Embracing fatalism can be liberating.
John Carpenter is one of my favorite filmmakers (top five is probably Michael Mann, Coen Brothers, John Sayles, John Carpenter, and Alfred Hitchcock). I think it’s pretty cool that he composes, writes, directs, and edits for his movies. I love the DIY aesthetic present in most of his work. Like with another DIY favorite, John Sayles, I like how the films have cast and crew who are recurring across multiple projects, giving it a troupe vibe. This is more obvious in Carpenter’s earlier films, as his last four or five movies (roughly between Memoirs of an Invisible Man and The Ward) feel as if something—perhaps studio interference or disinterest in the material—sapped the joy.
(His music remains righteous as hell, and he released a new record this year.)
But we are not talking about Ghost of Mars or The Ward right now. We’re talking The Thing. This is the good shit. We have an iconic Carpenter score, an iconic Carpenter tradition (homage to 1950s cinema), an iconic Carpenter cast and crew, and special effects that remain among the most incredible in all of cinema history.
That last one is why we’re here today. I mainly want to talk special effects and body horror.
I have this very strong memory of being in grade school and encountering Fangoria magazine for the first time at the grocery store. The store in question was a Food Lion in Oakland, Maryland, a store which I believe went under, like so many others, when the goddamned Walmart came to town.
But when Food Lion was still open, I remember that they had a magazine and paperback section in the same aisle as the cereal. And while we’d be getting the boxes and boxes (and boxes) of cornflakes necessary to keep padding the bones of three tall Appalachian children, I’d get to look at the fantasy novels and the magazines. And my memory of Fangoria was that one time, while I was holding some National Geographic or Amazing Spider-Man that I couldn’t buy, I saw something that kicked open the doors to my mind.
Jammed in the comics rack was the torn-open plastic off of a magazine not meant for kids, and jammed in the next rack was a Fangoria. And I flipped through the pages as my family finished the shopping trip, and it was exhilarating. There were black-and-white images of torn limbs and arterial sprays and busty women being mauled by werewolves. You know, the standard, great Fango stuff. And I don’t recall if there was a Rob Bottin or John Carpenter feature, or perhaps a retrospective on the movie itself, but I saw the spider-head monster and the melty bubblegum neck from The Thing. (The year was probably 1989, 1990, 1991, so an enterprising person could trawl the Fango archives to confirm if this is all a false memory.)
And then all I wanted to do with my life was make special effects for movies. This kickstarted my fascination with how movies were made, and how, for example, the T-800 could have its arm crushed in a giant gear even though the (mostly) mortal Arnold Schwarzenegger is just playing a character. I never stopped being obsessed with practical effects, and my love of horror movies is in no small part a love of the mechanisms and act of creation rather than the specific plot beats about, for example, an undead, hockey-mask-wearing machete boi. I wanted to know how Jason Voorhees folded a person in half, not why people saw it as a social commentary on premarital sex.
The Thing is the best of all worlds, though. It lets me indulge my childhood passion for “how did they do that?” while also featuring a masterful story, iconic characters made through great acting performances, an atmospheric soundtrack, and a profound sense of fatalism.
Recently, prior to deciding on a year-by-year retrospective, I had drawn from memory the blood-testing scene to use as a banner art for a lengthier write-up of The Thing. But I was very confused when I actually rewatched the scene play out on a screen. I’d somehow remembered the scene as being from the point-of-view of MacReady, while in reality instead he is shown from the perspective of the other characters. This was for very cool special effects reasons: his left hand holding the petri dish is prosthetic and the exploding blood effect is contained within the fake arm. I was confused as to how I’d misremembered the scene as being a POV shot at Mac, but it is probably because the movie so effectively lets the viewer empathize with every character. I understand Mac’s behavior and headspace, just like I understand that of Childs and Blair and Clark. Regardless of my confusion there, the blood test is one of the coolest special effects that I’ve ever seen, and learning how they did it only made me appreciate it more.
Seeing those pages of movie stills in Fango didn’t prepare me for the fatalism of the movie, but 39 years on earth certainly did. There is a freeness associated with acknowledging mortality. I’ve got decades left, maybe five of them if I get lucky. I don’t know that I’ll ever get into working on practical effects, but I do know that, like Childs and MacReady at the end of the movie, I’m just gonna take things as they come.
MacReady: If we’ve got any surprises for each other, I don’t think we’re in much shape to do anything about it.
Childs: Well, what do we do?
MacReady: Why don’t we just… wait here for a little while… see what happens?
Other candidates released in 1982: Conan the Barbarian; Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid; Fitzcarraldo; Koyaanisqatsi; Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
I turn 40 in December. To commemorate the milestone, I’m writing 40 short biographical essays pertaining to a movie per year of my life.