarter century), I would have quite forgotten the story altogether.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is not a critique of the King’s story, mind you; this is more of an admittance of my lack of interest in the subject at hand at the time of its publication. As an older teenager-slash-young adult, you feel immortal to a certain extent. Everything is ahead of you, and the common concerns of older people are simply not your worry. You, at such an age, bounce back from every type of pain, physical, mental, or emotional, and a big part of bouncing back seemingly scot-free is the ability to block out the drama around you. For me, this included what I considered to be “straight” drama, whether it was on TV, on the movie screen, or on the printed page. I had almost no interest in an Oscar-winning dramatic film like Robert Redford’s <i>Ordinary People</i> at the time, and a fully vested, 100% interest in a surrealistic nightmare like David Lynch’s <i>Eraserhead</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In other words, a rather straight story that sinks deeply into the mind of a man obsessed with his mother’s impending death from cancer was just not in my wheelhouse at the time, and so it left little impression on me. Just as I then disdained what I considered to be normal dramatics, so I also chose the targets of my attention for their very weirdness in comparison to such normalcy. And I was definitely NOT reading King for depth of thought or the excellence he maintained in practicing his craft. No, I was reading him solely because he told better, scarier stories than anyone else that I had read at the time. He had the monsters that I craved, and the gruesomeness. I wanted sick, violent stories with last second twists or darkly comedic moments. While the notion of a man slowly feeding his mother an overdose of painkillers certainly ambles into “sick” territory on the measure of an episode of the old <i>Alfred Hitchcock Presents</i> show, it was not enough to capture my attention at the time that I read <i>The Woman in the Room</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thus, apart from the title (due to Darabont’s film), I had forgotten completely what the short story was even about, and it was only upon reading the opening paragraphs that the story and its style – as have other Night Shift stories – sprang back into my consciousness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Before we continue to the story itself, I want to mention the title of the story briefly. The title <i>The Woman in the Room</i> never really struck me until I picked up the story to revisit recently. The starkness of the title suddenly revealed itself to me as efficiently cold; it suddenly became a description uttered by someone who is too numbed by tragic circumstances that wishes to distance oneself from the darkening and slowly tightening reality of such an unbearable situation.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> I’m right there with you on the title. <i>The Woman in the Room</i>. It’s evocative, to be sure, but it’s also nondescript and vague enough to give the reader no idea of what to expect. It certainly did me no favors as I tried to recall the plot of the story in advance of this piece. But then, in context of what the story actually is, the title becomes heartbreaking. The woman in the room, turns out to be Johnny’s mother, dying slowly and painfully of cancer in a hospital bed. That simple, impersonal noun in reference to the man’s clearly beloved mother is telling, as it reflects both the state “the woman” finds herself in, and the mental distancing the man goes through in order to do something he is deeply conflicted about. Johnny’s mother is no longer the mother he knew, she’s little more than a shell with periodic moments of lucidity, a shadow of her former self, and at times a near stranger. Johnny, in order to end her suffering, tries to redefine her as something other than the person who gave him life, and of course he can never be entirely successful in that regard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>The Woman in the Room</i> is one of the most personal fictions I’ve ever read from Stephen King. The only other one that comes close, that I can recall, was <i>Duma Key</i>, in which a man’s recovery from a near-fatal vehicular accident through the aid of his art was intimately informed by King’s own recovery from the 1999 traffic accident that nearly killed him. I think he cuts a bit closer to the bone with this story, which was clearly inspired by the cancer-related death of King’s own mother in 1973. This story was never published anywhere prior to <i>Night Shift</i> in 1978, but it’s safe to assume the emotion was still fresh in King’s mind while he wrote this tale. While Stephen King may not have lovingly fed his mother an overdose of pain medication, it’s hard to read this story without imagining the flights of fancy King must have indulged in during, and after, his mother’s death.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of the reasons you can tell this was a deeply personal story is the way King absolutely nails, through both words and technique, the way time passes when facing the imminent death of a loved one. The dazed manner in which events are processed, so that your life enters a dreamlike state, where scenes bleed into each other, punctuated by moments of clarity. I said up above that I rediscovered this story at the right age, because as a young teen I was completely unfamiliar with death as anything beyond a vague concept. Now, two decades on, I’ve lost a few friends, a few family members, and I’ve watched friends and family deal with the shocking fact of death. Several years ago, one of my uncles passed away from cancer, and it was impossible to not think of him while I read this story. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I say one of my uncles, it should also be said that I grew up in constant contact with all of my aunts and uncles, as we all shared a large house with my grandparents for most of my childhood, and even when people moved away it was still within a near enough distance that we saw each other several times a week. And so we were all very close as I grew up, although that changed a bit over time, as my teenage years kicked in and people started families of their own. When my uncle got sick he was already fading out of my life, though I still saw him frequently. I remember visiting him, though, on the night he passed away, and being shocked at what I saw before me. This man, who had been such a huge part of my life, who had been a captain for a highly successful charter tour company that he started, who had taken me camping several times every summer of my childhood, who had taken me skiing and sledding and fishing countless times, and tried his best to impress a love of nature on his odd, bookworm nephew, was entirely unrecognizable. He was, almost literally, a skeleton, shrunken down to such a body mass that seems inconceivable that he could still be living, even with the expensive row of medical equipment aiding him in most bodily functions. He was more than just physically different, and it was hard to see him as the same man who had introduced me to Bruce Lee and <i>Die Hard</i>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The other great insight Stephen King had in this story is the way that death can become, paradoxically, really fairly boring. When someone close to you is dying, there always comes a time when part of you just wants the horrible final act to just happen already. It’s maybe not the nicest thing to say, but it can be so much worse waiting for the other shoe to drop that you get the urge to tear the band-aid off and get into the business of grieving and moving on. The endless flow of incidents and events in your life become heightened in the mundanity, a string of awkward silences and interchangeable waiting rooms and repeated platitudes. The effect is numbing, and it can seem appealing to just get it over with, to get past the hard part. Because death is easy, it’s dying that’s hard. Especially on the living.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But hey, I fear I may have brought the tone down in a small wave of despair, allowing my often-maudlin nature to seep into my writing here (a cumulative side effect of my many sleepless nights recently), so I’ll throw it over to you. I’m assuming this story had it’s own newfound associations for you, as you revisited it as an adult with an entirely different set of priorities and emotional connections. How did you find the experience of revisiting this tale?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Wow. Given the heartache at the center of this story and the more obvious heartache which must have overwhelmed King during its writing, your reflections are entirely apt. For myself, the story doesn’t hit home quite as precisely for me, even a quarter of a century later. Now that I have slipped over to the farther side of middle age, and wrestled hard with the issue of my own self-destruction in recent years, the subject of mortality seems to be a recurring one in my life. I made the realization a couple of years ago that my life has been blessedly free of major tragedy. A grandparent dies of old age or the parents of close friends go a bit earlier than expected here and there. My wife (then my girlfriend) had a bout with cancer early on in our relationship, but that ship righted itself in short order (though I did lose a first cousin to cancer not long ago as well). Otherwise, all of my nearest, dearest, and closest are still kicking about in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And that is the catch of making such a realization about the good fortune of your friends and family (and thus, yourself)… when does the onslaught of misery begin? When does life become an endless procession of funeral service after funeral service, or relentless visits to hospitals, or tragic phone calls in the middle of the night? Truthfully, while some might believe that my life has been largely blessed by avoiding major tragedy to this point, I see nothing but pain and woe ahead, and because I have not had to deal very harshly with the realities of life in this area, I am terribly unprepared for it. I had a hard enough time when my beloved dog died a while back, enough so that it added to my suicidal ideation and need for medical guidance and therapy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Such concerns are the chief reason why I dove into fantasy, science fiction, and horror in the first place. While there may be real situations that inspired some of the stories, the element of the fantastical is so strong that one can divorce oneself from the reality behind it and just enjoy the tale being told. You may be well aware of the metaphorical thrust of the writing, but there is usually enough fantasy coating the proceedings that you can choose to ignore any of the more dramatic elements built into the piece.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Which is why <i>The Woman in the Room</i> is so hard-hitting today. I must have discounted it back then as unnecessary to my enjoyment of <i>Night Shift</i>, and thereby forgot about it in the process. I know that I read it, but because <i>The Woman in the Room</i> wasn’t all bloody and extreme in violence or had a serial killer hiding in a closet or a malevolent force hiding behind cornrows or a ravenous monster somewhere or other, I accepted it as too much of real life and not worthy of true attention at the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Reading it now, while it certainly doesn’t hit as close to home for me as it does for you (and is really not something I want to read even now, especially given that someone in my own life is going in for surgery soon, so I really want it to hit even further away from home than it already does), the story is staggering in its quiet intensity. The Woman in the Room is a gut-puncher. King really makes you wonder how you will do in such a situation (and odds are, such a situation will greet most of us in the future, near or far). The answer is, most of us will do OK, and we are going to make some small mistakes, and we will have some regrets of not saying this or that when we possibly should have, but in the end, it will be about making our loved one as comfortable in their exit as we can. I doubt most of us would ever go to the lengths as Johnny does in <i>The Woman in the Room</i>, and I would hope that I never have to do so.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I first started reading the story on the Kindle on my iPhone, there was a strange break early on where the text leaves off after the word “She” and picks up again a few lines down with “is in the Central Maine Hospital”. At first, because Kindle does strange things with page layout -- I have had books with photos where the text completely realigns when going back and forth a few times -- I thought maybe it was just a problem with the file. But then I realized (because it had been so long since I actually held the book version) that it was a stylistic thing that King was attempting, providing short breaks in his story (almost like chapters) while reinforcing the feeling, at least for me, that because of the tragedy of the situation, Johnny was possibly having blackouts in his memory, or losing track of time or meaning in his life, or was simply blocking out as much as possibly to keep carrying forward. The abrupt breaks in the middle of the sentence were meant to amplify this mood, one of being utterly lost in one’s own circumstances, quite at sea as to what he should do. How do you feel about this?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Before I answer your question, I feel the need to address something you said up above. You mention your reaction to the death of your dog as some sort of indicator that you will not handle loss well, and yet I beg to differ. Of all the losses in my life, I have never cried harder or mourned more deeply than when I had to put both of my cats, who I’d raised from kittenhood sixteen years earlier, to sleep within the same week. In fact, as callow as this may sound, I’ve never cried at the death of any person, no matter how deep the connection or close the relation. But my pets? Uncontrollable sobbing for hours, and a deep depression for weeks. But that makes sense in a way, as well. Animals are blank slates, in a way, informed more by the personalities we read into their actions or the bonds we impose upon them. The love and companionship is pure and unsullied, which can never be true for a human being, no matter how beloved they are. I think King acknowledges this in the story, where the only memory Johnny indulges in of his mother before her illness is one where he was punished fairly severely (at least by today’s standards of child-rearing). Our relationships with our families are so complicated by moments of comfort and joy and instances of profound anger and hurt. It’s a lot of emotion to process at once, and I’ve found that I have a pretty delayed reaction to the losses I’ve experienced; I feel saddened, but not shattered, and it’s only over time that the magnitude of what is missing reveals itself. My uncle and I had not been on good terms when he passed, and I never took the chance to make proper amends, although plenty of chances I was definitely given. At the time of his death I felt sad, but more for the people around me who were so clearly grieving. (As I said up above; death is hardest for the living.) But over the years I’ve had several dreams about him, and often I’ll say something in a tone of voice that I immediately recognize as his, and it’s at these times that I realize he’s gone, and, perhaps a bit selfishly, so is that part of my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I used to feel guilty about this lack of overwhelming sadness when faced with the death of a loved one. When my grandfather was killed by a drunk driver (again, he had been a constant presence in my life) I couldn’t get away from my family fast enough, and ran off to spend the day with friends. That I do feel bad about, but I was terrified of spending the day with people I would feel incapable of connecting with. All that grief, and me with no hope of mirroring it or easing it. I don’t want to give the impression that I am uncaring, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s taken me a few years, but I’ve come to understand my reaction to these circumstances a bit better. I, personally, find nothing to be sad about for the person who has passed. Whatever your personal belief structure, I think we can agree that whatever their problems had been, they’re over now. Instead I see grief at someone’s death not about the fact that they’ve died, but about the loss we will experience in our life. The dead are beyond it all, while the living will carry the memory. And I think that’s lovely. I see no reason to be sad when a person has died, beyond knowing that I won’t be able to hang out with them anymore. But the astronomical odds against two specific people occupying the same space and time in this universe make the simple fact of knowing and loving someone a cause for celebration. To spend my time depressed that it’s over seems… vain, somehow.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But to answer your question, I think you pretty much hit the nail on the head, but I wouldn’t quite use the term “blackout” to describe what Johnny is going through. I think the elliptical nature of the passages, how each one leads into the next, while also starting and stopping in mid-sentence, letting paragraphs trail off unfinished, highlights the emotionally stunned headspace Johnny finds himself in. Johnny’s life is now a string of obligatory hospital visits, dutifully and lovingly made but unpleasant and depressing. There’s no real defining moment in his life right now beyond the approaching death of his mother, and everything else becomes a dissociated blur. But look then at what does make it through the haze: the way IV bags hang down, the water fountain in the hallway, the way the doctor looks at the ceiling tiles while he thinks. Utter mundanity. The things you’d normally ignore become bright and crystal clear, burned into your memory. Perhap that is just a coping mechanism, a way to focus on smaller things in order to avoid the larger issue at hand. Or perhaps it’s a way of preserving the moment, of taking in everything that you normally overlook and storing it away. It could be Johnny’s mind creating a sort of personal file for this experience, segmenting and compartmentalizing this moment away from the rest of his life while storing everything in this event in crystal clarity. <i>THIS</i> is important stuff. <i>THIS</i> is what you will remember for the rest of your life.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That story structure really impressed me on my first read through (technically second, but we’ll say first because I had no memory of the earlier reading), and then blew me away on my second. First, we have the elliptical nature of the segments, which combine two different statements and sentiments and still remain coherent, but then you have the combined effect of the segments themselves. Nothing in this story is presented in a strictly chronological order, and there’s really no attempt made to ground the reader in a specific time, or to delineate between the visits. Johnny arrives at the hospital room a couple of times, leaves a few more, and we’re never sure which visit is the climactic one and which were earlier on before the fateful decision was made. An oblique non sequitur will occur, and then a few pages later we’ll see the explanation for the reference. The reader is as untethered as Johnny, and yet the story still makes complete sense, and nothing is confusing or inscrutable by the end of the tale.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What makes this even more striking for me is the emotion at play in the story (though clearly I bring a lot of that emotion to the table myself). If I were to single out one complaint about Stephen King’s writing in general, it’s that he is not a very emotional writer. Not that he’s a callow robot; I believe he’s a warm and emotional person in his personal life, but in his books he never really succeeds at conveying the mystifying effects of love, loss, sadness, or joy. Needless to say, I did not find that the case with <i>The Woman in the Room</i>, which had such a depth of emotion in it that I find the prospect of picking it up again a little daunting. Despite its focus on the dull and commonplace, King was writing from a place of deep personal feeling, and that informed every page, paragraph, and sentence. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What say you? Am I alone in thinking King does not normally handle emotion with the skill he displays here?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> First, some unfinished business. You differed with me on how I might handle personal loss in regards to my reaction when my dog died, believing that I might be OK, since you have cried more at the loss of pets over people in your experience. That’s the catch: your opinion on how I may handle such loss is based on your own reactions, and not on mine. In my sentence about my dog’s death, this is the key phrase: “that it added to my suicidal ideation and need for medical guidance and therapy.” Losing Isabelle didn’t cause my depression, anxiousness, eventual nervous breakdown, and urge towards self destruction. Her loss merely amplified my already long-existing depressive state and anxiety to a point where hospitalization was an eventuality. At no point in my previous text did I speak of my own physical reactions to the deaths of others, i.e. humans, in my personal circle. I just expressed my fear of them. Assuredly, I have cried quite robustly many times over the deaths of grandparents, my cousin, parents of friends with whom I had a close relationship, and even a few celebrities of whom I had no personal acquaintance at all, just deep worship of their talents. I am a veritable waterworks. I am a fountain for hire, if the pay is decent. (Hell, I can be rented cheaply these days.) In my spousal relationship, I am the emotional one. Compared to me, Jen is practically a Vulcan. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What I am saying is that I handle these things as poorly with humans as I do with animals. Sure, I cried rivers of tears over losing three dogs and a cat in the past decade or so, but what I really fear is losing my family and friends. And because my life to this point has been largely tragedy free, especially given how large my circle of friends is, it makes that fear almost untenable at times for me. I actually have sleepless nights mulling over it. As an example, Jen’s cancer scare was at the very beginning of our relationship; were it to occur now, I don’t know what I would do. Thankfully, she has been clear of further problems with it over the fifteen years since, but were it to reoccur, my world would be rocked. I am fairly certain that on most days, she is all that holds me from spinning out altogether.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Once more getting back to the point of this article (not that all of this musing on the morbidity of death isn’t the point), and to answer your question, I agree that this is probably is the most emotional I remember King being on paper. This is not to say that he is not emotional in other writings. It is hard, as a horror writer, to sell the terror of a situation if you not keyed in somehow to the feelings of your characters. But <i>The Woman in the Room</i>, as you stated in reference to the basis for the story, is probably the most nakedly emotional he has been. It is clear that this raw nerve that has been uncovered in the form of Johnny is really his raw nerve. Every thought, though perhaps altered for a fictional narrative, is drawn from a form of thought he probably had sitting up late nights bleary-eyed in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of a hospital room, hearing the repetitive click-clack-wheezing and blip-blip-bleeping of mechanical devices meant to prolong the life of someone who would rather just let go of the constant pain already.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have to say, this story, while exceedingly intriguing and well-written, is a bit too painful to really for me to carry on about it much more. I would prefer that we skip over to Frank Darabont’s filmed Dollar Baby version of the story at this juncture. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> I certainly did not mean to imply that your emotional reactions are somehow “wrong” while mine are somehow “right”. Nobody reacts to anything the same way, and we all process emotions differently. Rather I meant to explain my viewpoint, and possibly a few words of support or comfort to anyone who has dealt with, or is currently dealing with, loss. In fact, for many years I felt there was something wrong in the way I reacted to the death of loved ones, and it left me feeling lonely, guilty, and excluded when I found myself unable to join in the healing, natural mourning process. This attitude I have today is the result of years of thought and emotional searching, and I’ve reached a place where I feel comfortable with the fact of death (though, like you, I am not immune to sleepless, worried nights, often related to my status as a father of two). If, through my words here, I can help someone in some small ways come to grips with this most universal, and most intensely personal of human experiences, then I would be overjoyed. Certainly that was part of what the original intention behind <i>The Woman In The Room</i> was; to work through grief while also, hopefully, helping readers to connect with the emotion in the story and in turn exorcise some of their own pain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’m with you; I think it may be time to move forward in our coverage. It’s funny, actually. I chose to cover this story as a way to bang out a quick edition of We Who Watch while we both deal with unpredictably busy summers, and yet it turned out to be a deeper commitment than I had expected. Certainly we’ve both gone deeper in our personal disclosures than ever before on this blog, and while I wouldn’t say it’s been draining or trying, I would say I’m ready to close the book (pun only partially intended) on this one.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So what say we pick this back up in a couple of days, with a discussion of Frank Darabont’s student film version of the story, and the birth of the Dollar Baby?</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>[To be continued in Part II on Friday, August 26...]</i></span><br />
<br />Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-86477187028413018832016-06-22T07:30:00.000-07:002016-06-22T08:10:09.261-07:00The Mangler [Pt. 2]<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik Tod Johnson:</b> Welcome to Part 2 of our discussion of Stephen King's <i>The Mangler</i>. In the first part, Aaron Lowe and I tackled the original short story, which you can find in King's first story collection, <i>Night Shift</i>. In this part, we are going to discuss the 1995 film adaptation. We hope that you survive it better than we did.</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">[1995, New Line Cinema; directed by Tobe Hooper; screenplay by Tobe Hooper, Stephen Brooks and Peter Welbeck]</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuhjCQhzthDsNBSXQWhOSYHpSo5b2T8LyOsG42-qtna8Y6yry6f7qc6PsNvoM95n4EmuzU77bqKUwLXDsch8l7j3Ge4X7Hp5_KsoLGjCMykBAG4bpKrcv-mFaV53wLjYRzGcFWSOa2OI/s1600/mangler_poster_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuhjCQhzthDsNBSXQWhOSYHpSo5b2T8LyOsG42-qtna8Y6yry6f7qc6PsNvoM95n4EmuzU77bqKUwLXDsch8l7j3Ge4X7Hp5_KsoLGjCMykBAG4bpKrcv-mFaV53wLjYRzGcFWSOa2OI/s400/mangler_poster_2.jpg" width="266" /></a><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Much like with </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, the film version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was thoroughly disappointing to me when it was first released to theatres in 1995. We (speaking for my gang of close friends and I) had high hopes, too; the film was to be directed by Tobe Hooper, the man behind bona fide genre classics like </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Texas Chain Saw Massacre</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Salem’s Lot</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Poltergeist</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and also cult classics (and faves of mine) such as </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Lifeforce</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and the first Leatherface sequel, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. True, he has proven vexing as a director at times in his career. I was profoundly upset over his remake of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Invaders from Mars</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> – the original from 1953 was one of the more influential sci-fi films in my youth – and I remember being less than satisfied from the results of seeing </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Funhouse</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Spontaneous Combustion</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> when they were released. Still, at the time of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler’s</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> release, and even now really, despite some other setbacks, I still try to see anything that has Hooper’s name on it, just as I do with Stephen King.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Besides Hooper and King, there was a third thing about the film adaptation of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> that it supposedly had going for it: Robert Englund. Freddy Krueger himself was set to be the big star of the film, and from reading the story, I assumed that he would be set in the lead role of Officer Hunton. I really couldn’t envision another role within the story that would be suitable for an actor of his then considerable cachet. The only other truly substantive roles were those of Mark Jackson, Hunton’s pal, who seems to have the knowledge of the ages at his fingertips right when it is needed most, and George Stanner, the plant foreman. And Englund did not seem right for either role anyway. How he was to be used was beyond me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And then the trailer came out, and we discovered the truth. Englund was playing someone never really described at all, or even physically encountered, in the short story. Honestly, seeing the trailer made me wonder if I had actually read the story before, though the diabolical and mangling laundry ironer was most definitely in attendance in the clip, so I knew I was thinking of the right story. But who could Robert Englund possibly be playing? In the trailer, he seemed to be attacking the role in the grotesque style of Lon Chaney (a hero of Englund’s), with over-the-top mannerisms and his legs clad in metal braces so that he staggers back and forth mechanically. The film seemed to have a look bordering on (or downright aping) German Expressionism, and for someone who was obsessed with that particular style of filmmaking, I was willing to give it a go (not that I wasn’t going to see it regardless.)</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will save discussion of my further feelings towards the film and the mystery surrounding Robert Englund’s character and his subsequent portrayal for later. Aaron, I would first like to ask you if you had any connection to or history with this film before now?</span><br />
