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‘The Fly’ Was Released 30 Years Ago Today

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The Fly Anniversary

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Who says all remakes are terrible? One only needs to look at David Cronenberg’s remake of 1958’s The Fly (itself a more faithful adaptation of George Langelaan’s short story of the same name). The film is a masterclass in special effects as well as one of the best love stories in cinema history, as tragic as it is.

The film took some time to get developed, with its beginnings starting in the early 1980s when co-producer Kip Ohman brought the idea of a remake to screenwriter Charles Edward Pogue. After showing some interest, they both went to producer Stuart Cornfield with their idea and the money was given to Pogue to write the script. Rather than do a direct adaptation of the original film or its short story, Pogue decided to tell a story of slow evolution as opposed to one of an instantaneous transformation. Once a script was complete, the investors at 20th Century Fox wanted to pull out. Pogue made an agreement with them that they would distribute the film if he could find another source of financing.

Funnily enough, the new producer that was brought on board was comedian Mel Brooks and his production company Brooksfilms. Brooks suggested Pogue be removed from the project and Walon Green was brought in to re-write the script. When that draft was also deemed unworthy, Pogue was brought back in to rework the script again.

Robert Bierman was locked in fairly early on as the film’s director, but when his daughter was tragically killed in an accident while the family was on a vacation, Brooks let him out of his contract so that he could grieve. David Cronenberg, who had just abandoned the Total Recall adaptation that he had been working on for the past year (he wrote 12 drafts for it before breaking ties with in), was finally brought in as the director and was also tasked with rewriting Pogue’s script. Many set pieces and central themes (the main character’s loss of body parts, the vomiting of corrosive acid, etc.) were retained from Pogue’s draft, but Cronenberg re-wrote all of the characters and dialogue from scratch. That being the case, Cronenberg was classy enough to be insistent that Pogue retain a screenwriting credit.

There were several scenes deleted from the film after it screened with test audiences, the most infamous of which is the one in which Seth fuses a baboon and a cat together in a desperate attempt to find a cure for himself. He then falls off the roof of the building, and sees an extra appendage protrude from his side, which he then proceeds to amputate with his teeth. This scene was ultimately cut from the film because test audiences lost sympathy for Seth when they saw it.

Howard Shore’s grand orchestral score is appropriately chilling, and one of the only scores to have ever truly haunted me upon hearing it. The truly standout moment in his score comes during the film’s climax, when Brundlefly falls out of the Telepod after merging with the merging (see video below).  It’s a devastating piece of work.

Of course, it’s the performances that really make The Fly so special. Jeff Goldblum gives one of the best performances of his career as Seth Brundle. Up until his final transformation in the film’s closing minutes, Goldblum makes you feel for him even as he becomes a monster. Similarly, your heart breaks for Geena Davis as you watch her slowly come to the realization that the love of her life is lost. Even when he is clearly lost forever, she still hesitates before killing him. It’s almost unbearable to watch. Hell, even John Getz is sympathetic in what would otherwise be a throwaway jealous man stereotype.

Released on a production budget of $9 million ($19.7 million in 2016 dollars), The Fly went on to gross a respectable $40.5 million domestically ($88.9 million in 2016 dollars). Chris Walas (Gremlins) and Stephan Dupuis also won the Academy Award for Best Makeup and Hairstyling. Given the climax of the film, that win is not surprising, especially considering that it is one of the few categories horror films have an edge in with the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

The Fly Anniversary

The Seven Stages of Brundlefly

The critical success of The Fly matched its commercial success, with even Gene Siskel, who was known for having an aversion to the horror genre, named it his tenth best film of 1986. So successful was The Fly that a sequel was immediately considered. Cronenberg declined returning, since he said he had never considered filming a sequel to one of his films. Directing duties went to Walas, with four writers being credited for the screenplay (one of whom was Frank Darabont). That film grossed about half of the original’s domestic gross but was a critical failure. It is known as one of the worse sequels ever made, though it does have a small, loyal cult following. Still, the existence of a lesser sequel doesn’t take away from the fact that Cronenberg’s original is a wonderful film.

Celebrate The Fly‘s 30th anniversary today with a re-watch, or watch it for the first time if you’ve never seen it. It stands as a landmark of the horror genre and is also one of the best films ever made.

