Since its inception as a staple of Hollywood horror, the zombie has gone through so many incarnations in commercial films that it may be one of the most versatile movie monsters ever conceived. The modern zombie has developed via several different co-evolving threads, making it somewhat unique as an iconic monster.
Unlike vampire or werewolf myths, which tend to adhere to a common underlying structure, the creation of zombies is usually represented in one of three different ways: first, the zombies may be created through the traditional magic of the Haitian religion known as Voudoun, commonly known among English speakers as “Voodoo.” Creation by way of religious magic typically involves references to Voodoo; however, there are also instances in which the magic has a pagan or Judeo-Christian origin, as in the film Tombs of the Blind Dead, where the undead have their origins in a corrupt branch of the Knights Templar. White Zombie is the classic example of a film that focuses on the Haitian method of zombie creation, and presents its audience with zombies that are not merely meant to terrorize (as the undead in Tombs of the Blind Dead are meant to), but are also used as replaceable, docile working drones that are kept under the direction of their creator: Bela Lugosi’s Legendre, who uses these zombies to work in his sugar mill. Because the film was made during the early years of the Great Depression, it is no great struggle to read a subtextual fear of worker exploitation and mistreatment into the usage of zombies as expendable employees who do not require food or breaks or payment, presumably; particularly chilling is a scene in which one zombie falls into one of the mills, yet none of the other zombies cease working even to remove the body. As Rhodes writes, “the zombies are represented in a more complex manner than as mere slaves; White Zombie portrays them as laborers in a capitalist regime.… They are numb to their own hardships and to the hardships of others that they witness” (45). Yet not all of the zombies in film are worker-drones, as the beautiful Madeline is made into a zombie wife for Charles Beaumont. In effect, Legendre creates for Beaumont a kind of dead-eyed and inhuman sexual slave; when Beaumont can no longer abide by this horror, Legendre reveals his plan to make Beaumont into a zombie as well—though whether he means for Beaumont to become a sexual zombie or a working zombie is not definitive. This idea of a subservient sexual zombie (male or female) is in sharp contrast to the more vicious sexuality in Tombs of the Blind Dead, where the undead Virginia stalks her prey nearly nude and viciously kills the morgue attendant. The source of fear has changed from the idea of being controlled and made to do things against one’s will, as it is in White Zombie, to a sexually charged female presence seeking to destroy others. This change in the role of women, from pawns to monsters and heroines (as Betty is the only survivor on the train at the end of Tombs of the Blind Dead) in their own right, reflects the changes in political and social ideologies concerning woman and the resulting anxieties.
The second common method for the creation of zombies is, in a fashion, the direct opposite of the method of creation via religious magic: science is used instead of magic as a means of creating zombies or of bringing the dead back to life. These two goals are not always related because, as in Teenage Zombies, a zombie may not require death and resurrection to be considered a zombie. In this film, the goal of the scientist and her sponsors is not to revive the dead; it is to force the living into a physical state of suggestibility, obedience, and servitude. However, the goal of the characters in the film Re-Animator is quite different; they have set out to “cure” the condition of death, and in the process find themselves creating undead zombies with widely varied intelligences and a prominently aggressive mental state. Each is, of course, reflective of the time period in which it was made: Teenage Zombies was released in 1959 as one of many horror films aimed at attracting teenaged moviegoers, and features an underlying theme that implies a Soviet takeover, certainly not an uncommon subtext in Cold War era films. While people die in Teenage Zombies, there is no gore to be had and there is no concern to the unsavory and occult idea of resurrecting the dead. Re-Animator, on the other hand, is concerned with nothing else; independently released in 1985 and set in a medical school, it revels in its gruesome shots of revived corpses in varying states of decay. However, this film is actually based upon a series of short stories by H.P. Lovecraft that are collectively known as “Herbert West—Reanimator” and which were first published in Home Brew magazine from February to July of 1922 (Lovecraft 25). The tales are bloody and over-the-top, with a satiric sense of humor that would later become one of the major selling points of the movie adaptation. With its mad scientist focus and resurrectionist bent, “Herbert West—Reanimator” acts as something of a response to or an echo of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (Lovecraft 34 and 36), and so illuminates a bridge to one of the ancestors of the mad scientists who labor to create zombies. Though Frankenstein is generally not classed as a zombie film, it is perhaps best described as a forerunner of these later films that utilize science to create zombies, intentionally or inadvertently.