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</b> <b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Back when this film came out on home video in 1995 or 1996, I rented it with some measure of excitement for many of the reasons you mentioned: Stephen King, Tobe Hooper, Robert Englund. But also there was interest in the involvement of Ted Levine, who at that point was known to me only as Buffalo Bill from </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Silence of the Lambs</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. It seemed like the film couldn’t miss. I didn’t remember the trailer until I just watched it recently, but I certainly recall being thrilled at the announcer saying </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“Three modern masters of horror…”</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> over footage of the film. In fact, the trailer does a pretty good job of selling the film overall (though of course it looks silly and outdated now), and probably only stoked my interest in the finished product.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I remember renting it with my friend Justin, and getting maybe half an hour into it before we just shut it off in disgust. I rarely ever do that, and I certainly did it less back then when I had nothing but time to spend on films of questionable quality. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler </i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">as a film was so disappointing, so tonally confused, that even at 17, I just had no patience for it. At some point I know I finished the film, but I couldn’t even tell you when that was. The only memory I had of the film was turning it off in disappointment. That, and the surprise I felt at learning Ted Levine wasn’t just doing a creepy voice for </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Silence of the Lambs</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">; he really talks that way!</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From the brief conversations we’ve had surrounding this project, I know we’ve both got a lot to say about this film, so I think it’s best to get right into the movie and we can unpack things as we go along.</span><br />
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</span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLXT2DDwwxyw38Zcp9bkafxJE46LQexE66v01UK_B0hxiZuhuWzJwfsfts5m8rFvgVoanR44aqfcSw2A-kaLhzqqjXGDHGHvdG_pfLnXOTYSNRY9KFBXvyiZU8F89u_Mu0a4iPLL-P7g/s1600/mangler_factory.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLXT2DDwwxyw38Zcp9bkafxJE46LQexE66v01UK_B0hxiZuhuWzJwfsfts5m8rFvgVoanR44aqfcSw2A-kaLhzqqjXGDHGHvdG_pfLnXOTYSNRY9KFBXvyiZU8F89u_Mu0a4iPLL-P7g/s320/mangler_factory.png" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The film opens in the Blue Ribbon Laundry, where a few dozen women slave over industrial laundry machines like the titular Mangler. In very short order (practically right after the opening credits end) we’ll see Sherry Ouelette cut her hand on the Mangler (losing a worrying amount of blood over the machine), the beginnings of the haunted icebox from the short story, and the death of poor Mrs. Frawley. In written form, all this business is done with before the story even starts, and the incidents are all meant to be random occurrences that add up to something horrible. In the film they all happen at once, like the final flurry of activity from a Rube Goldberg machine. Two men bump into Sherry, and there’s a weird burst of lightning and a lot of blood as she cuts herself and rubs her bloody hand on the fridge, then in the ensuing confusion, Mrs. Frawley absentmindedly puts her hand into the Mangler (in some of the laziest suspense building I’ve ever seen).</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The sudden commotion draws out the owner, Bill Gartley, giving us our first glimpse of Robert Englund and how he’ll be playing the character. To put it briefly, he plays the character like a cartoon. I don’t just mean he goes over the top, but that he acts as if he’d somehow stepped out of a particularly foul-mouthed Popeye short. There’s nothing remotely realistic in this performance, which is not helped by the unconvincing old age makeup or weird medical braces on his legs that cause him to adopt a walk that looks like an exaggerated version of Everett Sloane’s already exaggerated walk in </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Lady From Shanghai</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At this early moment, I thought I had an idea of what Tobe Hooper’s ultimate goal was. I thought he was going for the heightened reality of, if not German Expressionism, then at least the lurid Italian horror films of the sixties and seventies. I got a definite Dario Argento vibe from the camera movements, the color palette, and the questionable dubbing of the largely South African cast. I’m not sure if that was what he was aiming for, though, because the film keeps changing in tone from scene to scene, and rambles on from here in fits and starts. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but the best word I can use to describe my reaction to this film is “befuddled”. But then, Hooper has always been the most confounding of the accepted horror greats.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tobe Hooper became a feature director at the right place and right time, and the film he made his name on, </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Texas Chain Saw Massacre</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, is justifiably remembered as a great piece of art and a defining horror film of its time period. Since then, he’s been very hard to pin down. Not quite as ruthless as Wes Craven in his prime, not quite as elegant as John Carpenter, and not nearly as political as George Romero. It can be hard (at least it is for me) to really pin down what Hooper’s style is. It doesn’t help that he seems to have spent much of the eighties trying to disprove the persistent rumors that Steven Spielberg secretly directed </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Poltergeist</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I imagine this is what led to the ill-advised </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Invaders From Mars</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> remake, and the alien sex-vampire epic </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Lifeforce</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Lifeforce</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> has long been a personal favorite of mine, but its placement in his filmography gives the impression that he was still trying to prove he could handle big budgets and impressive special effects without Spielberg’s involvement. Since then he’s kept busy with a steady mix of television and low budget film work, and I have to admit I’ve mostly stopped following him since </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I’ve seen at least one of his films since then, and it did not quite convince me I was missing out on anything.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To get back to my statement about </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler’s</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> look, I think it’s actually pretty great, visually. The Blue Ribbon Laundry, where we’ll be spending a lot of time, is vast and cavernous, with lots of great intersecting lines, thudding machinery, and billowing steam. In a lesser film this would have just been confused and under lit, but if anything Hooper and cinematographer Amnon Solomon pour an excess of light into the shots. There are dark spaces in this film, but even during the night scenes, there’s a nice definition to the surroundings. The Mangler in the film itself is an imposing piece of machinery, but also designed in a completely unrealistic way. First off, it appears to have been embedded partially in a huge chunk of obsidian rock, which I can’t imagine any manufacturer actually designing. But also its gears and cables are as oversized as the machinery in Charlie Chaplin’s </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Modern Times</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. Whatever else we’re going to say about this film, I found it visually interesting and fun to look at.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rik, I can already practically sense you itching to jump in here with your own take, so I’m going to pass it off to you. How do you feel about the look of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">?</span></span><br />
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</b> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUN6jdRgVEv-GlGu0W686TvZ9wFsErTki-TO6dopTrAqAwfJyknOTYQ3UE5WUv0scRiBWyCwNp8zP2uRKYtZvcoeu1f6kbw3zm98OrhuNRp8PfhRjvJpIaLu26ObKypikU2an8sx0P4o/s1600/mangler_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUN6jdRgVEv-GlGu0W686TvZ9wFsErTki-TO6dopTrAqAwfJyknOTYQ3UE5WUv0scRiBWyCwNp8zP2uRKYtZvcoeu1f6kbw3zm98OrhuNRp8PfhRjvJpIaLu26ObKypikU2an8sx0P4o/s400/mangler_poster.jpg" width="275" /></a><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> You had me at Chaplin, so I will jump to your last point first. The film does look great, almost exactly what I like from a horror film, especially one featuring a demonic machine. There are wonderful establishing shots – such as our first glimpse of the Mangler – and the humid atmosphere of the laundry plant itself is impressively dense and oppressive. If one were to base their opinion of the film solely on how sharply Hooper and his crew set up each succeeding scene and the attention given in delivering a visual experience, one might be convinced that this is a film worthy of more attention. I have always said that every film, even the worst film, is a cult film for somebody out there, and in looking around the web in recent days, it appears there are a good amount of people who think this film has been unfairly maligned. I would say, that in a cinematographic sense, they might have a point. I watched a chunk of the film (the first ten minutes) with the sound off and the subtitles on, and imagined </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as a modern take on a silent expressionistic horror epic, and found the results, at the very least, an intriguing concept.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">However, in a modern film that was designed to be told by words in a screenplay that are delivered to our ears by paid actors, who speak those words to the best (or worst) of their ability, one cannot merely turn the sound off for the duration of the film. It is fun in jest or in experimentation, but to experience the film as intended, one must hear the dialogue and the score and the sound effects. One must have the complete package, and it is here where </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> runs into problems.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Getting back to your point on the design of the machine itself, it is too obviously ominous from the start, and I would rather there had been a slight transmutation when the possessed refrigerator transfers its demonic energy. But following this moment early on in the film, the Mangler still looks exactly the same as it did: overly designed and preposterous in conception. I tried to research older folding machines going back decades, and found some odd designs, but nothing to approximate the look of the ironer in this film.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But, the scenes in the laundry did remind me distinctly of a particular film that arose out of the German Expressionistic period: </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Metropolis</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, Fritz Lang’s dystopian masterpiece from 1927. I flashed back on the scenes involving the downtrodden workers of the factories under the city, and the ridiculously huge and ungainly machinery, much of it of purposefully unknown function. There is one scene where one of the main characters is staring at a huge bank of machinery and has a strange hallucination. In the mist and steam of the factory, his vision blurs as he imagines the machinery as nothing more than the gaping mouth of the ancient god Moloch, being fed workers sacrificially. After a short visit to this bygone period of prehistory, his vision clears to the dire present of his reality.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I would not be surprised to hear that </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Metropolis</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was indeed watched relentlessly by Hooper’s team before they worked on </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. (You also name-checked </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Modern Times</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, which is the other obvious choice for a “man caught in the senseless machinery of the modern age film”.) The difference here is that the demonic machine in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is supposed to represent the reality of the story from which it springs, not a pipe dream.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And you are correct about Robert Englund. I have had a sometimes hot and most often cold relationship with Mr. Englund since he started becoming a “thing” with the first </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Elm Street</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> film. Wonderfully cast as Freddy Krueger as he was, Englund has most often appeared to lack the one thing that similar actors such as Chaney and Boris Karloff had in spades: the ability to play it straight when needed. I would feel differently about him if he would sometimes just take straight roles, but he has mainly stuck to genre films since he became a star (or genre films have stuck to him, the more likely vein). The problem here is one of lack of range; he is decidedly one-note in most of his choices, and never seems to turn down an opportunity to play “up”.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here, he is just too loud, too abrasive, from the very start. We see him in the opening scene, and for me, he is an instant headache. The film immediately becomes a particularly painful visit to the doctor that you know will not be over for 106 excruciatingly mind-numbing minutes. The novocain has been applied, to be sure, but you still feel every cut of the gums and every revolution of the drill bit against your flesh and bone. And it is also clear that he is playing this movie as comedy. When he chimes musically, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hell’s bells, Adelle!”</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as Mrs. Frawley is sucked into the Mangler, there is the sense that his character has said this line many times before to Mrs. Frawley, but never in such dire circumstances. However, as Englund gives us the line, it is clear he doesn’t care if he sucks the air out of the film. And just a few minutes into it, he sucks away my interest as well.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">His character also has a penchant for saying the strangest combinations of phrases in rapid fire succession such as </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“Go draw a bath. Skedaddle. Shoo, fly, shoo.”</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Englund’s tongue in cheek delivery, in which it is quite clear that none of these words really have anything behind them, doesn’t help matters. There is another moment, clearly meant to be funny, where he is taunting his niece and yells out, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’ll do a little dance for you, Sherry! A little jig!”</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> There is just too much Freddy Krueger in his voice here, and then his exaggerated movements as he attempts that little jig wearing his leg braces shreds apart whatever other atmosphere the film had going for it that that moment.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I want to ask you, Aaron, about the character of Bill Gartley. This is the character to which I referred earlier in this article, as one who does not appear bodily in the text of the original short story, and is only mentioned five times within the text, but never with real consequence to the story. Here, he has been made – outside of the machine, of course – into the main villain of the piece. I imagine it was necessary for them to create such a character in order to attract a horror icon the size of Englund to the project, but I feel the story really doesn’t need the interference. Your thoughts?</span><br />
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</b> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0kthlRTJ5Vu89vpOvtDfBxPjHkGCE6_l8Yy7pzVqMAJMhyphenhyphenKnW3nChL73svzof9NEbjfUNkjn2LJMEDBEAgoK6ZLyxpuj2v_m6K4_BD6CHv4LDwyAdBWl6zKY1BAmvCX8aBtAyKweHrU/s1600/englund_gartley_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0kthlRTJ5Vu89vpOvtDfBxPjHkGCE6_l8Yy7pzVqMAJMhyphenhyphenKnW3nChL73svzof9NEbjfUNkjn2LJMEDBEAgoK6ZLyxpuj2v_m6K4_BD6CHv4LDwyAdBWl6zKY1BAmvCX8aBtAyKweHrU/s320/englund_gartley_2.jpg" width="208" /></a><b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I’m not quite sure how to answer that. If you are asking me if the short story – or a </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">short film version of – </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> needs the Gartley character, I would say most definitely not. The story Stephen King provided could have been expanded in a manner in which Gartley appeared and was an actual character, but there are many ways this could have been done other than what we got. Some of them would probably be better; some of them would probably be worse. If you are asking me if this film that Tobe Hooper has given us needs the Gartley character, all I can say is that he does exist in this film, and I cannot imagine this version of the story being told without him. I will also say that Robert Englund’s portrayal of the character does lessen the impact of the film overall, and perhaps a different actor with much the same script would have improved our impression of the movie.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don’t want to be too harsh on Englund, but you are correct; the man is only capable of chewing scenery, or at least that’s the mode he’s chosen to operate in since the </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Nightmare</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> films took off. But, as a counterpoint, I just finished watching </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Angel Heart</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, in which Robert De Niro plays a character of significant evil, and yet he chooses the opposite route; he underplays everything. He’s quiet and controlled and even friendly at times, and yet he’s still able to come across as menacing, or at least capable of great menace. It was an odd juxtaposition to this film, because my thoughts went immediately to how </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> would have worked had they gone in that direction with the character. I think Englund’s hamminess detracts from the already outsized mode the film is working in. He takes what was probably intended to be a blackly comic film of elevated reality and attempts to turn it into a wacky cartoon. I’m not sure how much of that blame to lay on him though, as he’s only doing what the director has asked of him. Or the director was incapable of reining him in. Either way it’s a mess.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But Robert Englund isn’t the only one playing a character created entirely for the screen; he’s just the loudest. This is a feature-length adaptation of a story that is only 29 pages long, and so of course characters need to be invented, while the existing ones need to be expanded. Gotta eat up that time somehow! The character that actually bothered me the most was the police photographer, known only as Pictureman in the film and in the credits. He’s a youngish actor, wearing more unconvincing old age makeup, and he pops up throughout the film during significant moments. Hunton is initially antagonistic towards him, but the relationship develops through the film and there are hints that they have a pretty long shared history. I do not understand what this character’s deal is. He seems surprised by the demonic activity he witnesses when Hunton destroys the icebox, but he also seems to know more than he says about the weird stuff going on in this town. Near the end of the film it turns out he does know quite a bit, as he dies of cancer and leaves Officer Hunton a big book of evidence, as well as a creepy collage of newspaper stories on his wall, including one about the car-crash death of Hunton’s wife.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Clearly this character is meant to be a sort of cryptic guide for our characters, but it never develops in a satisfying way, and, like most of the film, ends up more mystifying than anything else. There’s a scene in the film where Hunton visits the morgue after a child is found dead in that icebox we keep talking about. He has a brief interaction with the mortician about the quality of the mortician’s work putting Mrs. Frawley back together, before Hunton is left alone to brood some more. This morgue is ridiculously far underground, as Hunton descends several large staircases to get there, and what’s weirder is that when the mortician leaves the morgue, we can see him in the far left of the frame punching the ‘down’ button on the elevator. A few minutes later, Hunton is caught off guard by Pictureman, who then snaps a candid shot of Hunton brooding between the two dead bodies. They have some more cryptic conversations before Hunton leaves again. And here’s what bothers me: the mortician and Pictureman are both played by the same actor for no reason that I can discern. I kept expecting that to mean something, and when I saw that in the credits, I re-watched those scenes (I actually watched the entire film twice, for some reason) trying to pick out any hidden meanings, but there are none. The mortician conversation is pretty mundane, and the Pictureman stuff is just more of the same. It’s one of many things in this film that feel like they were supposed to add up to something, and the fact that they don’t just confuses me.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">How about you, Rik? What were your thoughts on this bizarre character, or Lin Sue, the other character invented for the film?</span><br />
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</b> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMevxdxUbVjSjTxiojaxZuhpKuaF8PEEsvhSHzd0rOWrz1n4lhx6Z8IrqIluKqxZVupjTgIJvECzk4Fwyq-A-SBykHyRostqzcfwPwf5HhOyFiI_hIFD7pnBlVcJgs5ShFMa_bPb_qWKE/s1600/Mangler_squish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMevxdxUbVjSjTxiojaxZuhpKuaF8PEEsvhSHzd0rOWrz1n4lhx6Z8IrqIluKqxZVupjTgIJvECzk4Fwyq-A-SBykHyRostqzcfwPwf5HhOyFiI_hIFD7pnBlVcJgs5ShFMa_bPb_qWKE/s320/Mangler_squish.jpg" width="320" /></a><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Oh, I loved </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Angel Heart</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> so much when it first came out to theatres. Saw it four times and kept dragging people to it. None of them liked it half as much as me, however.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pictureman the, uh, picture man is a ridiculous character to encounter right after just being introduced to Gartley mere minutes before, in too short a time to have really recovered from the first bout of subpar makeup and acting. Honestly, when I first saw this film, everyone in my group thought Pictureman – J.J.J. Pictureman, to be precise, as he stresses in the film – was just Robert Englund in another disguise. We couldn’t even grapple with the thought there might be another actor in the film playing dual roles besides him, and a very young, non-established actor at that. This is where I really wish there a commentary track to go along with the film, because I would really like to find out why they went this route. Was Englund supposed to play the character but then either he refused, they were running out of time or budget, or they thought the character was too close in looks or age to Englund’s Gartley, and so wanted someone a bit different? Or was he a young buck trying to establish himself in the same mold as Englund – perhaps a pal of his – and was granted the chance to prove his range in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">? The actor, Jeremy Crutchley, has been around ever since, with a lot of minor roles in a lot of minor (and some OK) projects (and a voice in a </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Game of Thrones</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> video game). But given that he is an English actor who has a Spanish Wikipedia page but not an English one, I would say he has never really broken through. And that name… Pictureman? It’s just too on the nose for a cameraman’s moniker. (I’m surprised we didn’t meet the local plumber, John Poopflusher, as well…)</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I really had not given the Lin Sue character any thought at all, not even in my notes, so that’s how much she impacted my viewing of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. I know she is primarily there to make Gartley’s niece Sherry jealous that she is stealing Sherry’s uncle’s attentions, but apart from using Lin Sue to show how empowering it is to become a “part of the machine,” thereby gaining power and a bad post-‘80s haircut, she really didn’t affect me.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No, the character I would really like to discuss is Officer Hunton, played by Ted Levine. I know that one of Stephen King’s biggest gripes about the Stanley Kubrick version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Shining</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, apart from the fact that Kubrick snubbed his nose at King’s own screenplay, is that he believes that Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of Jack Torrance is way off where he would like it. He thinks that Nicholson starts out the film as crazy, and so he has no arc in his performance, because he is just crazy non-stop throughout the film. I don’t really want to argue this here – let’s save that for further down the road when we tackle that book – but King does have a solid point, even if I don’t fully agree with it.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have not read King’s opinion of the filmed version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, but if he is upset at Nicholson in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Shining</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, he has to be equally so with Levine in this film. Levine’s Hunton starts out sick and nauseous and screaming every line, and ends up sick and nauseous and screaming every line. The Hunton character shares the same traits with the film version – near addiction to antacids because of a queasy possibly ulcerous stomach and a penchant for throwing up at crime scenes – but the character in the story at least starts out at a reduced level of histrionics when matched up against the film Hunton.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A big problem for me is that there is not a bit of subtlety in this film, which does not allow one to have a base from which to explore the story. I don’t always need one – I am a fan of true surrealism – but this film is presented, despite the pushy camera angles and design touches and bizarre acting choices of its biggest name actor, as a straightforward horror picture. For this, you need a solid character in the lead that, if you can’t trust, at least gives you the impression that you can trust them for a while. Levine does have some quieter moments, but only when paired with Daniel Matmor, who plays the most sensible character in the film, Mark Jackson, even though he is the one obsessed with black magic and demons. But for the most part, at any possible moment, Levine is bellowing at the top of his lungs or crying in disbelief or throwing up on the ground or screaming at people. He is a trainwreck at the beginning of the picture and never lets up from that impression. If he hadn’t gone on to play Captain Stottlemeyer on </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Monk</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> with such consistent charm and humor over many years (in addition to other small roles), it is possible I would have written him off as an actor wholesale following </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aaron, you had intimated that Ted Levine’s Officer Hunton pretty much sounds like his Jame Gumb to you. Admittedly, Levine does not have a lot of vocal diversity in his performances over the years. He is largely marble-mouthed, so you have to figure that factor in when you hire him. But how did you feel about Levine’s overall performance here and its effect on Hunton as a character? Did you find it as strident and unnecessary as I did?</span><br />
