Viking Night: John Carpenter's The Thing
By Bruce Hall
November 9, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com

Is my computer wearing tennis shoes?
Most consumers have no problem loving a huge budget blockbuster. Movies that are meant to appeal to the widest possible audience usually do just that. But some films have a narrower vision, or simply contain more complex meaning than meets the eye. They aren't always art, and they aren't always even very successful. But for a devoted and eccentric few, they're the best entertainment money can buy. Once, beginning with Erik the Viking, a group of dedicated irregulars gathered weekly in a dingy dorm room to watch these films and discuss how what pleases the few might also appeal to the many. Time has separated the others in those discussions so that I alone remain to ponder the wider significance of cult cinema. But while the room is cleaner and I no longer have to skip class to do it, I still think of my far off friends whenever I hold Viking Night.

I’m not a huge fan of horror films but if I’m going to watch one, there are generally a few things I consider mandatory. First, I need the concept to fit the genre. What I mean is, whether you’re a campy slasher flick like Friday the 13th, or a high concept psychological thriller like The Excorcist, all I ask is that you play the part. Don’t try to be something you’re not. Second, I have to have actors who are believable in their roles. They don’t have to be great actors, although that’s always a plus. But whether you’re playing a ditzy cheerleader or a sullen, conflicted priest I’d feel better if the part wasn’t too big for your level of talent. Maybe it’s because I believe you often get efficient results by surrounding one or two credible leads with C-list supporting players, allowing the wheat to be enjoyed and the chaff to get beheaded with a machete. Or maybe it’s because if I have to watch someone die, if you can’t make me care the least you could do is let me laugh. A good director knows this but he also knows that if you can get the first two things right, then the movie’s atmosphere must enhance the story - horror films take place in horrible places, real or imagined. And once you’ve seen to all that, you’d better have a hell of an ending. No matter what kind of horror film it is or who is in it, if you don’t nail these things, you’ve got yourself something that’s probably horrifying for a different reason.

John Carpenter excelled at this early in his career and he put his instincts to good use in what might be his best loved film, The Thing. Utilizing a strong ensemble cast of both veterans and newcomers, Carpenter executed my Prime Directives of Terror to perfection and crafted a timeless classic. It is a dreary, dark, compelling, scary and on two occasions amusing tale of dread and damnation, executed with military precision. And it all starts with a traffic accident - the opening credits tell us that an alien ship crashed in the Antarctic wilderness many years ago. And the memorable, low tech revelation of the film’s title – reminiscent of a slow burning fuse – suggests to us that nothing good is going to come of it. It’s an efficient way to give just enough background to give the audience a hint of what’s coming without letting the story trip over itself. This is good because the story starts at full sprint when a sled dog brings chaos across the frozen wasteland to the doorstep of an American research outpost. A pair of frantic Norwegians (not Swedish!) has chased the pooch halfway across the continent by chopper, blasting rifle rounds and hurling hand grenades at the poor creature all the way. As they follow the animal up to the American camp their haste results in the destruction of a number of things except the dog, leaving the bewildered Americans to wonder what they’ve just witnessed and why. Things quickly go from bewildering to downright deadly when it becomes apparent that the beast is not quite what it seems, and the Norwegians just may have had the right idea all along.

For those who have already seen The Thing, the rest of the film needs no description. But this column is less for the initiated who have the movie committed to memory than it is for the skeptics. So without giving too much away, it’s safe to tell you that the film’s premise involves the alien’s tendency to procreate by assuming the form of whatever creature it touches. In other words, The Thing could copy your biology so well even your mother would think it was you, talking with your mouth full, elbows on the table and all. But rather than approach the subject as a corny third season Star Trek episode, Carpenter treats both his subject and his characters with extreme respect. This is not a cheesy slasher film; this is a deadly serious drama that does not pull punches with its content. The principals are grizzled, tired men who have already spent years isolated to the most hostile environment on earth, doing the thankless work of many a scientist before them. Loneliness, boredom and depression are par for the course when you’ve spent a dog year on the ice. But imagine being in a situation where you know what these men know – that there is a hostile being among you that can assume the identity of anyone at any time? Paranoia quickly runs rampant as longtime friends begin to distrust, dislike and then destroy one another in a feverish fight for life. There is no where to go, nobody to contact, and even if they could, help is days or even months away. It’s just you, your friends, the ice, and The Thing.

