Saturday, September 17, 2011

Films of the 60s, Part 16: I'm a Creep

“I’m a creep,
I’m a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.”

- Radiohead, “Creep”




There are all types of horror films, from the gore-filled rampages of unstoppable sociopaths to the complex psychological terrors that surround us every day, but that we perhaps don’t like to think about or face. The following films from the 60s are somewhere in between. There are certainly fantastical, almost science-fiction, elements, perhaps rooted in folklore, mythology, or even medicine, but these are all, at their hearts, stories about humanity, and those who don’t quite “fit.” This is why I have chosen the above lines from Radiohead’s first single, the one that the band now somewhat shuns, making it analogous to the subject of the song itself. It is unwanted and forgotten, just like the characters in these films, and when that happens, there is danger ahead. These films show us that horror sometimes lies within those who are the creeps, the weirdos, the ones who don’t quite belong here.



Les Yeux Sans Visage (Eyes Without a Face) (1960, Georges Franju)

Twenty-four years before Billy Idol paid tribute to in a ballad of the same name on Rebel Yell, French director Georges Franju came out with a very entertaining, yet disturbing film called Eyes Without a Face. This highly influential film is a spin on the traditional mad scientist story. Pierre Brasseur portrays the mad scientist, Dr. Génessier. Mad might be a misnomer, as he seems quite brilliant, instead merely driven by the love he has for his daughter. Of course, the madness presents itself in the lengths he goes to in which to save his disfigured loved one. Génessier’s daughter was horribly maimed in a car accident and most of the world thinks she’s dead. Instead, her father has her hidden away, desperate to find a way to transplant a new face onto the space where hers once was.

Much of the horror comes in Dr. Génessier’s actions and his daughter, Christiane’s appearance. Christiane wears a mask that is absolutely haunting in its simplicity. It is basically a plastic mold of a face with eyes cut out. The mouth does not move, which makes the moments when she speaks utterly creepy. In effect, Christiane becomes a wax figure come to life. I have always been a little weirded out by wax figures, and even though Christiane is an innocent, her presence and mannerisms make her frightening. Meanwhile, her doctor father, along with his assistant (all mad scientists need assistants, right?), scour the countryside for young women who might be perfect candidates for a face transplant, killing them to save his little girl.

But, who is the outsider? Though some might say it is Christiane, due to her disfigurement and isolation, others might say it is Dr. Génessier, making an exile of himself through his actions and repudiation of morals. While the doctor does his hunting and experimenting, the detectives seem hot on his trail. The ending provides some poetic justice to the entire affair and makes one think about what an outsider really is. It is not the scariest movie I’ve seen, and even has some elements of humor, especially in the music that accompanies the opening scene, but the image of Christiane will stay with me, haunting me in my weakest and loneliest moments.



Spider Baby (1968, Jack Hill)

This movie is an absolute hoot. I’m not sure I could categorize it as one of the great films of history, but it surely is memorable. In doing my research, creating a list of films to watch in this epic 60s project, I found Spider Baby in a feature on the best cult films of all time. It is part horror film and part black comedy, but it is all campy goodness. From the very first moments the film starts to roll you can tell you’re in for a weird and fun ride. Horror film legend, Lon Chaney, Jr., stars as the caretaker of the film and sings the opening theme song, a “Monster Mash”-like tune that mixes up horror clichés in its lyrics, and still somehow spelling out what ensues in the plot, as crazy as it is. Chaney, as Bruno, watches over a group of children with “Merrye Syndrome,” a fictional plot device that finds the kids growing more and more savage as they age. The symptoms of the syndrome get so specific that they say the children will eventually regress into cannibalism.

We quickly get our first taste of what these twisted offspring can do when a delivery man comes calling and is artistically dispatched by Virginia, the so called “Spider Baby” of the title. The picture at the head of this article shows the charming young Virginia in action, kind of like a twisted, maniacal Zooey Deschanel. The scene is both incredibly eerie and darkly funny at the same time. While it’s not considered a classic, it’s not everyone who can pull off such black humor. Distant relatives arrive to try and lay claim to the house, but as usually happens in horror movies, they get more than they bargain for. The centerpiece scene of the film has the family serving their guests a meal they’ll never forget. Though they claim they are serving rabbit, they are really serving a housecat that young Ralph killed in the yard.

That isn’t near the end of the quirks in the Merrye family. They keep their dead father’s body in his bedroom and kiss him goodnight. Older members of the family who have regressed past the point of no return are locked up like animals in the basement and seen as playthings for the children. There are even some good, old fashioned, traditional “jump” scares. Watch for the owl. Now, these kids may seem evil, but can we blame them? They are casualties of biology, misfits of medicine, and monsters of nature. The movie is constructed as such for us to revel in their violent and terrible actions. Plus, even in its campy humor, there is justice meted out, and the end has a fun little twist. Consider it another side of the coin represented by the X-Files episode called “Home.”



Rosemary’s Baby (1968, Roman Polanski)

Rosemary’s Baby is definitely the most well known film among these three. Roman Polanski’s first American production is a study in the evil that is found in the everyday. John Cassevettes and Mia Farrow play young couple Guy and Rosemary Woodhouse, having just moved into a Gothic 19th century apartment building in New York while Guy looks for acting gigs. While there, strange things start to happen, much of it incredibly subtle. In fact, they are so subtle that some of them could only be caught with a second viewing. As one example, Guy seems to hate their nosy neighbors at first, played brilliantly by Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer, but then quickly takes a liking to them. It goes almost unnoticed due to Cassevettes’ wonderful performance, which mixes normalcy and impotent anger.

As the film progresses, stranger things start to happen, until eventually Rosemary has what appears to be a fever dream with satanic and demonic imagery. She screams out, “This is no dream! This is really happening!” We, of course, are merely left to wonder for ourselves. Rosemary becomes pregnant in June of 1966. That’s right, in the 6th month of the 66th year. With the help of some outsiders, especially an old friend, Rosemary starts some digging into the history of the building and its residents, finding out that all of her neighbors are essentially the devil’s coffee klatsch. The ending leaves us guessing. Are we seeing a testament to the power of motherhood or the seductive power of evil? Polanski has never been one to spell it out for the audience.

Rosemary’s Baby is the second of Polanski’s apartment trilogy, preceded by Repulsion and followed by The Tenant, both of which gave me horrible nightmares. The evil in Rosemary’s Baby is a different kind of evil than that portrayed in the other two films. Rather than an inner madness, the evil in this film is from outside, yet forcing its way into the lives of an ordinary couple. It takes the worst things that can happen to a newlywed couple in a new apartment to an extreme. Unfortunately, that kind of evil, the kind that inserts itself into one’s life uninvited, actually visited Polanski’s wife Sharon Tate and their friends just one year later.

The power of Rosemary’s Baby lay in its contrast of evil in an ordinary setting. One doesn’t expect the old, kindly couple next door to be Satanists. One doesn’t expect one’s newlywed husband to be enthralled by their dark magic. One doesn’t expect their first child to be the son of the devil. Though these events surely veer toward the religious and mythological, most of the film is set in the ordinary world. You don’t see any dark magic other than the fever dream. There are no spells or monsters or even maniacal killers. There are just neighbors, but what they hide behind their ordinariness is terrifying.

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