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</b> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NgpKMFLSh5phbXpGNRg68m5ufbXkKP1N2HGLhtmk1sHSJ1HsGYnnBNUb1Wqs19UOG_CPDJ5hpsIvui7CxAkYAGvddG2QaLpVYBvZBWNpCwQc1Ynu0hV-fQ_EJlmocAoNgrJoi-iF0EE/s1600/levine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NgpKMFLSh5phbXpGNRg68m5ufbXkKP1N2HGLhtmk1sHSJ1HsGYnnBNUb1Wqs19UOG_CPDJ5hpsIvui7CxAkYAGvddG2QaLpVYBvZBWNpCwQc1Ynu0hV-fQ_EJlmocAoNgrJoi-iF0EE/s1600/levine.jpg" /></a><b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> One of the few things I remembered distinctly about this film was, strangely enough, the tone of Ted Levine’s performance. I remembered very clearly how tightly wound and bitter he was, and yet how quickly he’d fly into overacted rages. I’m not sure why that stayed with me, but I did go into this movie with a favorable impression of Ted Levine. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Silence of the Lambs</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> aside, I now mostly remember him from </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Monk</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, as you said, and more paternal roles like the one he played on the FX series </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Bridge</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. That gave me a certain perspective here, and I believe that in this film he is a good actor completely out to sea on the material. He actually has a few really good moments in this film that I think he played quite nicely, like this moment late in the film with Pictureman, who says that he doesn’t think Hunton likes him anymore, to which Hunton says “No, it’s my job I can’t stand.” At times like this he captures the right balance of bitterness and humanity, but I just don’t think he quite understood the tone of the film, or how to play some of the more exaggerated moments. That’s understandable; I’ve seen this movie twice in as many days and I still don’t understand the tone they were going for. I can only imagine how confusing it must have been in its unfinished form.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As to how I felt this performance informed the character, I think you hit the nail on the head in regards to how it removes anything close to a character arc. I do not get the impression that Hunton in the film is any good at his job, or that anyone particularly likes him, outside of Mark Jackson. He seems too emotional, too embittered, too… angry. Keep in mind this is a small town cop, whose main duties are probably speeding tickets and drunken brawls, not a jaded homicide detective from the big city. Of course, a lot of his bad attitude seems to stem from the death of his wife an undetermined amount of time before this film begins.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This brings up another facet of this film I’m still trying to wrap my head around; the odd doubling or intertwining of certain story elements that should, logically, be unrelated. Hunton’s wife has died in a car crash, and Hunton’s demeanor stems from his guilt at being the driver of the vehicle at the time. In the film, Mark Jackson isn’t just Hunton’s friend, he’s his brother-in-law, and yet during the frequent discussions about Hunton’s dead wife this never comes up; it’s only mentioned once in a single line of dialogue that I missed on my first viewing of the film. In fact, Mark never seems to be upset at all that he’s also lost his sister, he only seems intent on getting Hunton to move on. He describes the accident that killed his sister as “People make mistakes, and then they move on.” But Mrs. Hunton isn’t the only person who died in a car crash: there are also Sherry’s parents.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sherry’s parents were killed in a car crash, leaving Bill Gartley, her uncle, as her legal guardian. For some reason the film makes sure we know the exact date this happened, but once again that knowledge never amounts to anything. Then there’s Gartley’s daughter who was killed by the Mangler when she was sixteen. Clearly this daughter wasn’t Sherry’s mother, but it seems odd that two of the main characters in this film have, as primary character origins, the deaths of loved ones in car accidents, and the film never comments on it. Were they in the same accident? It seems doubtful, because Hunton’s wife’s death seems more recent than the death of Sherry’s parents, but they’re both so oddly emphasized that they have to mean something. That’s my biggest problem with this film; so much of it seems important, meaningful, and yet it never adds up to anything. To the extent that it can be hard to focus on what the actual story is.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And as for that story: in the written version of this tale, the Mangler is possessed after Sherry bleeds onto it. That seems to be the case for much of the film version as well, until it’s revealed that the machine has always been possessed, that in fact, the town leaders have been sacrificing body parts and children to it for decades. As ways to expand a brief story about a demonically possessed piece of machinery, that’s certainly an understandable direction to go in. I have no problem with this development in theory, but it’s oddly handled in the film. If the Mangler was always possessed, why did it only start killing people after Sherry cut her hand on it? Why is it such a big deal that Sherry bled on the machine if that had nothing to do with the demonic activity? And if our heroes know that people have been sacrificing their children in the Mangler for decades, why do they still attempt the exorcism under the impression that it was Sherry’s blood that caused it? The film even pulls the same reveal about the antacids and hand of glory, but we already know that doesn’t mean anything, because the machine has been possessed for decades. And yet the film still acts as if this changes things, and the Mangler suddenly springs to life with enhanced demonic energy.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At this point I’m just nitpicking a film we’ve already decided is not very good. As much fun as nitpicking can be, I feel like it would be belaboring the point if I were to continue. I’ll throw it back to you, then. Were you as confused as I about the details that kept popping up in this film? Is there anything that really stuck out for you as head-scratchingly bizarre?</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> I, too, found the piling up of confusing details about the Mangler’s purpose and victims utterly bewildering. With each succeeding revelation of how deep this conspiracy of evil is embedded in the town’s history, where a series of top brass officials and businessmen have all mysteriously lost daughters at the age of sixteen, I would quite literally shake my head in exasperation, much in the way my cat does when we surprise her with something when we play. (It’s this odd thing she does that we find immensely endearing. Our cat does double takes.) Trying to piece together whether the fridge scene at the beginning, where it supposedly sparks the Mangler to demonic life, is even necessary at all once we find out about the history of the machine can lead one to exhaustion.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have a few things that bother me about this film and I want to get them out of my system, so I apologize for keeping this going a bit longer. There is a line later in the film after a “kid” gets locked in the refrigeration unit and dies (the kid in the morgue looks like he is played by a 43-year-old actor, I swear), where a character says, in proving their point about what has occurred with the Mangler, “It’s transference of evil.” I don’t know what their definition of “transfer” is, but it generally means to move or shift something from one place or thing to another. This is more “sharing of evil,” because that goddamned fridge is still evil, if it is still killing birds and kids and snapping its door shut on people’s arms after it has supposedly “transferred” its demonic force over to the Mangler. When you transfer from one bus to the other, you don’t stay on the same bus in which you arrived. You move to the other bus. (Or ironing machine, as it were…)</span><br />
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</span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNLP3KvkCdLMIRv1sv8g3g7eMW4aTGS0X-LUV9BSg7kRohxJOrpkVUybu067KCFGkYvoZ8E8SfOBTyXSAtobyxrXuyE74YbgFuN26lj-XUyQbOpNx7gvpqOTfcOZAJQBwhNivVqoK9DI/s1600/englund_gartley_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNLP3KvkCdLMIRv1sv8g3g7eMW4aTGS0X-LUV9BSg7kRohxJOrpkVUybu067KCFGkYvoZ8E8SfOBTyXSAtobyxrXuyE74YbgFuN26lj-XUyQbOpNx7gvpqOTfcOZAJQBwhNivVqoK9DI/s320/englund_gartley_1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Speaking of inappropriately aged actors, the actress that plays Sherry, Vanessa Pike, does not look sixteen at all. She might be playing it small-voiced and innocent, but she is not sixteen for even a second. My first thought when I heard that the character of Sherry was supposed to be sixteen was “I’ll bet she’s really 26,” because, in the role she is playing, she looks at least 26 or even older. While there is no birthdate for her on IMDb, its biographical section does say she earned a university degree in 1991, four years before this film. So unless she was a child prodigy, she was probably pretty much around 26 when this was filmed. I’m not trying to age-shame here, and I am very used to actors deep into their twenties playing much younger in film after film after film (and especially in television). It’s just hard to buy into a detail that is supposedly so damn important to the story (when it ultimately isn’t anyway) – that Sherry is Gartley’s sixteen-year-old niece, thus making her necessary to sacrifice to the machine – when it is so abundantly clear she is not that particular age.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now, the purpose of all this evil lurking in the machines and killing of sixteen-year-old daughters and nieces and businessmen and women have weird hairstyles is supposed to be so that town – Riker’s Valley – can continue having what is called at one point a “perfect” existence. The problem is that there has been nothing shown to us to give us that impression. The film starts and stays in darkness. Where is this ideal community? We never get to meet anyone that isn’t screaming, crying, puking, bleeding, getting folded, turning evil, already evil, or about to die. We see brief outsides of houses or office buildings in some shots, but they are all tied to scenes leading to violence or the aftermath of violence. I mentioned much earlier that the filmmakers do a good job with establishing camera shots for scenes, but what they never do is establish this picture perfect little town around which the entire plot is based. <i>Graveyard Shift</i> did a much better job in establishing its small New England town setting on film than this one did, and it really didn’t matter to the story as much there.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> I had the same thought about Sherry, when I learned she was just celebrating her 16th birthday. I actually looked a little bit further into it than you did, as I was convinced this woman was in her thirties, and her childish demeanor was meant to be a result of living with Gartley, which would certainly leave its mark on anybody. You may be pleased to know how close you were in your estimation of her age; from what I could find on a South African theatre page, she was 25 during filming.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But to your point about the narrow focus of the film, I had the exact same thought. We never get a sense of what the town is like, and when Gartley kept saying the machine helped keep the town perfect, I wished that we had been given a glimpse of that perfection, because it seems like a pretty shitty place, all told. This feeds into my final observation; The Mangler, amazingly, takes place over the course of one night. I almost didn’t believe this fact when I thought back to the movie, and it’s one of the reasons I decided to watch it a second time. I had to confirm this information. And yes, from the opening scene to the final exorcism, less than 24 hours has passed. And yet so much happens, there is so much driving across town and revisiting locations for long discussions that at first I thought it must have been a week or two.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Wrap-Up</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> I’m ready to call this one: <i>The Mangler</i> is itself a mangled mess. The movie is almost punishingly awful at times, and bewilderingly peculiar at others. I will admit that when I watched it for the second time I found it a slightly improved experience, albeit one that left me exhausted and in desperate need of a three-hour midday nap. But on second viewing, I actually appreciated the film’s loopiness a bit more, and allowed the often excellent visuals to win me over. Seriously, every time Tobe Hooper uses a crane shot to move through the laundry, or move between its upper and lower levels, it reminded me why he had such a great reputation to begin with. Stephen King was bang on with this film when he said:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“Tobe Hooper, who directed it, is something of a genius...The Texas Chain Saw Massacre proves that beyond doubt. But when genius goes wrong, brother, watch out.”</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am now safely done with <i>The Mangler</i>. But as cinematic failures go, it does have glimmers of actual artistry beneath the obscuring layers of crap. If someone wants to make the case that <i>The Mangler</i> is an overlooked gem, a movie considered bad only because people don’t understand it, I’m certainly not going to argue the point, because I think they would be correct. I think this movie is bad, and I don’t understand it.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> As you are aware, I had a similar experience in watching this film for the first time since 1995. Having successfully avoided it for 21 years, the re-watch was instantly annoying to me. I wanted to turn it off mere minutes into the film, and once Englund kicked into high gear (which, as we know, is his only gear), I realized that the only way I was going to get through it was in small chunks. It took me over half the day because of how disheartening the experience was to me. (A second viewing the next morning, once the disappointment mostly wore off, was accomplished in one non-stop sitting.) </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Despite this struggle, I managed to recognize and still enjoy the few elements I appreciated when the film came out: the effects, the set design, and above all the camerawork. Make that “most” of the camerawork; I hate the scene in Gartley’s office where we get a little too intimate with the ceiling above Robert Englund’s head as he moves around in a swinging POV haze. It is an extended shot which is intentionally showy but its nauseating actuality only works in favor of my opinion that this film is composed of mostly awful directorial and screenwriting choices. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And yet, the film always feels like it is of a piece with the rest of the work of Tobe Hooper (including <i>Poltergeist</i>, which some idiotic people <i>don't</i>). While I wish the outcome here were more positive, any discussion of his career is going to have to come to grips with the rather frequent downturns within it. I am hoping that someday we get the full story of what happened behind the scenes on this film, because it will probably be far more interesting and suspenseful than <i>The Mangler</i>. Until such a time that said details comes to light, I will be content to throw <i>The Mangler</i> in with the other washouts in the great laundry pile of failed King adaptations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Next time:</b> We tackle another story in <i>Night Shift</i>, this time with an ominous sounding title that I can really get into for a very, very personal reason: <i>The Boogeyman</i>. What is this reason? We will discuss that in the next edition of <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows</b>. I'd say "we will see you then," but of course we will, because we are always watching... behind the rows!</span></div>
Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-24591219503801127252016-06-20T07:30:00.000-07:002016-06-20T07:30:06.223-07:00The Mangler [Pt. 1]<div style="text-align: center;">
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</span> <span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron Lowe:</b> Welcome back to <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows: Stephen King Print Vs. Film</b>, where Rik Tod Johnson and I read a particular work from Stephen King, watch the associated movie, and then have an in-depth conversation about both. For those wishing to read along at home, we’ve been working our way through the stories in Stephen King’s 1978 collection <i>Night Shift</i>. Previously we have discussed the short stories <i>Night Surf</i> and <i>Graveyard Shift</i>, and the various filmed entertainments derived from them. If you’re new to this series, we invite you to check out both of our previous discussions, which can be found easily on this blog.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Story: The Mangler </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>[Night Shift, 1978; first published in the December 1972 issue of Cavalier magazine]</i></span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Last time we each commented on the subtlety on display in Stephen King’s writing. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Surf</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> gets by on a persistence of mood, as King created an entire world and atmosphere in an incredibly brief story that featured very little in the way of action. The story managed to be both elegiac and prosaic, making poetry out of the story’s everyday location and mundane details. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, though, represents King on the other end of that spectrum: blunt, forceful, and as subtle as a hand caught in the unforgiving gears of an industrial machine. This is the first really Grand Guignol story we’re encountering in this collection. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> had some fairly gruesome moments, but most of the hard stuff happened “off screen,” while in </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, we get several detailed descriptions of horrific mutilation.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The gore may be one of the reasons that this story seems to have been seared so deeply into my brain, as I remembered almost everything about it as soon as I read the first two lines. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“Officer Hunton got to the laundry just as the ambulance was leaving—slowly, with no sirens or flashing lights. Ominous.”</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Stephen King has always had a way of beginning with a memorable hook, a line that pulls you into the rest of the story and stays with you, and as soon as I read this one I remembered everything: Officer Hunton’s college professor friend, the hand of glory, the mutilations, the slight silliness underneath the horrific surface, everything. Yet strangely, the thing that I remembered clearest of all has absolutely nothing to do with the main story.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Before I get into that, Rik, what were your memories of this particular story? Had it stuck with you in any way past your initial reading of it?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Honestly, from my original readings back in the day, apart from the title, I don’t remember the details in this story much at all, and certainly not as much as many other stories from </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. And I wouldn’t remember </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">any</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> details in this story at all if it weren’t for the profoundly disappointing movie Tobe Hooper made from it (but more on that later).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This would lead one to believe that </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is one of the least impressive stories in the book for me, and based on those initial readings, you would be right. I was a burgeoning gorehound at the time I first read </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and apart from the specifics about how a certain character ends up in a form not normally found at a crime scene (which I always remembered, but we will also get to the details of that image soon enough in this discussion), I was already too caught up in learning how disgusting makeup effects were done onscreen to really be affected much by the gore in the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But returning to an old favorite book, years after you last picked it up, and rediscovering an author you had put aside for a good while can be a marvelous thing. I would admit that when I was first reading King, while I had read an awful lot since I was a kid, it was a lot of rather juvenile action-adventure (as much as I love Burroughs, Doc Savage, and their lot to this day), science-fiction (chiefly Verne, Wells, and Bradbury), and older authors like Poe and Twain. (And, conversely, Hunter S. Thompson -- at </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">waaaayyy too young an age -- but that is a story for another time and place.) Sci-fi, superheroes, and jungle adventure were pretty much my concentrations, and apart from Poe, I was just starting to get into horror writing. I had not even read Lovecraft yet, though he was soon to come precisely because of Stephen King’s non-fiction work, <i>Danse Macabre</i>, which was probably far more influential to me than I have ever really admitted. I was still a teenager, and really just heading out into the world of adult writing (apart from that Thompson affair). King and his short stories really opened a door for me into the adult world, but <i>The Mangler</i> seemed to be hidden in another room that I almost completely forgot existed.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The Mangler" first appeared in this <br />skin rag in December 1972.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And in getting back to </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> for this series and rereading these stories for the first time in forever, I am struck at the excellence and breadth of King's craft early in his career. </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> impressed me much more with its sheer nerve, manic tone, and vivid descriptions than it ever did back then. We are only three stories into our survey of this book, so it is hard to say if </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> will hold up for me as we reach some of the stories that </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">did</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> stick with me more tightly through the years, but I really enjoyed reading this story again, and I certainly marked up a lot of text highlighting some of my favorite passages as I read through it.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> One major difference between our experiences with Stephen King’s books is that you had a group of friends with which to share your thoughts, while I was sitting alone in my room or in the backseat of cars, and when the story was done I had no one with whom to discuss it. Among my group of friends, I was the bigger reader, and no one I knew was reading the type of stuff I was starting to move towards, so I would get really excited about a book, and have nowhere to share that excitement. Sometimes the clerk at Video City would see me renting The Shining and we’d have a brief conversation about how the book was better, but I couldn't really talk to anyone my own age. My family would listen patiently if I wanted to talk about books, but I was a bit hesitant when it came to Stephen King, because I was afraid too much parental scrutiny would result in my access to his books being revoked. The closest I came to discussing his books with my family was when my mom told her friend I was reading </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">It</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and the friend said the book had scared her so badly she had to stop reading and slept with the lights on for a week.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the time that attitude confused me, and I couldn’t relate to it at all. Stephen King books, and </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">It</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> in particular, often feature some highly disturbing moments, and some frightening imagery, but I don’t actually recall being scared by one of his books. At that age, scary was something reaching out and startling you, but reading removed that part of the equation. So even though I was a skittish and easily startled kid, the books allowed me to comfortably experience those thrills while still feeling safe. And so while I’m sure the vividly described mutilations in </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> were a part of my enjoyment as a youngster, those parts of the story didn’t actually reside in my memory (aside from the person-folded-like-laundry detail you briefly mentioned above).</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I would have to say that I have rarely, if ever, actually been scared by something I have read on the printed page, apart from a newspaper story on some item of personal consequence. But in fiction, especially horror stories, even by masters of the genre? Not so much. I can really get caught up in the action, and worry for the characters, and wonder if they are going to come out alive. But fear for my own safety from something fictional I am reading? I, too, have had people tell me a particular book was just far too scary to be able to pick up again, or made them want to not leave their house. My reaction is usually, “What… are you three?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know that what I actually found most striking about Poe, whom I rarely would describe as scary, was how the bleakness of his own existence seemed to manifest itself and permeate every word that he put down on paper. His poems and tales were most often certainly macabre and dark, but scary? The same goes for most horror writing, for me, at least. However, I am very easy to scare when watching a movie or listening to someone tell a scary story, just as I am easy to scare in my day to day life given a particularly dark alley or an unknown neighborhood. I think for me, fright is so tied to the senses, especially sight and sound, for me. For me, it is a far more visceral thing. Merely myself reading words silently on a page, no matter how precisely conveyed and masterfully written, allows me to separate fully the world of the book from the world around me. But, a talented storyteller, such as one of my many actor friends (though not all of them…), can read the same story aloud to me, and I may get scared witless by their performance. This is because the words have left the page and entered the realm of the physical for me, adding an extra dimension to the experience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For as many horror comics as I have read, including the great E.C. Comics titles, being scared was never an option either. As in straight horror literature, it was always more about shock and surprise in my mind. Gory scenes fall into the category of shock for me, and so the folded laundry bit from </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> definitely is grouped in there. And hence, it is probably why I did recall that bit years later, simply because the shock of something happening to a person in that manner, which is so far out of bounds of the norm, impressed me enough to force myself to catalogue it in my memory.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> This is the second story in the <i>Night Shift</i> collection, the other being <i>Graveyard Shift</i>, to be set within an industrial textile business. Though it was a textile mill in the earlier story, and a laundry in this one, the milieus are noticeably similar. This is an early example of Stephen King writing what he knows, as he spent some time working in this field as a young man. He brings it up in his book, <i>On Writing: </i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">A Memoir of the Craft</span></i></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and clearly the experience was a formative one. This is also the second time E.C. Comics has come up in our writings, another formative influence on him. King was evidently greatly influenced by the gruesome comics as a child, enough so that he’s made several explicit references to them and one film, </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Creepshow</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, in direct homage. I think King first and foremost considers himself a storyteller, and I think he’d use that word in lieu of "author" to describe his profession. In his public appearances and nonfiction writings, he cultivates the persona of Uncle Stevie, gathering his "constant readers" around to hear the latest sick and gruesome tale, which brings us nicely back to </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A lot of </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> takes the form of tales being told by and to the main characters, and it gives the story itself the feel of a scary story told around a campfire, or at a slumber party where the storyteller tries to get their audience to scream at the finale. It is one of those tales that has stuck in my memory more than anything else in this story; the account related to Officer Hunton by a state inspector, about the possibly haunted refrigerator.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let me backtrack a little bit.</span><br />
