Great Scenes and Sequences in Cinema - Twilight Zone: The Movie (Dante, Landis, Miller, and Spielberg 1983)

Hello everyone, and welcome to a new segment here at The Experience Cinematic, Great Scenes and Sequences in Cinema. Here, I will take selected scenes from overall films that I find are worthy of discussion and do just that. And to kick things off, the scene being discussed today is the opening of Twilight Zone: The Movie.

When I was a kid, about the age of five, one of the things I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep was to get up and try and convince my parents to let me watch what they were watching. Usually, I failed. However, one Saturday (I think it was a Saturday), I pushed my luck and won; I was going to be allowed to stay up and watch what my parents were going to watch. In this case, it was to be a late night airing of a film, one which was preceded by an interesting, if slightly creepy, advertisement. I wasn’t going to leave though, as I was curled up beside my mother and ready for anything this film called Twilight Zone: The Movie (1983) could toss at me.

Four minutes later Dan Aykroyd turned into a monster, killed Albert Brooks, and I tore down the hallway to my bed as fast as possible. If it needs to be said, I didn’t sleep well that night.

However, that opening scene always stuck with me, and when the opportunity to tape the film off of “Space: The Imagination Station” came in the late 1990s, I took it and watched the film with glee several times. The film was one I eagerly anticipated on disc, and when it finally hit DVD, it was a day of release purchase, no questions asked. Sure, the film is flawed, and the production of the film is one of the most notorious in cinema history due to the horrific deaths of Vic Morrow and two children in a helicopter stunt gone wrong, but I love the film just the same.

The best element of the film though is that opening scene with Aykroyd and Brooks, a scene so strong that it almost sabotages the rest of the film. The scene is a perfectly executed jump scare, one of best ever put to film, but the scene has a much greater function than merely scaring the hell out of the audience. While Twilight Zone: The Movie is update or remake of the original show, the film is also a love letter to what Rod Serling created, examining the show’s place in American popular culture. It is a reminder about how the series examined the society it was part of, highlighting said society’s best and most negative attributes through Serling and crew’s imaginations. The opening scene of the film is a tightly constructed piece of meta fiction that directly comments on the series intent and power, while acting out itself a moral/political drama that would not have been out of place in the original series.

The scene (and the film overall) begins with the folk song “Midnight Special” performed here by Creedence Clearwater Revival, playing over shots of a highway at night in the middle of nowhere. Already the themes of the film are being set, with the song recalling America’s cultural past while the images remind us of the increasingly interconnected nature of America in the late 1970s/1980s. Said images finally give way to the image of a car wheel barrelling down the road to…somewhere, and finally to the two nameless occupants, singing along to CCR, engaged in their culture. Presumably, from the images we see, these two are friends. After all, why else would two men be driving in the middle of nowhere together, just singing along?

Soon, an all too familiar event for those who had cassette players happens: the tape is eaten, and the duo are left to talk to one another. Or not, as the case turns out to be, as the driver (Brooks) states that they already have talked to one another. The writing at this point is clever and subtle, as the nature of the relationship of the two is complicated when the passenger (Aykroyd) notes that he knows where the driver is from, but not the other way around, a point ignored by the driver. The driver instead begins to joke about by turning the lights on his vehicle off as he races down the road, much to the discomfort of the passenger who calls the practice unsafe, another point ignored by the driver as he kids about running over pedestrians.

As simple as the scene thus far is, some rather complex material is happening just below the surface. What we have is a tale of two men of seemingly similar backgrounds (a point only to be enhanced in the events to follow) but with two vastly different world views. The nameless driver is seemingly empowered in all ways - it is his car, he is driving, he decides how the conversation is going to go - and he treats this power as a joke. He could very well kill someone, but his self confidence is unshakeable as he heads into the darkness without direction. The passenger, quite possibly a hitchhiker, lives up to his position as being passive, out of control of what is going on. He is also more thoughtful and concerned about the driver’s behaviour.

The moment of dangerous driving gives way to the pair bantering back and forth about TV theme music, a topic suggested by the driver, until the conversation reaches its ultimate point, The Twilight Zone. The conversation from this point on turns into a complete geek fest, with the driver mixing up a Zone episode for an Outer Limits episode and claiming that he bought an additional pair of glasses after viewing the classic episode “Time Enough at Last.” While a seemingly innocent conversation, the driver’s unfounded conviction about which series a specific episode belongs to and the misunderstanding of “Time Enough At Last” points to a superficiality of the character, his own self-absorption. He “knows” the culture, but he does not understand it beyond how it may or may not apply directly to him. Just as his driving is solely for his own benefit. Just as he controls the conversation and games to his own benefit, not caring about the man in the seat beside him.

