There was once a time when news of a remake was pretty exciting for many horror fans. At least the ones I hung out with. That may be hard to believe, given the current glut of remakes flooding the market, but it's true. I can still remember a time when a horror remake stood a damn good chance of equaling, or even surpassing the original on which it was based. But that's all changed now. And it's time to ask why.
SHEER NUMBERSThe halcyon time to which I'm referring was roughly 20 to 30 years ago--an era still revered as a latter-day golden age for the genre. It was a time of great creativity, with new ideas being put forth, and expressed in ways that were previously off-limits to filmmakers in the days of the Hays code. Remakes weren't nearly as common back then as they are now, in part because writers and directors were too busy exploring uncharted territory, and studios had the confidence to back their efforts.
But when remakes did occur, you can bet they were very often quality pieces of business. Because filmmakers and studios weren't all hung up on desperately returning to past material over and over again, when they chose to do so, it was usually for a good reason.
The Fly--one of the high watermarks of the remake subgenre--is a great example. David Cronenberg had already established himself as a unique visionary of horror, with a lot to say and an unusual way of saying it. He chose to remake The Fly partly because he wished to comment on the original, and to say something new about certain aspects of life in the 1980s, most notably the AIDS phenomenon.
In contrast, today remakes are greenlit without rhyme or reason. Churned out left and right without any real reason for being beyond the bottom line, they represent the ultimate in cynical thinking on the part of studios and distributors completely unwilling to take a chance and looking for nothing more than a quick, easy buck each and every time out.
REVERENCE FOR THE MATERIALSome may say I'm idealizing, but there was a time when those who made these films came at them with a great deal more respect for and interest in the source material than you find today. John Carpenter has gone on record as a huge fan of Howard Hawks' The Thing from Another World. And consequently, his remake (arguably the best of them all) is made with an affection for that film. Not that you need to be familiar with the original to enjoy the movie, but it adds another dimension of enjoyment if you are.
The Thing, and others of its kind, were made by people who revered the originals, and who expected at least part of their audience to have the same familiarity/fondness for them that they had. There was a certain amount of intertextuality to them. These were films that were definitely commenting on the films that had come before them.
Conversely, today's remakes are very often greenlit before any creative folks are involved, and then foisted upon filmmakers who are not nearly as connected to the source material. They are also, by and large, made with the assumption that their audience has never seen/heard of the originals on which they're based. For all intents and purposes, they are meant to
overwrite the originals.
Mention House of Wax to anyone under the age of 30, and I can guarantee you they're 100 times more likely to bring up Paris Hilton than Vincent Price. Yet, as a kid, despite being 30 years removed from the 1950s original, I was still keenly aware of it, and it was a favorite of mine. Today's remakes do not invite further exploration into the genre; rather, they impede it.
CHANGING TIMES
A big part of the excitement that surrounded the remakes of yore had to do with what had become possible in the intervening years since the originals came out. Vast improvements in special effects meant that the Blob would no longer look like a jello mold, but rather a truly living, elastic, acidic entity. We could still love the originals, but our interest was piqued to see what the new breed of special effects wizards could do with the classic monsters of yesteryear.
There was also the very real fact that unrestricted filmmakers could now tell more intense, more violent, and less "safe" stories. This was another aspect that made for a golden age of horror in the 1970s and 1980s--the notion that the gloves were off, and we were seeing things we had never seen before. And this even carried over into remakes.
To go back to The Thing, Carpenter's version contains a much greater sense of urgency than Hawks', and Carpenter's characters convey a much more real and intense sense of abject terror and paranoia. Remakes like The Thing were also free to end on much bleaker notes than their originals, which still hearkened back to the era when most monster flicks were forced to wrap things up nice and neat in the end.
That era of pioneering has long since passed. For the most part, many of today's fans would agree that the practical special effects of those days are, in fact, superior in some ways to what we get today. Is there anyone hankering to see what the great movie monsters of the past would like as CGI? And as for tone, the recent horror movie upsurge may have returned gore to the level of prominence it once held in the genre, but these are still films of a decidedly "safer" nature. The new Texas Chainsaw Massacre, for example, may display more blood and guts than Tobe Hooper's version, but it lacks any kind of socio-political subtext, and becomes nothing more than a mindless date movie.
EXCEPTIONS TO THE RULEMy regular readers know I'm far from close-minded in my viewing habits. When I see quality, I recognize it. And I admit, therefore, that not all remakes of today are bad. A few, in fact, are quite good--and it's worth looking into why that is in order to even further understand why it is that most don't work.
I hold up Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead as a recent example of a terrific horror remake. And I say this as a die-hard Romero stalwart who railed against the very idea of a remake for months prior to the film's release. But once I saw it, I had to shut my big fat mouth.
Yes, Snyder's film removes the social commentary utterly, which I just pinpointed as one of the weaknesses of modern remakes. But in this case, it worked for me, because Snyder was making a conscious decision to take the source material and move in a different direction, for a reason. He didn't want to slavishly ape the original for new fans; rather, like the great remakers of old, he wished to add something to what had come before.
The new DOTD is more action-horror than its predecessor, with set-pieces that Romero wouldn't have the budget--or the inclination--to pull off. As controversial as they were, Snyder's fast-moving zombies completely restructured the film's entire dynamic, creating a very different kind of terror based more on frantic desperation than creeping dread. It even took pains to acknowledge its source, with nods to Romero's film that were included with respect for the original, and its fans.
Yes, I still prefer the original. But Snyder's movie does what so many current remakes fail to--justify its existence.
* * * * * * * * * *From a business standpoint, it isn't hard to understand why we're seeing all these remakes. With built-in "brand recognition" and a pre-existent script, the horror properties of the past are a safe bet. People will come to theaters based on name alone, or at least the name becomes a kind of "marketing starting point". You don't have to build something from scratch--and hey, if it worked before, it should work again, right?
Idealists need to understand that questions like, "What is this adding to the original?" "Why do it? The original is untouchable," are irrelevant. At least to the decision-makers involved. These are not people who are interested in improving on the originals, adding to them, or even commenting on them. They are only interested in the money to be made, and nothing more. And that's the whole problem.
The Vault of Horror mourns the passing on Tuesday of John Updike, who--along with Norman Mailer--was one of the most important American literary figures of the late 20th century.