The third common thread of zombie films is not as concerned with the method of creation as it is with the effects, the aftermath, and the methods humans use to survive. The focus of these films is on the infectious nature of zombies and the apocalyptic repercussions that such an infection brings. Though the undead in Tombs of the Blind Dead are shown to be infectious, and it is implied that the infection has only begun to spread by the time of the film’s grisly ending, the focus of the film is not upon the far-reaching consequences of such a situation. The film maintains its focus on how such a situation might begin, while films like Dawn of the Dead and 28 Days Later use the spread of zombie infection to deal with human survival in apocalyptic settings and situations. Sutherland writes that “zombie films represent the survival of such structured movements right as the structures supporting them devolve into crisis; that is, right as civil institutions like cities and courts get overrun with a bloodier version of the voracious appetites they manufacture. Zombie films are quite often about political structure enduring even in the afterlife of its chaotic implosion” (71-72). This is certainly true in Dawn of the Dead, which follows four survivors who take up residence in a mall while the zombie apocalypse rages around them. Because of the mall’s copious resources, they are able to not only survive, but to create a home for themselves, to play games, and ultimately to hide from their horrific situation. 28 Days Later, on the other hand, portrays how a social structure such as an army can survive, bloodthirsty and degraded, in an apocalyptic setting. These apocalyptic conceptions are a relatively new focus for zombie stories, reflecting many of the anxieties of the modern age; interestingly, they may not necessarily leave their roots behind and threads almost always overlap. In Dawn of the Dead, Peter mentions that his grandfather was a Voodoo priest in Trinidad, who would tell him that "When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.” In 28 Days Later, the Rage virus is a product of scientific testing on animals. However, though these films may incorporate elements of past zombie films, their focus is ultimately upon the apocalyptic setting and human survival, not upon the creation of zombies themselves.
-------------------
Works Cited
Lovecraft, H.P. More Annotated H.P. Lovecraft. Ed. by S.T. Joshi and Peter Cannon. New York: Dell Publishing, 1999.
Rhodes, Gary D. White Zombie: Anatomy of a Horror Film. North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc, 2001.
Sutherland, Meghan. “Rigor/Mortis: The Industrial Life of Style in American Zombie Cinema.” Framework: The Journal of Cinema and Media 48.1 (2007): 64-78.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, December 28, 2007
History and Bigotry in Cult Classics
The sixties and seventies begat a dramatic increase in the lurid boundaries that films were willing to push, with onscreen depictions of gore, sex, and drugs becoming more frequent and more graphic. Nowhere is this exploration of social taboos more evident than in the films of the era that are now circulated as cult classics.
Of course the dramatic change in subject matter is due primarily to the abandonment of film censorship by the Hollywood Production Code in the late sixties, as well as to the major cultural shifts that occurred throughout the sixties and into the early seventies; indeed, it can be instructive to track how closely entertainment—even strange and marginalized entertainment, such as cult films—corresponds to and reflects major historical events and changing attitudes in popular culture. For instance, it is interesting for modern-day viewers to note that, despite the obvious influence of the Summer of Love in 1969 and the widespread sexual revolution and despite the “free love” theme of Harold and Maude and the copious onscreen sex in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, both films put homophobic attitudes on display in two radically different ways: Harold and Maude does so via conspicuous omission, while Beyond the Valley of the Dolls does so via blatant stereotypes, transsexual panic, and a final orgiastic killing spree that neatly disposes of every major character that has been confirmed as queer.
The homophobia of Harold and Maude is obviously much more gentle and subtle than that of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls; it doesn’t come off to viewers as hatred or fear or mockery, but instead more of an absent-minded forgetfulness. Arguably, there is no place in the film where the topic of homosexuality might even be addressed. Yet there is a subtle gap in the progression of Harold’s sexual and romantic awakening, as none of the other characters remark upon Harold’s active efforts to alienate girls his own age, even for the sake of an easy joke. Harold, who is bright, theatrical, quiet, morbid, and content to avoid romantic situations or physical intimacy with the women his mother invites home, is nevertheless saved from any question of his masculinity, even by his Freudian therapist. And though the object of his love may turn out to be “queer,” in the sense that it defies mainstream social boundaries for the romantic and sexual, there is still no question that he is anything but heterosexual. More troubling than this apparent oversight, however, is one of the theatrical trailers for the film, which includes the statement: “Harold and Maude say: get together, regardless of your age, race, creed, color, or national origin….” There is something quite obvious missing from this free-spirited urge to love, or at least be physically intimate.
Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is a more aggressively homophobic movie, displaying not only crude background caricatures—the gay male couple at Z-man's first party in the film are depicted as prudish compared to their straight counterparts; shown fully clothed, they become indignant at being interrupted by Z-man and Kelly and exit with a lisping wisecrack—but also main characters who explore their sexualities and are ultimately punished for it.
Z-Man's character suffers most, turning from a charmingly manic and eccentric Hollywood-type who may have eyes for Kelly to an aggressive homosexual who is interested in the men Kelly has slept with to finally being driven insane by a combination of drugs, materialism, and artifice, resulting in a peyote-fueled murdering spree in which five people, including himself, are killed. It is worth paying attention to the more and more extravagant clothing and costumes that Z-Man is shown wearing; like the gay couple from early on, Z-Man is characterized in such a way as to remove him from the heterosexual. Jeffrey Dennis writes that, "nude backsides and even frontal shots” (138) began to strongly signify heterosexuality, conflating the natural state with being straight and further separating straightness from “the blow-dried hair, stylish costumes, or feminine affectations of the 'homosexual’ …. By the end of [the 1970s], even shirtless shots came to signify straightness” (138). Compare the numerous shirtless bedroom scenes of womanizing character Lance Rocke, who aggressively spurns Z-Man’s advances, to Z-Man’s consistently modest costuming and it’s clear that this formula also holds true for Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.
As if this were not bad enough, Z-Man spends his final scenes insisting that he is Superwoman and in one dramatic moment opens his shirt to reveal a small pair of breasts. It is this revelation, of which there is virtually no hint in any earlier scenes, that is meant to provoke the greatest feelings of shock and repulsion in a film that is filled with shocking and repulsive characters and situations.
This scene is an intense example of hostility and ignorance directed not only toward women and gays, but toward transsexuals as well. Moya Luckett notes that:
Being a woman is then linked to the possession of breasts, apparently regardless of the genitalia possessed by the individual or their secondary sex characteristics. Despite Z-Man's general presentation as male, with sideburns, a deep voice, male clothes, and a male name, the presence of small breasts are meant to negate all other signifiers and thus shock the characters and audience with Z-Man's "secret" womanhood. But it is apparent that Z-Man is not actually a heterosexual woman pretending to be a man (presumably because he lacks the proper endowments to be a "real" woman); he could be either a gay female-to-male transsexual or a heterosexual male-to-female transsexual, but his behavior is not particularly consistent with either gender variation. A female-to-male transsexual would be unlikely to insist on being called Superwoman or to reveal his breasts, or even to create a situation that might result in such a loss of control (as Z-Man does with his intimate party and peyote-cocktail). A male-to-female transsexual would, on the other hand, be unlikely to tolerate a nickname that labeled her as a man ( e.g. "Z-Man") and if she had begun hormone treatments she would be experiencing other changes in her body besides the growth of breasts (such as additional fat deposits at the hips) and would also likely be making other changes in her life that would allow her to present as female. Plus, the situation is not helped by the confusion of those who created the character: Roger Ebert refers to Z-Man as “a woman in drag” and “a transvestite,” while actor John LaZar uses the epithet “a hormonal freak” to describe the character in an interview with retroCRUSH. Of course the movie is a satire, but this does not excuse its treatment of homosexuals or transgendered people; the “jokes” are consistently played on those who are different in gender and sexuality, and the audience is meant to laugh at them rather than with.
However, when looking at the homophobia by omission in Harold and Maude and the blatant homophobia and transphobia of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, it is far more understandable within the context of the time period, particularly in relation to the timing of the Stonewall riots. The Stonewall riots, the major turning point in the fight for gay civil rights, occurred in June of 1969. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls began filming late in 1969 and was released in June of 1970. Harold and Maude was released in December of 1971. Simply not enough time had passed and not enough ground had been broken since Stonewall to make homosexuals or their feelings a concern for movie-makers or audiences. (Though Stonewall, along with the Tate-LaBianca murders, may have influenced Beyond the Valley of the Dolls—many of the rioters at Stonewall were drag queens.)
