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See No Evil: The Current Social Relevance of ‘The People Under the Stairs’

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Wes Craven had a gift for reading the room. He was always in touch with where society was and made his movies accordingly. A Nightmare on Elm Street perfectly married the rise of the 70’s slasher to the bombast of the 80’s. New Nightmare was a bellwether for the ironic self-awareness of the late 90’s upon which Scream then fully capitalized. But looking back, arguably Craven’s most reflective and socially relevant work was The People Under the Stairs.

If you haven’t watched People in the last few years, you may vaguely recall it being about a bizarre brother and sister couple keeping a pack of feral teenagers locked away in their basement. Or since Craven deliberately cast Wendy Robie and Everett McGill together as ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ Robeson, you might remember it as the fourth-strangest episode of Twin Peaks. Either way, you’d be forgiven for wondering how such a wild hodge-podge of cannibalism, leather fetish suits and incest could possibly be that important.  Watch it today though, and it becomes apparent Wes Craven was trying to have a conversation much of society wouldn’t catch up with for decades.

The People Under the Stairs is plainly about the marginalization of minorities, class inequality, sexism, the patriarchy, isolationist nationalism and even healthcare. All the topics at the center of today’s rising culture war were highlighted on-screen a quarter-of-century ago in a movie that came and went with little fanfare during a period when horror was in a supposed decline.

Given this degree of prescience, it seems fitting People should begin with a reading of tarot cards.

The reading is for a protagonist called Fool, so-named for the tarot card that represents the blindly ignorant. “Ain’t the stupid kind of fool,” Ruby the reader says, “only the ignorant kind, ‘cause he’s only starting out.” This is Craven’s way of initially addressing the audience and engaging them in what they about to see. It’s not that you’re stupid, it’s that you don’t know any better. Here, let me show you.

Fool, played by Brandon Quintin Adams, is a young black boy living in a Los Angeles ghetto. His mother has cancer and they can’t afford her surgical treatment. On top of this, the entire family is being evicted from their home because the rent is three days past due and there’s a clause in the lease agreement stipulating triple the standard payment when late. This sort of brutal gouging is by design. The landlords, Mommy and Daddy, simply wait for their tenants to fall behind and then evict them in order to bulldoze the property and sell it for office space. It’s a predation scheme all-the-more insidious because the Robesons also happen to own at least one nearby liquor store, giving them the opportunity to simultaneously feed peoples’ desperate addictions and profit from the consequences of them. And profit they do. Mommy and Daddy are sitting upon a mountain of stationary wealth. It’s not even in a bank accruing interest; it’s an actual pile of gold and cash actively collecting dust in the cellar.

This is all just subtext in relation to class inequality. The specifically racial elements are more overt, with Mommy and Daddy dropping the worst of epithets while shooting or attempting to shoot a black man, child, and woman, all unarmed.

While the movie is immediately steeped in these grounded, realistic horrors that millions of people face every day of their lives, the more fantastic horror elements eventually come from the fact that Mommy and Daddy are one-hundred-and-ten percent insane. The latest fruit borne of a family tree with exactly one branch, they’re Cersei and Jamie Lannister by way of Ebenezer Scrooge with a dash of Dahmer. And despite being cruel sadists who literally eat the poor, they view themselves as unfairly persecuted, telling police officers, “It’s as though we’re the prisoners and the criminals roam free.” Mommy and Daddy don’t see themselves as a lunatic fringe of society who have walled themselves off from outsiders. They see themselves as under siege by the undesirable and unclean masses. They’ve fortified their home with padlocks, steel doors and explosives, preventing anyone from getting in or out aside from a stream of adopted boys who each inevitably step out of line and are sent to live forever under the titular stairs.

Mommy and Daddy’s one successful attempt at raising a child, as far as they’re concerned, is their stolen daughter Alice, played by pre-My So-Called Life A.J. Langer. And it’s Alice who really illustrates and drives home the central theme at the core of the movie; See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

This phrase – a reference to Japanese imagery of three wise monkeys covering their eyes, ears and mouth – is repeated and alluded to multiple times. It’s primarily used by Mommy and Daddy as an admonition to remind their unruly children to mind their own business and keep quiet, lest they lose their offending body parts and be locked away. This is a perversion of the maxim’s original meaning, which is a reference to those who would knowingly or unknowingly overlook impropriety.

