Director: John Carpenter
Writers: Bill Lancaster, John W. Campbell Jr.
Photography: Dean Cundey
Music: Ennio Morricone
Editor: Todd C. Ramsay
Cast: Kurt Russell, Wilford Brimley, T.K. Carter, David Clennon, Richard Dysart, Richard Masur, Keith David, Charles Hallahan, Peter Maloney, Donald Moffat, Adrienne Barbeau
I see my Halliwell’s film guide falls decidedly on the side of the 1951 original of this picture, which gets two stars to John Carpenter’s 1982 remake’s none: “filled with revolting detail which alienated most audiences,” it tut-tuts. That’s funny because most audiences I know are united on preferring the Carpenter version (billed fore and aft in the titles as John Carpenter’s The Thing so file under J). That includes me, both thumbs wildly up, Howard Hawks or no. I’m not always on the side of, well, let’s call them modernists. I think, for example, many of them might also prefer Philip Kaufman’s 1978 remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers to the 1956 original directed by Don Siegel. I definitely prefer the original in that case.
My problems with The Thing as a franchise may start with the original 1938 story by John W. Campbell, Jr., “Who Goes There?” I found it deeply pulpy and dull but a reread may be in order at some point. There is no denying its place as a pioneering landmark of horror SF, with aliens from outer space that have an unusual ability to mimic other species biologically. Even Halliwell’s noticed that the 1951 movie, widely rumored to have been directed by Howard Hawks, dropped the conceit, noting it contains “the first space monster on film, and is quite nimbly made, though it fails to use the central gimmick from the original story.” It is actually exactly that central gimmick that makes Carpenter’s version superior in my mind, along with a bigger budget, a few decades of special effects technology improvements, and a commitment to the visceral. Some other time for nimble direction.
I see my Halliwell’s film guide falls decidedly on the side of the 1951 original of this picture, which gets two stars to John Carpenter’s 1982 remake’s none: “filled with revolting detail which alienated most audiences,” it tut-tuts. That’s funny because most audiences I know are united on preferring the Carpenter version (billed fore and aft in the titles as John Carpenter’s The Thing so file under J). That includes me, both thumbs wildly up, Howard Hawks or no. I’m not always on the side of, well, let’s call them modernists. I think, for example, many of them might also prefer Philip Kaufman’s 1978 remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers to the 1956 original directed by Don Siegel. I definitely prefer the original in that case.
My problems with The Thing as a franchise may start with the original 1938 story by John W. Campbell, Jr., “Who Goes There?” I found it deeply pulpy and dull but a reread may be in order at some point. There is no denying its place as a pioneering landmark of horror SF, with aliens from outer space that have an unusual ability to mimic other species biologically. Even Halliwell’s noticed that the 1951 movie, widely rumored to have been directed by Howard Hawks, dropped the conceit, noting it contains “the first space monster on film, and is quite nimbly made, though it fails to use the central gimmick from the original story.” It is actually exactly that central gimmick that makes Carpenter’s version superior in my mind, along with a bigger budget, a few decades of special effects technology improvements, and a commitment to the visceral. Some other time for nimble direction.
That’s not to say Carpenter isn’t nimble himself in his own way. The first half of The Thing methodically establishes things: the setting in frigid Antarctica as winter begins, the mystery of the Norwegian mission, that fucking dog that keeps prowling around. It opens on a shot of a flying saucer falling to Earth, but doesn’t let us know until much later that the scene is from tens or hundreds of thousands of years ago. That flying saucer and its terrible cargo have been lying there like that for that long. I will say I was surprised to find out the locations were into the snowy norths of British Columbia, with temperatures reaching 30-below. It looked more realistic in the second half of the picture, but I was often distracted early on by the look and feel. You don’t run around with your ears exposed in below-zero temperatures and sometimes they seemed barely bothered to put on a warm coat. That got better as the picture went on anyway.
The cast is a motley jumble, too many to easily distinguish. Kurt Russell as MacReady is the star and stands out, of course, but he’s also so young he’s almost pretty. A certain ridiculous sense of macho swaggers around a lot here, not just MacReady, but he’s the one lugging around a quart of booze and drinking out of it at will. So legit. Outbursts of saloon-style brawling are there for those inclined. MacReady always wins, spoiler. My favorite was Palmer (David Clennon) who is just as improbably always puffing on a joint. “They're falling out of the skies like flies. Government knows all about it, right, Mac?” he says. “Chariots of the Gods, man. They practically own South America. I mean, they taught the Incas everything they know.”
But this alien is not those aliens. The alien or aliens here are more like the relentless biomorph in Alien and we’re finally up against pitched interspecies battles. Our ultimate weapon is the industrial flame-thrower. The life form here has awesome mimicking powers and an unstoppable will to live. Transitioning time is required as it adapts itself biologically. The genius of this movie is to go directly to those transitions and dwell there. I suppose it’s fair to call it a midnight movie gross-out special, as the hideous tissue glistens and pulsates. But the images created by Rob Bottin are more than gross, they feel like they come from some dank area of the unconscious, familiar yet disturbing, disturbing because they are familiar. The masses of tissue represented as some kind of alien corpse are art sculptures unto themselves, with random recognizable external features from creatures we know, including distorted faces of humans.