Similarly, the goriness of the 1963 release Blood Feast and the rising use and popularity of gore in movies can be linked to any number of violent deaths and occurrences in the 1960s, from the assassination of President Kennedy to the increased press about and dissatisfaction for the war in Vietnam and, of course, to the Manson Family’s Tate-LaBianca murders, which were clearly echoed in the ending to Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Even Harold and Maude is a bloody film, despite all of Harold’s suicides being theatric fakes; his obsession with death in the midst of the Vietnam War and the various ways in which the film shows the toll war can take are an integral part of the story.
It is important to remember that films and the movie industry do not exist in a vacuum. The onscreen increase in depicted violence and the portrayed attitudes toward sex and gender correspond not only to censorship (or a lack thereof) but to social attitudes and historical events, and it is important to take all of these into account when evaluating films.
-----------------------------
Works Cited
--. Harold and Maude theatrical trailer.
Dennis, Jeffrey P. Queering Teen Culture: All-American Boys and Same-sex Desire in Film and Television. New York: Hinworth Press, Inc, 2006.
Ebert, Roger. “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.” rogerebert.com. 1980/2005. 8 November 2007.
Luckett, Moya. “Sexploitation as feminine territory: the films of Doris Wishman.” Defining Cult Movies: The Cultural Politics of Oppositional Taste. Ed. Marc Jancovich, Antonio Lazaro Reboll, Julian Stringer, Andy Willis. Manchester, Manchester University Press, 2003. 142-156.
Waage, Randy. “I Am Superwoman!: An Interview with John LaZar, Z-Man from the Cult Classic Beyond the Valley of the Dolls!” retroCRUSH: The World’s Greatest Pop Culture Site. 2006. 8 November 2007.
Of course the dramatic change in subject matter is due primarily to the abandonment of film censorship by the Hollywood Production Code in the late sixties, as well as to the major cultural shifts that occurred throughout the sixties and into the early seventies; indeed, it can be instructive to track how closely entertainment—even strange and marginalized entertainment, such as cult films—corresponds to and reflects major historical events and changing attitudes in popular culture. For instance, it is interesting for modern-day viewers to note that, despite the obvious influence of the Summer of Love in 1969 and the widespread sexual revolution and despite the “free love” theme of Harold and Maude and the copious onscreen sex in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, both films put homophobic attitudes on display in two radically different ways: Harold and Maude does so via conspicuous omission, while Beyond the Valley of the Dolls does so via blatant stereotypes, transsexual panic, and a final orgiastic killing spree that neatly disposes of every major character that has been confirmed as queer.
The homophobia of Harold and Maude is obviously much more gentle and subtle than that of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls; it doesn’t come off to viewers as hatred or fear or mockery, but instead more of an absent-minded forgetfulness. Arguably, there is no place in the film where the topic of homosexuality might even be addressed. Yet there is a subtle gap in the progression of Harold’s sexual and romantic awakening, as none of the other characters remark upon Harold’s active efforts to alienate girls his own age, even for the sake of an easy joke. Harold, who is bright, theatrical, quiet, morbid, and content to avoid romantic situations or physical intimacy with the women his mother invites home, is nevertheless saved from any question of his masculinity, even by his Freudian therapist. And though the object of his love may turn out to be “queer,” in the sense that it defies mainstream social boundaries for the romantic and sexual, there is still no question that he is anything but heterosexual. More troubling than this apparent oversight, however, is one of the theatrical trailers for the film, which includes the statement: “Harold and Maude say: get together, regardless of your age, race, creed, color, or national origin….” There is something quite obvious missing from this free-spirited urge to love, or at least be physically intimate.
Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is a more aggressively homophobic movie, displaying not only crude background caricatures—the gay male couple at Z-man's first party in the film are depicted as prudish compared to their straight counterparts; shown fully clothed, they become indignant at being interrupted by Z-man and Kelly and exit with a lisping wisecrack—but also main characters who explore their sexualities and are ultimately punished for it.
