Connect with us

Editorials

[Exhumed & Exonerated] ‘Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer’ (1990)

Published

on

Every decade has its ups and downs when it comes to cinema, no matter the genre.  Horror fans love to loft on high the output of the ‘30s & ‘40s, the ‘70s & ‘80s, and the more recent decades.  More often than not, however, the 1990s are labeled as the worst decade for the genre.  Not only that, but ‘90s horror tends to be written off as a whole, beyond a handful of undisputed classics.  The purpose of Exhumed & Exonerated: The ‘90s Horror Project, is to refute those accusations by highlighting numerous gems from the decade.  Stone cold classics will be tackled in this column from time to time, but its main purpose will be to seek out lesser-known and/or less-loved titles that I think deserve more attention and respect from fans.  Let the mayhem begin!

Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer

Directed by John McNaughton
Screenplay by Richard Fire and John McNaughton
Produced by Lisa Dedmond, Steven A. Jones, and John McNaughton
Starring Michael Rooker, Tom Towles, and Tracy Arnold
Released on January 5, 1990

Henry (Michael Rooker) is a blue collar drifter who works odd jobs and lives with his friend Otis (Tom Towles). He’s also a serial killer. When Otis becomes clued in to Henry’s “extracurricular activities”, things become a lot more complicated for the both of them. Further throwing a wrench in the machine is Becky (Tracy Arnold), Otis’ sister, who has arrived in town to crash at their apartment in an effort to escape her own troubles.

Henry3

Before anyone brings it up, yes, I am well aware that this film is often counted as an ‘80s release. It was shot in 1985 and had its first festival screening in 1986. It also managed to hit up a few more festivals throughout 1988 and 1989. That said, it never actually saw any official theatrical release until early 1990. Between that and the fact that it never made an actual sizable mark on audiences until then, it fits the bill for this column.

Back to the film, over 25 years later and it still packs a visceral punch. The cinematography is just as cold-hearted as Henry himself, displaying both his violent actions and their disturbing aftermath in a fiercely realistic and harsh manner. There is nothing glamorous or exploitative about the carnage on display here. That’s incredibly fitting, given that it is loosely based on a real pair of killers (Henry Lee Lucas & Otis Toole).

While there are other characters that pass in and out of the frame, only Henry, Becky, and Otis are the real focus of the tale at hand. Each of them is damaged in their own way. Becky is fleeing an abusive spouse, forced to leave her child in the care of her mother and to take up residence with her degenerate brother in the meantime. She also later divulges that she was sexually abused by her father as a child, laying out a tragic pattern of abuse in her life that sadly has no end in sight. While not as flashy a role as Henry or Otis, Tracy Arnold manages to hold her own with both Rooker and Towles throughout.

Henry4

Henry, of course, is our titular serial killer. His killings often seem to come out of nowhere, however, and generally are not crimes of passion. He might not be the brightest person in the world, but he’s street smart enough to know how to continue his deadly hobby and not get caught. He is a cold, calculating murderer and Rooker sells every last minute of it. There’s a reason that this film got Rooker a lot of work after it was completed and was shown around the industry for years before it received a wide release. He’s phenomenal in it.

Whereas Henry is incredibly pragmatic when it comes to his dark desires, Otis is not. Otis is, to put it mildly, a buffoon. A dangerous buffoon, but a buffoon nonetheless. Once Otis begins joining Henry on the killing floor, the latter constantly has to stop Otis from doing incredibly stupid things. At first Henry seems amused by this, as well as Otis’ overall reactions to murder, but it becomes increasingly clear that his patience is wearing thin. Further complicating their relationship is the fact that Henry is developing feelings for Becky and Otis is abusive towards her.

Normally a goofball, over-the-top character like Otis could be the worst aspect of a film. Such characters are apt to be grating, after all. Lucky for us, Tom Towles is just an accomplished character actor as Rooker. Even when he’s at his worst, it’s hard not to like Otis. Hell, the same can be said for all three leads.

Henry5

We know that Henry is a terrible human being, but what little morals and sense of right he does have make him somewhat endearing. That has everything to do with Rooker’s inherent charisma. Otis is similar in that regard. We should hate him throughout, but Towles’ performance makes that hard to do. As for Becky, she’s certainly no monster, but Arnold makes you like her enough that you just want to scream at her to run away as fast as she can from these two.

That is where this film gets me, and most others, from what I gather. These people should be nothing but reprehensible, but you can’t help but develop at least some sort of affinity for them. Even in the face of horrific violence, both on screen and off (shown via murder tableau), you cannot help but see Henry and Otis as human beings. That is the power of not only the performances, but McNaughton’s film as a whole.

Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer might fudge the facts of these real-life killers in favor of striking a specific tone, but that’s why it’s so wonderful. Instead of being wrapped up in laying out a biographical tale, it’s intention is solely to evoke a myriad of feelings within its viewers. Joy, sorrow, disgust, horror, empathy, concern, etc. All are conjured as one experiences Henry. It also manages to relay one of the most important things that one can understand about real-life serial killers: they’re people. They’re monstrous people, but they are people nonetheless. They have friendships, loves, and day-to-day lives.

It’s why you’ll often see neighbors of such killers stating that “He/she seemed like a such nice, normal person” over and over again in interviews. They aren’t mindless, hulking slashers. They’re people, which makes them all the more dangerous. You don’t know you’re in trouble until it’s too late. More than anything, it’s instilling that true crime fear and those real world feelings of dread in its audience that makes Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer a masterpiece. A disturbing, unforgettable masterpiece.

Up Next: Arachnophobia (1990)

Previously On…
Species | Mute Witness | Popcorn | Wishmaster | Alien 3 | Cast A Deadly Spell
Disturbing Behavior | The Sect | The Addams Family | The Ugly
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer

As a fan of musician Mike Patton (of Faith No More fame) and his band Fantomas, I can’t help but share this as a bonus for those not aware of its existence. If you haven’t heard the Fantomas album The Director’s Cut, you’re missing something special. Enjoy their rendition of Henry’s haunting main theme…

Devourer of film and disciple of all things horror. Freelance writer at Bloody Disgusting, DVD Active, Cult Spark, AndersonVision, Forbes, Blumhouse, etc. Owner/operator at The Schlocketeer.

Editorials

‘The Fog’ 19 Years Later: There’s a Reason You Don’t Remember This John Carpenter Remake

Published

on

The Fog remake
Pictured: 'The Fog' (2005)

John Carpenter’s illustrious catalog of horror and non-horror classics has already seen three remakes (Halloween, Assault on Precinct 13, and this column’s focus), with at least one more kinda-sorta confirmed on the way (Escape from New York). If you consider 2011’s The Thing enough of a remake, notch another on the bedpost. It makes sense; Carpenter turned his no-bullshit attitude into a masterful filmmaking style, and those listed titles harbor nostalgic admiration. We’re probably closer than we think to seeing Bryan Fuller’s Christine remake for Blumhouse or a contemporary They Live, while Dwayne Johnson’s Big Trouble in Little China sequel project fades away. Imagine Julia Ducournau’s Christine should Fuller exit, or what about if James Gunn booked a brief horror vacation away from the DCEU for his take on They Live?

Carpenter’s brand of down-and-dirty storytelling mixed with societal commentaries make his works perfect for generational updates, but they can’t all be winners.

Take 2005’s woefully tragic The Fog, for example.

Rupert Wainwright’s disastrously shallow remake lacks the finesse of even a crusty barnacle attached to the underbelly of Carpenter’s original. During a period of horror cinema inundated by remakes, The Fog asserts itself as one of the worst. The 2000s had a very “show, don’t tell” approach to horror filmmaking and leaned on grisly violence popularized by Saw, all exploited in their lowest forms throughout The Fog. Bless both Carpenter and the late Debra Hill for serving as producers, but Wainwright and writer Cooper Layne do their salty source shanty zero justice.


The Approach

‘The Fog’ (1980)

Carpenter’s The Fog is successful because of the auteur’s influence. Between his stronger emphasis on churchly greed, eerie musical score, and abilities as a simplistic yet impactful visionary, viewers get plenty of “bang for their buck” in 90 minutes. Wainwright doesn’t possess those qualities and relies on archaic horror templates without any investment. In an era where computer graphics were still advancing, and some producers only valued horror as gory inserts within a lax narrative, Wainwright’s direction equates to background noise. There’s nothing spectacular or signature about the filmmaker’s approach, as recyclable as the plethora of 2000s horror films plagued by the same churned-out doldrums.

Smallville heartthrob Tom Welling follows in the footsteps of fellow WB/CW stars like Supernatural’s Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki to shepherd his own horror remake, playing Tom Atkins’ role of fisherman Nick Castle. He’s a descendant of Norman Castle, one of the founding fathers of Antonio Island, which is located off the Oregon coast. It’s been over 100 years since the island’s bustling Antonio Bay community was established, and to celebrate an upcoming anniversary, a statue is commissioned that displays its founders as a dedication to their contributions. Mayor Tom Malone (Kenneth Welsh) wants everything to be perfect, but little does he know Antonio Bay is about to have an undead problem to confront when a mysterious fog rolls in thick as sauna steam.

