95.) Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) In addition to its endless imitators, Jack Finney’s 1955 novel “The Body Snatchers” had four credited feature film adaptations, and three of them are actually good. This 1978 version may not quite live up to the first, released in 1956, directed by Don Siegel and written by Daniel Mainwaring, but it is still among the genre’s, even the whole of cinema’s, greats. It understood what makes a truly distinctive remake: a recognition that the world has changed, and though the old stories still speak to this new world, the language should be adapted to convey the full potency. Think of how Mafia movies borrow from Shakespeare, it’s not laziness, it’s the pursuit of a contemporary vocabulary for the for the greatest of all dramas, which is, in fact, what Shakespeare himself did, as almost all his plays are adaptations of older material. Here, director Philip Kaufman (much honored but not especially known for SF, F, & H genre film) and screenwriter W.D. Richter, (also honored, though not to the same degree as Kaufman, but far more known for his genre works) saw what Finney’s novel, a potently political but non-ideological fable of the corrosiveness of conformity, needed to address the alienated 1970s as sharply as it did in Communism and McCarthyism obsessed 1950s. As Stella Hurtley in Variety wrote, it validates the entire concept of remakes.” Even if this had not been a remake, the audience probably could’ve guessed the outline of the story even before entering the theatre; good filmmakers have to be conscious of that when faced with such a tale. Here the strategy was to admit the audience would always be one step ahead of the action, and build the suspense out of the protagonists’ desperate attempts to play catch up. For example, there’s a prologue set in deep space, so no hiding the aliens this time, where we see their wispy forms even before we see any people (lovely looking scene, accomplished with the cheapest FX props imaginable). Then they deposit themselves as drops of gelatinous ooze on the leaves of some trees in a San Francisco park, and that ooze sinisterly grows tendrils. Only then is one of the main protagonists introduced, Matthew Bennell (Donald Sutherland), who will prove to be the film’s main hero. The odd new plant, which has now produced a flower, pricks his curiosity, but it is obvious he doesn’t feel threatened – and for the rest of the movie, even after he realizes the Earth’s been invaded by hostile entities, we always know more than he does. He works in the San Francisco Health Department with Elizabeth Driscoll (Brooke Adams), whom he pines for, but she has a boyfriend. She is even more fascinated by the new flower, and even less concerned; a hobbyist-gardener, she goes as far to cultivate it, dooming her boyfriend (who was kind of a jerk anyway). These characters’ pre-invasion lives are well-fleshed out; both leads are dedicated, capable, and over-worked. Unsanitary restaurants initially distract them from the new puzzle, but piece-by-piece they link this non-native plant to an apparent outbreak of psychological disorders. But they initially they got it backwards, they think the paranoid people are the ones infected; no, it’s the ones the paranoids are afraid of that are the problem. And that’s how the really mean undercurrents kick in. The heart of this interpretation of the story is that when these latter-generation-doppelganger-invaders-from-outer-space switch places with our neighbours and loved ones, it is even more difficult to tell who is a pod-person and who isn’t than in the original film -- because the humans were already less human before the aliens arrived. Early in the film, a local dry cleaner starts ranting, “My wife, she wrong, different...That not my wife!” Outside of a Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror film, in a world where we can comfortably trust the man is a delusional, there’s two ways for an observer to respond to him: with compassion for the mentally ill, or dismissal because we do not want to be face-to-face with an aberration. If you are among the former, your fate in this film will come harder than if you are of the latter. Another example is Elizabeth’s boyfriend -- early on, he makes out with her on the couch while watching a sporting event on TV, but interrupts her mid-kiss to cheer a score; that’s the best he can manage as a human. Later, after he’s replaced, the doppelganger coolly prepares a pod to suck the life out of sleeping Elizabeth, and then goes to watch TV, echoing the earlier scene, but this time he’s not watching the game, it’s a live-feed of a factory he’s responsible for monitoring. This is a brutalizing satire on the sheep-like shallowness of the “Me Generation.” It references the era’s faddish cults and pop-psychology with alien’s ominous sales pitch, You will be born again into an untroubled world (sound like “Im Okay, Youre Okay,” much?). For most of its length it doesn’t come off quite as embittered as, let’s say, “The Long Goodbye” (1973), but unlike the Private Eye thriller, it does conclude with the end of the world; maybe the film makers are hinting that’s what we deserve. Why not embrace being a pod-person? You’re halfway there