Z-Man's character suffers most, turning from a charmingly manic and eccentric Hollywood-type who may have eyes for Kelly to an aggressive homosexual who is interested in the men Kelly has slept with to finally being driven insane by a combination of drugs, materialism, and artifice, resulting in a peyote-fueled murdering spree in which five people, including himself, are killed. It is worth paying attention to the more and more extravagant clothing and costumes that Z-Man is shown wearing; like the gay couple from early on, Z-Man is characterized in such a way as to remove him from the heterosexual. Jeffrey Dennis writes that, "nude backsides and even frontal shots” (138) began to strongly signify heterosexuality, conflating the natural state with being straight and further separating straightness from “the blow-dried hair, stylish costumes, or feminine affectations of the 'homosexual’ …. By the end of [the 1970s], even shirtless shots came to signify straightness” (138). Compare the numerous shirtless bedroom scenes of womanizing character Lance Rocke, who aggressively spurns Z-Man’s advances, to Z-Man’s consistently modest costuming and it’s clear that this formula also holds true for Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.
As if this were not bad enough, Z-Man spends his final scenes insisting that he is Superwoman and in one dramatic moment opens his shirt to reveal a small pair of breasts. It is this revelation, of which there is virtually no hint in any earlier scenes, that is meant to provoke the greatest feelings of shock and repulsion in a film that is filled with shocking and repulsive characters and situations.
This scene is an intense example of hostility and ignorance directed not only toward women and gays, but toward transsexuals as well. Moya Luckett notes that:
Female power is generally linked to breast size… where small breasts highlight marginalization, failure, even utter villainy…. the breast is the sole certain marker of sexual difference. The sudden revelation of Z-Man's identity (from gay man to a masculine heterosexual woman) comes in tandem with his equally sudden acquisition (s)he flaunts during her murder rampage. (151)
Being a woman is then linked to the possession of breasts, apparently regardless of the genitalia possessed by the individual or their secondary sex characteristics. Despite Z-Man's general presentation as male, with sideburns, a deep voice, male clothes, and a male name, the presence of small breasts are meant to negate all other signifiers and thus shock the characters and audience with Z-Man's "secret" womanhood. But it is apparent that Z-Man is not actually a heterosexual woman pretending to be a man (presumably because he lacks the proper endowments to be a "real" woman); he could be either a gay female-to-male transsexual or a heterosexual male-to-female transsexual, but his behavior is not particularly consistent with either gender variation. A female-to-male transsexual would be unlikely to insist on being called Superwoman or to reveal his breasts, or even to create a situation that might result in such a loss of control (as Z-Man does with his intimate party and peyote-cocktail). A male-to-female transsexual would, on the other hand, be unlikely to tolerate a nickname that labeled her as a man ( e.g. "Z-Man") and if she had begun hormone treatments she would be experiencing other changes in her body besides the growth of breasts (such as additional fat deposits at the hips) and would also likely be making other changes in her life that would allow her to present as female. Plus, the situation is not helped by the confusion of those who created the character: Roger Ebert refers to Z-Man as “a woman in drag” and “a transvestite,” while actor John LaZar uses the epithet “a hormonal freak” to describe the character in an interview with retroCRUSH. Of course the movie is a satire, but this does not excuse its treatment of homosexuals or transgendered people; the “jokes” are consistently played on those who are different in gender and sexuality, and the audience is meant to laugh at them rather than with.
However, when looking at the homophobia by omission in Harold and Maude and the blatant homophobia and transphobia of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, it is far more understandable within the context of the time period, particularly in relation to the timing of the Stonewall riots. The Stonewall riots, the major turning point in the fight for gay civil rights, occurred in June of 1969. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls began filming late in 1969 and was released in June of 1970. Harold and Maude was released in December of 1971. Simply not enough time had passed and not enough ground had been broken since Stonewall to make homosexuals or their feelings a concern for movie-makers or audiences. (Though Stonewall, along with the Tate-LaBianca murders, may have influenced Beyond the Valley of the Dolls—many of the rioters at Stonewall were drag queens.)
