Dark Tidings

Unless you were a kid in the '70s, Don't Be Afraid of the Dark is probably a title you're unfamiliar with. And if you did happen to catch up with this 1973 TV movie along the way on VHS or DVD, chances are it didn't resonate with you the way it still does for many Gen-Xers. It's a cult film but hardly a classic. Even those who were given sleepless nights by it as children would be hard-pressed to say that it remains frightening today.

As one of Don't Be Afraid of the Dark's original audience, producer Guillermo del Toro does a fine job of retooling this now-hokey childhood traumatizer into a film that ably works for an audience of 2011 while still retaining enough of the '73 version for fans to recognize. This being the first feature of director Troy Nixey, his contribution to Don't Be Afraid of the Dark is inevitably going to be somewhat overshadowed by the presence of del Toro on the project - especially as this film boasts so many trademark del Toro touches from its story elements to its production design (del Toro wrote the screenplay along with frequent writing partner Matthew Robbins). It will take further films from Nixey to really determine what kind of filmmaker he is but this is unarguably a finely directed film and based on its smooth execution, it seems that the producer/director relationship behind it was an artistically harmonious one.

A key change in this remake from the original is that, unlike the '73 Dark which featured a lonely and neglected housewife (Kim Darby) as the protagonist, here the heroine is a young girl named (after Darby's character) Sally (Bailee Madison). As the movie opens, Sally has just been figuratively dumped on her father's doorstep by her mother. In this case, her father's doorstep is Blackwood Manor, a gloomy piece of Rhode Island real estate that Sally's architect dad (Guy Pearce) is in the midst of restoring with the assist of his new interior decorator girlfriend Kim (Katie Holmes).

Sally is miserable in her new surroundings and with her new semi-step mom figure. But then she discovers a long-shuttered basement to Blackwood Manor from which Sally can hear strange whispers, promising friendship. But viewers of the original - as well as anyone who takes in the grisly prologue to this film, for that matter - know that whatever is calling out to Sally only intends to bring her harm.

It was wise of del Toro and Robbins to switch to a child protagonist as Darby's Sally seems like a relic of another time, when (sadly) it wasn't so jarring to see a grown woman be so unable to help herself. To try and retell that character's story for today's audiences would've been disastrous. And while the idea of a kid protagonist can be cause for concern, with expectations of a cloying or obnoxiously precocious character, Madison thankfully doesn't play one of those typical movie kids who seems too advanced for their years. As for Pearce and Holmes, while neither is playing the most vivid of characters, they're both fine in their roles.

In changing the central characters of Don't Be Afraid of the Dark from a young married couple to an ill-fit family unit, del Toro and Robbins still left the basic bones of the original storyline intact and that means that this remains a very simple tale - perhaps too simple for some, given the pedigree behind it. Del Toro's name on a film automatically raises critical expectations and Don't Be Afraid of the Dark may be too modest of a production to please those who go in looking for something along the lines of Pan's Labyrinth. Staying true to the spirit of the original, this is meant as a straight-forward spine-tingler and for those who aren't necessarily genre fans, that might not be enough. For myself, I loved that this was just about crafting a small, solid genre piece. It's not out to rewrite the book or bust any conventions and it doesn't try to be an FX extravaganza.

From the previews, I was worried about the creature's look. I expected to be turned off by the CGI but unless I'm forgetting some other film (or films), this might be the first case in which wholly CGI monsters are pulled off effectively (as opposed to, say, Jurassic Park or Starship Troopers where CGI was combined with other methods).

If it's not the first, it's definitely the first in a while. After seeing so many contemporary monster movies, like Super 8, being let down by disappointingly designed, lazily rendered, instantly forgettable CGI creatures, I was thrilled to see how well the tiny homunculi were realized here. Nixey keeps them in the shadows for the most part but when they need to be revealed, there's as much detail to them as if they'd been sculpted by hand. And they're able to express real emotion as well, with some of their reactions being among the most memorable shots in the film.

There are a few points to quibble with - the relationship between the gruff handyman (Jack Thompson) and the creatures is only vaguely explained and even seemingly impossible, given the length of time the creatures have been sealed off for. And for such malicious creatures, it's curious that they refrain from killing at times where they have ample opportunity, conveniently leaving fallen characters a chance to recover.

I also must've missed out on why Holmes' character has a vintage Polaroid instant camera. At first I thought it was because the story was set in the '70s but cellphones abound so that explanation is out.

