Editorials
Is ‘Final Destination’ the Best Horror Franchise in History?
Final Destination is the best horror franchise in history. A part of me feels guilty saying that, especially as I survey all the figures of Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and Michael Myers adorning my desk at this very moment. But while Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and Halloween all ultimately squandered their potential in later sequels, Final Destination has remained surprisingly consistent throughout its five entries, providing cheesy thrills without ever jumping the shark.
To understand how, let’s take a closer look at some of the issues other horror franchises have fallen victim to in the past.
A frequent dilemma is that the original film simply does not have much sequel potential, and so there is nothing new to say in future installments. As a direct result, storytellers begin throwing anything they can think of at the wall to see what sticks, getting nuttier and nuttier until a relatively serious picture has become a parody of itself. Think of A Nightmare on Elm Street; though a guilty pleasure, it’s a bizarre series just because of how all over the place it ends up being. One minute, Freddy is a terrifying representation of our subconscious fears, but the next, he’s like a demon Joker, slaughtering teenagers with a Power Glove and saying “bitch” a whole lot.
To a lesser extent, this applies to Friday the 13th as well. It became apparent after Part III that teens being offed in the woods could only last so many movies and the kills had to be taken to the next level. So before long, Jason’s dead, he’s alive, he’s fighting a girl with telekinesis, he’s in hell and, finally, he’s in space. Once again, this is definitely not to say the franchise is bad, but it’s certainly erratic, jumping up and down in quality as regularly as an American Horror Story season. With both Nightmare and Friday, the problems stem from the first installment, which works on its own and doesn’t leave much room for continuation. The directors of each sequel had nowhere to go except somewhere utterly insane, inevitably leading to a shift in tone.
Then there’s the case of the overcomplicated franchise storyline. When writers realize their series will be around for a while, as moviegoers have inexplicably not grown tired of it, they might start developing an overarching narrative. Theoretically, if returning characters and cliffhangers are utilized from now on, it will look slightly less ridiculous that so many sequels are being produced. Very quickly, though, that storyline usually turns into a complete disaster, with each sequel like a Jenga block being added to an increasingly unstable tower.
Just recall what happened to Saw: the main villain died in Saw III, which seemed like a fine place to wrap things up. Unfortunately, Lionsgate wasn’t ready to leave Saw behind, and so the next few sequels devolved into an incomprehensible onslaught of plot twists, flashbacks, flashforwards, and parallel events in an attempt to craft a mythology to put most soap operas to shame. It was a valiant effort, but in the end, Saw just became too convoluted for its own good. It wasn’t a Nightmare on Elm Street scenario, where the series took a nosedive because it was difficult to keep coming up with ideas. Instead, Saw actually had far too much going on.
An even more cataclysmic example of the botched expansive narrative is Halloween; Tommy Lee Wallace should be commended for trying something different with Halloween III: Season of the Witch. But, as we all know, everyone wanted Michael Myers back, and so Compass Pictures sadly had no choice but to hunker down and prepare for a long stay in Haddonfield. The result was an absurd ongoing plot about a cult that is eventually revealed to have been in control of Michael Myers all along. By adding so much backstory and so many ludicrous reveals, John Carpenter’s simplistic slasher had transformed into a bloated mess.
Learning from history, then, a successful franchise must start off with sequel potential, and it must connect each installment without completely running the plot into the ground. That brings us to Final Destination, which meets exactly that description and which has proven itself to be our finest horror series.
From the beginning, Final Destination is clearly built to last as a franchise. The killer of the piece isn’t a specific man or monster whose return must be explained. No, the killer is death itself, an invisible antagonist who will be taking lives until the end of time, whether these movies are made or not. The premise is ideal for followups, as by definition it’s a story about something that happens all the time.
The deaths themselves are also always entertaining because the series allows for unlimited possibilities. With Friday the 13th, there are only so many ways a man with a machete can murder teenagers. Sure, some of the sequels get creative, like the sleeping bag kill in The New Blood or the frozen head smash in Jason X. But even the most innovative deaths are still some variation of a strong man slaughtering his victims with blunt force.