At this point, the passenger asks the same question of the driver that the driver asked him earlier: do you want to see something scary? The driver does, and the passenger illustrates the difference between himself and the driver by asking him to pull over before he will show him, an act of social responsibility and awareness. Once the car has stopped, the passenger indeed show the driver, and the audience, something scary, as he punishes the driver for his self absorption and lack of social consciousness, out in the middle of America.

Cue the iconic music; kick in Burgess Meredith’s narration.

As noted earlier, the scene serves a dual function. First, it is a reminder and commentary about the intent and importance of the original Twilight Zone series, with regards to its political, cultural and moral concerns, as brought to the show by creator Rod Serling. Second, while explicitly explaining the series, the scene itself plays out a type of morality play that would not have been out of place in the original series, were it to be expanded to fill a proper television spot. It is a complex scene, written and directed by John Landis, a scene which makes one wish that Landis had managed to come up with something half as clever in his full segment, which becomes lost in its grandiose attempts at political relevance.

The casting is also a vital reason that the scene works as well as it does. It is not merely that the casting of two stars primarily known at the time as comedians that adds to the creepy and unsettling tone of the scene, but just how average the pair are. Aykroyd and Brooks may have been major stars at the time, but at no point do they come across as such: they are just a couple of geeks cruising about and having the same nerdy conversations as anyone else. It is a tough quality to find in modern cinema, and one that makes me miss the style of American studio cinema of the 1980s all the more.

To be perfectly honest, I am willing to admit a nostalgic bias when it comes to Twilight Zone: The Movie, but that doesn’t change the brilliance of the film’s opening. If nothing else, I highly recommend the film for that sequence alone. And who knows? Maybe you’ll stick around for the return trip into the Twilight Zone…

The Wolfman (Johnston 2010)

At the end of my review of the original Wolf Man, I stated that Joe Johnston and Benicio Del Toro had the opportunity to take the ambitious but flawed original and make an even greater film, unlike so many remakes which can go nowhere but down. While Johnston and Del Toro’s Wolfman never exactly achieves being greater than the original, at the risk of getting flack from classic horror fans, I am going to say that it equals the original, carving out its own path, with its own strengths and suffering from different weaknesses. Furthermore, at the risk of getting outright slaughtered, I am also going to say that the new Wolfman is the more enjoyable film.

The new Wolfman, set in the late 1800s, follows the story of Lawrence Talbot (Del Toro), a stage actor called home by his missing brother’s fiancée Gwen (Emily Blunt). Upon his arrival at the decaying family home, headed by distant patriarch, Sir John Talbot (Anthony Hopkins), Lawrence discovers that his brother’s body has been found horribly mutilated. At the request of Gwen, Lawrence stays to try and solve what happened, and in the process winds up at a gypsy encampment just as it is attacked by a menacing animal, leaving Talbot injured. Soon enough, he begins to suffer strange symptoms, and becomes drawn into a greater and more personal mystery than he had originally anticipated.

Early in the film, a scene is shown of Lawrence performing Hamlet on stage, and to those familiar with Shakespeare’s masterpiece, the foundation upon which the new Wolfman has been built will be immediately recognizable. While the original Wolf Man was certainly tragic, the new Wolfman is an outright familial tragedy, dealing with madness, various Oedipus complexes, and murder. Many of the basic elements from the original film remain, yet the new production sets about crafting its own identity as a horror version of Shakespeare's play and refusing to be slave to what has come before. While it never quite succeeds in being the horror genre’s Hamlet, the ambition on the part of the filmmakers shows in every frame of the film, a passion that is often missing in most horror remakes.

The original film is structured through a series of oppositions which Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.) finds himself caught between with no real sense of control. The film pits institutionalized patriarchy and marginalized matriarchy against one another, each side being aligned with other opposing concepts: rationalism and emotionalism; science and superstition; etc. While rich in complex ironies, the original film is very clean and organized in its presentation of these concepts, both on the literal and figurative levels, such the town embodying civilization and the woods becoming the center of uncontrolled instincts. While the approach works, it also helps to make the original film a very stilted affair as it tries too hard to lay everything out in an easily digestible manner, a problem point for a film that deals with themes of the repressed and uncontrollable.