A journalist for Bloody Disgusting since 2015, Trace writes film reviews and editorials, as well as co-hosts Bloody Disgusting's Horror Queers podcast, which looks at horror films through a queer lens. He has since become dedicated to amplifying queer voices in the horror community, while also injecting his own personal flair into film discourse. Trace lives in Denver, CO with his husband and their two dogs. Find him on Twitter @TracedThurman

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Editorials

Why Mainstream Horror Should Lighten Up

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“Elevated Horror.” Of all the combinations in the English language, that one is the most insufferable. 

It represents almost a decade of scary movies that, for the most part, took themselves too seriously. Horror responds to the moment, so its “why so serious” lean makes sense as we scuttle through the “worst of times” equation of Charles Dickens’ famous opening lines. But there’s still an opening and a need for a lighter approach; one that not only has fun with its audience but takes the piss out of a genre that is seemingly letting its newfound “respectability” go to its head. 

Wes Craven believed devotees see horror films to let out their fears one primal scream at a time. At their core, these movies are roller coasters; they bring us as close to the edge as possible before pulling us back into a safety net of reality. The need for a bigger and badder coaster increases during times when the size of that net decreases.

There’s a thrill that comes from imagining being in a foot race with a madman, or outthinking the hordes of zombies on the other side of the door, plus the scavenger humans coming behind them. There’s even a rush that comes from imagining how one might deal with possession to see good triumph over evil in the end. It’s all about building tension and releasing it through catharsis. That cathartic release usually sounds like screams followed by laughter, which signals relief. Genre heavy hitters over the past 10 years offered very little of that respite when the credits rolled. Films like Hereditary, The Witch, Talk to Me, and even Smile (pick one) keep that tension going after the screen fades to black.

Hereditary

As the genre became obsessed with creating trauma metaphors, that lack of release made sense. Anyone with even a small sample size of traumatic experiences knows those emotions don’t magically resolve themselves in an allotted run time. But how much trauma can one take? Especially when there’s a mess going on outside that few of us can escape from. Movies offer that off-ramp, no matter how short. 

Everything can’t be, nor should it be, “elevated.” Audiences need thoughtful explorations of life’s ills via monsters as much as they need murdering masked maniacs with kitchen knives. And no, it doesn’t have to go any deeper than that. Sometimes, a knife is just a knife, and it’s still worth our time and respect. As weird as it sounds, that simplicity is comforting not in spite of the trauma but because of it. 

The worst of times should manifest more than just anguish. People need to laugh just as much as they need to think seriously about this moment in time. Even the Scream franchise forgot the meta rock upon which it built its church when the latest foray sacrificed the subtle comedy for serious drama. Scary Movie returned at the perfect moment. It provides the necessary laughs, but it’s not a cure-all.

This isn’t a call for Scary Movie imitators but a return to a mainstream landscape where Killer Klowns from Outer Space sat with The Serpent and the Rainbow, nestled neatly with the latest Nightmare on Elm Street, which took nothing away from The Vanishing.

They Live

Even They Live, John Carpenter’s horror sci-fi satire sandwich, kept its tongue firmly in cheek while discussing serious ideas still relevant in 2026. Yes, a film about aliens taking over the world through subliminal messaging only visible through coded sunglasses is, in fact, a tad silly. Carpenter understood that mainstream horror can’t become so self-important that it never looks itself in the mirror and laughs at that inherent silliness. 

The thing is, horror historically excels at poking fun at itself. Most of the Scream franchise, The Cabin in the Woods, or The Blackening show adoration without kowtowing. They recognize tropes and trappings but invert them for an audience already in on the joke, but one that also finds solace in said conventions. This keeps the genre on its toes; once something gets parodied, it’s usually time to evolve. That breeds new ideas and fresh filmmakers, which not only strengthen the genre’s collective voice but also amplify it.

Get Out, as “elevated” as some critics want us to believe it is, is a cathartic, populist scary movie that spoke to an untapped audience rather than speaking down to them. Backrooms is one of the biggest horror hits in years, partially because it’s fine-tuned for modern-day teenagers instead of their parents. Movies like these tell everyone the genre is open for business; open for innovation and, yeah, open for new ways in which people can lovingly poke fun at with a wink and a nudge. 

Horror needs dread as much as it needs laughter.

Catharsis is just as important as tension, and pulpy populism has the same merit as more high-brow material. Respectability shouldn’t come at the expense of an experience akin to walking through a haunted house. At a time when joy seems in short supply, horror should look to its past to map out its future, and make things just a tad brighter for audiences.

Backrooms

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