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<i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> opens with Officer Hunton called to the scene of a horrific accident at an industrial laundry, where a young woman has been caught in a piece of machinery known ominously as “the Mangler”. This is the source of the infamous description of a folded body, to give you an idea of how bad this accident was. Initially it’s believed that the machine was faulty, and either the owners or the state inspector who verified the safety of the machine will be held accountable for the young woman’s death. When six state inspectors go over every inch of the machine, and declare it safe, Officer Hunton confronts one of them, suspecting, possibly, bribery. At this point, the state inspector admits that he felt uneasy around the machine, even though everything was officially safe and operational. It is here that the inspector tells Officer Hunton about a case he dealt with concerning an icebox in someone’s backyard, in which a dog had suffocated when the door closed on it. Sometime after the icebox is sent it to the dump, a child went missing, and was later found dead in the icebox. When someone went to remove the door from the box, to ensure nothing like this ever happened again, they found several dead birds inside, and according to the man originally telling the story, the box tried to close on his arm while he cleared them out.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This story is not related at all to the main plot of </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. It exists primarily to get the audience used to the idea that evil could have seeped into the titular laundry folding machine, and it could have developed a taste for blood. And yet I find it by far the story’s most intriguing element, and something about it stuck with me. Even at that young age I was developing a predilection towards the creepy and unexplained. I preferred “haunting” to “terrifying,” and despite his reputation as a more "meat and potatoes" author, King at one time excelled at these types of asides, even in a story as visceral as </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. These tangents often succeeded in giving me chills, even if they were only chills of excitement, not terror.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As much as I clearly enjoy this story, it features some of my least favorite actual prose so far in this collection. At times, I could sense Stephen King writing; it didn’t feel effortless, as he often does, it felt strained. At least some of that has to be intentional, as </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is the pulpiest story we’ve covered so far, and he must have adjusted his style accordingly. But it didn’t feel entirely natural to see King describe a character as a ‘tall drink of water.’ You mention that you highlighted some of your favorite passages from the story, and I’m curious to hear what you thought of King’s style here.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOsVnqf-e9nU7iwNYsmxMwdLXp3sbFPGgSsNoi5JjQruKpXEgj6psw5fU9on1sKkJiT7XlDeejVl-nQYtinBH2c_oTUHiCgXQhO1JztMrAfFuvIAtiacFoyoRYHKb7tB5XO1v_XIgyIU/s1600/king_movies_bk_cover_2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOsVnqf-e9nU7iwNYsmxMwdLXp3sbFPGgSsNoi5JjQruKpXEgj6psw5fU9on1sKkJiT7XlDeejVl-nQYtinBH2c_oTUHiCgXQhO1JztMrAfFuvIAtiacFoyoRYHKb7tB5XO1v_XIgyIU/s320/king_movies_bk_cover_2009.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"The Mangler" was reprinted <br />in this collection in 2009.</i></span></td></tr>
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It is interesting that you bring up the subject of “pulp” writing, because recently, having heard that Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was going to possibly play the ultimate pulp hero, Doc Savage, in a new motion picture, I dug up a stack of my old Bantam paperback Savage novels and started to dig into one of them. I had not read a word in any of these paperbacks for eons, and had, in my opinion, definitely heightened my literary level in the intervening years. And so I tackled Doc Savage with both delight in rediscovering an old friend from my youth but also reticence because I wondered how it would hold up all these years later. I would have to say that the experience was mixed. It was great to read the first few chapters and remember the characters of Doc’s strange crew – Monk, Ham, Long Tom, etc. – but was quite literally left with my mouth agape at not just how bumpy the prose was, but how much the story seemed like a first draft, like it had hardly even been edited before or after Lester Dent sent it to the magazine. Details would get repeated clumsily or even contradictorily to themselves, and I wondered just how much anyone really noticed back in the day. I know that pulp writing was often considered to be little more than greasy kid’s stuff, along with the cheap comics that clogged the culture back then, but some very serious, fairly prominent writers – along with a lot of hacks, to be sure – made their rent churning out these stories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As you stated, pulp thrills are precisely what we have here in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. The pulp influence is blatantly obvious, but given the higher bar set by </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Surf</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, it is a bit of a letdown to suddenly see King almost slumming it. But I have to attribute this entirely to the order in which I am reading the stories. The tales in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> were never meant to play off each other in a particular way, nor do they reference each other, and most of them were written and originally published in various magazines years apart from each other as well. The book is merely a collection of these unconnected stories, and though we started somewhat in book order at the beginning (leaping over the first story that has no filmed adaptation as of yet), we are already skipping around a bit. The fact that we read </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> after </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Surf</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and immediately find it lacking in comparison is partly our own fault, though </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is definitely a lesser story in quality and content.</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is a prime example of a talented writer deciding to wade in the shallow end of the pool for a change, seemingly just for kicks, but coming out more wet than usual. This does not mean that the excellence of King’s writing has betrayed him from story to story, just that he is working in a vein of the genre that requires less finesse than </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Night Surf</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. But while we have identified the story as having the qualities of pulp, King still manages to give us sentences and phrasing that are evocative and pleasurable. He has a short paragraph late in the story where there is an encounter between Officer Hunton and a city inspector named Martin:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“Martin poured him a two-ounce knock of Jim Beam and Hunton held the glass in both hands, downing the raw liquor in a choked gulp. The glass fell unheeded to the carpet and his hands, like wandering ghosts, sought Martin’s lapels again.”</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“Hands, like wandering ghosts”</i>… fan-fucking-tastic. You want haunted? How about a man who has just gone through what he has in this story, and seen what he has, and had to take all of it in and come out believing the opposite he has ever believed about this world, so that his anger has overtaken him to the extent that his hands can be described as haunted things that lash out without his agency to guide them? It’s a lovely turn of phrase in a story that probably doesn’t deserve it, but it lives here nonetheless.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> That is indeed a great phrase, and having now read through the story for a second time, I’ve found my own favorites to highlight. I’ve also found a few that remain clunkers for me. In his book </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">On Writing</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, King has an amusing quote; </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs.”</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> He then lays out his theory on adverbs, and how they are often the sign of bad writing. And </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> has quite a few adverbs. People </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">sit</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">reflectively</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, they </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">stare expressionlessly</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and things happen </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">ominously</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. As you say, King is punching below his weight class here, and for the most part I’m willing to chalk this all up to King trying on a specific style of writing, but I don’t think it’s a very good fit. I think King bumps up against its limitations, either intentionally or not, and it felt like I could feel his hand explicitly trying to influence the reader more clearly in this story than in others.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Despite the few problems I have with the prose, King’s ultimate weapon in his arsenal is still his thorough understanding of stories, specifically scary stories, and how they work inside and out. </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> is exquisitely structured as a piece of shock theatre, and he’s able to make quite a few events that should read as deeply silly come across as deadly serious. First and foremost this comes from the story’s use of anecdotal exposition. Take the passage I cited above, about the killer icebox; as I said, it gets the reader used to the idea of inanimate objects developing a bloodlust, while also giving </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> overall the feel of a campfire tale. The tone of the icebox anecdote is more subdued than the bloody descriptions we’ve had so far, and grounds the story in a more realistic, relatable form of dread. Every time </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Mangler</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> goes over the top, King pays for that extravagance with a more human moment. It’s also a delicate balance, because the in-your-face treatment of some gorier moments also work to distract from some of the screwier developments he hides in simple conversations. Would the reader be as willing to accept Jackson’s rundown of the different demons that could be residing in a piece of industrial laundry equipment if we hadn’t just spent some time in Mrs. Gillian’s hospital room hearing about all of the accidents, minor and major, that have been happening around that machine? Wouldn’t the idea of an off-duty cop and his college professor buddy interviewing a woman with the sole intention of determining whether or not she’s a virgin be somewhat laughable, or downright offensive, without the preceding scene where poor George Stanner gets his arm ripped off?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The story gives us information and developments at such a pace that we, as the reader, safely buy into everything that happens and don’t really question things as they go along. It helps, of course, that the story is told at such a breakneck pace, and that the gore is so memorably written. As a kid, I can’t remember being incredibly floored by the descriptions in this story, but as an adult more familiar with the human body’s inherent frailty, I found it hard to read the scene where Mr. Stanner loses his arm. I could almost feel Stephen King giggling to himself, imagining the squirming in his audience as he described the blood in Stanner’s arm being squeezed back to his shoulder until it looked like the skin would burst. And yet for all that, King still knows when to pull back, as in the description of the folded body to which we keep referring:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“’It tried to fold everything,’ he said to Jackson, tasting bile in his throat. ‘But a person isn’t a sheet, Mark. What I saw… what was left of her…’ Like Stanner, the hapless foreman, he could not finish. ‘They took her out in a basket,’ he said softly.”</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The impact of that image is sold more by Officer Hunton’s reaction than by anything he actually says aloud. There’s no description of bloody scraps of flesh, or of bones shattered to dust in order to actually fold a body. There have been intimations earlier, and those stick with us through to this scene. King got the ball rolling, and now he’ll let our imaginations do the heavy lifting for a little while. It’s another example, in a story full of them, of how deeply King understood the mechanics of storytelling at such a surprisingly young age.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I also love that description – and especially the restraint in the description – of the folded laundrywoman. It is another of those moments that shows how deft King is in choosing the exact moment to really catch the reader off-guard but keep him interested in exploring deeper into the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On the broader side of things, however, is my favorite larger passage in the story, just after the attempted exorcism, when the Mangler goes from mere stationary piece of machinery to slowly springing fully blown to life as a lunging, shambling, demonic thing bent on destruction. That I should be so taken with a sequence centered around the revelation of such a creature should not be a surprise given my natural penchant towards the monstrous in nature, but King does a supreme job here of breathing gradual and frightening life into that creature. The transformation takes place over almost a full page, and each line and paragraph is imbued with yet another step towards the Mangler’s full sentience and the eventual doom that it portends. King describes the change as the Mangler attempts to break free of its moorings as being… </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“…like a dinosaur trying to escape a tar pit. And it wasn’t precisely an ironer anymore. It was still changing, melting. The 550-volt cable fell, spitting blue fire, into the rollers and was chewed away. For a moment, two fireballs glared at them like lambent eyes, eyes filled with a great and cold hunger.”</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The transformation continues and we get more news of its transmutation from mechanical device, including the already deadly safety bar slamming upward so that it creates the illusion of a “gaping, hungry mouth full of steam” and a “moving canvas tongue,” the parts of the machine still in place but now alive and approximating the details of an organically born creature.</span><br />
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<b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron: </b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The transformation scene is indeed a great passage in the story, and it’s a testament to King’s skill, even this early in his career, that it isn’t met with eye rolls and dismissive snorts. Indeed, he succeeds in making the transformation feel like a thing of awe, rather than a cartoonish development, which it could have easily felt like. Part of that is due to a preceding section of the short story, where King fully tips his hand as to what type of tale he is telling.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Throughout the short story, as Officer Hunton and Mark Jackson gradually come to accept that the Mangler is possessed, they spend some time trying to determine exactly what type of demon they might be dealing with. They know for a fact the blood of a virgin was spilled on the machine, they then used educated guesses to figure out that horse’s hoof (in the form of Jell-O, which was eaten near the machine) and probably bat’s blood (they roost in the building) were also spilled onto the machine. This leads Jackson to believe that it is a fairly minor demon from a voodoo-like religion that inhabits the machine. A few mentions are made to a hand of glory, and how bad that would be for them if that were used in the accidental incantation that summoned the demon. They assume they’re safe from that particular threat, however, because it’s unlikely that anyone tossed the hand of a dead man into the Mangler. Unfortunately for our heroes, one of the machine’s first victims suffered from indigestion and took antacids for this affliction. One of the main ingredients in said antacid is belladonna, also known colloquially as “the hand of glory”.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It’s here that Stephen King lets us know exactly what he’s up to; he’s not going for a short story about horrific evil and triumphant good, he’s going for the ironic reversal. In true E.C. Comics tradition, we may be horrified, but it’s also a bit of a sick cosmic joke. As good as our heroes are, as well intentioned and knowledgeable as they may be, they still overlooked some small detail that is going to result in bloody tragedy. King even underlines this misunderstanding, in what I swear will be the last passage we quote directly:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“…a bat fluttered madly for its hole in the insulation above the dryers where it had roosted, wrapping wings around its blind face.”</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I read that as King taking the time to point out how ill-prepared and off base our heroes were. Its position in the story – just before the big finale – seems intended to be a bit of a wink and a nod in the direction the story is about to head. The exorcism begins the way most exorcisms in pop culture begin, with readings from the bible and splashing of holy water, but things begin to go south in a big way rather quickly. In just a couple of short pages one of our heroes is dead, the other is likely insane (or on his way there), and a horrible demon-plagued piece of industrial machinery is stalking the midnight streets of some small Maine town. When I read this story I half imagined the characters posed within comic book panels.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Indeed. Your imagining of comic book panels is apt, given the Creepshow and E.C. Comics connection. It is perhaps the best way to approach such a story. While King himself eschews their use for the most part here, every sentence on the last three pages of <i>The Mangler</i> could practically be completed with an exclamation point closing each one. The manic finish is almost metaphorically a giant exclamation point. And comics are the natural home of the exclamation point. (Seriously, read a classic comic and try to find a non-interrogatory word balloon that doesn’t close with an exclamation point. Periods are vastly outnumbered there.) </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I do want to discuss a couple of the characters – primarily Hunton, but also another character who really only appears by name in the story -- and some story elements further, but most of what I wish to say is too wrapped up in how they were portrayed in the film adaptation. So, let’s close the short story portion of this discussion, and pick it up again in Part 2 in a couple of days.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>[To be continued in Pt. 2 on Wednesday, June 20, 2016...]</i></span><br />
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</i></span> <span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>A We Who Watch Extra:</b> Totally unrelated to the Mangler story or film was this appropriately named toy vehicle released by Mego in 1976, featuring Spider-Man and the Green Goblin:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx_pIBu0z9Lg-Jlc2IgvPywGCpXAEnz61mTw86JNKWOwVutYI6kb7jWWTi-k5AH-pl5xuWKqDwuZmAZknjfC0fF2ybi9kSz_n-Q0qGwA32la3JkEzadQlGiRX_jDi-nDD5gK8GOfGP-k/s1600/mangb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx_pIBu0z9Lg-Jlc2IgvPywGCpXAEnz61mTw86JNKWOwVutYI6kb7jWWTi-k5AH-pl5xuWKqDwuZmAZknjfC0fF2ybi9kSz_n-Q0qGwA32la3JkEzadQlGiRX_jDi-nDD5gK8GOfGP-k/s320/mangb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFrq5f2NamaoTLgA4Pm1WheHE-bttZ8AEtOTylFCyMrw2JWC4KSxcfR8_A5gzy5UQv3CRlfPYvbUXLT9UMqQKonjeaOl0L4tBOeWrZfoD4sbp5Oaksi_n-dXg5Bfp7xKDNewJbgoaa5g/s1600/mangl1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFrq5f2NamaoTLgA4Pm1WheHE-bttZ8AEtOTylFCyMrw2JWC4KSxcfR8_A5gzy5UQv3CRlfPYvbUXLT9UMqQKonjeaOl0L4tBOeWrZfoD4sbp5Oaksi_n-dXg5Bfp7xKDNewJbgoaa5g/s200/mangl1.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMfhuFaUg2uhfFmAsZkPCD7rpTIAaWzK59LZxXH7ehN_6aFvX5HVmLVtjqnjk68CDxfdJvIZGqpah8IlDPhHqzLG4FjW4DeULMQsXw994YjGMAVF9i6LmnATTSPTi7aW0ka2v70ZweBo/s1600/mangl3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMfhuFaUg2uhfFmAsZkPCD7rpTIAaWzK59LZxXH7ehN_6aFvX5HVmLVtjqnjk68CDxfdJvIZGqpah8IlDPhHqzLG4FjW4DeULMQsXw994YjGMAVF9i6LmnATTSPTi7aW0ka2v70ZweBo/s200/mangl3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's entirely coincidental, but we find it interesting that Stephen King used the Green Goblin on the front of the villainous toystore truck in his only directorial effort, <i>Maximum Overdrive</i>. It does make us wonder if he ran across this toy in the '70s and did it as an in-joke.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Toy pictures used with the kind permission of The Mego Museum website. Visit them at <a href="http://www.megomuseum.com/"><b>http://www.megomuseum.com/</b></a>.</i></span></div>
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Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-30391585308613313332016-06-08T07:00:00.000-07:002016-06-08T07:00:05.373-07:00Night Surf [Pt. 2]<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Dollar Baby Short Films:</b></span><br />
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</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A quick note before we begin… It might be difficult at times to determine a film’s provenance, as sometimes the credits for these films are less than comprehensive. At all times we have made the best possible efforts to put credit where the credit is due, but if we’ve missed anything, we will be quick to fix the issue. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We’ll be covering the films individually, and we think a quick disclaimer may be in order: We understand that the filmmakers are, for the most part, amateurs or students who were just beginning to work in film. To that end, our goal isn’t to pick a movie apart for its acting, its lack of funds, or its status as an amateur film. Each of these directors and actors has our respect for even attempting a career in this field, and it should be understood that we commend your efforts. However, it should not be forgotten that we are here to analyze the finished product. To that end, we will be bringing up what we consider to be any particular film’s faults or virtues. Hopefully this will be taken as constructive rather than simply negative harping on our part.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: red; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Short Film #1</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Night Surf</b><i> (2002) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Writer/Director: Peter Sullivan</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5oaf4FOL2M">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5oaf4FOL2M</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Runtime: 33:24</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> The earliest known version of <i>Night Surf</i> as a Dollar Baby short (as far as we can figure out) is this half-hour attempt from Peter Sullivan in 2002. It is also the longest one by far. We first see the closing lines from Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death (you can look them up if you don’t know them by heart already); then we hear a radio broadcast over the opening credits where the DJ talks about "everybody going down to the beach” while newspaper headlines about a “super-flu” flash across the screen. Six young adults are driving along in an SUV, variously flirting or shooting each other with a video camera, though the discussion is about one topic only: Captain Trips. They pass a very sick-looking man stranded by a broken-down vehicle, and when they see he is probably stricken with the super-flu, they keep driving. Finally, the kids come to a beachside townhouse, where they plan to stay and party for a while. Honestly, it could be the start of any horror film – young people in an isolated place – but as the actors will tell us, the isolation is only because of the super-flu that is killing everyone but them, lamenting the fact that it is now so quiet there. Still, they barbecue burgers, toast “To Life!” with each other, shoot skeet, swim, and argue about whether having the Hong Kong flu keeps them safe or it the flu could follow them all the way out to where they are now.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Meanwhile, one member of the group, Needles, has been showing gradual signs that he is getting sicker and sicker. From around the twelve-minute mark, this film practically turns into an apocalyptic version of <i>Dying Young</i>, with characters talking endlessly to each other in various permutations about Needles being sick and eventually dying. Then the part from the story about Alvin Sackheim being burned alive is included in the film as merely a tale that one of the characters had heard about previously. (Alvin – actually unnamed here -- is burned inside his car, not on the beach, in a quick story flashback.) The drama builds as Needles gets sicker, and the characters start to fight over keeping him alive. The short suddenly becomes a rather frenzied but confusing action film for much of the final third, with Needles trying to escape being murdered by Corey, as Bernie seeks desperately to protect his best friend. Being so focused on killing his former friend, Corey doesn’t realize that his girlfriend Joan has gotten even sicker than Needles, but blames him for this. The remainder of the film is standard action with knives and guns. And everyone is going to die anyway. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is the version that, for me, goes the farthest afield from King’s original concept. It is also the dullest, despite the attempts to beef it up with gore and gunshots. It is three times as long as it needs to be, and while it is not directed badly, it has mediocrity at its core on every possible level. Susie is reduced to a character that mostly just stands around or happens to be in scenes with other people, and her relationship with Bernie seems completely respectful and quiet. Despite this, you would think that in the longest version of this story there would be a truly meditative moment or three, but no, it doesn’t really want any of its characters to truly reflect on their state of being. I think this version really misses the boat. The one moment in this film I actually like is the quick mention of Derry, a reference that I will not have to explain to Stephen King fans. It seems harsh of me, but I have watched this short three times in the past three days, and I don’t want to see it again.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> You’re a far better man than I, watching this short three times. I watched it the once and can’t imagine wanting to go back to it. At the risk of instantly contradicting our disclaimer at the top, I found this to be borderline unwatchable. A lot of that has to do with the quality of the video, which seems to be a couple of VHS duplications away from its origins. Combine that with some seriously choppy editing, and it can be very hard at times to figure out what is happening on screen, particularly during the frequent low-light sequences. Several times I acted as a crime scene investigator, figuring out what had happened in a scene based on its aftermath. But more than that, this film just isn’t very interesting, and, as you say, stretched beyond its means. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This comment will become a theme with one of these short films, but I do wonder why they bothered adapting this particular story. It feels almost as if the filmmakers had a different script developed, and then decided to say it was based on a Stephen King story for higher visibility. Some quick tweaks to character names and minor dialogue changes, a quick reference to another King property, and instantaneous name recognition is yours! In many ways, this gambit seems to have paid off, as out of this group of filmmakers, Peter Sullivan has found the most success. If you go look at his IMDb page you’ll see nearly a hundred credits as writer, director, or producer. Sure, nothing you’ll find at your local multiplex, but he has a quite healthy career in DtV and made-for-TV movies, which is nothing to sneeze at. As much as I’ve come down on this film, I’m happy to see that it led to greater things for those involved in its creation.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: red; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Short Film #2</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Night Surf</b> <i>(2008) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Writer: Geoff Tarulli. Director: David Humphreys</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qv9-lccYR8">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qv9-lccYR8</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Runtime: 13:30</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> The second film adaptation of <i>Night Surf</i> came a full six years after the first, and appears at first glance to hew closer to the source material, although changes both major and minor become apparent fairly quick. The film opens with a group of young men and women walking onto a beach where they begin goofing off, making out, or, in the case of a drastically different Suzie (the film changes the spelling of her name slightly), studying a book on gardening. In the film, it appears, Suzie is preparing for the long haul. Not long into this, the group notices a sick man stumbling along the beach. This turns out to be the destined-to-be-set-aflame Alvin Sackheim. There’s some confused chatter about what to do with him, leading to Kelly (a man in the story, Kelly has been gender-swapped here, while Kelly’s girlfriend Joan has apparently become Kelly’s boyfriend John instead) theatrically declaring a sacrifice must be made to "the dark gods of the beach" in order to protect them from the super-flu. This is all taken as a sick joke, but as we’ll see in the ensuing minutes, it quickly becomes serious. But first, there is some more pairing off for half-heartedly sincere discussions.