Similarly, the goriness of the 1963 release Blood Feast and the rising use and popularity of gore in movies can be linked to any number of violent deaths and occurrences in the 1960s, from the assassination of President Kennedy to the increased press about and dissatisfaction for the war in Vietnam and, of course, to the Manson Family’s Tate-LaBianca murders, which were clearly echoed in the ending to Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Even Harold and Maude is a bloody film, despite all of Harold’s suicides being theatric fakes; his obsession with death in the midst of the Vietnam War and the various ways in which the film shows the toll war can take are an integral part of the story.
It is important to remember that films and the movie industry do not exist in a vacuum. The onscreen increase in depicted violence and the portrayed attitudes toward sex and gender correspond not only to censorship (or a lack thereof) but to social attitudes and historical events, and it is important to take all of these into account when evaluating films.
-----------------------------
Works Cited
--. Harold and Maude theatrical trailer.
Dennis, Jeffrey P. Queering Teen Culture: All-American Boys and Same-sex Desire in Film and Television. New York: Hinworth Press, Inc, 2006.
Ebert, Roger. “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.” rogerebert.com. 1980/2005. 8 November 2007.
Luckett, Moya. “Sexploitation as feminine territory: the films of Doris Wishman.” Defining Cult Movies: The Cultural Politics of Oppositional Taste. Ed. Marc Jancovich, Antonio Lazaro Reboll, Julian Stringer, Andy Willis. Manchester, Manchester University Press, 2003. 142-156.
Waage, Randy. “I Am Superwoman!: An Interview with John LaZar, Z-Man from the Cult Classic Beyond the Valley of the Dolls!” retroCRUSH: The World’s Greatest Pop Culture Site. 2006. 8 November 2007.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
1950s Monsters and Cold War Anxieties
The running theme of 1950s B movies is an often clearer and more evocative reflection of the anxieties of the era than what one might glean from a study of the mainstream media produced at the same time. Fifty years after the fact, it is easy for a modern audience with even the vaguest of ideas about the zeitgeist of the Western world’s experiences in the 1950s to identify concerns about infiltration and the side effects of scientific progress—particularly in relation to the use of nuclear energy—in these otherwise simplistic films about monsters and aliens from other planets. It must be emphasized, too, that it is not only American films of the period that can be analyzed along this vein, though the US was surely the most prolific when it came to churning out B-grade movies: British television and cinema produced works of science-fiction and horror comparable to American efforts, The Cosmic Monsters / The Strange World of Planet X (1958) being one example.
Indeed, Britain went on to introduce the cult television program “Doctor Who,” about the adventures of a time-traveling alien and his human companions, in 1963; the benevolent alien character of Mr. Smith in The Strange World of Planet X almost seems like a prototype for the character of the Doctor, who would appear on British television just five years after The Strange World of Planet X was made (and whose popularity has been more or less continuous since his introduction; the original series was canceled in 1989, however a made-for-tv movie was made in 1996 and the program was revived in 2005, with a fourth season currently in production). What The Strange World of Planet X and “Doctor Who” have in common is that the threat of invasion by the main alien character is minimal; the alien is instead benevolent, possessing greater knowledge of the universe than the humans he comes into contact with and coming from a world far different from, and even superior to, the Earth. Still, though Mr. Smith and the Doctor may both be more powerful or intelligent than humans, they themselves are not representative of any particular cultural anxieties over the invasion of British land or culture by Cold War era spies and communists or Nazi holdovers. On the contrary, Mr. Smith aids in combating the havoc that has been wreaked by scientific experimentation on Earth, while the Doctor is constantly doing battle with the true alien invaders, the most iconic example being that of the mechanized, homogeneous Daleks.
