Review: John Carpenter's The Thing

My ever-indulgent wife and daughter just finished watching this great film with me. For them, it was probably their second or third viewing; for me, it had to be at least the seventh or eighth time, dating all the way back to seeing it in the theatre in 1982. To say that I love this movie would be putting it mildly.

While I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's a perfect film, it's probably about as close to a perfect horror movie as I've ever seen. The only other candidate for that distinction is the original Alien, by Ridley Scott. Those two classics of the genre tower above the rest, for my money. That's admittedly not a terribly high bar, considering how many awful horror films have been produced, typically dumbed down to a movie-maker's idea of the lowest common denominator in terms of the intelligence of an average teenager. Looked at from that viewpoint, it's amazing we ever get any good scary flicks!

John Carpenter's The Thing, on the other hand, positively challenges its audience to keep up! In fact, I've had people tell me that they didn't enjoy the film because there're too many characters and they can't keep track of who's who. While I can appreciate that complaint - I remember being overwhelmed by trying to follow it all when I saw it for the first time - it's the sort of thing that rewards you more with each subsequent viewing. And to screenplay writer Bill Lancaster's credit, each of the dozen characters who make up the ensemble cast have a very distinct and recognizable personality, rather than just serving as cannon fodder for the beastie.

Another typical complaint about the show, made by folks as esteemed as Roger Ebert, concerns the gore level of many of the transformational scenes. I have to admit that one of the most attractive aspects of this version of the story for me, as compared to the original 1951 Howard Hawkes version (also a favourite of mine), was the originality and courage shown in presenting a truly alien alien! If those scenes make your stomach churn, I've always thought, then good! That's exactly what you'd expect to feel if you ever found yourself in that situation, after all.

Watching The Thing again tonight, I was struck for the first time by just how brilliant and yet utilitarian the opening several minutes of the film really are. The arrival of the not-quite-right dog, pursued by the seemingly-crazy Norwegians, all the way through the trip to the Norwegian outpost and back, serve several important purposes that never really occurred to me until tonight. Sure, it's setting up all of the events that follow, and doing so in an oblique enough manner so as to leave the audience scratching their heads, but it's so much more than that. Revealing the fate of the group that initially unearthed the frozen Thing provides foreshadowing of what's in store for the men that we're just getting to know, as well as making the story circular, in a way. The Norwegians have already had their adventure, and with that opening scene they unintentionally pass the torch to their successors, and it begins once again. That's a pretty clever storytelling trick! And to top it all off, the first of two homages to the Hawkes 1951 version is paid when the Americans review the videotapes retrieved from their neighbours' camp, and we see a circle of men out on the ice, surrounding the buried spacecraft. This is a direct recreation of events from the previous film, and makes this tale feel almost like a sequel, rather than re-make, to 1951's The Thing From Another Planet.

The central appeal of the movie, of course, is trying to figure out who's a Thing, and when they become one. (Much of the discussion after watching it seems to revolve around just that activity.) Since this is, for most of the film, the same activity that the characters themselves are engaged in, it makes for an interesting empathy between viewer and viewee. And, for once in a horror tale, the people in the thick of the terror are at least as smart as the rest of us. We've been trained to expect them to refuse to believe what's happening to them at first - that doesn't happen here - and then to be incapable of doing anything to help themselves, with the notable exception of a hero or two. Fortunately, this is a different kind of deal, and it's all we can do to follow the connections that the characters draw, as they initially fall into mutual distrust, before eventually determining a clever way to rebuild their broken bonds. By the time the group has been winnowed down to four, and they all know they're humans, you can feel the energy between them as they work together to fend off any chance of further contamination. If only they hadn't lost track of Blair along the way...

The second homage to the original version, where a flaming Thing is lit on fire, bursts through the outpost's door and races out onto the snow, still gives me shivers every time I see it. More than anything else, though, it reminds me of just how much more depth there is to this film. The original Joseph Campbell short story, Who Goes There?, upon which both movies are based, is much closer in tone to the remake than the original. In Campbell's ahead-of-its-time yarn, the difficult question of "Who can you trust?" takes on a more diabolical importance than readers were used to at that time. Carpenter's version perfectly captures that aspect, which was largely ignored in Hawkes' more conventional take.

One of the best lines to be found in John Carpenter's The Thing occurs when Palmer, upon seeing Norris' upside-down head, running away on spidery legs, absolutely deadpans: "You've got to be fucking kidding!" That scene immediately follows the most memorable image for many, which is that of the doctor trying to defibulate Norris after an apparent heart attack. Those who've seen it will probably never forget the sight of Norris's chest levering open to reveal a giant set of teeth, with which the creature chomps off the doctor's arms just below the elbows! Amazingly graphic stuff!

While scenes like the one described above will probably make it impossible for some people to enjoy John Carpenter's The Thing, for me it's one of the greatest examples of its genre. From the opening, bone-chilling musical tones, through to the intentionally-ambiguous ending that challenges you to draw your own conclusion, there's just not an off-note to be found. I say that after eight or so viewings, over the span of a quarter of a century. And that sort of thing doesn't happen very often in my experience.

Rating: ****