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bernie is less antagonistic towards Suzie in this film, and while Suzie is a less needy character, she still pulls Bernie aside to ask "You still love me, right?" His response, "About as much as anyone could" is less harsh than the blunt "No" he gives her in the short story, but actually seems like it’s meaner. But then he still says the "Any port in a storm" line later on, so he’s clearly no saint. Bernie pulls away from her and begins to walk with Needles, where they discuss, among other things, that Needles has contracted "it". "It" isn’t named in this short, neither as A6 nor as Captain Trips, although the group still believes itself immune due to their exposure to A2. A lot of Bernie’s inner thoughts are given voice in the film, although some of those lines are now given to Needles in order to avoid simply bogging the film down with voiceover narration. As the day drags on and the party’s spirits are dampened by revelations and Alvin Sackheim’s continued moaning, the previously dismissed idea of burning him alive takes on more weight. The film ends with the group standing over Alvin, Kelly idly flicking a lighter, while Bernie says "we all gotta die sometime."</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While I don’t think this film is a very accurate translation of the source material’s theme or tone, I do think it’s a pretty decent student film. There’s some judicious condensing of plot, some understandable excisions from the story (understandable when viewed in context of the finished product, that is), and fairly decent utilization of limited funds and locations. The acting is pretty strong, though still clearly the work of beginners (although on the other hand, much of what goes into what is popularly considered "good acting" is as much a product of post-production as it is in-the-moment behavior) Of course, events are changed enough that this story doesn’t capture what makes the story so endearing, but as its own artifact I have no problem with it. My one real complaint with this film is that, despite the dialogue, there’s no real sense that the world has ended, or that they think they might be the last group left. It’s a problem that comes up through many of these shorts, because the budgets are so low they can’t afford to empty out densely populated areas for their student films. But this one suffers more than most for feeling like these kids are just on a long holiday weekend.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Maybe Needles has contracted Pennywise the Clown?</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I actually thought early on that this version might get it close to right. That feeling lasted about three minutes, but as an adaptation of someone else’s story goes, it’s not that bad a take. Some of the acting really annoyed me the first time that I watched the short, but I have come around on it in subsequent viewings (again, three). The strongest part of this version is that the group really does feel like good friends who are dealing with a very extreme situation in the best way they can, and have to fight really hard to keep their civility. They will lose this battle by deciding to burn Alvin just as the credits roll, and it is interesting that the film becomes a “should we or shouldn’t we” struggle for the characters, while also dealing with the revelation of Needles’ sickness, and the sad end this likely portends for the rest of them.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">However, there was a sense for me that if one were to project what the average student film version of <i>Night Surf</i> would look like, it would be this one. An opening scene where a group of young adults is strolling along rather quietly (and somewhat sullenly) across a generic landscape to reach some unspoken destination almost seems like boilerplate in a student film template. This is likely why I didn’t take to my first viewing of this short initially, and it still colors my opinion of it a bit now. It is also the version where I felt that I caught some of the amateur actors “acting” the most, which also affected that viewing. But in the end, I don’t think this is a bad attempt.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: red; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Short Film #3</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Night Surf</b> <i>(2014) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Writers: Dan and Oren Benamor. Director: Oren Benamor</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Runtime: 9:50</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> This short film begins with Alvin Sackheim, before he meets the group of kids central to the story. He’s clearly sick as he stumbles into his car, only to crash into his own mailbox while pulling out of his driveway. An undetermined time later (though clearly not too long after) a small group of survivors happens by. This group is greatly diminished in contrast to the story, consisting of only two young men and one woman. Immediately the tone is established as one more in keeping with the modern tradition of post-apocalyptic stories, rather than the more introspective and brooding story it’s based on. This is a group of hardened survivors, who barely think twice about pulling Alvin Sackheim from his car, tying him to a signpost on the beach, and burning him alive. Dialogue implies this is something they’ve done many times when they’ve come across infected people. Once the burning is done, and night has fallen, the group sits down to go through Alvin’s iPhone, looking at his pictures and discussing life before the plague briefly. I’m not really going to bother trying to figure out which character in the film is supposed to represent which character in the story, as I don’t even think they’re properly named in this short. At one point the character I assumed to be Bernie, due to dialogue referencing his past girlfriend, is discovered to be ill. A struggle ensues, and this character is knocked out, tied to another signpost, and burned to death before the two surviving members of the group walk off.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of the short films, this is the one I have the least to say about it; I don’t really feel one way or another on it. The acting is decent, the production values are decent, and the adapted writing is decent. It’s all decent. But it also lacks any sort of real punch, despite its place as the meanest adaptation we’ve come across. This is one of those adaptations where, after watching it, I wonder why they bothered to buy the rights from Stephen King at all, even if it was only for one dollar. They could easily have taken this exact script, this exact film, and if they hadn’t mentioned it was based on a story by King, probably no one would have noticed. As we’ve already discussed, I’m all for changing the text to suit your own vision, and I totally understand being inspired into taking your own tangents within an existing world, but this one felt so far afield it just puzzled me a bit.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There were a couple touches I liked in this film. There were the repeatedly prominent signs around the beach that say "No lifeguard on duty." The first time we see it is the signpost Alvin Sackheim is tied to, but it shows up again on lifeguard stations seen in the background. No lifeguard, no god. It’s not exactly subtle, but a nice touch. The other is one that I’m surprised none of the other filmmakers even attempted; when the group is sitting around discussing life before the plague, there are some inserted shots of the seaside community in happier times. Large crowds bustle around the markets, sunbathe on the beach, and cavort in the water. It effectively makes this film seem bigger than it otherwise would, and helps illustrate what has been lost. It’s also such a cheap and easy way to expand the scope of your short film without actually detracting from the focus that some of the other directors must be kicking themselves for not thinking of it.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> I am pretty indifferent about this film. The filmmakers seem less concerned with the details of the story, which is fine for a creative choice, and the characters of the story – who all seem to have some history together – are replaced by a set of people who all seem to barely know one another, apart from the main couple. Their behavior towards Alvin, including his burning, come off as more recidivist behavior on the part of career criminals and less as a desperate and childish act committed out of a combination of fateful fear and sheer boredom. I agree that everything here is done competently, but beyond that, it really failed to register with me at all. And it really is the one about which I have the least to say.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: red; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Short Film #4</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Night Surf</b> <i>(2015)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Writer/Director: Tony Pomfret</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/video/wab/vi1166454041">http://www.imdb.com/video/wab/vi1166454041</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Runtime: 14:03</i></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> An opening title superimposed over a shot of the night surf rolling in reads, “Strain 848-AB (aka: A6, Captain Trips). Highly contagious. Mortality rate: 99.4%.” This is more than some of the other films give us in setting the scene quickly. Director Tony Pomfret changes the locale to Great Britain, but that is fine with me as long as you stick to the basic elements that the story needs. This version begins with the teens huddled around a campfire in the evening. They are bored, and one of them mentions that they should have got a CD player, but it has previously been determined that is was too much to carry (they seem to be more nomadic in this one). The character of Susie is highly obnoxious here, almost psychotically unhinged, giggling and yelling most of the time, probably in an attempt to block out the horror of their situation.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">An erratically driven car rolls to a stop into the sand of the beach, and it becomes clear that this version will focus directly upon the burning of Alvin Sackheim. After releasing Alvin from his seatbelt, he falls into a heap upon the ground, moaning about his “grandma” (as in the story). The teens tie his hands and feet together with a bra and a belt, soak a shirt in petrol from his engine, and then set Alvin aflame, his body set beneath a funeral pyre of driftwood and twigs they have mounted atop him. Almost nine minutes in, Bernie and Needles actually start to discuss Captain Trips and whether Needles has contracted it, while Susie goes off for a swim, oblivious to the fiery death of Alvin or the tragedy in store. They also name-check the Hong Kong flu as in the story, and Needles eventually mentions that they’ll all be dead in a month. Everyone stands apart on the beach for the next couple of minutes, each teenager dwelling on their own mortality. Finally, Bernie and Susie are seen lying on a blanket on the beach. Over his shoulder, Susie asks Bernie if he still loves her, and tucks her head atop his neck in a very clinging and desperate way. Bernie gently takes her hand in his, and just stares into the middle distance. Credits.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think this is actually the best short version of the story thus far, even if it still misses the point somewhat. Concentrating so fully on the burning and then the disease, it completely throws out the nostalgia element. This might be due to the very American writing of King being shifted to a beach in England, but that nation is loaded with a glowing nostalgia for its beach areas of its own, with numerous seaside resort towns, gaming arcades, and broken down carnivals and theatrical venues that once heaved with glorious life. More could have been done by filming directly in one of these towns, where a resort location could have added the exact feeling discussed in King’s original story.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Story-wise, this is indeed the closest we’ve come so far to King’s original words. I think beyond the missing nostalgia, this film’s greatest deviation, and one common to most of the adaptations so far, is in focusing on the burning of Alvin Sackheim. This leads to some pretty decent business, though, as the characters each get to react in their own way. Susie can’t stop laughing and acting generally unhinged, the men react more stoically, staring on in silence, and Joan watches on in what appears to be a mixture of terror, fascination, and sadness. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This one improved quite a bit on a rewatch. When I first watched it I’d already worked my way through a few of these films, and I think I was blind to a few of its virtues. But looking at it now with a clearer head, I can appreciate what Tony Pomfret accomplishes here. This version has the best combination of film quality, technique, acting, and general story focus. While I think the focus on the actual burning of Alvin Sackheim detracts a bit from the emotional fallout that was the real point of the story, there’s no denying that the fallout is there for people willing to look. Less is said verbally in this film, and more is left to body language and knowing looks. Plus, it updates King’s tendency towards pop-culture references and transfers it to the other side of the pond, with a quick reference to <i>The IT Crowd</i> in some early dialogue. My favorite so far.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: red; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Short Film #5</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Night Surf<i> </i></b><i>(20??) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Writer/Director: Holly Wilkinson</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><a href="https://vimeo.com/104144372">https://vimeo.com/104144372</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Runtime: 9:11</i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://vimeo.com/104144372">Night Surf</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/hollywilkinson">Holly Wilkinson</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Unlike the others, this version eschews the establishing shots that usually connect us thematically to a beach area and starts off instead with an overhead shot that leads me to believe they should have renamed their film <i>Sand Pit</i>. The reason is that the filmmaker was a university student in the land-locked West Midlands region of the UK, so she is doing the best with what she can.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In a wooded area, five teens are seen holding or covering their noses as best they can, as we see a single shoe with flames within it, telling us that the burning of Alvin Sackheim has just occurred (here referred to merely as a nameless tramp). The radio station element from the story is introduced, and <i>Angie</i> by the Rolling Stones is heard (probably illegally; I can’t imagine they actually received permission to use it). The dialogue used by the fake DJ in the story is used here as well. Everyone stands around staring into the distance and surveying the landscape. Bernie upsets Susie by being a bastard and she runs off angrily into the woods. Needles talks about his impending illness and the guy they burnt alive. Bernie and Susie go to bed, but Bernie can’t help but dwell upon his mortality.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This one seems to be the truest attempt at tackling the original story and its themes directly, but the lack of a single shot of water reminds me that it really does bother me that Wilkinson decided to stick with the title <i>Night Surf</i>. The title could have been <i>Dirt Mounds: Adapted from the short story Night Surf by Stephen King</i>. Despite this, yet again the Brits have gotten closer to giving us a fairly decent attempt at the story, although once more missing out completely on some of the recurring themes in the piece.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> This one might be my favorite version of the film so far, though I can see the case for Tony Pomfret’s version as well. This one captures the tone of the story more closely than any of the other adaptations, even though it utilizes what could have been a cheap shortcut: voiceover narration. Not only does the burning of Alvin Sackheim occur just before the film begins, but it returns as a quick bit of visual shorthand to remind us what these characters have just done and what sort of world they inhabit now. The editing on this one is pretty great, as well, as there are a slew of quick edits to drop in mood establishing shots. I was impressed with what Holly Wilkinson accomplished here. Her film may not be as technically adept as Tony Pomfret’s, but she has a good eye for composition and a sense of rhythm in her storytelling that some of the other films lacked.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And you know what? I’m OK with the title staying behind, even though there’s no water at all in the film. The title <i>Night Surf</i> was always a bit poetic and sad. If Stephen King had been aiming for accuracy with his title, he could have just called it <i>Survivors</i> or <i>Super-flu</i>, or <i>Just the Flu</i>, if he wanted to wink at the audience a little. But <i>Night Surf</i> has wistful associations even to those who never visited a beach at night. It suggests something calm and peaceful. Keeping the title while removing its actual literal connotations takes the thing into the realm of poetry, and the title becomes evocative and aspirational, something the characters may dream of. I’m being a bit grandiose there, but really, the title worked for me on this one.</span><br />
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</b></span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Wrap-Up:</b></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> I don’t know if <i>Night Surf</i> needs a professional version of the story to be made into a feature film, but I would love to see a series of King’s short stories – like, all of them – turned into an HBO, Showtime, or Netflix series or the like. Maybe they could just call it <i>Creepshow </i>(if the rights for that aren't tied up with someone else) but keep the focus on adapting Stephen King’s endless cache of stories rather than bring in other writers (at least for the first few seasons). Maybe Stephen King could even host as the Creep. (Seriously, don’t have him host, but the notion is amusing to me.)</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The downside is that a King series adapting all of these stories would probably mean the end of the Dollar Baby concept. I believe that it would be sad for it to go away, no matter what I believe about the films that come out of it. I think <i>Night Surf</i> could make for a decent half hour short, but I wish one of these young filmmakers would tackle it fully as laid out by King. I am all for artistic license in creating a work, even based on someone else’s material, but some of these versions make me wonder if the filmmakers and actors who created them even understood the story they were replicating. It will be interesting going forward through more of these Dollar Babies in the future to see how closely someone can get in showing true inspiration from King’s work.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> As I said earlier, I wondered several times why the filmmakers chose this story to adapt. In some cases I think maybe they had an idea in mind already and decided to slap Stephen King’s name on it to get more exposure (it certainly wouldn’t be the first time this has happened with Stephen King adaptations). I’m wondering if they all imagined themselves as Kubricks in the making, drastically altering the text while homing in on the secret heart of the story. I don’t want to come across as too negative, because I really enjoyed this dive into the world of Dollar Baby films, and look forward to more to come. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When it comes down to it, I think a great short film <i>could</i> be made out of <i>Night Surf</i>, but it’s not going to be the easiest thing to do. For one, so much of its dramatic weight these days comes from its connection to a larger work the filmmakers wouldn’t be able to touch. For another, most of its tension is internal, and it can be hard to make that sort of drama interesting and understandable in a short time frame. Honestly to make a classic, the director would need a truly idiosyncratic style. Imagine Terrence Malick covering this material.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I would love (love!) a television series adapting the entire published canon of Stephen King short stories, and I would even enjoy seeing King introduce them. Maybe not as a character, although I think his super-cheesy demeanor was put to good use in the film <i>Creepshow</i>, so he could pull it off. Yet I agree that the Dollar Baby program should never go away. As varied as the results can be, as we’ve seen with this article, there’s also a sense of unpredictability that I found quite enjoyable. Much the same way King’s short stories can get weirder than his full novels, the Dollar Baby program gives up and coming filmmakers with fresh viewpoints the chance to really get crazy in their adaptations.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik: </b>Terence Malick would have the right touch visually for the beach scenes (with Bernie’s narration laid right over the top properly), but would probably add an unconnected scene involving a dinosaur doing laundry at Guadalcanal while reciting poetry about the Big Bang and showing us a close-up of a butterfly in a wheat field.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, that’s it for <i><b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows</b></i>. We hope you have enjoyed our discussion, and also hope that it might inspire you to go read the story yourself and check out the many short films based upon it. Next time, we are going to jump to another story in the <i>Night Shift</i> collection – <i>The Mangler</i> – and also discuss the 1994 feature film adaptation that was directed by Tobe Hooper and stars good ol’ Freddy Krueger himself, Robert Englund. (I know... it sounds like a great combo, but please prepare for disappointment.) </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See you soon!</span>Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-28177044252860419822016-06-06T06:01:00.000-07:002016-06-08T07:30:29.004-07:00Night Surf [Pt. 1]<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5svIsUM_OcppJ_KSFRIb7ElDk6IijRU9cvf-hKjcs2Dm2IJmgnMTEloEw-dcXph_b5InUdMpdzFlAp82RxlvHu1QHniUburk9E4Mtd4Oh6aPYcpHWBE3dFhkrIdc8p5fSi2JLtt__Eiw/s1600/Night_Shift_hand_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5svIsUM_OcppJ_KSFRIb7ElDk6IijRU9cvf-hKjcs2Dm2IJmgnMTEloEw-dcXph_b5InUdMpdzFlAp82RxlvHu1QHniUburk9E4Mtd4Oh6aPYcpHWBE3dFhkrIdc8p5fSi2JLtt__Eiw/s320/Night_Shift_hand_cover.jpg" width="190" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Welcome back to <b><i>We Who Watch Behind the Rows: Stephen King Print vs. Film</i></b>. In this column, my buddy Aaron Lowe and I do side-by-side comparisons of the written works of author Stephen King against their numerous filmed adaptations. In our premiere edition, we kicked things off by tackling one of the short stories from his 1978 collection, <i>Night Shift</i>. The first story was <i>Graveyard Shift</i> – you know, the one about mutant killer rats in a textile mill – and the movie was its 1990 film adaptation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Strange as it might sound, not every Stephen King story has been given a filmed treatment. And of those that have, not all of them were filmed for the feature film trade or for television. Enter the Dollar Babies. As King started to see some success in the mid-'70s, he created a way for college students who were aspiring filmmakers to use any of his short stories – but not his novels – to create their own films. To make things nice and legal, he charged them a single dollar bill (it is also known as "the Dollar Deal"), and made them agree to the caveat that they could not release the film commercially without his expressed permission. King would also keep all film rights to the work outside of the student's permission to use it for their film, and each filmmaker also had to give King a copy of the film when it was completed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Most of the Dollar Baby filmmakers never went anywhere, but one that rose up from their ranks was Frank Darabont, the Oscar-nominated director of <i>The Shawshank Redemption</i>, <i>The Green Mile</i>, and <i>The Mist</i> adaptations years later. Darabont got his directorial career started with a Dollar Baby adaptation of <i>The Woman in the Room</i> in 1983. It was one of the few Dollar Babies to be distributed on VHS, and clearly gave Darabont the launch he needed to get his foot in the door in Hollywood. But most Dollar Baby films were merely a good opportunity for a young filmmaker to work with some quality written material to form the basis for their film. Fame and fortune was never the point of the game.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Story: Night Surf (1969)</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> We are going to focus this time on the third story in the <i>Night Shift</i> collection, <i>Night Surf,</i> first published in 1969 in <i>Ubris Magazine</i>, the literary journal for the University of Maine, where King attended classes. While it was not picked up as a Dollar Baby for many years, in 2002, the first short filmed version of <i>Night Surf</i> was produced. According to the Wikipedia page listing of all known Dollar Baby shorts and from further searches on the web, there have since been four other adaptations of the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Night Surf</i> has been a story that always kind of stuck around in the back of my memory, even though I had not read it for many, many years until a few weeks ago. When I revisited it, most of the details of the story were easily dredged back up for me, and the nihilism at the heart of the story definitely hit me in ways both pleasant and unpleasant, especially after years of wrestling with severely dark thoughts (leading eventually to meds and therapy) myself. I do remember the story as being one of the most interesting and well-crafted pieces in Night Shift, so it was good to see it hold up so well in those aspects for me when I read it anew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Without going right into the details or plot of the story itself, or its slight ties to another much longer and more famous Stephen King work, I want to have my co-host Aaron talk about his memories or feelings regarding <i>Night Surf</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>Aaron:</b></i> To be honest, I have no real strong connection to <i>Night Surf</i>. As with <i>Graveyard Shift</i>, most of the details came flooding back as I started reading, but I had no nostalgia associated with the story, and I haven’t even thought of it for years. When I reopened the <i>Night Shift</i> collection and looked through the titles, my thought when seeing <i>Night Surf</i> was ‘Oh yeah, isn’t that the short story that kinda sorta inspired <i>The Stand</i>?’ That makes sense, when you think about it; I read this collection when I was thirteen years old, fourteen at the most. At that time, I would have been unaware of its connection to <i>The Stand</i>, and I likely would not have cared. I was almost a decade younger than the young adults we meet here, and worlds away from the problems they were facing. At that age, I was not in the mood for a bitter, fatalistic look at my own mortality. In order for me to be interested, death had to be gory and bizarre, not vague and encroaching. I was invincible, and death existed only for me to find entertainment in it. A few years later I revisited <i>Night Surf</i> once I finally got around to finishing <i>The Stand</i>, and my increased enjoyment of the material came mainly from the fact that it existed alongside a novel I had enjoyed quite a bit. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Which is what made revisiting this particular short story so interesting. Now, I’m over a decade older than the young adults we follow, and my new perspective has afforded me a renewed appreciation of what King was able to accomplish here in such a brief story. I know I made some variation of this statement last time, but I had forgotten how succinct and focused King could be at this point in his career. His novel, <i>The Stand</i>, is 1,152 pages long in its final published form, but King got there almost a decade earlier, and in a far briefer thirteen pages at that. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As an adult I was able to place myself more easily into the mindset of the characters we meet, and while it wasn’t exactly a pleasant place to be, it did ring true to me in a way my younger self would have had no comprehension of. The irony of reaching the age when you normally head out to experience the world, only to have the world fall inevitably apart at the same time, is remarkably poignant here. Stephen King was 22 when this was published, around the same age the characters appear to be (maybe slightly older), and he clearly felt a connection to these kids facing the end of the world while they should be starting their lives. It’s also easy to look at this as an expression of end-of-the-sixties nihilistic bitterness; although I’m not too sure how much should be read into that. King largely missed out on the turbulence of the sixties, cloistered as he was at the University of Maine. I’ve always had the impression that he viewed counter-culture from a distance, or as an outsider to that world. If we want to get really pretentious and meta-textual, we could imagine that the end of the world in this story represents the decay of the hippie ideals of the sixties, and the characters facing this decay represent the largely disinterested Stephen King himself, looking on with some sadness, some contempt, and a fair amount of nihilism.