Both contexts apply to Alice, who has been kept so isolated from the rest of the world she’s literally never seen a black person. When Fool encounters her and asks how the People came to live Under the Stairs, Alice says “Some saw things they weren’t supposed to, others heard too much, others talked back.” This response represents the bastardized interpretation of the three wise monkeys,while the original interpretation is represented seconds later in her assertion that the boys down below “get flashlights and food of some kind. I suppose they’re happy in their own way.”

“Not the stupid kind of fool, only the ignorant kind...

Alice’s ignorance is absolutely forgivable as she herself is a victim of horrifying abuse, bludgeoned into submission with a puritanical brick of fire and brimstone. Every scene shared with her parents is a nightmare. She’s beaten, scolded and scalded while being told “Speak when spoken to, that’s what good girls do,” and “Bad girls burn in hell.” Every second of her life with Mommy and Daddy has told her if she speaks up in defense of herself or others she’ll be severely punished. So when Fool asks her how she managed to avoid getting sent to live in the cannibal basement with her adopted brothers, it’s no surprise she repeats “I do not see, or hear, or speak evil. It’s the only way.” Alice, like many women, is silent to survive.

The title of The People Under the Stairs refers not only to the characters imprisoned by Mommy and Daddy, but to Fool and his family, to Alice, to everyone pushed down into Sunken Places by Robesons and those like them. The other central theme of ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ refers to the system that compels people to look the other way as these atrocities are committed behind the flimsiest of facades.

As much as it’s worth pointing out how on-the-nose People was in 1991, it’s doubly worth pointing out not much has changed in twenty-six years. Maybe that’s why Craven had been working on remaking or adapting the movie to television prior to his death; the concept didn’t truly penetrate public consciousness the first time around, but with socially-conscious horror like Get Out and the Purge series having a moment, it probably felt like a good time to take another swing at it. I submit a late sequel would work just as well. Call it The People Are Still Under the Damn Stairs.

Editorials

‘Amityville Karen’ Is a Weak Update on ‘Serial Mom’ [Amityville IP]

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Amityville Karen horror

Twice a month Joe Lipsett will dissect a new Amityville Horror film to explore how the “franchise” has evolved in increasingly ludicrous directions. This is “The Amityville IP.”

A bizarre recurring issue with the Amityville “franchise” is that the films tend to be needlessly complicated. Back in the day, the first sequels moved away from the original film’s religious-themed haunted house storyline in favor of streamlined, easily digestible concepts such as “haunted lamp” or “haunted mirror.”

As the budgets plummeted and indie filmmakers capitalized on the brand’s notoriety, it seems the wrong lessons were learned. Runtimes have ballooned past the 90-minute mark and the narratives are often saggy and unfocused.

Both issues are clearly on display in Amityville Karen (2022), a film that starts off rough, but promising, and ends with a confused whimper.

The promise is embodied by the tinge of self-awareness in Julie Anne Prescott (The Amityville Harvest)’s screenplay, namely the nods to John Waters’ classic 1994 satire, Serial Mom. In that film, Beverly Sutphin (an iconic Kathleen Turner) is a bored, white suburban woman who punished individuals who didn’t adhere to her rigid definition of social norms. What is “Karen” but a contemporary equivalent?

In director/actor Shawn C. Phillips’ film, Karen (Lauren Francesca) is perpetually outraged. In her introductory scenes, she makes derogatory comments about immigrants, calls a female neighbor a whore, and nearly runs over a family blocking her driveway. She’s a broad, albeit familiar persona; in many ways, she’s less of a character than a caricature (the living embodiment of the name/meme).

These early scenes also establish a fairly straightforward plot. Karen is a code enforcement officer with plans to shut down a local winery she has deemed disgusting. They’re preparing for a big wine tasting event, which Karen plans to ruin, but when she steals a bottle of cursed Amityville wine, it activates her murderous rage and goes on a killing spree.

Simple enough, right?

Unfortunately, Amityville Karen spins out of control almost immediately. At nearly every opportunity, Prescott’s screenplay eschews narrative cohesion and simplicity in favour of overly complicated developments and extraneous characters.

Take, for example, the wine tasting event. The film spends an entire day at the winery: first during the day as a band plays, then at a beer tasting (???) that night. Neither of these events are the much touted wine-tasting, however; that is actually a private party happening later at server Troy (James Duval)’s house.

Weirdly though, following Troy’s death, the party’s location is inexplicably moved to Karen’s house for the climax of the film, but the whole event plays like an afterthought and features a litany of characters we have never met before.