In the Final Destination movies, absolutely anything can happen and it will fit within the established rules without any issue. Want to kill someone in a brutal and realistic fashion by having them get hit by a bus or strangled by a clothes line? That works! Want to do something preposterous like have a flying barbed-wire fence slice someone into three pieces or have a set of weights crush a guy’s face like a watermelon? That works too! Death does whatever the hell it wants, and so the screenwriters can do whatever the hell they want. Friday the 13th had to journey into space in a desperate search for something unique, but Final Destination requires no such reach.
Final Destination also perfectly integrates its overarching plot, letting each film stand on its own but also ensuring it feels like a piece of a larger puzzle. Final Destination 2, for instance, reintroduces Clear Rivers, the only survivor of Flight 180. She becomes an integral part of the story, continuing her arc from the original and offering the valuable knowledge that comes with being a seasoned death-dodger. This sequel also expands upon the rules of the Final Destination canon, establishing what happens when a new life is added into the mix. Yet at the same time, it is not even necessary to have watched the first installment to enjoy this one. Right away, Final Destination is serving up sequels that please both casual and hardcore fans.
The same is true of Final Destination 3, which clearly exhibits the franchise’s DNA but is also a totally fresh narrative. Just as Final Destination 2 played with the idea of new life cancelling out death, this sequel involves a series of clues in the form of pictures that heavily foreshadow how each character will die. There were omens in the other movies, but now getting to the bottom of these specific photos is a major part of the drama, another effective way to spice things up.
The Final Destination, which is a bit more predictable compared to the predecessors, still answers another fascinating question: “What happens when someone who isn’t next in line tries to kill themselves?” Next up, Final Destination 5 revolves heavily around figuring out how committing murder affects death’s priorities, a cool idea not at all reflected in the previous four films.
As you can see, every sequel is connected as to not create a Season of the Witch scenario, but the bridge between all five is mostly a bonus intended to please hardcore fans. Never is the story dragged down by the need to explain an overly complex narrative with dozens of characters and increasingly stupid ideas like the lead character being under the influence of a cult. Instead, each movie is self-contained while nevertheless carrying over familiar elements, throwing in fun easter eggs, and addressing unanswered questions.
The only weak link is The Final Destination, which is cheapened by the poor special effects and awkward use of 3D, but it thankfully never verges into the franchise-ruining territory of Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers or A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge. Even if fans found themselves disappointed with the fourth entry, the series quickly bounced back with Final Destination 5 just two years later, correcting every complaint and standing out as one of the strongest films yet.
What other series brings the same basic feel to every sequel but requires they all say something slightly different? What other franchise consistently impresses with the creative kills and jaw-dropping moments to top what came before, never jumping the shark with a trip to space? Most importantly, in what other franchise are 80% of the entries absolute perfection? Not Friday the 13th. Not A Nightmare on Elm Street. Not Halloween. Not Saw. Not The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Not even Scream.
In terms of pure creativity and consistency, Final Destination reigns supreme.
Editorials
Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ Still Towers Over a 2009 Remake That Maybe Should’ve Stayed Unborn
When I write about remakes, I often bring up the word “justification.” What’s the impetus for the remake’s existence? Reinventing icons for a new generation, or benefiting from a few decades’ worth of special effects advancements? Often, there’s a reason that you can acknowledge and say, “Alright, I see what you’re going for.” That holds in Josef Rusnak’s It’s Alive, which tries to reinvent Larry Cohen’s mutant baby B-movie of the same name in what I consider the worst possible way.
I didn’t say it had to be a GOOD reason.
I’ll start with Cohen’s own reaction to Rusnak’s 2009 update: “It’s a terrible picture. It’s just beyond awful … I would advise anybody who likes my film to cross the street and avoid seeing the new enchilada.” A blunt take, but I agree. Rusnak justifies his remake by diverting drastically from Cohen’s exploitation-y flick about a newborn monster killinPreview (opens in a new tab)g Los Angeles residents, but it’s such a bafflingly weak reimagining. Cohen remains faithful to tenets of creature features while tugging at our hearts with commentaries about parents caught between morality and adoration, whereas Rusnak asks, “What if we punished a mother for trying to have an abortion?”