The Strange World of Planet X exemplifies a kind of shift in the monster movie, where “creatures now [appear] as a consequence not of individual madness or wickedness [as in Frankenstein], but as a result of tampering with the laws of nature by ‘the system’ …. the powers held by these new creatures threatened the whole of mankind. The ‘machine’ had taken over from human agency, hence the need for assistance from superior beings from beyond our world” (Shaw 127-28). Both Mr. Smith and the Doctor are characters that fill the role of the “superior being” who arrives to save Earth from its own missteps. The Strange World of Planet X, along with Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959), explores the dangers and consequences of irresponsible and unchecked scientific experimentation. (It is interesting to note that the hero of Attack of the Giant Leeches, though not an alien, is nevertheless an outsider to the insularFlorida
The fear of scientists run amok and/or losing control was a pervasive one, as evidenced by these two films as well as the countless others made in the 1950s and beyond that feature overgrown animals as a plot point. Yet when discussing the B movies of this era, it is the theme of infiltration that is seen as the more reflective of Cold War era anxieties over the spread of communism and fears about the takeover of Western capitalist society. However films such as The Strange World of Planet X and Attack of the Giant Leeches, which center on the destructive power of science and nuclear energy, are also closely connected to fears of infiltration; in these films the fear is focused upon the scientists working with the development of atomic power who had, by the 1950s, “shifted from being the revered masters of ineffable knowledge… to the individuals who would be most likely to endanger the nation (and world generally) …. [as] the result either of academic naivety or, as the [real world] sequence of espionage scandals seemed to suggest, more likely by treachery” (Shaw 119). The concerns over the effects of science on culture, therefore, are not restricted to a fear of the destructive power of nuclear energy. Anxiety over the role of the scientist is also manifested in these films, particularly concern over scientists being incompetent or even deceitful, perhaps acting as an agent of communism.
Thus films that focus on scientists out of control or creatures created through scientific irresponsibility possess a direct link to films that can be analyzed as representative of the conventional Cold War invasion paranoia, such as Man Beast (1956) and Phantom From Space (1953). Darryl Jones writes of these movies: “Here,America Himalayas reveals himself to be not a human being at all, but actually part Yeti. His goal is to take the woman as a hostage in order to continue cross-breeding efforts which will produce more Yeti-human hybrids that can walk among humans virtually unnoticed parallels; this is a clear manifestation of fears of brainwashing and of duplication, the process of taking over by creating enough invaders to overpower those that are being invaded—similar to views of communism, the theory of which had to be vilified and silenced in order to stop its insidious spread.
Phantom From Space, on the other hand, demonstrates the fear of possible invasion from without when an alien crash lands on Earth, inadvertently terrorizing those he meets while also confounding the scientists who are trying to make sense of his progress. Phantom From Space is unusual, however, as the alien goes from being a threat from without to one from within, since when he removes his space suit and helmet he is invisible to the people of Earth and therefore able to move through them undetected. And yet, although this alien causes several deaths and the destruction of some property, he doesn’t do so maliciously; he is not an evil invader, but simply one who is confused by a world that is not his own. Similarly, the scientists, military officials, and policemen are not particularly destructive or even terribly incompetent, but rather have some unusually bad luck at trying to deal with a specter whom they can only see under ultraviolet light. So, while Phantom From Space contains an element that would seem to be indicative of the general Cold War invasion theme—the invisible man from another planet—it winds up moving in an atypical direction, suggesting that the “invasion” may actually be a misunderstanding compounded by a series of accidents, and that no one is truly at fault in the end, whether scientist or alien.
Today we view these films as cult for their cheap special effects, occasionally ludicrous plots, and mediocre acting. But they are also cult because they illuminate the values and anxieties of another time period, one that had problems and concerns not unlike those faced in the beginning of the 21st century. After all, is it really such a coincidence that “Doctor Who” has enjoyed a resurgence in popularity within the past few years inBritain and overseas while dissatisfaction and fear over war in the Middle East has also grown steadily during the same time period? Our own film, television and other pop culture media is as influenced by current events as the B movies of the 1950s were. Perhaps this, too, is why these films have gained a cult audience half a century later: they retain some small measure of resonance and even relevance for perceptive modern day viewers.
------------------------
Works Cited
Jones, Darryl. Horror: A Thematic History in Fiction and Film.New York : Oxford University
Shaw, Tony. British Cinema and the Cold War: The State, Propaganda and Consensus.New York : I. B. Tauris, 2001.