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have a feeling I’ve just gone out on a limb that isn’t quite sturdy enough to support my weight, and I should probably stop myself before I go any further. But this is interesting to me; I’ve been reading King for so long that his books seem to be part of my DNA, and yet I’ve never really gone back to the beginnings with a critical or analytical eye. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> And I would have to say that I am removed enough from reading him regularly that there is an equal fascination for me in rediscovering the subtleties at play in his writing, when I normally think of him as relishing the opportunities to be over-the-top and shocking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I agree with your take, tentatively noted as you would have it, of King representing himself in the thoughts and actions of the kids in <i>Night Surf</i>, looking on at the end of their world (at least on a human level) and finding themselves completely powerless before it, and dealing with it in the only way they can. Being relatively the same age as the characters in the story, it is no surprise that, if he didn’t fully identify with the characters, he could at least grasp rather precisely the post-teenage mind of his time when faced with the horror of not just personal but racial obliteration. Then there is the rather misogynistic Bernie, who delights in relating to us the details about his girlfriend Susie that now disgust him to the point where the real enjoyment he seems to get out of their relationship is in making her cry. If there wasn’t some of that in King’s early makeup, he had at least known or observed somebody of his age who had similar character traits. (And I will not deny that such behavior became a sad and regretful component of my first marriage, once I realized early on that it was off the rails and bound for a hard crash. As soon as I figured out that she would get jealous of even the weather girl being on the screen at the point that we turned the television on at night, all bets were off. I became a torturous bastard.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I find it interesting that for a story that starts off with an extremely shocking statement – <i>“After the guy was dead and the smell of his burning flesh was off the air, we all went back down to the beach.”</i> – and closes with the main character, Bernie, fairly certain that he and his friends are soon to meet their doom, the details surrounding the town and the beach itself are rife with a nostalgic sheen. There is so much loving detail in the pop culture minutiae of the place – the songs he mentions that are played on the now dead radio stations that have been taken over by fellow jokesters, the undisturbed trinkets and kitsch at the boardwalk gift shop, the product name drops like Cracker Jacks, Lincoln, and Gibson guitars – that it almost becomes a loving remembrance of what the world is losing with mankind’s passing, but also at the same time, an ironic statement on our ultimate triviality in the history of the planet itself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Going back to that opening line, <i>Night Surf</i> starts off with that “Bang! Zoom! To the moon!” of a sentence, but then the rest of the paragraph and the couple that follow, the narrator intentionally (or perhaps absent-mindedly, like the shock was not perceived that way within his system) plays down the shock of a man being burned to death by telling us of trivial matters like the tape deck his buddy Corey carries around, the various call letter combinations of local radio stations, and who is behind the controls at them now that nearly everyone else is already dead. The burnt man is then mostly forgotten for a couple of pages until Bernie, in relating how he and his friends love the beach, as an aside throws in, “Hadn’t we just offered it a kind of sacrifice?” Then it goes for a couple of pages before we get any real details regarding the man they have burned (or sacrificed), where he came from, and why they have committed this act. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aaron, how do you feel about the way King starts this story, and then downplays that opening and slowly works his way back to that detail through the rest of the story?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> The premature revelation is one of Stephen King’s most frequent tropes. That little bit of information thrown out there in an almost offhand manner, intended to hook you into the story immediately so that he can then take his time building back to that moment or idea. Just about every book King has written includes some variation of that trick. You’ll be reading along, following a character, and then King will just offhandedly remark that said character is about to die sometime in the next hundred pages, and then he’ll mostly ignore that information, bringing it up just often enough that you don’t forget something horrible is lurking in the future.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As a kid, this used to bother me a lot. I would get frustrated with King’s insistence on spoiling his own stories, when I would have preferred to discover the atrocities within at my own pace (although, on the plus side, this did allow me to keep from forming attachments to a lot of doomed characters). As an adult, I’m more aware of his goals when he self-spoils a story. Stephen King gets a lot of flak from people about his tendency towards less-than-thrilling finales, and I’ll admit that I’ve bemoaned his difficulties with endings on more than one occasion. I think the real reason the endings to Stephen King books tend to be disappointing is because Stephen King himself doesn’t seem to care about the big finish. A lot of authors seem to be building towards some shocking development in the third act, while King will often blatantly tell you what the third act will entail so that he can focus on what really interests him; the way his characters behave within outrageous situations. I view this tendency to start with a bang and finish with a whimper as a sort of journalist tactic; you start with the most important information first to hook readers with short attention spans, and then you slow things down to provide background and nuance to the shocking headline.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You mention Bernie’s misogyny, and that’s certainly a pretty glaring element of the story. He is absolutely horrible to Susie, in words, actions, and thoughts. I think this goes back to what you said during our <i>Graveyard Shift</i> discussion, about how far King is willing to go to make a character unlikable, but is his attitude an extension of King’s own?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A few years ago my wife read her first-ever Stephen King work when she was assigned <i>The Body</i> as required reading for a class she was taking. She did not enjoy it, and one of her main complaints was the rampant misogyny. Although I didn’t remember the specifics fully, I knew immediately what she was talking about. There are a few topics that King doesn’t quite understand, yet can’t stop writing about, one of which is the opposite sex. King characters tend to have dim views of women, and even the heroes aren’t above dropping some shockingly sexist remarks. In the argument about whether the sexism comes from the characters, or if it’s really what King thinks, I believe it’s a little from column A, a little from column B. Certainly we’re never supposed to think Bernie is a hero, or that his actions towards Susie are acceptable, but it recurs so much that sometimes it can be hard to figure out King’s angle. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But then, King was only 22 when he wrote this story (or younger, since the story was published when he was 22), and very few guys are saints when it comes to attitudes towards the opposite sex at that age. As much as I can agree with my wife that the characters in <i>The Body</i> say some pretty offensive things about women, I can’t deny that the attitudes of the children rang pretty true to me when I first read the novella. That’s the way most kids I grew up with thought and talked (regional dialects notwithstanding); it’s an adolescent understanding of the mysterious opposite sex. Two years after the publication of <i>Night Surf</i>, King would marry his wife, Tabitha, a relationship that is still going strong. Looking through his bibliography it’s easy to sense that Tabitha may have had some impact on King’s attitudes over the years, as he’s started writing women in larger roles and as more complex characters. But that’s the way it is with every successful artist: you grow and mature and your opinions either change or become more complex. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And as you say, emotions in relationships can be mysterious and shifting, never more so than around the age these characters are, and the anger and frustration Bernie is feeling with his situation seems to be finding an outlet in his actions toward Susie. At any other point in his life, when Bernie fell out of love with Susie he probably would have broken it off immediately, and likely in a fairly compassionate (or at least not intentionally cruel) manner. Yet here at the end of humanity, there’s nowhere else for him to go. It’s his bad luck that the world ends when he falls out of love with his girlfriend. His “any port in a storm” comment is disgusting, and yet also sort of true. If they aren’t together, neither of them has anyone else, so being miserable together is preferable to being miserable alone. Bernie is a mess of negative thoughts and emotions, no matter what his apathetic demeanor might suggest, and the sad truth of the matter is that when you’re in that situation, causing others misery actually feels good. It feels good to be angry and have a target, and to attack and see your blows land.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Which brings us back to that burned body at the beginning of the story. King lets us know that this group of shallow, petty individuals has just killed a human being, and he only gradually lets us know how this has affected them, or even why they’ve done it. We’re focusing on Bernie’s inner life, and through this window we can extrapolate what the rest of them are feeling. They’ve been living alone for an undisclosed amount of time now, subsisting off of food scavenged from empty shops and homes. Every single person they knew and loved has died slowly and painfully. They’re young, at the prime of their life, and with nothing to do. The goals they’ve been raised with are now suddenly meaningless just as they were about to take their turns in the race. No more movies, no more dances, no more first dates or job interviews or baseball games. Eventually the batteries in Corey’s radio will die, and even the music will be gone. Imagine that frustration, that fear, the desolation and loneliness It’s not difficult to see how they could work themselves up to killing a sick and dying man, even if we don’t get to witness this moment. <i>Night Surf</i> takes place immediately following this act, and documents the fallout of this action.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Everyone continues their lives as they were before, but Bernie is admitting to himself the hopelessness of his situation; Needles is admitting he’s sick and they’re probably all doomed; Susie is realizing that Bernie doesn’t love her and never will again. This is cause for introspection, as Bernie looks at his surroundings with a renewed appreciation for what has been lost. The story is all the more heartbreaking for how it ends, as Bernie is able to look at Susie with something approaching compassion, and treat her with the kindness she had been missing. But that’s not enough. They’re still going to die, alone and in pain and with nothing left behind to prove they were alive.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We alluded to the story’s connection with <i>The Stand</i>, but we didn’t quite get into that. For the most part our discussion of that novel can wait until we eventually get to it for this series at some point in the future, but we should at least acknowledge the connection here. In both stories, humanity has been almost entirely wiped out by a super-flu popularly nicknamed Captain Trips, but aside from that premise they don’t really have much to do with each other. There are no callbacks or links between the stories beyond the virus, and even that may be tenuous at best. I have a feeling you don’t agree with me on this, but I’m of the opinion that <i>Night Surf</i> doesn’t quite take place in the world of <i>The Stand</i>. King has an underlying mythology that connects almost all of his books and stories (though more often than not that information is never brought up within the work itself), but I’m of the opinion that the world in this story is more of an alternate reality version of the one in <i>The Stand</i>. I think I can see your argument forming, but why don’t you go ahead and expand on that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> I have read elsewhere the opinion that these stories do not take place in the same universe. I have to take issue with that. I don’t know if the attitude stems from a certain snobbishness from fans of the much revered and beloved epic novel against the merely thirteen-page story that predates it and dares to share characteristics with the larger book, but often that attitude seems fairly tossed off when I have encountered it. “Oh, well, since these stories probably don’t exist in the same universe, I guess it doesn’t matter all that much, blah blah blah…”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, why can’t these two pieces exist in the same universe? Are we sure King did not intend for them to be linked, at least in some small way? He gives the super-bug in each the same name – Captain Trips; that in itself suggests that they may be related, at least superficially, within the same universe in King’s mind, if not on paper. Perhaps <i>Night Surf</i> really was meant to be a companion piece to <i>The Stand</i>, portraying in a few brief pages an example of how most of the world dealt with their sad fates in the midst of an annihilating plague; you know, the ones who didn’t travel to a centralized location in the United States to start a new civilization and ultimately attempt to do battle against a demonic super-villain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If the origins of the respective super-flu strains in each story are different, perhaps it is because Bernie should, because of his youth, be counted as an unreliable narrator. Sure, he gives us an accurate representation of his physical surroundings, but he refers to A6 (the official designation for the virus also referred to as Captain Trips in the story) as having spawned from Southeast Asia. There is also talk of a previous virus, named in the story as A2, aka the Hong Kong flu, which in 1968 (around the time the story was originally written) was a very real concern, causing a global pandemic at the time. (Around 33,000 people died in the U.S. alone.) In <i>Night Surf</i>, the teenagers (as I am referring to them from here on out, even if they are a little older) believe that having had previous exposure to A2, which they all have had, makes you immune to catching A6. They will be sorely disproved of this notion by the story’s end, and so we already have an example of youthful belief in popular rumor that leads to disaster.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Taking into account <i>The Stand’s</i> portrayal of Captain Trips being a super-virus developed and eventually unleashed accidentally from a U.S. military installation, it can be easy to surmise that the stories are actually unrelated. I would also accept the angle that <i>Night Surf</i> is merely a thin first draft of or attempt at what would eventually become <i>The Stand</i>, and thus the similarities are only on the surface level. But, I tend to reject both notions, as I can see quite easily how <i>Night Surf</i> can exist within the same exact universe as <i>The Stand</i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We now live in an age where we see every single day how rumor and innuendo spread almost uncontested on the Internet, especially on the social media sites most frequently dominated by teenagers and young adults. The reasonably educated and streetwise alike are apt to fall into the most basic of information traps online, myself included, though I really try to make every attempt to vet information where I can before reposting or even starting to believe what I have read. (Sources, people… look for them, and if you can’t find them, look again before spreading the craziness further...)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Having already seen that the teenagers in <i>Night Surf</i> are prone to believe popular rumor regarding viruses, is it possible that the idea that the bug sprang forth from Southeast Asia (the source of many global pandemics in the past century) is merely a common scapegoat to distract the general public away from the true cause of the illness? How easy would it be for the U.S. military to plant the notion in the press – a far smaller target to manipulate from the late ‘60s through the mid-‘70s as opposed to now – that the super-bug came from across the ocean, to throw journalists off the track of its true origins? And far removed from this media subterfuge, mere teenage boys and girls caught up in the plague’s path of human obliteration at a remote beachside town use the knowledge that they have gained from their friends’ word of mouth mumblings or from talking heads on the television, and let that info guide their actions as they wander about aimlessly until at last life has been drained from them. And some of this information gets passed to us in the thoughts and narration from Bernie. I have to believe that he is honest in the way that he tells his story to us, but that doesn’t mean that everything he believes about what is happening around him is necessarily the truth. At worst, he is a new breed: the reliably unreliable narrator.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> My belief that the stories were related but otherwise unconnected stemmed mainly from the different origins of the virus, but as you pointed out that could easily be explained by these characters not having all the information. I also half-remembered King saying something about this debate, and my memory was that he backed up my position. In my research online, I could find no instance of King actually addressing this question, but certainly a lot of fan discussions saying they can’t be related because of the perceived inconsistencies. Perhaps I was being snobbish after all, because as I searched further, I saw that <i>Night Surf</i> as it appeared in the collected edition had been revised from its original form. It was published in 1969 for <i>Ubris</i>, but then published again in <i>Cavalier</i> in 1974, before being ultimately collected in what we can assume is its final form in 1978 for <i>Night Shift</i>. And then the smoking gun: I found a blog where a King fan tracked down a copy of the August 1974 issue of <i>Cavalier</i> in which <i>Night Surf</i> was republished. His report back confirmed that in the entire story, as published in 1974, the phrase Captain Trips is never used. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, King did revise the story at least once before collecting it in 1978. That isn’t hard to see in its finished form; the characters listen to <i>Angie</i> by the Rolling Stones, a song that was four years away from being released when King first published <i>Night Surf</i> in 1969. But did he add the Captain Trips connection because he was thinking about <i>The Stand</i>? Probably. <i>Night Shift</i> was released in early 1978, while King would have been prepping the release of <i>The Stand</i> later in the year. He probably saw the story complimented his novel, and quietly altered it to fit more cleanly within that world. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like this. <i>The Stand</i> itself is probably the greatest example of his tendency towards revision, where he completely revised and expanded the story to add in several hundred pages of material he was forced to cut out for length. He also changed the timeline to make it more current, and updated many of the pop-culture references to the late eighties instead of the late seventies. He revised his novel <i>The Gunslinger</i> in 2003 when he realized that subsequent books in the series contradicted events, character names, and locations that had been established in that first novel. Most recently his novella <i>Ur</i> was heavily revised for its inclusion in the collection <i>The Bazaar of Bad Dreams</i>. Among the edits was a 500-word tangent where the characters discuss the Kennedy assassination. Why was it removed? Because King explored that tangent further in his novel <i>11/22/63</i>, and likely felt it would be redundant for readers of <i>Ur</i> in its new form.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now, with definitive (or as close to definitive as we’re likely to get) proof that <i>Night Surf</i> and <i>The Stand</i> take place within the same world, this actually raises my appreciation of the story. One of the most striking passages in <i>The Stand</i> (revised edition) is one in which King describes some of the people who never made it to Colorado or Vegas, who died along the way. In <i>The Stand</i>, the survivors are called to either place to take part in a great battle between good and evil. And while that goes on, there’s this small group of survivors, dying alone because they never heard the call. Possibly they never got the call because they aren’t technically survivors; Needles is dying, and who knows what will happen to the rest. But the loneliness at the heart of both works is amplified by the knowledge of what is happening elsewhere.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> I might be displaying my own ignorance here, or an ignorance that I have developed along the way because it has been twenty-odd years since I last cracked any edition of <i>The Stand</i>. Were the survivors called instantly to take part in this battle, or was there a short, definable period where the disease ran its course through humanity to sort out who would be ultimately considered as “survivors”? If there was the latter, perhaps these kids are still at the tail end of that “sorting out” period? If so, it could stand (no pun intended whatsoever; no, really…) as an interesting parallel to the events we will see later in <i>The Stand</i>. Or, here is another option: What if they have been called, and just haven’t started to make their way as of yet, or are just slow in starting out, getting waylaid by temptation? And what if the side to which they have been called is Randall Flagg’s army? Might that explain the urge to suddenly burn someone else alive without showing any mercy or emotion?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> Like you, it’s been about twenty years since I read <i>The Stand</i>, so my memory is just as fuzzy as yours. I seem to remember that some of the characters started getting the call while the world was still dying out, you are probably correct in questioning whether we can call these kids “survivors”. One of them is dying already; who knows if any of them will be left in the weeks following the story’s end?</span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">[Part 2 of our discussion of Night Surf will pick up with our reviews of the five available Dollar Baby short film versions of the story. You can find <a href="http://bit.ly/1UEyfJ9">Part 2 here</a>. We hope that you have enjoyed our talk about the short story and that you will join us for the next installment.]</span></i></div>
Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-3550607988304026692016-05-21T16:32:00.000-07:002016-06-06T06:01:10.819-07:00Graveyard Shift [Pt. 2]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">[This is Part 2 of our discussion of Stephen King's short story, </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and its 1990 film adaptation. To read the first part of this discussion, in which my partner Aaron Lowe and I dive deeply into the short story, visit <a href="http://bit.ly/1Tc8RwY" target="_blank">Aaron's website, Working Dead Productions, here</a>.]</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b style="font-size: x-large;">The Film:</b> <b style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Graveyard Shift </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><i>[1990, Paramount Pictures; directed by Ralph Singleton; screenplay by John Esposito]</i></span><br />
<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br /></b><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: center;"> I saw the film version of </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: center;"> in a movie theatre in Anchorage, Alaska in 1990. I was fully excited to watch the film, as I was then still quite hopeful that cool flicks could be built out of King’s stories. At that point in time, the hit-or-miss ratio for King films was still decidedly (at least in my opinion) on the hit side, thanks in part to filmmakers such as De Palma, Kubrick, Hooper, Cronenberg, Carpenter, and Reiner each delivering big on the entertainment front early on in the sub-genre. And yet, the overall quality had started to slip for me, with duds like </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Firestarter</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: center;">, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Creepshow 2</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: center;">, and the King-directed </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Maximum Overdrive</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: center;">, so the ratio was bound to even out eventually.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And to say that we, as a group, walked out of the theatre entertained by </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> would be an outright lie. It was a solid disappointment at the time, especially since we had fairly recently been thrilled pretty well by </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Pet Sematary</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, though the </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Tales from the Darkside</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> film that came in-between was somewhat of a letdown. </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> was more than a letdown for me; I hated it. Perhaps ignoring the fact that a film filled with rats and bats and mutant varieties thereof </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">should</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> make me feel like this, the film physically repulsed me. By the setting, by the acting, by the general sliminess of the thing… I was repulsed. I never recorded it off of cable as I did other King adaptations over the years, and I never watched it again until I just did for this conversation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aaron, what was your first experience with the film version of <i>Graveyard Shift</i> like? Do you remember how it affected you?</span><br />