As Cohen says, cross the damn street.
The Approach
It’s Alive (2009) is one of those women-focused horror projects that make you scoff, derogatorily, “This was written and directed by dudes, wasn’t it?” Cohen’s original screenplay isn’t airtight, yet it does well to respect Sharon Farrell‘s “shaken mother of a monster,” Lenore Davis. Paul Sopocy and James Portolese, on the other hand, pen a screenplay that reductively focuses on Lenore protecting her bitey offspring, with a bent-out-of-shape abortion subplot thrown in. That’s not to say Cohen’s Lenore doesn’t display the same protective maternal instincts, but Rusnak plays in a sandbox of lame-duck tropes, dooming Lenore for the supposed sin of a mother’s love.
Teenage party-girl turned actress Bijou Phillips stars as Lenore Harker, a New Mexico college student who quits to live with her architect boyfriend, Frank (James Murray), and raise their incoming baby. She’s ditching pizza nights and girl talk with bestie Marnie (Ty Glaser), moving into the Albuquerque woods, where Frank has a secluded homestead with brother Chris (Raphaël Coleman), who is wheelchair dependent. Lenore goes in for a pregnancy checkup, where she learns her unborn child has doubled in size, requiring a cesarean section birth. So the surgical team opens her up and extracts “Daniel,” only to be murdered by the newborn, found resting on Lenore’s stomach, taking a post-slaughter rest.
The immediate deviation is how Daniel is found nuzzling Lenore in the hospital, and doesn’t look “freakish” at first glance. Daniel comes home with Lenore and Frank, setting up the happy lil’ family dynamic. It’s no longer a conspiratorial hunt-and-hide scenario; the “home sweet hell” take on Cohen’s original. Which, frustratingly, dissolves the core suspense that Cohen achieves. For Daniel to kill, victims have to come knocking on Lenore’s door, which becomes a repetitive cycle of visitors and hidden bodies that remove any excitement and surprises.
Does It Work?
Rusnak earns points for trying something new. Remakes have historically been less willing to put unique spins on existing stories (see: Cabin Fever). But there’s also a question of retaining the essence of the source material. Why remake a movie if you’re going to spin so far from the original that you don’t even need to use the title? It’s the Child’s Play of it all. If you wanted to make a killer AI toy movie, why use the Child’s Play legacy to do so (outside of market familiarity)?
It’s Alive doesn’t fully abandon Cohen’s ideas, but it does feel thinner than expected. There have been plenty of killer baby movies since It’s Alive—Cohen hardly has the concept trademarked. What’s fun about Cohen’s It’s Alive is how Frank chases his mutant kin around Los Angeles, eventually into the sewer system, culminating in the Los Angeles (drained) river. Rusnak directs what’s essentially a one-location thriller that minimizes the scope to meet not only its lower budget, but lesser ambitions. Where Cohen pushes farther, Rusnak pulls back, losing the idiosyncratic quirks of Cohen’s superior It’s Alive.
There’s nothing wrong with a good chamber piece, but the psychological torments Sopocy and Portolese opt for are soft as fresh-out-the-bag marshmallows. So much of the film hinges on Lenore’s cover-up tactics when she realizes her wee one is a maneater, which becomes one-note in the process. Frank wanders around, ignoring red flags, and Chris is removed from the picture for a small bit to keep the massacre going. In both films, Lenore has trouble turning against her child—but Cohen is much more thoughtful about Lenore’s state through it all. Rusnak’s direction is short-sighted, rudimentary, and flat, as it has nothing interesting to say about the fears of parenthood that drive Phillips’ Lenore to nurture the vengeful child she once wanted to terminate.