Indeed, Britain went on to introduce the cult television program “Doctor Who,” about the adventures of a time-traveling alien and his human companions, in 1963; the benevolent alien character of Mr. Smith in The Strange World of Planet X almost seems like a prototype for the character of the Doctor, who would appear on British television just five years after The Strange World of Planet X was made (and whose popularity has been more or less continuous since his introduction; the original series was canceled in 1989, however a made-for-tv movie was made in 1996 and the program was revived in 2005, with a fourth season currently in production). What The Strange World of Planet X and “Doctor Who” have in common is that the threat of invasion by the main alien character is minimal; the alien is instead benevolent, possessing greater knowledge of the universe than the humans he comes into contact with and coming from a world far different from, and even superior to, the Earth. Still, though Mr. Smith and the Doctor may both be more powerful or intelligent than humans, they themselves are not representative of any particular cultural anxieties over the invasion of British land or culture by Cold War era spies and communists or Nazi holdovers. On the contrary, Mr. Smith aids in combating the havoc that has been wreaked by scientific experimentation on Earth, while the Doctor is constantly doing battle with the true alien invaders, the most iconic example being that of the mechanized, homogeneous Daleks.
The Strange World of Planet X exemplifies a kind of shift in the monster movie, where “creatures now [appear] as a consequence not of individual madness or wickedness [as in Frankenstein], but as a result of tampering with the laws of nature by ‘the system’ …. the powers held by these new creatures threatened the whole of mankind. The ‘machine’ had taken over from human agency, hence the need for assistance from superior beings from beyond our world” (Shaw 127-28). Both Mr. Smith and the Doctor are characters that fill the role of the “superior being” who arrives to save Earth from its own missteps. The Strange World of Planet X, along with Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959), explores the dangers and consequences of irresponsible and unchecked scientific experimentation. (It is interesting to note that the hero of Attack of the Giant Leeches, though not an alien, is nevertheless an outsider to the insular
The fear of scientists run amok and/or losing control was a pervasive one, as evidenced by these two films as well as the countless others made in the 1950s and beyond that feature overgrown animals as a plot point. Yet when discussing the B movies of this era, it is the theme of infiltration that is seen as the more reflective of Cold War era anxieties over the spread of communism and fears about the takeover of Western capitalist society. However films such as The Strange World of Planet X and Attack of the Giant Leeches, which center on the destructive power of science and nuclear energy, are also closely connected to fears of infiltration; in these films the fear is focused upon the scientists working with the development of atomic power who had, by the 1950s, “shifted from being the revered masters of ineffable knowledge… to the individuals who would be most likely to endanger the nation (and world generally) …. [as] the result either of academic naivety or, as the [real world] sequence of espionage scandals seemed to suggest, more likely by treachery” (Shaw 119). The concerns over the effects of science on culture, therefore, are not restricted to a fear of the destructive power of nuclear energy. Anxiety over the role of the scientist is also manifested in these films, particularly concern over scientists being incompetent or even deceitful, perhaps acting as an agent of communism.
Thus films that focus on scientists out of control or creatures created through scientific irresponsibility possess a direct link to films that can be analyzed as representative of the conventional Cold War invasion paranoia, such as Man Beast (1956) and Phantom From Space (1953). Darryl Jones writes of these movies: “Here,
Phantom From Space, on the other hand, demonstrates the fear of possible invasion from without when an alien crash lands on Earth, inadvertently terrorizing those he meets while also confounding the scientists who are trying to make sense of his progress. Phantom From Space is unusual, however, as the alien goes from being a threat from without to one from within, since when he removes his space suit and helmet he is invisible to the people of Earth and therefore able to move through them undetected. And yet, although this alien causes several deaths and the destruction of some property, he doesn’t do so maliciously; he is not an evil invader, but simply one who is confused by a world that is not his own. Similarly, the scientists, military officials, and policemen are not particularly destructive or even terribly incompetent, but rather have some unusually bad luck at trying to deal with a specter whom they can only see under ultraviolet light. So, while Phantom From Space contains an element that would seem to be indicative of the general Cold War invasion theme—the invisible man from another planet—it winds up moving in an atypical direction, suggesting that the “invasion” may actually be a misunderstanding compounded by a series of accidents, and that no one is truly at fault in the end, whether scientist or alien.
Today we view these films as cult for their cheap special effects, occasionally ludicrous plots, and mediocre acting. But they are also cult because they illuminate the values and anxieties of another time period, one that had problems and concerns not unlike those faced in the beginning of the 21st century. After all, is it really such a coincidence that “Doctor Who” has enjoyed a resurgence in popularity within the past few years in
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Works Cited
Jones, Darryl. Horror: A Thematic History in Fiction and Film.
Shaw, Tony. British Cinema and the Cold War: The State, Propaganda and Consensus.
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