<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></b><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As with the short story, I can’t tell you exactly when I saw it, but I can pinpoint where I was first introduced to the film: Video City on Jewel Lake Boulevard in Anchorage, Alaska. My family had a pretty regular routine at this time; every Friday my mom and siblings would drive over to either Blockbuster or Video City (Video City was closer, but Blockbuster often had a larger selection of the new releases) and rent one film each. Of course, the goal was to find something that everyone would be interested in, so no one had to suffer in boredom for their turn with the VCR, but I was the oldest and so I knew I had the luxury of staying up later than anyone else and having the TV to myself as long as I could keep my eyes open. As my love of film bloomed, I would often make solo journeys to Video City on my bicycle and peruse the selection for the umpteenth time, even if I wasn’t able to rent at the time. The one section I kept going back to was, of course, the horror section.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the time, the horror section was its own tiny room with a saloon door dividing it from the kids’ section just outside. There were no racks in the center of the room; everything in the horror section was kept on the walls. The lights were dimmer in here, the walls were painted black and festooned with cotton spider webs. In the center of the room was a black pedestal upon which a glass case rested. Inside the case was a miniature coffin, and inside the coffin was an animatronic Dracula puppet about the size of an eight-year-old boy, hooked up to a motion sensor so that whenever someone entered the room he would pop up and say something in a thick Romanian accent. I do remember being startled by it early on, but eventually the room became a comfort to me, its relative isolation and emptiness (I’m surprised, looking back, how few people entered that section) always made me feel at home while I looked over the horrifying scenes on display.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">VHS cover.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of those scenes was the cover to </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, which was burned into my memory much more strongly than the movie itself (though, as it turns out, I remembered the movie pretty accurately). It’s not the most inventive of covers; just a grinning skull in a miner’s hat, but to this day the sight of it conjures positive associations. The movie itself did not exactly set my world on fire, but it’s eternally mixed up with the emotions and sensations of that time in my life, and as such I think my opinion of it remains higher than yours. Logically I know the movie isn’t very good, but in my memories I always enjoy it more than it probably deserves. Not that I think it’s a bad movie; there’s actually quite a bit in here that I think is great. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You recounted feeling repulsed by the film on your initial viewing, and that’s certainly understandable. The characters are almost uniformly unlikable, and the film is almost oppressively grimy, but I think that’s actually one of the movie’s greatest strengths. The short story gives the aura of sweaty nights doing dirty work with dirty people, and the film version translates that pretty accurately. It also grasps the concept of the ‘Stephen King small town’ better than most filmed versions of his works. <i>Graveyard Shift</i> was filmed in Harmony, Maine, with certain location shots made in Bangor, and the decision to film in the actual places Stephen King was writing about pays off great dividends. What we see of the small town in this film straddles that line between quaint and rundown that I associate with all of the small towns in Alaska I’ve visited or lived in. It’s also a pretty good representation of the background I always imagine when reading Stephen King’s books (from what I’ve seen and read, Maine and Alaska share many similarities, at least on a surface level).</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The film goes a little overboard at times with the hostility of the locals towards Hall, but I think I can excuse that the same way I can excuse the broadness of the character work in some of King’s own writing. Giving the local mill employees anger towards Hall is a bit odd, given that in the story they seem to be friendly with him, and there are signs they actually respect him (certainly more than they respect Warwick, at least). There’s a bit where Hall orders food at the one diner in town, and someone has a dead rat delivered on his plate. Beyond being senseless, I just thought about how that restaurant would immediately be shut down for an inspection if someone were throwing around dead, possibly disease-ridden rats.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The one place the film really fails for me, though, is in the depiction of the rats. Once, while working a nighttime security job, I happened upon a rat large enough that at first I thought it was a kitten, or a puppy (certainly it seemed larger than the rodents I had been around at that point), and only as I drew closer did I realize what it was. This rat was crouched in shadow, and as I passed within two feet of it, it refused to budge. It just stared at me with its beady eyes. That was honestly unnerving, and made me understand how some people can fear rats. It’s what came to mind while I was reading the story, but in the film they just seemed cuddly. In the story, the rats are described in disgusting terms, and make for some squirm-inducing reading. In the film, however, they’re forced to use domesticated rats, and as someone who has owned rats in the past, I had trouble finding them imposing. Even when they gathered by the dozens and surrounded characters ominously, I couldn’t stop thinking about how cute they looked perched atop rafters. They use the usual tricks of filmmaking to make them look wild and scary; basically, they matted their fur with various liquids, but it was to no avail; those rats were just too adorable to find menacing. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Leaving aside, for now, the larger vermin we’ll meet later on, how did the rats do for you in the film? Did they give you the heebie-jeebies, or the warm-and-fuzzies?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Original U.S. movie poster</span></i></td></tr>
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Neither. My heebies weren’t jeebied and my fuzzies weren’t warmed. I have far more limited rat experience than you do, but I have held a few of them through my years. My brother, as a young adult, had a pet rat, and I did have the opportunity of getting to know him a bit on a personal level (got to know the rat as well). There was also a swell rat named Willie in a biology class in high school of whom I was fond. Because I had a dispute with the teacher over another matter, I was accused initially by her of the rat’s death when it was murdered – along with numerous fish and other creatures -- during the school year. I was totally innocent, and the true culprits were found out and expelled. But I still hated that teacher. (When she ran for city government a few years later, I voted against her, even though we were politically similar.) Taken on their own terms as individuals, I am as open to rats as any creature; I am not sure how I would react, though, in a situation where I was alone with a wild one in the dark, let alone being surrounded by hordes of them. I grew up with rat movies like </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Willard</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Ben</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, along with assorted others, though I tended to side with the people who were friendly to the rats, and not to their victims. The rats in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> were just rats to me, and posed no real menace in my eyes. But I also knew that there was something bigger underneath the mill, and so that was the direction of the true horror of the story. Rats were really just the appetizers for the horror enthusiast’s palate, so to speak.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And rats had nothing to do with what repulsed me about the film. It was just a general, as you suggested, griminess that wore me down and kept me at arm’s length from the thing. This was at another decidedly more immature time, however; while I am no more grown-up when I wish to be, it is necessary now for me to try to automatically accept a film’s general setting and mood (when I indeed feel it is appropriate to the story) and not let my personal obsessions or denials affect the viewing. But in my younger days, an unappealing setting or even a detail such as costuming could turn me away from films at their outset (though this was a very inconsistent device that I employed, and I think that I often used it as an excuse to just not see certain films).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Setting aside my initial feelings towards the film, having seen it a couple times more now recently, I absolutely agree that if anything works about this film, it is the setting and atmosphere. The hot, fetid air of the textile mill and its denizens, both townies and ratties, and eventually, the presumably even worse conditions of the sub-basement, is tangible and unpleasant, but adds immeasurably to the film. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Getting back to your first points, what did turn me off from the film far more than in the short story was indeed the overly pushy and often disgusting behavior of the small town's inhabitants towards Hall (except the ladies, of course). Even though I shouldn't do this, I often place myself in the same situation when I watch a film and ask what I would do when confronted with such behavior. The answer is almost always, "Get the fuck out of that town right now. Catch the first bus and just head out." Again, I know that this is an impossible stance in relation to watching simple characters in a simple movie entertainment, but as I have tried through much of my life, I feel it is just best to avoid people who are outright assholes in the first place, and have found that the most obvious way to avoid them is to not go to places that they frequent once you have discovered they are there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But Hall sticks around. And they tease him and try to get him to react in some way to their assholery, and then they try to feed him a rat for dinner. I too had thought about the health board coming down on that bar/eatery, especially in a story where the plot hinges around a county ordinance to have the basement of the textile mill cleaned up or else. If they are so gung ho about a small town textile mill having safe working conditions, you would think they would be equally hardcore about a place that serves food. But the bartender/owner is likely to be on good footing with the assholes pulling the prank on Hall, and he’s not going to talk. Old boy networks, you know. They may not wish to shit where they eat, but you can sure serve a rat dinner to an out-of-towner who will likely have no one to back up his story if he chose to “rat” anyone out at city hall. To be sure, it is a weird, off-putting scene, one that I found personally disgusting due to the still-shocking memory of seeing the original <i>Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?</i> in my youth.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mr. Subtle as a Crutch, Brad Dourif.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Speaking of adding atmosphere to a killer rat movie, the always creepy Brad Dourif has a small role in </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> as a professional exterminator. The role is not in the story, and he seems to have simply been added to give a little more horror street cred to the film. While Dourif, a personal favorite since </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Cuckoo’s Nest</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> for me, has an extremely over-the-top manner to his acting most of the time, he does nicely fill the role of the probably unhinged but oddly dedicated (perhaps too dedicated) exterminator. The role almost seems inconsequential to the rest of the film, however, and feels almost like filler, meant to distract from the general plot just enough to throw us off from the film’s true direction. What are your thoughts on Mr. Dourif?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> <span style="color: #0b5394;">Brad Dourif was the source of the largest disconnect between my memories of the film and the actual film itself. In my memory, “The Exterminator” (as he is billed in the opening credits) was a larger part of the movie, and I had vague recollections of him leading the surviving cast members through some subterranean tunnels. In fact, The Exterminator never interacts with anyone from the main cast outside of Warwick, and it’s entirely likely that Dourif never even met the rest of the actors. This happens a lot in low budget films that snag a recognizable name for their cast; the film can’t really afford to have the name actor on set for the entire shoot, and so they film a bunch of scenes with an often reduced crew and maybe one or two other members of the cast over a couple of days. These scenes rarely, if ever, intersect with the main plot in any meaningful way, and it’s always super-noticeable when a production is basically getting an actor to do them a favor. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As for your question, my thoughts on Mr. Dourif remain the same every time I see him; he is a supremely welcome presence. Odd, intense, and watery-eyed, Brad Dourif brings a jolt of unpredictable energy to every scene he appears in, and genre filmmakers should thank the deity of their choosing that he apparently attacks even the most minor role in the most off-brand film with the enthusiasm of a stage actor tackling the works of Shakespeare. He can and does go over the top frequently, but there’s always a passion behind it that extends beyond mere scenery chewing. There’s always something unsettling and unwholesome about Brad Dourif (it’s no coincidence he’s known primarily for playing killers and slimeballs), and I can easily see him adding to the general sense of unpleasant griminess that soured you on this film way back when.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You mentioned already that his character and plotline are new to the film, and have no analog in the source material. I believe his involvement signifies the largest alteration of the source material. His efforts to rid the building of rats are especially notable, as the characters in the story quite pointedly don’t care about getting rid of the rats, but rather they just desire to get away from them. His scenes also add an oddly literal meaning to the short story’s title, as he meets his fateful end while searching for the source of the rats in a nearby, shockingly ruined cemetery. You could say that the story also contains zero women, and certainly no love interests or feuds inspired by sexual jealousy, but their creation for the film is no great stretch of the imagination. It’s easy enough to imagine Hall becoming involved with a woman in the town, or that Warwick is a sexist creep.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Original DVD release.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It may be this very invention that heightens the sense of disconnection in Dourif’s scenes, because aside from them and the aforementioned female characters, </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> stays pretty faithful to the source material. The film feels very much like a natural extension of the original’s 26 pages. Whereas many Stephen King adaptations seem to throw out most of the original plot and invent out of whole cloth a new story to support the ‘hook’ of the project, </span><i style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Graveyard Shift’s</i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> alterations seem to actually extend naturally from the original story. Sure, characters and plot details are created, and events in the story are expanded or heightened, as would be required for a feature film, but everything seems to build off of the short story’s skeletal structure. This is true in regards to details both small (most of the belligerent townies bear the names of people mentioned in the story) and large (Warwick mentions in the story that lights have been strung in the basement, while in the movie we actually get to see the poor man stringing those lights up, and the dismal fate that awaits him).</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not all of this works, of course. I never felt really involved in the struggles Hall faced in the town, for many of the reasons you already listed. Hall should just move on, there’s absolutely no reason he should stick around that grimy little town. When we meet him he’s just arrived in town and is met with open hostility from the male population and smug disdain from, apparently, the only person in the entire town who is hiring. Plus I never cared about who was sleeping with whom and who was jealous because of it. Clearly drama needs to come from somewhere, but none of this was very interesting or unique. In fact, just having seen the film recently, I’m finding it hard to remember the details of these plotlines. All of these films feel like what they are; time fillers to keep us occupied until the next death scene.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There’s one other big change to the story, of course, which is the ending. In the short story, we get Hall urging on Warwick to his death, only to succumb shortly thereafter to the attentions of a mutated bat. In the movie there is, apparently, only one large mutated rat/bat creature, for which the rats we’ve seen so far are merely harbingers. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that they seem to hang around the large creature in hopes of getting at the leftover scraps of whatever it happens to kill. In the film, the ending starts out following the one in the story, but diverges pretty strongly once Warwick seems to enter a ‘Nam flashback and begins painting his face with mud from the tunnel floors. In the film neither Warwick nor Hall react the way they do in the story, and the film ends in one of those mad dashes through byzantine caverns while trying to avoid the killer. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know you weren’t creeped out or charmed by the rats in the films, but I’m curious how you felt about the final monstrosity on display; the giant bat/rat. It’s a practical effect, and plenty gruesome looking, but it also failed to excite my more discerning adult eyes. I don’t actually remember being wowed by at as a kid, either, but I certainly remembered it being more distinct and, well, cooler than it is. It’s a bit too asymmetrical, and rubbery, like the entire puppet was melted a bit before being put in front of the camera. Of course, it is a monster, and in concept I think it’s pretty cool, so it’s not a total loss for me. But how did it stack up with you?</span><br />
<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></b><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rik:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Speaking of Warwick’s ‘Nam flashback (which I didn’t really pick up on until you mentioned it) – I just thought he was doing what jerks consumed with their own testosterone do when put in such a situation – The Exterminator has a line in reference to his own Vietnam experiences that might be my favorite line in the film. He yells, “I ain’t talkin’ one of those burning babies fuck-ups played by Bruce Dern!!” It’s exactly the sort of line that you would give to somebody like Brad Dourif to knock out of the park (though I do wonder somewhat if it came out of an ad-lib).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-TNnd4ZxZu_EiP28fBddvvFkzfmeY3s57cQ3Y3Hg-Ct58FfJjR-7FN461B-0aGeiNq3EXgVuTj24AvH-fI0gkXLwdrh8HIFEyRMe1WsO2vFElYPXsMBDLM7vU1HYxkqEBg87Bgw16uY/s1600/Graveyard_Shift_DVD_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-TNnd4ZxZu_EiP28fBddvvFkzfmeY3s57cQ3Y3Hg-Ct58FfJjR-7FN461B-0aGeiNq3EXgVuTj24AvH-fI0gkXLwdrh8HIFEyRMe1WsO2vFElYPXsMBDLM7vU1HYxkqEBg87Bgw16uY/s1600/Graveyard_Shift_DVD_2.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The giant mutant bat-rat indeed looks very much like an oversized puppet at nearly every turn. As a puppeteer, I appreciate that it appears to be pretty functional and generally well designed; but how good is that design if it never truly attains life of its own for the viewer? But as a monster guy of long standing, I can appreciate it a bit more. It makes its rounds and has a couple of decent attack scenes. But the giant mutant bat-rat does seems to roam about outside of the sub-basement and attack people in the early parts of the film, even in the upper levels of the textile mills, so it does make me wonder exactly why it was important for the lock scene to be included in the film, beyond adding to the atmosphere. If it is not keeping the creature in, then surely it is to keep others out? So was the person who put it there even aware of the creature? Without the Varney reference that is included in the story, does anything about the revelation of the sub-basement mean anything, beyond giving the character a watery, nasty tunnel system to run around and die inside?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Closing Statements</b></span><br />
<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></b><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaron:</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Honestly, this story did not need to be told in feature length. Not only does the expanded length sap some of the grisly energy of the short story, the film completely shies away from the one true source of mystery that should have been explored further: that strange lock and the mysterious Elias Varney. However, if you were to edit this down to an hour-long episode of an anthology show, I think you’ve got a pretty great short film. Cut out almost everything not happening in the mill, because it’s garbage, and stick with the disgustingly sweaty work environments and the revolting mutated vermin, and you’ve got a winner.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Your contextualizing of the bat-rat monster in terms of your love of puppeteering and monsters strikes me as a decent and more forgiving lens through which to view the film. It occurs to me that <i>Graveyard Shift</i> functions pretty much as a throwback to third-tier monster flicks of the ‘40s and ‘50s. It’s no <i>Them!</i>, but maybe closer to <i>Tarantula</i>. The type of film I’m generally more than happy to spend a lazy afternoon with. So why, then, don’t I afford <i>Graveyard Shift</i> the same status? As it turns out, after some reflection, I do.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I do not own <i>Graveyard Shift</i>, and I doubt I’ll ever pay to rent it again, but it’s not a movie I would turn my nose up at watching again. If it came on cable or streaming on whichever service I have at the time, I’d probably sit down for it again. If I view it as a faintly retro monster flick, with a melodramatic story I don’t care about (seriously, we’ve barely mentioned the non-rat plot, and I can’t muster the energy to discuss it any further) but a cool monster with some adequately bloody kills, <i>Graveyard Shift</i> becomes a pretty decent horror movie. Nothing amazing, nothing I’d really recommend to most people, but worth your time if you’ve set your expectations accordingly. In the meantime, however, I’ll stick to the story, which is at least brief enough to enjoy in just a few minutes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> I don’t know if I am ready to commit to calling <i>Graveyard Shift</i> a "pretty decent horror movie," but it is certainly better, on monster terms, than I remember it. The movie overall is also certainly far better than some of the films we will be tackling in the months ahead in this column. But on a level with <i>Tarantula</i>? Heretic… I would go more for <i>The Woman Eater</i> or <i>Zombies of Mora Tau</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> <span style="color: #0b5394;">I felt <i>Tarantula</i> was a good example, because it’s got a great monster (though superior special effects to <i>Graveyard Shift</i>), and a melodramatic plot that I cannot begin to care about. But again, it seems I might have slightly more positive associations with this film than you do.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> It is indeed strange how we managed to avoid discussion of most of the sub-plots and shenanigans (apart from the rat dinner plate) going on in the movie that are not really related to the original story elements. They are by far the least interesting bits of the film, and so perhaps it is fine we have glossed over them, except there is one thing I would like to mention. As I hinted at much earlier, it is interesting that the character of Wisconsky in the story, a male, has not only been given a gender switch in the movie, but has also been made the love interest of Hall. The relationship goes far enough that Hall is protective of her until near the end of the film, but still seems to be a half-hearted element and not nearly as developed as it should be.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The equally subtle apple-eating stylings of Stephen Macht.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will say that after seeing it anew a couple of times, I have had a turnaround on the acting of Stephen Macht in <i>Graveyard Shift</i>. I knew who the actor was coming into the film the first time – I was and am a massive fan of <i>The Monster Squad</i>, where Macht plays the policeman who likes to watch drive-in monster movies with his kid from their roof – but Macht’s forced New England accent annoyed me so deeply it pretty much made me write the film off immediately and probably made the film more of a disappointment to me than it probably would have been without <i>The Monster Squad</i> floating through my head. Now, however, I kind of like Macht in the role; he seems at one with the film’s atmosphere, and as far as a committed villain goes, he is certainly up to the task. I still think some of the character’s motivations are not thought through enough at screenwriting level, but as far as acting is concerned, I am at peace with Macht in the role.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One last thing: the song over the closing credits. The 1980s and 1990s were a glorious time if you liked really shitty closing credits songs, often using remixing, scratching, or hip-hop styling. <i>Graveyard Shift</i> closes with a remix using ridiculous quotes from the body of the film, tumbling haphazardly over a bubbling bass line and bursts of other instrumentation. I suppose that if you actually got caught up in the movie by some miracle, this might be a fun digestif, but I find it very silly and that, like many such songs, somewhat damages whatever atmosphere the film did manage to build. (Then again, maybe I am just taking everything a bit too seriously.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Aaron:</b> <span style="color: #0b5394;">I cannot believe I forgot to say something about that shitty song. That song leaves me fairly speechless; it’s so ridiculous, and so divorced from the preceding movie’s tone that I can’t imagine the discussion that went into its inclusion. I can’t imagine who it was for, or what the intention was. It seems to belong to a different movie altogether. Tonally it makes no sense, because the preceding movie is fairly light on humor, but then the song isn’t very funny either, and doesn’t seem to be trying for humor. It has the appearance of a joke, but it isn’t really. It sort of fits with the film’s final shot, which is a sign for the textile mill saying ‘under new management’, but the film up to that point hadn’t indulged in any of those winking <i>Tales From The Crypt-</i>style flashes of humor (although, clearly, the film would have been much more memorable if it had had a sense of humor about itself). In fact, up until the literal final second, the film is a pretty grim affair, and the ending is dark enough that a quick joke and cheap novelty song feels like a vast misunderstanding of the material.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is such a minor story, and such a forgettable film, and every time I think we’re done talking, something else comes up. Am I going to spend the rest of my life writing only about Stephen King’s <i>Graveyard Shift</i>? Will I begin working on our next piece, only to look up hours later and discover I’ve written seven pages on the wonders of Kelly Wolf’s midriff baring shirts? This movie and story have actually risen slightly in my estimation, yet for my own sanity I think I’m ready to be done with both of them for the foreseeable future.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>*****</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Rik:</b> Thanks for checking out our first edition of <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows</b>. Next time, we will be discussing another Stephen King story from his <i>Night Shift</i> collection, <i>Night Surf</i>. While <i>Night Surf</i> has never been turned into a feature film, it has been adapted numerous times into short, independent films through King's unique Dollar Babies program. We will review a few of those adaptations as well as dig into the story's surprising connections to his later classic novel, <i>The Stand</i>. See you then!</span>Rik Tod Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12903694670356107788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193515647780472827.post-10829483380996884542016-05-20T22:28:00.000-07:002016-05-24T18:34:24.337-07:00Graveyard Shift [Pt. 1]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Welcome to our first installment of <b>We
Who Watch Behind the Rows: Stephen King Print vs. Film</b>. The focus of this
new column is to compare the written works of author Stephen King against the
numerous adaptations made for either the movie or television screen. Since
there are what seems to be about 4,000 such adaptations released into the wild
to this point, we expect catching up with all of them will take a good amount
of time on our parts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">As with our other semi-regular column --
Visiting and Revisiting -- your hosts are myself, Rik Tod Johnson of <i>The
Cinema 4 Pylon</i> and <i>Cinema 4: Cel Bloc</i> websites, and
Aaron Lowe of the <i>Working Dead Productions</i> website. We are
both hardcore, longtime cinema fans, but we are also, to varying degrees, big
Stephen King fans. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The difference between us is that I, after
following King earnestly and faithfully around every turn in his career since I
first read <i>The Dead Zone</i> around 1981, largely gave up on his
writing (with a couple of notable exceptions) post-<i>Gerald's Game</i> (that
would be around 1992). So with this project, I will basically begin my personal
reintroduction to each of King's stories and novels as we make our way through
his oeuvre. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Aaron, what is your personal experience with the
written works of Mr. King?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Aaron: </span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I actually started reading Stephen King and stopped
reading Stephen King around the same time. I read my first novel from him in
1990, when I was in 6<sup>th</sup> grade, and I more or less stopped following
his career post-1992. That isn’t to say I stopped reading King after those two
years; no, far from it. By the time I came on board, Stephen King had
twenty-three novels and five story collections in print, which means I had a
wealth of material to dive into. It also means that, much like you, I stopped
keeping current with him sometime around <i>Gerald’s Game</i>. There were a few
exceptions to that, when I would get gifts from relatives who knew I liked Stephen
King and not much else about me, but for the most part I fell out of touch with
him once I’d caught up, and didn’t start buying his novels again until <i>Black
House</i> (2001). That may not seem like a lot of time to not be reading
Stephen King, but it means that I missed seven novels that I still haven’t
caught up with.<br />
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Along with reading Stephen King, I was watching his movies nearly constantly. I
was a child of the video age, and it seemed as if nearly everything King had
written had become a movie or short film or episode of some anthology horror
show. There were four filmed adaptations in the year I began reading him, and
the world was entering a golden age of Stephen King television, with
mini-series versions of some of his biggest books (and, ahem, <i>The Langoliers</i>).