The Result
In It’s Alive (1974), Cohen makes a point of referencing Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, as John P. Ryan’s Frank recalls having the epiphany that Dr. Frankenstein is the villain, not his creation. It’s what drives Cohen’s screenplay, as we learn how the doctors tried to kill the original baby, since its deformities made it look like a melon-headed, fang-toothed freakshow. There’s none of that in Rusnak’s remake, which diminishes the creature’s origins and motives to anger. It’s an uninteresting modification because the point of Cohen’s picture is to question what makes a monster, and how its creators process their hand in the chaos. Rusnak’s not interested in such explorations, except when the screenplay shoehorns what foolishly appears as an anti-abortion undertone when we learn about Lenore’s sketchy internet baby-be-gone pills.
Even worse, the technical merits of Rusnak’s It’s Alive are unfortunate. Credit to the original’s cast, because Ryan and Farrell bring dramatic acting chops that accentuate their film’s tragedy; a legitimate heartbreaker. None of Rusnak’s cast are hitting on such a high caliber of talent, especially since there’s nothing meaty about Sopocy and Portolese’s character designs. It’s very Horror 101: ignore the obvious, act gobsmacked when the obvious happens, and bring it home. Phillips has been better in films like Bully and Hostel: Part II (maybe even The Wizard of Gore), while Murray is your average 2000s straight-to-video throwaway boyfriend. The rest of the supporting cast, sadly, barely even register.
There’s a charm to Cohen’s monster SFX, whipped up by Rick Baker—but also an opportunity. Cohen decided to use this three-mirror-blur vision, seeing through the baby’s eyes to show the beast as little as possible. If Rusnak wanted to make a stronger impact, he could have gone all-in on Daniel’s appearance to say, “Hey, at least we developed a rad creature!” But, alas, Rusnak might show even less of Daniel. When he does appear in the basement, or leap out of a trash can in the film’s climactic finale, it’s CG augmentation that distorts a puppet reportedly crafted by SFX superstar Tony Gardner. Cohen accomplishes infinitely more by putting his then-girlfriend Elaine Parkyn in a full-head monster mask, a pair of pointed gloves, and a partial body suit that benefit from optical tricks—because practical always wins.
The Lesson
It’s not hard to wonder why Millennium Films lost faith in Rusnak’s It’s Alive and opted for no theatrical release. In a time when horror remakes were all the rage, Millennium buried It’s Alive so deep that it’s not even watchable or rentable on streaming (ain’t even worth Tubi). No hyperbole, this remake stinks with the stinkiest of ’em. It’s slight on innovation, filled with awful genre generics, and is a slap in the face to what Cohen accomplished. There’s something so fresh about a killer baby flick that focuses on the suit-and-tie-wearing father, who is forced to challenge the stern, macho gender roles of the 70s, and something so disappointing about a 2000s horror movie that falls right back into outdated mindsets.
So what did we learn?
- Yes, for the hundredth time, some of those 2000s horror remakes are as bad as the haters made them all out to be.
- Ex-David Lee Roth, Ozzy Osbourne, and Alice Cooper bassist Todd Jensen plays Lenore’s doctor for some reason (which I wouldn’t have known without the internet).
- You can appreciate a remake for trying something different, but you can also detest a remake for how poorly it does something different.
- Why does Daniel look like a baby shark (doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo)?
Watching both It’s Alive flicks back-to-back gave me whiplash. When John P. Ryan (as Frank) confronts his cowering, terrified child-monster in the bowels of Los Angeles, I nearly shed a tear. That whole scene really, as Ryan realizes he’s become the Dr. Frankenstein of sorts, and his miserable, deformed boy craves his father’s affection in a time of need. Then you have Rusnak’s film, which brutally kills the pro-abortion character, insinuates Lenore is being punished for trying to abort Daniel early in the pregnancy, and deserves to die with her demon spawn engulfed by the worst CG flames this side of Birdemic: Shock and Terror. I just … kudos to Cohen for richly developing a sci-fi curio with a tremendous sense of emotional understanding, and nothing but thumbs down for Rusnak’s remake, which comes off as plenty boneheaded and hella halfhearted in the process.
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