The new Wolfman does away with such oppositions, as the complex issues are internalized in Lawrence himself rather than being represented by external forces in the narrative. This results in a far more driven and emotional Lawrence, who actively fights back against his own internal impulses and conflicts which stem from his childhood experiences. As played by Del Toro, Lawrence is a man whose calm reserve is little more than a thin mask for the turmoil going on beneath the surface. It is a very physical performance, even without the elaborate makeup, and Del Toro manages to utilize his body language to do much of the work for him, even working in gestures that are reminiscent of Chaney Jr. The Wolfman has been a long admitted passion project for Del Toro, and he clearly is giving it his all here.

The shift in how the underlying issues of the film are organized is further reflected in the presentation of the town and woods, which are no longer distinct entities that boarder one another, but instead bleed into each other, enveloping all who reside there in its dark, murky aesthetic. London, which has a large presence in the film, is the new site of supposed rationalism and progression, and the place in which we first find Lawrence. Yet London itself is a visually dark and chaotic mess, an urban hell that itself is torn asunder by the issues it denies and mocks in one of the film’s most memorable sequences.

I really should take a moment to talk about the visual look of the film, from the wonderful production design to the gorgeous cinematography of Shelly Johnson. The world created by director Johnston and his crew is nothing short of spectacular, visually emulative of the horror films of old, and designed in a manner that manages to evoke stage play like artifice without breaking the sense of a lived in world. There are frames that are so rich in detail that I cannot wait until the Blu Ray is released to study them. Only a few moments of CGI mar the film, particularly a scene with a CGI bear that really wasn’t necessary, but the sheer level of practical effects in the film is amazing given the era in which we live, the standout being the makeup effects of Rick Baker.

Still, the main reason the film works is because of its cast, primarily Del Toro and Hopkins. While Del Toro’s work has already been covered, Hopkins needs to be singled out because, if for no other reason, he seems to actually be giving the film his all rather than coasting for a paycheque as he has often done in the past ten years. While it is hard to discuss his character without spoilers, Hopkins manages to sell even the oddest of moments by giving every action of Talbot’s a sense of giddy, insane glee without hamming it up, except where appropriate.

The film does have its failings. While the film is double the length of the original, the opening third of the film still feels like it is going by at a record pace. Some scenes, such as the first meeting between Lawrence and his father, feel as if entire sections of the scene have gone missing. These scenes function well enough, but they don’t always allow the atmosphere to sink in as much as one would like. Similarly, while the werewolf scenes are for the most part expertly handled, some of these scenes towards the climax of the film begin to feel a little over the top, emulative of a superhero film rather than a horror film. Such moments are brief, but are annoying none the less. The same issue plagues some of the film’s gore, though it was nice to see the filmmakers embrace an R rating rather than toning the picture down for a PG-13.

Still, The Wolfman is a worthy remake. It manages to make entire errors of its own, but nothing that outright sinks the film. Furthermore, in a time where old fashioned horror filmmaking is in short supply, The Wolfman manages to evoke the past in a way that doesn’t feel like it is merely recycling the past, and is well worth checking out.

Dear God: A remake of THE THIRD MAN?

Really? Somebody is idiotic enough to subject themselves the the backlash and critical failure this film will most likely receive?

Well, it appears that not only is one person stupid enough to try and remake Carol Reed's 1949 masterpiece, but three people are: Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, and Eastern Promises screenwriter Steven Knight. Now, all three of these individuals are highly talented and capable of great work. Eastern Promises was one of the best slow burn films of the past decade, a brilliant character study, and DiCaprio and Maguire have come a long way since their early days to both become respectable actors. However, and let me be clear about these, none of these three are capable of making a film that could EVER live up to the work of Carol Reed, Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles.

For those of you who have never seen the film, The Third Man is set in post-WWII Vienna, where Holly Martin's (Cotten) has arrived to see an old friend, Harry Lime (Welles), only to discover that Lime is apparently dead. To say anything else would spoil the film, but needless to say, not all is as it seems, and is full of some of the greatest writing, acting and directing you are going to see in any film. Best of all, it has what is easily one of the most iconic end shots in all of cinema, the kind of ending shot most filmmakers dream of. So go see the damn thing!

Given all this, I cannot understand why any filmmaker, actor, etc. would subject themselves to the torture of remaking a masterpiece. It will not be enough for the film to be good. The film will have to match the bar set by the earlier film, if not try and better it, because if it can't the question will always come back to why they even bothered in the first place. The original isn't a flawed film in anyway, it hasn't dated (which is an argument I hate anyway), and Welles and Cotten are cinematic legends. DiCaprio and Maguire are mere kids compared to those two, and who wants to see well meaning kids perform adult material?

I hope this film doesn't pan out, but we shall see. Damn Hollywood...