already. No, the film’s not that harsh, the film’s fatalism is deftly embodied by the deceptively shallow psycho-babble of supporting character Dr. David Kibner (played with great charm and wit by Leonard Nimoy, and his casting was obviously an in-joke based on his “Star Trek” character) but for the four central protagonists, Matthew, Elizabeth, grouchy poet Jack Bellicec (Jeff Goldblum), and his goof-ball wife Nancy Bellicec (Veronica Cartwright) all see the loss of humanity is a tragedy, something to be railed against; they are all excellent, nicely summed up by Janet Maslin, “individually impressive and a very smooth ensemble”. Jack, for example, gets sick of Kibner’s pallid prescriptions for happiness even before he realizes the whole of the human race is in danger, and with a single sentence mocking Kibner, he, unconsciously but still perfectly, equates what we’ve done to ourselves with what the aliens are about to do to us, Hes trying to change people to fit the world. Im trying to change the world to fit people. This film, like all the good versions of the novel, and the better of its imitators, and for that matter every Zombie movie ever made that isn’t complete garbage, share a common theme – that the human part of the human being is precious, and the paranoia evoked by the threat is rooted in being able to conceptualize what will be lost. Most important in selling this theme here is the most obvious difference between this version and the original film -- the change of setting from small town to big city. Small towns have close interpersonal ties, everybody knows everybody. Meanwhile, I live in a city, in an apartment building, I don’t even know everyone who lives on my floor, never mind the whole building. Because of this, the pods can do as they whilst, and when the real humans, distracted from real values, finally notice, it’s already too late. The original built suspense out of its economy, this version creates suspense in its destiny of detail. This approach was somewhat shocking because (though you’d never realize it as you watch it) this was a pretty low-budget film. As stated before, the very high-quality FX were the product of incredibly budget-stretching inventiveness, and though being shot entirely on location in San Francisco leant the film a big-budget grandeur, the actual techniques used were borrowed from micro-budget auteur Larry Cohen, like having many of the street scenes filmed by hidden camera as the actors mixed with unsuspecting civilians (see #94 in this list). This film is much a triumph of cinematography as it is of direction and script. It mixes the techniques of cinema verite with old-school noir, daylight scenes are conventionally lit and composed but the camera is hyper, meanwhile night time is all weird angels as expressionistic shadows, the contrast establishing a the world has been turned upside down. The deeper into the film we go, the more takes place a night. Like few other films in history, there’s something extra squeezed into every frame, like early on, a car windshield gets broken – no bearing on the plot -- but as the story progresses, we look through its fracture more and more, it becomes emotionally significant. There are too many reflections, odd details, and rays of curiously coloured light. As cinematographer Michael Chapman said, “we did whatever we could to be outrageous.” Other acknowledged masters put all their best on full display here, like sound man Ben Burtt, filling both the ambient and specific noise with the odd hiss of a dry cleaning machine, sirens, pig squeals, slowed-down baby cries, even an ultrasound of his own unborn child’s fetal heartbeat. In the climax, with Mathew in a pod factory desperate to develop a plan to save his species, there’s a tinny sounding radio in the background playing Amazing Grace. The score was created by noted jazz musician Denny Zeitlin with the assistance of Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia (who has a cameo in the film). It’s amazingly atmospheric and earned enormous praise, so he got inundated with score requests after, but had so hated the ten weeks of round-the-clock work, he’s never worked on another film. You’ll be hard pressed to find a darker film than this one, but it is also ripe with in-jokes and cheerful cameos (well, cheerful for those who spot them). I already mentioned Nimoy and Garcia. Robert DeNiro as a moment as a priest, who very sinister but for no clear reason. And the actor who played the hero of the first, Kevin McCarthy, appears, reprising the second to last scene of the original – this time it works out worse for him. And the director, Don Siegel, appears a cab driver (fun anecdote: Siegel refused to his thick glasses on camera and he was actually driving. The cameraman stated that the actors in the back seat looked petrified). The film proved a critical and box office success, ranking number one on its opening weekend and earning $25 million overall (that’s not far shy of ten times the original investment). As Pauline Kael wrote, “it may be the best film of its kind ever made.” https://youtube/watch?v=52vK2-Dv1TA
Posted on: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 13:24:28 +0000
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