It’s certainly no coincidence that I first became acquainted with Mr. King at
this point in time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I’ve pretty much
reached the point where I’m back to looking forward to each Stephen King novel
or story collection with quite a bit of low-key excitement. It’s no longer a
pressing issue to buy the latest King novel as soon as I see it, since he still
has one or two books come out a year, but every birthday or Christmas the first
thing I use my gift cards on is whatever his latest offering happens to be. And
I can say honestly; I’ve never <i>not</i> enjoyed a Stephen King novel. Even a
King novel I end up disliking on the whole entertains me and speaks to me in
such a way that I never feel like I’ve wasted my time on it. Whatever the
outcome, I always enjoy the experience of reading Stephen King’s prose.</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Rik:</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> Since rereading each novel
takes a bit more time, we have decided to jumpstart <i>We Who Watch Behind
the Rows</i> by reviewing the varied pieces in King's 1978 short story
collection, <i>Night Shift</i>. From the twenty stories in <i>Night
Shift,</i> there have been eight feature films and four television
adaptations made thus far. Of the remaining stories in the collection, most
(but not quite all) have been adapted into short, amateur films known by King
and his fans as "Dollar Babies". Overall, this gives us quite a
surplus from which to begin.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The Story: <i>Graveyard Shift </i>[</span></b><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Night Shift</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">, 1978; first published in
the October 1970 issue of <i>Cavalier</i> magazine] </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Aaron:</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
I’m not entirely sure when I first read the <i>Night
Shift</i> collection, but it would have been in the early nineties as I was in
the midst of my full-blown King obsession. I remember reading other stories
from the collection in the back of my uncle’s pickup truck on a family camping
trip, but <i>Graveyard Shift</i> kind of
melds into the pile of stories I was reading at the time. There are a few tales
in this collection that I have some fairly strong sense memories of where I was
when I read them, but <i>Graveyard Shift</i>
isn’t one of those. It’s not that the story is bad or lackluster, it’s just
that it lacks a central image as striking as that of <i>Grey Matter</i> or <i>I Am the
Doorwa</i>y (the latter of which inspired the cover of the paperback in which I
first read these stories).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">At its heart, <i>Graveyard
Shift</i> is a simple, straightforward, grisly little shocker equally inspired
by Poe and EC Comics. That’s not to say it’s derivative or unenjoyable. Quite
the contrary; this is an economic, fun shock story that I’ve read through twice
now in a short time period and enjoyed each time. Stephen King would, in just a
few years, be known for epic, encyclopedia-sized books, and he himself would
self-deprecatingly discuss his tendency to ramble on and on and on. But this
collection proves that he was just as adept at sketching in characters that
seem fully realized within the span of only a handful of pages, and possibly
only a couple of lines of action. It’s true that most of the characters in this
story are basically background, given only a name or a single line of dialogue,
but a few of them become living, breathing characters on the page in a very
short span. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I have quite a few friends who only really like Stephen
King’s short stories, and avoid his novels. While I don’t agree with that
stance, clearly, it’s one that I can understand. His short stories tend to be
swifter, nastier, and stranger than his novels. It’s almost as if he lets his
imagination run wild for a dozen pages or so and puts no restrictions on his
concepts, no matter how bizarre or unsettling, while his novels tend to rein
things in a little bit. Also, one thing I discovered early on: Stephen King
loves a happy ending. With very few exceptions his long form work (novels or
novellas) end with a positive outcome, whereas his short stories have no such
assurances. In a Stephen King short story, all bets are off, and no one is
safe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">How about you? Where do you stand on this divide? Do you
prefer his short stories to his novels, or are you a fan of each in equal
measure? How did you feel about his ability here to sketch in a believable
world within 26 pages?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rik:</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Until I reread <i>Children of the Corn</i>
in this same collection a few months ago, it had been so long since I had read
any of King’s short stories that I forgot just how economical he could be in
his writing. Part of why I started to have a falling out with him is that I
felt that he had grown too much in love with his voice, and that voice had
definitely developed a rambling tic that I found somewhat annoying, and
therefore rendered King a chore to read at times. He had also started to veer
slightly away from the supernatural around the time of <i>Dolores Claiborne</i> and <i>Gerald’s
Game</i>, and I was mostly uninterested in the topics he was starting to
explore. Even when he touched on the supernatural in that mid-‘90s period –
such as in <i>Insomnia</i> or <i>Rose Madder</i> – I couldn’t muster much
excitement. I read the first couple of chapters of each and gave up. And for
the novels leading up to that period, his record was hit or miss with me;
mostly miss really. I did not like <i>The
Eyes of the Dragon</i>, <i>The Tommyknockers</i>,
or <i>Needful Things</i>. While I was a big
fan of most of his early novels (especially <i>The
Stand</i> and <i>The Dead Zone</i>), the
last novel of his that I really liked was <i>The
Dark Half</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But his short stories? Loved them. The tales in both <i>Night Shift</i> and <i>The Skeleton Crew</i> were constant re-reads for me throughout the ‘80s
and into the ‘90s; likewise for his classic novella collection, <i>Different Seasons</i>. It was thrilling in
those days that so many of these pieces were being made into films in theatres
and on television as well, even if the quality varied greatly from project to
project. But perhaps it is telling that his ‘90s work in the short story and
novella area also failed to grab my attention as well. I liked <i>Nightmares and Dreamscapes</i> well enough;
I read through it a couple of times, and some stories, like <i>The Night Flier</i>, really stuck with me.
But I really did not enjoy <i>Four Past
Midnight</i> all that much, so maybe that is where my real ennui with King
started to set in for me.<br />
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The beauty of the short story is in its succinctness, in the sparing of details
unnecessary to the moment at hand. In those early collections, King is
brilliant in keeping a tight grip on information, his pen is sharp and concise,
and he even seems to practice a form of subtlety – no matter how fantastical
the situations, characters, or creatures – that would run away from him
sometimes in his longer novels. Since I have rarely read King in recent years
(and that would almost entirely be non-fiction and his pop culture columns in <i>Entertainment Weekly</i>), I don’t know if I
would still perceive this problem with him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Just like you, my friends and I – many of whom were also
massive fans of King in those bygone days (I am unsure if any of them still
read him; many were having a similar falling out with his ‘90s work) – had many
discussions regarding “short stories vs. novels.” The short stories usually
came out on top about two-thirds of the time. While I did love many of his
early novels, I too ran with the short story crowd. And I would have to say
that I am probably still with that group today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Without diving fully into the actual movie version of <i>Graveyard Shift</i> until a bit further on
in this discussion, I must admit that my initial re-read of the short story was
colored by the fact that I did my re-watch of the film first. (I will not do
this with future installments of this column.) Although only two characters
truly bear the same name and gender (more on this later), I kept hearing the
dialogue in the voices of the actors in the film, one actor (Stephen Macht) in
particular. Did you have this problem, or did you do the smart thing and read
the story first? If not, were you able to divorce yourself from the screen
experience enough to enjoy the story without being influenced by the film?</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCn-YNgMJdDQKTD9kaa2OjcaLNeJ9YIiTHn8GUgDVvuCKonIGkf0WIEm00Hd35Z01HRba2EYlTJF-LYQUtz0ebPba1L7GMuSb4rJ4SqMx1PXL3c1yDMhulhhtBF9ovlvonJyHzjGyrUYE/s1600/graveyard_shift_ver3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCn-YNgMJdDQKTD9kaa2OjcaLNeJ9YIiTHn8GUgDVvuCKonIGkf0WIEm00Hd35Z01HRba2EYlTJF-LYQUtz0ebPba1L7GMuSb4rJ4SqMx1PXL3c1yDMhulhhtBF9ovlvonJyHzjGyrUYE/s400/graveyard_shift_ver3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">UK Film Poster</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Aaron:</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
My process went like this; I read the short story,
and then watched the film. A few days later I read the story again in
preparation of writing this article. I have to say that’s probably the path
I’ll be taking from here on out, as it provided me with a few neat insights
into both. In fact, I’d like to try and watch the movie one more time before we
truly wrap this thing up, and may end up doing so. One thing that I noticed on
my second reading of <i>Graveyard Shift</i>
(which would actually be the third or fourth lifetime read for me) is how much
the film actually stuck to the brief descriptions in the story. We’ll get into
the film later, of course, but almost every word Stephen King wrote found some
form of representation in the filmed version in one way or another. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">The story takes place in just under one week,
divided into short sections, each covering one night on the titular graveyard
shift as a crew of textile mill workers cleans out a disused basement. Though
the narrator is omniscient, the focus of <i>Graveyard
Shift</i> is Hall, a college dropout who has been drifting around the country
taking odd jobs and searching for something in his life. The only other
character of real note is Warwick, the foreman of the textile mill who seems threatened
by Hall’s youth and college background. Warwick is the character Stephen Macht
plays, and at the risk of getting ahead of myself, I felt that he was the best
at capturing the flavor of the character as written. A few of the other mill
workers have lines here or there, like Wisconsky or Ippeston, but they’re
basically background characters, extras in this story.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Right away, King introduces a stylistic flourish that will
eventually become a trademark: grounding his story in the mundane details of everyday
life while introducing characters that speak in exaggerated vernacular. The
details of the mill are made more real through King’s use of actual product
names or pop culture references. The Orange Crush thermometer that Hall keeps
checking, or the cans of Nehi that he throws at the rats. There’s no reason for
King to point out that the thermometer is a promotional item from Orange Crush,
nor that the aluminum cans Hall launches are Nehi, yet doing so gives the story
a quick jolt of verisimilitude. We recognize these items from our own lives,
and it places this story directly within our understanding.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">King also has his characters speak in a weirdly poetic,
often stilted, frequently profane style. He claims this language came from his
youth surrounded by older blue collar New Englanders, and yet I have a feeling
no one actually spoke like he writes. Like when Carmichael gets bitten by a
large rat, and complains that he wants compensation, Warwick’s response is
“Sure. You got bit on the titty.” This isn’t the most outrageous example in his
bibliography, but you get the point. King himself has credited most of his
success to this simple act of having his characters say bizarre, distinctive
things. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I think <i>Graveyard
Shift</i> turned out to be an unexpectedly subtle way to start this project. It
features a lot of things Stephen King is known for, but toned way down to the
point where it would be easy to miss them. Reading ahead in this collection
(though skipping for now the ones we’ll eventually cover for this series) I can
say that his stylistic tics become more pronounced the further along we go.
Have you read ahead yet? What do you think of his penchant for cultural
references and idiosyncratic dialogue? Anything else in the story we should
cover before jumping into the film?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLBdIHVVwbZwfbOJ5Q3BxYtxraB8FgeD8zxJOtiYAwCG4NrSeN5bxOjVupBhcUJeLVOUF4-rmhahS1YMhEmyjm5gKOPl6rZe4ffemVtmZ7IocK-exAU5aHnX8bwiAOTW0PqkVOe77tFE/s1600/movieposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLBdIHVVwbZwfbOJ5Q3BxYtxraB8FgeD8zxJOtiYAwCG4NrSeN5bxOjVupBhcUJeLVOUF4-rmhahS1YMhEmyjm5gKOPl6rZe4ffemVtmZ7IocK-exAU5aHnX8bwiAOTW0PqkVOe77tFE/s400/movieposter.jpg" width="277" /></a><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rik:</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
I only read ahead through the next story, <i>Night
Surf</i>, but that was because I remembered that it is connected to <i>The Stand</i> (the use of the Captain Trips
influenza as a device), and I loved <i>The
Stand</i>. (As to whether I still do, that remains to be seen for future
columns.) It was amazing to me how I had almost completely forgotten the story
over the intervening years, but the second that I started to read the story,
details came flooding back into my head mere sentences before I happened upon
them on the page (or really, on the screen, since I was reading it on my
iPhone).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We had three constant battles in my gang when we seemed to
be group reading King’s latest book back in the day. (Many of us worked for the
same bookstore chain, so we were able to get discounted copies of each release,
and thus nobody really had to wait to read each one.) One battle was over the
overtness of his use of sexuality in his stories, and by that, I mean his
descriptiveness and openness. (We had a couple of people in our group who felt
he went a little bit too far with the details and sordidness in some scenes,
and others, like – <i>ahem</i> -- me, are
pervos who felt he never went far enough.) (That I ultimately found happiness
in the far sicker and gooier writings of Clive Barker is no surprise.) The
second battle was indeed about his use of product placement to sell the reality
of his settings to the reader. Certainly he wasn’t getting paid to use any of
these trademark names, and I agree with you that it made his stories seem like
they were taking place exactly within our own dimension. We again had a couple
of dissenters, who felt that it actually cheapened his writing, as if he were
taking shortcuts instead of relying more fully on his imagination to set a scene.
I saw their side of it as well, but overall, felt that King’s concentration on
Nehi and other brands is part of what made him popular: his ability to make us
imagine ourselves in his outrageous scenarios.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Such scenarios might even make us say the most outlandish
things in the midst of trying to stay alive. That third battle was most
certainly over his dialogue. I have always been torn on it myself, but he
certainly makes his characters more memorable by his use of it. His characters
sometimes employ the most ridiculous, out of left field wording, but King
generally gets away with it. While the words may not jibe with our own
understanding of the English language, you definitely can’t forget those
characters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the case of the most egregious user of such language in
the story version of <i>Graveyard Shift</i>
– the foreman Warwick – he is definitely memorable, though that doesn’t excuse
him from how profoundly (and purposefully) annoying he is. Warwick speaks in a
manner that I could only proscribe to Stephen King; I have never met anyone in
real life who converses as he does, at least when combined with an inability to
even attempt to relate to anything living thing on even the smallest level. I
will save any discussion of his movie counterpart until the appropriate section
of this article. Taking the written Warwick as is, he is probably one of the
best examples of how far King was willing to take a character into the realm of
the completely unlikable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Look, I’ve never been to Maine, and I probably will never go
there. I am not knocking the state, but I grew up in Alaska, so there is not
much in Maine that I can’t get by just going back home for a visit. And I am
allergic to shellfish, so in a gastronomic sense, why would I even? Nor have I
ever met (to my knowledge) anybody directly from Maine, so I have zero
experience in any actual dialect from that state. What has always struck me in
the King adaptations (when they stick to that region) is how phony the dialogue
sounds to my ear. Period. No one speaks like that at all, I tell myself, and
the overriding effect has been that if there is a feature of pure artifice to
King’s stories, it is not the fantastical creatures that never have or never
will be in this world, but the words that fall from his most annoying characters
mouths and the odd angles at which those words hit my ears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is not to say that I don’t enjoy some of those words. I
find their use annoying, but at no point would I admit that King doesn’t
achieve the exact goals for which he is striving. When I saw George A. Romero’s
(and King’s) <i>Creepshow</i> in the theatre
for the first time in 1982, and saw King on the screen as the doomed Jordy
Verrill – or even in his cameo role as a loudmouth spectator in Romero’s
earlier but equally fascinating <i>Knightriders</i>
-- I got the sense (apart from King being a shitty actor) that in his head, all
of King’s characters spoke within those parameters – as annoying as possible
and with accents so outrageous they may as well be the “Frenchies” in Monty
Python. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Of course, I exaggerate – as King does as well -- and it
does bring me to my point. I can say “No one speaks like that in real life!”
but what do I know? Right down the street, in any direction, there are groups
and nationalities and subgroups and cultures that speak to each in ways that I
have never heard. Nor am I likely to hear if I don’t immerse myself in their
cultures. I am no expert on anything. Do I know anyone from the backwoods or
small towns of Maine? No. So how can I say that Warwick doesn’t exist somewhere,
and that people just like Warwick influenced King? I cannot know. It doesn’t
mean that I have to accept every frustratingly odd piece of dialogue, but I
will give King the benefit of the doubt in most cases. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There is some memorable imagery in <i>Graveyard Shift</i> – such as King’s vivid descriptions of the mutated
creatures –but the one that gets my mind racing is the lock on the underside –
yes, the underside – of the trapdoor that is discovered, which will eventually
lead to a hidden sub-basement and much carnage by the end of the story (and
possibly portends more carnage post-story). The rusted lock is a marvelous
tension builder, and the “hero” character, Hall, seems to revel in its
discovery, if only because it helps continue to cut through Warwick’s blusterous
façade of toughness. Trying to fathom exactly what purpose led to its necessity
almost distracts me from the exploration of the dank subbasement and the mutant
rat-bat action that occurs next. Did the lock perform similar black magic on
you? What other imagery stuck in your memory the most?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Aaron:</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Definitely the lock is the big, glaring, flashing light at the center of this
story. It hints at something grander and stranger than the inbred, mutant rat
action we get. At first glance it seems like an early example of yet another
Stephen King tic; the offhand remark or briefly mentioned artifact that hints
at an older, more horrific story only tangentially related to what we’re
seeing. Eventually those digressions would get the best of him, and Stephen
King would devote hundreds of pages to ideas that were only really incidental
to the main plot, but I’ve always loved them. Even when they threatened to
overload the main story, my favorite parts of King books tend to be the brief
(or not-so-brief) detours that give the impression that the world is weirder
and scarier than you thought. Right now I’m going to take a page out of Stephen
King’s book and back up a bit and work my way back to answer your question.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">On my first re-reading of this story, I felt the ending had
a few rushed elements. After some pretty leisurely storytelling, and without
much foreshadowing, the ending comes rushing at us in just a couple of quick
pages. Warwick and Hall seem to undergo some pretty major shifts in
personality, and Hall in particular gets a new motivation that seems to come
out of left field. I’m speaking, of course, of Hall’s decision to not just
force Warwick into a rat infested basement in order to prove his aggressive
blustering is merely a show, but to actually take an active role in Warwick’s
death as almost a sacrifice to the rats.<br />
<span style="background: silver;"><br />
</span>As soon as Warwick and Hall enter the sub-basement, Hall’s entire
attitude changes. Where earlier in the story he had been silently acquiescing
to Warwick’s demands and insults (though often with some passive aggression),
here he begins to take charge of the situation, to badger and harass Warwick
openly. His inner thoughts change as well, as he begins to feel a wild elation,
‘something lunatic and dark with colors.’ He feels a sense of purpose drawing
him on, and his inner thoughts remark that ‘he had perhaps been looking for
something like this through all his days of crazy wandering.’ This change
happens so suddenly, over barely a page, that at first blush it seemed
unearned. Then, when re-reading the story it all fell into place; of course
Hall was unmoored and probably a little unhinged, despite his seeming sanity at
the story’s outset. And of course a drifter who seems to be searching for his
place in the world would find something almost religious in the mystery and
violence of what happens in that sub-basement.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Which brings us back to that lock on the underside of a trap
door. Why would it be there, on that side of the door? The characters in the
story all wonder this, but it’s glossed over rather quickly. As I see it there
is only one real reason you would lock the inside of something; you are locking
yourself in and something else out. Based on the disused nature of the
basement, and the certainly even more disused nature of the sub-basement,
neglected for decades, who could have set that lock? And what must their
rationale have been? How could anyone with even the barest sense of curiosity
not be tempted down those stairs?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">But there’s more to this mystery, and although we never get
a definitive answer we get a lot of weird clues. First off is the basement
itself, which is ancient and full of weird fungi the characters have never seen
before, strange and swarming beetles, and of course giant rats and bats. The
basement is also larger than the mill that lays on top of it, extending past
the mill’s borders, and we get explicit evidence that the basement might
predate the above structure by several decades. Warwick and Hall discover a
large wooden box with a name and date painted on it; “Elias Varney, 1841.” At
the discovery of that item, Hall asks Warwick if the mill is that old, to which
Warwick answers that the mill was built in 1897.<br />
<span style="background: silver;"><br />
</span>In the sub-basement Warwick and Hall find one skeleton, and though no
connection is made in the text, I think it’s a fair assumption to make that the
skeleton belonged to whoever locked the basement from the inside. I think
another assumption could also be made that the skeleton and Elias Varney are
one and the same. So now the question remains, who is Elias Varney? I’m going
to get a bit extra-textual here, and go outside of the book for a theory I’d
like to put forward.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Knowing how much Stephen King likes to make allusions to his
own works I went online to look up any other instances of an Elias Varney in
his work, or even just another Varney, and could find nothing (Stephen King
fans have tirelessly plotted most story connections throughout several
websites, so if a connection existed I should have found it). What I did find,
buried in a forum thread from ages ago, was the idea that the name meant
nothing in and of itself, it was just there to identify the skeleton, and
perhaps Varney had been chosen because King is a ravenous fan of horror
literature, and wanted to give a shout out to Varney the Vampire, the first
English-language vampire tale.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahiDfr4DE0dnuK6cGHQesHMQYbDBcT8CBDajfT8eWvKeWEiJox9poxa7qxKAAUhKmEH4q_0c4yRXRqXymZpt4T1lYmOxtxfgEwIne_xQHOleHcV5uiKah3-bb0kNbsQfyuvJgV_uZ2LM/s1600/17cbc6f6fee9c0a35454ced7cab6d9a2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahiDfr4DE0dnuK6cGHQesHMQYbDBcT8CBDajfT8eWvKeWEiJox9poxa7qxKAAUhKmEH4q_0c4yRXRqXymZpt4T1lYmOxtxfgEwIne_xQHOleHcV5uiKah3-bb0kNbsQfyuvJgV_uZ2LM/s400/17cbc6f6fee9c0a35454ced7cab6d9a2.jpg" width="258" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">But what if the naming wasn’t random? What if it was a clue
to the very origins of the story? The wooden box they find isn’t really
described, other than it is apparently huge, but what if it was a coffin? What
if Elias Varney is related to Francis Varney, the titular vampire of that
story? Or, what if he had nothing to do with that story and was simply a clue
as to the nature of the trouble beneath the mill. There are a couple ways it
could go from there. This vampire had sealed himself away from the dangerous
humans above, or perhaps this Varney was as self-hating as the original, and
had sealed himself away to keep humanity safe. Either way, it’s clear that he
died beneath what would eventually become a textile mill.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Now, I'm not saying that I've solved a mystery in a 26-page Stephen King story that no one had ever even noticed before, and I'm not saying that King wrote a secret sequel to a half forgotten penny dreadful from over a century earlier, but it does serve to highlight what I love most about short stories like this; the idea that there is a larger world and we are looking at it through a keyhole. In this case we've got Elias Varney, who may or may not be a vampire, but who has locked himself away in an ancient cavern that ends up full of mutated rats, bats, and other forms of life normally found in caves. Did he lock himself up before or after this change in the natural order? Did he do it because of the change? Did that change happen because of him? We've never know, and whether you want to buy my version of things or not, I think it's a fun way to look at the story, and it got my imagination whirring.</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rik:</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
I am willing to entertain the notion, though I really think King never meant
anything more than simple literary name-dropping (at most) to add an extra
spooky layer to his story’s trappings. But, just as the strange positioning of
the lock lends itself to allowing the reader to wander off in epic flights of
fancy regarding just exactly why it appears that way, so too does the box with
the name of Elias Varney. Why not imagine such a connection? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I, too, had set myself toward scouring the interwebs for
some corroboration of the Varney theory, but found nothing beyond the forum
source that you did. Since I am not prone to jumping on theories without
multiple sourced facts to back it up, I discounted the notion. But I will agree
that it is a most engaging idea, and it caused me to head further to King’s
non-fictional foray into the history of horror fiction and film, <i>Danse Macabre</i>, itself first published a
couple of years (1981, to be precise) after <i>Night
Shift</i>. In <i>Danse Macabre</i>, King
name-checks Varney while discussing Bram Stoker’s <i>Dracula</i>, but nothing beyond informing us that the novel “never degenerates
to the level of Edgar Rice Burroughs and <i>Varney
the Vampyre</i>.” So it is clear that King is well aware of Varney, but doesn’t
hold it in high regard as literature. He also fails to include it in his list
of important horror novels and stories in the appendix for Danse Macabre. Since
there, by his own words, “roughly a hundred” such works included, it seems
there would have been plenty of room if he wanted <i>Varney</i> there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But it also doesn’t mean that he was beyond dropping a
Varney reference into <i>Graveyard Shift</i>
as a gag. And no matter how much certain writers might bemoan this fate, once
the genie is out of the bottle, so to speak, it is not going to go back in
easily. Once he published the story and the readers took in his words, the fate
of Elias Varney became their concern, whether a lightly implied joke or the
doorway to further horrors left undiscovered and untold.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">*****</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i>[So ends Part One in our inaugural edition of <b>We Who Watch Behind the Rows</b>. To continue, check out <span style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="https://wewhowatchbehindtherows.blogspot.com/2016/05/graveyard-shift-pt-2.html"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Part Two of our discussion here</span></a>,</span> where we delve into the film and it's differences and similarities to the source material.]</i></span></div>
WorkingDeadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17423048309685084902noreply@blogger.com0