The mimicking power inevitably adds a whole new level of paranoia to the proceedings, the kind of paranoia found in that original 1956 Invasion. I’m almost surprised the 1951 original didn’t go for it. You know, the alien could be any one of us. It’s not me but it could be you. Lots of side-eye, heavy suspense, occasional steadicam down the narrow corridors for the claustrophobic vibe. What’s more, it’s obviously really fucking cold out here now. The last 20 minutes—heroic line: “Yeah, fuck you, too!”—are much of a munitions show with lots of explosions, but it all winds down to an almost perfect ending that is there to be discovered, with arguably a candidate for greatest last line ever: “Why don’t we just wait here for a little while? See what happens.” Chef’s kiss, as they say.
I’m actually a little surprised to find this is my first write-up of a John Carpenter picture. Seems like I should have got to him by now. I was kind of dubious about The Thing until my recent look. I saw it when it was still relatively new, like out at the cheapie theaters a few months after release. This was only my second look since, but I sure liked it a lot this time. I have always loved They Live for the concept and, in a way, for the woodenness. I do find a certain woodenness in most of his pictures, which I think he made work very well in Starman, my favorite by him, rom-com and all. I grudgingly give Halloween its due in the annals of horror movies, but it has always felt mechanical to me. I’ve taken it as what his fanbase considers his masterpiece. Jamie Lee Curtis does make a classic final girl. I am honestly a little surprised to find The Thing outranking it in the big list at They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?, presently at #208 to #581. I actually have lots to see by Carpenter (or resee? not always sure these days sorry to say!): Dark Star, Assault on Precinct 13, The Fog, Escape From New York, Christine, etc. into the 21st century. Busy busy. Good times.
The cast is a motley jumble, too many to easily distinguish. Kurt Russell as MacReady is the star and stands out, of course, but he’s also so young he’s almost pretty. A certain ridiculous sense of macho swaggers around a lot here, not just MacReady, but he’s the one lugging around a quart of booze and drinking out of it at will. So legit. Outbursts of saloon-style brawling are there for those inclined. MacReady always wins, spoiler. My favorite was Palmer (David Clennon) who is just as improbably always puffing on a joint. “They're falling out of the skies like flies. Government knows all about it, right, Mac?” he says. “Chariots of the Gods, man. They practically own South America. I mean, they taught the Incas everything they know.”
But this alien is not those aliens. The alien or aliens here are more like the relentless biomorph in Alien and we’re finally up against pitched interspecies battles. Our ultimate weapon is the industrial flame-thrower. The life form here has awesome mimicking powers and an unstoppable will to live. Transitioning time is required as it adapts itself biologically. The genius of this movie is to go directly to those transitions and dwell there. I suppose it’s fair to call it a midnight movie gross-out special, as the hideous tissue glistens and pulsates. But the images created by Rob Bottin are more than gross, they feel like they come from some dank area of the unconscious, familiar yet disturbing, disturbing because they are familiar. The masses of tissue represented as some kind of alien corpse are art sculptures unto themselves, with random recognizable external features from creatures we know, including distorted faces of humans.
The mimicking power inevitably adds a whole new level of paranoia to the proceedings, the kind of paranoia found in that original 1956 Invasion. I’m almost surprised the 1951 original didn’t go for it. You know, the alien could be any one of us. It’s not me but it could be you. Lots of side-eye, heavy suspense, occasional steadicam down the narrow corridors for the claustrophobic vibe. What’s more, it’s obviously really fucking cold out here now. The last 20 minutes—heroic line: “Yeah, fuck you, too!”—are much of a munitions show with lots of explosions, but it all winds down to an almost perfect ending that is there to be discovered, with arguably a candidate for greatest last line ever: “Why don’t we just wait here for a little while? See what happens.” Chef’s kiss, as they say.
I’m actually a little surprised to find this is my first write-up of a John Carpenter picture. Seems like I should have got to him by now. I was kind of dubious about The Thing until my recent look. I saw it when it was still relatively new, like out at the cheapie theaters a few months after release. This was only my second look since, but I sure liked it a lot this time. I have always loved They Live for the concept and, in a way, for the woodenness. I do find a certain woodenness in most of his pictures, which I think he made work very well in Starman, my favorite by him, rom-com and all. I grudgingly give Halloween its due in the annals of horror movies, but it has always felt mechanical to me. I’ve taken it as what his fanbase considers his masterpiece. Jamie Lee Curtis does make a classic final girl. I am honestly a little surprised to find The Thing outranking it in the big list at They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?, presently at #208 to #581. I actually have lots to see by Carpenter (or resee? not always sure these days sorry to say!): Dark Star, Assault on Precinct 13, The Fog, Escape From New York, Christine, etc. into the 21st century. Busy busy. Good times.
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