The easiest reasoning is that it's a nod to the original in which Darby's Sally used flashbulbs at one point to ward off the creatures (at least I seem to remember that she did) and, in the end, I like that del Toro and Nixey inject this anachronistic tech into their modern movie with no excuse given. In fact, no one even comments on it - although even a young kid in our digital age would remark on what a strange sight it is. The camera is there simply because del Toro and Nixey wanted it to be there. As fans, they understand that in a horror movie, anything to set the proper mood comes before logic.

Mood is something Don't Be Afraid of the Dark has in spades. The production design of Roger Ford is outstanding and even when nothing "big" is going on - which, honestly, is for most of the movie - it's a pleasure to soak in the marvelous sets and autumnal locations (this was filmed in Melbourne, Australia - which does a mostly good job of subbing for New England). For many, this will be an easy film to shrug off but I appreciated the skill behind this minor, but lovingly made, effort.

It's a lesson in the do's - and don't's - of horror filmmaking.

The Uncertain Future Of Big Budget Horror

With Paramount's in-development adaptation of Max Brook's zombie novel World War Z now looking to be the second case in recent weeks - after Universal aborted Guillermo del Toro's At The Mountains of Madness - of skittish studios abandoning ambitious horror projects in the face of cost concerns, one has to wonder if big budget horror has any future at all.

For the most part, I'm actually sympathetic to studio execs for not having the nerve to back a project as expensive as ATMOM. While it was practically a lock to have been a great movie - I think del Toro and producer James Cameron would've ensured that it lived up to all expectations - I doubt that it would've been profitable. Fans eager to see that project realized can proclaim that it would have been a guaranteed hit - but to be a hit as huge as it would've needed to be to justify a $150 million production cost? I don't know. And $125 million for World War Z seems damn high as well. But if - as reported - Paramount is aiming for that film to be PG-13, maybe it's just as well if that project fails to continue (although, to be fair, The Walking Dead gets away with as much gore on basic cable as I really need to see in a zombie movie these days).

Whatever the commercial chances of these two films, they were definitely projects that fans were hoping would raise the bar of artistic ambition on the current genre scene. Now that it looks like they're going to be shelved - likely permanently - it may be a clear sign that big budget horror is dead in Hollywood and that's a shame. While the lifeblood of the genre has always been found in independent cinema, big budget, studio-produced horror has its own vital legacy - as seen in The Exorcist, Alien, The Shining, John Carpenter's The Thing, and other classics.

As much as I love the raw, scrappy likes of The Evil Dead and The Blair Witch Project and the resourcefulness that they embody, I also love it when filmmakers get to make a horror movie with real money and top-shelf talent (both in front of and behind the camera). The Birds, for instance, couldn't have been done without groundbreaking FX work; Gore Verbinski's remake of The Ring took excellent advantage of its expanded resources without ever becoming crass; Zack Synder's Dawn of the Dead remake delivered apocalyptic sights that no other zombie movie had before; and I'm forever grateful that Cannon Films gave Tobe Hooper the money to make his sprawling, messy, utterly daffy Lifeforce.

That last example, of course, is one reason why studios won't automatically foot the bill for a lavish horror picture - because the risks can be catastrophic. These days, to play it safe, high-end horror films either have to be action/horror hybrids (like this year's Priest) or they have to be Twilight movies (or wanna-be Twilight movies like Red Riding Hood) and even those aren't nearly as pricey to produce as ATMOM or World War Z would've been. Which leads me to ask - why do those two films have to be so insanely costly? I know the price of everything is going up these days but $150 million for ATMOM? Really?

I admire del Toro for not wanting to compromise his dream Lovecraft project but isn't the history of horror - the history of filmmaking - largely defined by compromises? Many would say the fact that the mechanical shark in Jaws wasn't good enough to withstand more than the most limited of screen time helped that movie be the classic that it is. And in making The Shining, Stanley Kubrick had to substitute a hedge maze in place of hedge animals when it was determined that the special effects technology of the time couldn't successfully bring that element of Stephen King's novel to life but yet that maze proved to be one of the most memorable aspects of Kubrick's film.

If del Toro can't make ATMOM for less than $150 million, I'd love to find out what kind of ATMOM adaptation Stuart Gordon would be able to make with, say, a paltry $50 million. Somehow I bet he'd prove it could be done. I mean, I'm sure he would've loved to have had more than just under $5 million for Dagon but that movie still kills. He made it work, rubbery fish faces and all.