In this kind of situation, the cream usually rises to the top. Most of the characters – including the outpost commander - are reluctant to accept the truth of what’s happening to them. Early on, Dr. Blair (Wilford Brimley) assumes charge, quickly coming to a series of chilling conclusions regarding their chances of stopping the creature. Brimley’s own background as a ranch hand allows him to bring equal parts House, M.D. and Hoss Cartwright to his role as the outpost’s gutsy, no nonsense doctor. But while the determined Blair might be the intellectual leader of the group, he’s hardly equipped to take the men into a fight. Getting down to business with a flamethrower and an ice pick falls into the unlikely hands of MacReady, the chopper pilot (Kurt Russell). Fresh off the set of Escape From New York, it is easy to imagine Russell channeling Snake Plissken, having traded in a soldier’s life for solitary time with a helicopter and a bottle of Jameson’s. Like Plissken, MacReady is thrust into his role reluctantly but this time our hero is not a snarling, antisocial scumbag with an eye patch. He’s a brooding, bearded loner with a head full of emotional baggage who quickly realizes that if anyone is going to get out of the ice alive, someone with tremendous survival instincts is going to have to take over. But it isn’t easy being a hero, for as MacReady himself points out; “trust is a hard thing to come by” in this situation. As The Thing continues to infiltrate their ranks, and takes steps to ensure its own survival, trust continues to break down and things begin to look like an every-man-for-himself situation. Eventually neither the audience nor the characters on screen are sure who has been compromised and who has not, making the whole concept of a hero somewhat obsolete.

This is a good place to warn you that despite the gripping suspense and taut dramatic tones, The Thing remains a horror film. When we see the creature assimilating other life forms it is a very graphic process, and although the visual effects are a little dated, they’re still difficult to endure. I have to assume that if you were making a movie in 1982 and you needed fake blood, purple slime, or foam rubber you were either out of luck, or they told you to borrow it from John Carpenter. There is definitely plenty of gore in this movie but rather than use it purely for shock value, Carpenter gives it a realistic edge and raises some basic questions. When a hungry lion tears a zebra to pieces it isn’t personal, nor is it merely a gratuitous spectacle. It’s survival, and aside from the obvious themes of trust and paranoia, The Thing is a movie about survival. MacReady and Blair and the rest of their men certainly don’t want to die, and the pathology of the human survival instinct is on full display here. But is it possible that an alien has found itself stranded in an inhospitable and unfamiliar environment and is just preserving itself the only way it knows how? It’s an interesting thought and it is one that helps The Thing pass one of the best litmus tests of quality fiction. It compels you to momentarily forget that you’re watching a work of fantasy and seriously ask yourself the frightening question, “What would I do, what would I think, and how would I react if I were in that situation?”

A rare mix of both the cerebral and the gory, The Thing is a master work of terror primarily because of what it is, who is in it, and where it takes place. It is part blood soaked nightmare, part chilling study on trust and paranoia, and I suppose it is also part Jack London survival tragedy on steroids. These are probably not the kinds of observations you’re used to seeing about a horror film, but more than any movie I’ve talked about in this column so far, this one succeeds at what it does on virtually every level imaginable. Its concept is simple, but terrifying. The characters and the men playing them are believable and accessible. Add an unforgiving environment from which there is no escape, an enemy for which there is no sure defense and one of cinema’s all time great endings, and you have yourself a flat out masterpiece. As someone who isn’t normally drawn to horror movies I can wholeheartedly say that The Thing is a “thing” all right; it’s a thing of beauty. The upcoming prequel has big snow shoes to fill, but with the story of those poor doomed Norwegians still untold there may be ripe dramatic fruit for the picking. If they stick to the rules of the game and manage to capture even half the greatness of the original, then they’ll have succeeded brilliantly.