This is a recurring issue throughout Amityville Karen, which frequently introduces random characters for a scene or two. Karen is typically absent from these scenes, which makes them feel superfluous and unimportant. When the actress is on screen, the film has an anchor and a narrative drive. The scenes without her, on the other hand, feel bloated and directionless (blame editor Will Collazo Jr., who allows these moments to play out interminably).

Compounding the issue is that the majority of the actors are non-professionals and these scenes play like poorly performed improv. The result is long, dull stretches that features bad actors talking over each other, repeating the same dialogue, and generally doing nothing to advance the narrative or develop the characters.

While Karen is one-note and histrionic throughout the film, at least there’s a game willingness to Francesca’s performance. It feels appropriately campy, though as the film progresses, it becomes less and less clear if Amityville Karen is actually in on the joke.

Like Amityville Cop before it, there are legit moments of self-awareness (the Serial Mom references), but it’s never certain how much of this is intentional. Take, for example, Karen’s glaringly obvious wig: it unconvincingly fails to conceal Francesca’s dark hair in the back, but is that on purpose or is it a technical error?

Ultimately there’s very little to recommend about Amityville Karen. Despite the game performance by its lead and the gentle homages to Serial Mom’s prank call and white shoes after Labor Day jokes, the never-ending improv scenes by non-professional actors, the bloated screenplay, and the jittery direction by Phillips doom the production.

Clocking in at an insufferable 100 minutes, Amityville Karen ranks among the worst of the “franchise,” coming in just above Phillips’ other entry, Amityville Hex.

Amityville Karen

The Amityville IP Awards go to…

  • Favorite Subplot: In the afternoon event, there’s a self-proclaimed “hot boy summer” band consisting of burly, bare-chested men who play instruments that don’t make sound (for real, there’s no audio of their music). There’s also a scheming manager who is skimming money off the top, but that’s not as funny.
  • Least Favorite Subplot: For reasons that don’t make any sense, the winery is also hosting a beer tasting which means there are multiple scenes of bartender Alex (Phillips) hoping to bring in women, mistakenly conflating a pint of beer with a “flight,” and goading never before seen characters to chug. One of them describes the beer as such: “It looks like a vampire menstruating in a cup” (it’s a gold-colored IPA for the record, so…no).
  • Amityville Connection: The rationale for Karen’s killing spree is attributed to Amityville wine, whose crop was planted on cursed land. This is explained by vino groupie Annie (Jennifer Nangle) to band groupie Bianca (Lilith Stabs). It’s a lot of nonsense, but it is kind of fun when Annie claims to “taste the damnation in every sip.”
  • Neverending Story: The film ends with an exhaustive FIVE MINUTE montage of Phillips’ friends posing as reporters in front of terrible green screen discussing the “killer Karen” story. My kingdom for Amityville’s regular reporter Peter Sommers (John R. Walker) to return!
  • Best Line 1: Winery owner Dallas (Derek K. Long), describing Karen: “She’s like a walking constipation with a hemorrhoid”
  • Best Line 2: Karen, when a half-naked, bleeding woman emerges from her closet: “Is this a dream? This dream is offensive! Stop being naked!”
  • Best Line 3: Troy, upset that Karen may cancel the wine tasting at his house: “I sanded that deck for days. You don’t just sand a deck for days and then let someone shit on it!”
  • Worst Death: Karen kills a Pool Boy (Dustin Clingan) after pushing his head under water for literally 1 second, then screeches “This is for putting leaves on my plants!”
  • Least Clear Death(s): The bodies of a phone salesman and a barista are seen in Karen’s closet and bathroom, though how she killed them are completely unclear
  • Best Death: Troy is stabbed in the back of the neck with a bottle opener, which Karen proceeds to crank
  • Wannabe Lynch: After drinking the wine, Karen is confronted in her home by Barnaby (Carl Solomon) who makes her sign a crude, hand drawn blood contract and informs her that her belly is “pregnant from the juices of his grapes.” Phillips films Barnaby like a cross between the unhoused man in Mulholland Drive and the Mystery Man in Lost Highway. It’s interesting, even if the character makes absolutely no sense.
  • Single Image Summary: At one point, a random man emerges from the shower in a towel and excitedly poops himself. This sequence perfectly encapsulates the experience of watching Amityville Karen.
  • Pray for Joe: Many of these folks will be back in Amityville Shark House and Amityville Webcam, so we’re not out of the woods yet…

Next time: let’s hope Christmas comes early with 2022’s Amityville Christmas Vacation. It was the winner of Fangoria’s Best Amityville award, after all!

Amityville Karen movie

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