But del Toro thinks big and - in the horror genre, especially - that kind of grandiose vision has to be admired. It's just too bad there may not be many more opportunities for that kind of vision to flourish. I'd like to think that we won't be forever deprived of any ambitious, big-budget horror projects in the future but when a film like Paranormal Activity can be made for $15 million and make back almost $200 million, as far as Hollywood is concerned, the best kind of scare will always be a cheap scare.

Summer Shocks 1997: Mimic

Movies about bugs always get under my skin. One of the films from my childhood that traumatzied me the most was Bug (1975), directed by Jeannot Szwarc (responsible for some of the best Night Gallery episodes) and produced and written by horror icon William Castle (his last project before his death in '77, Bug's screenplay was based on the Thomas Page novel The Hephaestus Plague).

I haven't seen Bug since I was a kid but although I expect it would look awfully goofy to me now, back in the day the sight of a woman's head bursting into flames as a bug crawled into her hair and ignited it upset me to no end. The insect world is so freaky to begin with, if Bug told me that fire-farting cockroaches could be released from the Earth one day, I was ready to believe it.

So to sum up: bugs - a real source of anxiety for me (don't even get me started about the spiders in The Mist). Guillermo del Toro's Mimic isn't nearly as freaky as Bug but it's a very respectable addition to the sub-genre of insect horror. Released in the summer of '97 to little notice, it still hasn't been rediscovered - even with del Toro's name meaning much more now than it did in '97. The studio interference that del Toro faced on Mimic did take a toll on the finished film but for the most part, it's a creepy effort that's well worth appreciating.

For my full Summer Shocks review, click here.

A Haunted Memory

They say that art has the power to heal and in the case of the just-announced Guillermo del Toro written and produced (and possibly directed) feature film version of the classic Disney attraction The Haunted Mansion, I hope that'll prove to be true. You see, I need del Toro's big screen Haunted Mansion to mend a bigtime trauma from my childhood in a way that Eddie Murphy's misguided 2003 Haunted Mansion adaptation could never have accomplished.

Back in the far-flung past, my newly remarried mother and my stepfather planned a family trip to Disney World as their honeymoon. We were going to drive from Massachusetts to Florida, hauling our trailer and stay in the Fort Wilderness campground at Disney World for a week full of Magic Kingdom enchantment. This was before Disney World expanded into all the Epcot Center stuff and the Universal Theme Park and whatever else they've got going on these days. But even with "just" the Magic Kingdom to look forward to, I was damn excited.

The one attraction that I wanted to see, the one ride that was going to make this trip unforgettable for me, was (surprise!) The Haunted Mansion. Even before any plans for us to go to Disney were hatched, I knew all about The Haunted Mansion. I had a book about it, a kid's illustrated book, that I used to read over and over. I would search for any kind of pictures about the actual attraction in books about Disney World. I was a Haunted Mansion junkie.

For the months leading up to the trip, being in The Haunted Mansion was nearly all I thought about. It was damn sure all I thought about during the long, two-day drive down to Florida. When we finally got to Disney World, it was agony waiting to get our trailer situated and to get over to the Magic Kingdom itself. I was done with waiting by this time - done with it!

Once we were through the gates of the Magic Kingdom, I dragged my mom and stepdad past whatever attractions were between me and The Haunted Mansion. The spinning teacups, Space Mountain, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride - all of that second rate shit could wait. As we got to the Liberty Square area, I could see the Mansion. It was finally right in front of me. But oddly, there didn't seem to be any line to get in. Hey, fine by me - I wasn't in the mood to stand around. But as we got closer, there was a sign on a post near the Mansion informing visitors that this attraction would be closed for renovation for the next two weeks. I repeat: CLOSED. FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS.

On reading those words, I literally dropped to my knees and cried out "NOOOOOO!!" My childhood had its share of let downs but Dear God, what a blow this was. The wind was completely knocked out of me. For all I cared, we could've driven back to Massachusetts right then. After that intial shock, I rallied and managed to have a reasonably good - sometimes great - time over the next seven days. I was, after all, a kid in Disney World. But for the rest of our stay, every time that I walked past that closed Mansion, it was like seeing the ghost of what might've been.

So while some might find the notion of del Toro tackling a Haunted Mansion movie as being beneath his prodigious talent level, I'm all for it. I never returned to Disney World since that trip thirty years ago and although I'd love to do so sometime - especially now that I'm married with a young son - the chances are slim that it'll happen. At least not anytime soon. So the thought of a truly outstanding Haunted Mansion movie - and in 3-D? - now that I can get behind.

Maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up too much. The last time I looked forward to The Haunted Mansion, it didn't work out so well. I can't help it, though - the kid in me is still dying to get into that ride.