The Thing from Another World
Christian Nyby, allegedly; US, 1951
It’s Ford’s My Darling Clementine! As in that other towering monument of virtuous Americanness, the good guys here confront some pretty formidable malice, even evil. And as in Ford’s film, standing up against evil carries a considerable cost. There’s no perfunctory scriptsmanship here, and the intensity is such that the real world really stands at the doors. But what an optimistic horror movie! Good humour and modesty never falter, there’s a beautiful, organically developing romance right in the middle of the mounting jeopardy, and at the end of the film the world is not only saved but it’s a better place.
There are so many felicities: fabulous dialogue and a faultless ensemble performance by a bunch of nobodies, the result being that this is a more effective, more socially progressive piece of collective protagonism than Eisenstein’s Strike; a propulsive pace that somehow, simultaneously feels like Henry Fonda leaning back on that chair; superb architecture, most especially in those three escalating Thing/Arness scenes; constant proto-Altman badinage that really constitute expressions of regard and love; philosophic interludes that have the dialectical clarity of a Platonic dialogue; a Renoirian undercurrent that concludes in a very moving statement of humanist solidarity. Doctor Carrington made a terrible mistake and wore facial hair, and at the end they all cheerfully cover up for him. This isn’t cold war paranoia or Nixonian xenophobia. This is a great country. Also, whatever the opening credits may say, there’s no way that Howard Hawks didn’t direct this.
There are so many felicities: fabulous dialogue and a faultless ensemble performance by a bunch of nobodies, the result being that this is a more effective, more socially progressive piece of collective protagonism than Eisenstein’s Strike; a propulsive pace that somehow, simultaneously feels like Henry Fonda leaning back on that chair; superb architecture, most especially in those three escalating Thing/Arness scenes; constant proto-Altman badinage that really constitute expressions of regard and love; philosophic interludes that have the dialectical clarity of a Platonic dialogue; a Renoirian undercurrent that concludes in a very moving statement of humanist solidarity. Doctor Carrington made a terrible mistake and wore facial hair, and at the end they all cheerfully cover up for him. This isn’t cold war paranoia or Nixonian xenophobia. This is a great country. Also, whatever the opening credits may say, there’s no way that Howard Hawks didn’t direct this.
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| River Valley |
The Host
Joon-ho Bong, South Korea, 2006
As the pundits say, the opening river sequence is pretty virtuosic. But that monster is also pretty computery. It's not that big of a deal, but the movie does depend upon the monster a lot. Does this synthetic base keep it all from being completely top tier? The details of the toxic event and its consequences, as well as the details of American oppression and Korean capitulation, are also kind of sketchy. Since it’s a genre picture, and American unilateralism is so well documented, it may be that that shortcoming doesn’t matter as much. Still, it would appear that one single tadpole drank all that formaldehyde.
Anyway, there’s still some great stuff here, and it sure is a crowd pleaser. I’m interested in the wild back and forth in tone, which seem quite intentional and maybe even quite reckless. Director Bong pushes the limits four times, or maybe he’s establishing and then advancing a dramatic motif. First in that community centre/mass wake sequence, when real tear-rimmed eyes poignancy gives way to hysterical grief and then to farce. A similar transformation attends Grandpa’s explanation about Gang-Du’s formidable stupidity. When they’re all chasing the thing there’s lots of silliness and knockabout. Then, suddenly, Grandpa gets killed. At this juncture no laughs are even attempted. (Also of note is the funny/gross bit where the Americans medically experiment on Gang-Du.)
Anyway, there’s still some great stuff here, and it sure is a crowd pleaser. I’m interested in the wild back and forth in tone, which seem quite intentional and maybe even quite reckless. Director Bong pushes the limits four times, or maybe he’s establishing and then advancing a dramatic motif. First in that community centre/mass wake sequence, when real tear-rimmed eyes poignancy gives way to hysterical grief and then to farce. A similar transformation attends Grandpa’s explanation about Gang-Du’s formidable stupidity. When they’re all chasing the thing there’s lots of silliness and knockabout. Then, suddenly, Grandpa gets killed. At this juncture no laughs are even attempted. (Also of note is the funny/gross bit where the Americans medically experiment on Gang-Du.)
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| Same director, different film... |
This has been a successful horror/comedy, but the climactic sequence isn’t funny at all. They’ve set it up well, through the phone call and a few judicious returns to the missing persons. Actually these children give an ultimately prevailing gravity to the whole proceedings. It’s not sentimentality at all, but a powerful, fairy tale sense of their vulnerability and their preciousness. That agent yellow demonstration might be anti-American to the point of ridiculousness, but it also provides a suitably and heart-rendingly apocalyptic setting for the film's heart-breaking conclusion. That little hand in that great, awful maw! When the father reaches in and pulls them out, when we find them embracing and then discover that the little girl has given her life for the little boy, the knockabout nonsense resolves into plain, cathartic tragedy. The sudden alignment of those siblings provides real emotional, narrative, even musical resolution. (The film features a daring, very successful score.) The arrow! And the final, chivalric defeat of the dragon! The coda is very nice.
Maybe it's top tier after all.