The bones of The Fog are all there, but both needlessly overcomplicated and disparagingly unkempt. Carpenter introduces his film with an eerie ghost story told around a campfire that becomes a grave truth for Antonio Bay — Layne’s remake screenplay does backflips to try and explain the unexplainable. Nick’s charter fishing vessel unleashes the curse when second-mate Spooner (DeRay Davis) rips open a burlap bag concealing curse items with the boat’s anchor because the film doesn’t trust audience comprehension past any viewer’s eyesight. One of the biggest scourges upon 2000s horror cinema was creators believing their audiences were as dumb as algae-covered rocks, causing them to spell the obvious out in even more blatant and less captivating methods.


Does It Work?

The Fog remake carpenter

‘The Fog’ (2005)

The adjustments Wainwright oversees in 2005’s remix are a bungle of what out-of-touch producers presumed horror fans wanted to see at the time. Carpenter’s quaint coastal atmosphere is eradicated by Spooner’s Girls Gone Wild behavior or the need to belabor flashbacks that lay out every grim detail about Captain Blake (Rade Šerbedžija) and his lepers. Antonio Island’s tainted history is still prevalent as a driving force behind the weather-based haunting, but where Carpenter leaves us to imagine the atrocities founding fathers committed, Wainwright and Layne lean on time jumps that detract from overall moods for cheap betrayal thrills. The remake retains less reflection, whereas Carpenter’s original better depicts a town reckoning with its horrifying heritage — an example of hollow vengeance versus frightening introspection.

Maggie Grace co-stars in Jamie Lee Curtis’ hitchhiker role, except she’s no longer affable nomad Elizabeth Solley; she’s Kathy Williams’ (Sara Botsford) daughter, Elizabeth Williams. Her ties to Antonio Bay are supposed to represent how we can’t escape our fates, fair enough. What’s unfortunate is Layne’s need to shoehorn relationship drama because she’s (apparently) the love of Nick’s life despite his handful of hookups with KAB radio DJ Stevie Wayne (Selma Blair) while Elizabeth fled her hometown for six months — a love triangle situation that adds no special sauce and is practically forgotten. Carpenter is fantastic when letting his characters exist without bogging their arcs with fifty reasons why they’re exactly where they are in any given scene. Wainwright is no mimic, nor does his film’s desire to tangle characters together as friends, lovers, or family members add further intrigue. If anything, it adversely tanks character development because there’s no resident we intimately care about.

Which brings us to the “fog” of it all. Carpenter’s maggot-ridden swashbucklers from the deep are memorable and creepy, while Wainwright pulls his haunted visuals from a grab-bag. Sometimes, they’re atrocious see-through animations made of mist — other times, indiscriminately human entities. One victim contracts leprosy as his punishment, another fried to ash upon touch, and yet another is dragged underwater by invisible hands — there’s zero continuity to Wainwright’s justifiably antagonistic forces. They become a Mad Libs gaggle of props fitting whatever scare-of-the-hour The Fog decides is necessary at that moment, none of which ever collaborate in unison. That includes Captain Blake’s parting climax, in which he abandons his group’s attack on Antonio Bay because he claims Elizabeth as his ghost wife after it’s clear she’s the spitting image of Blake’s 1870s lover [insert seventy thousand question marks].


The Result

The Fog remake tom welling

‘The Fog’ (2005)

The Fog remake is everything I despise about thoughtless horror outputs rolled into a briny clump of seaweed and misbegotten reinventions. It’s hardly scary, unable to let audiences invest in atmospheric spookiness, and so wildly incompetent. Each scene gets progressively worse, starting with the reveal of evil personal belongings stamped with identifiable “Hallmarks” that become pieces of a puzzle that never gets finished. Carpenter makes you feel the offshore breeze rolling in with his fog, sending chills up your spine as these scurvy-soaked scoundrels start stabbing and hooking Antonio Bay residents. Wainwright doesn’t ever grasp what his iteration of Blake’s demons should look like or how they should cause havoc, so he starts throwing basic horror visuals at the screen out of desperation.

Revolution Studios’ The Fog downgrade sinks thanks to primarily messy effects, hampered by the early millennium’s digital capabilities. That’s not exclusive to awful ghost illustrations that look like someone just decreased the “Transparency” slider in Photoshop. The fog, the TITULAR FOG, doesn’t even hold up to Demon Wind standards (in which the wind is essentially fog, roll with it). Wainwright and his team brainstorm ideas that sound rad on paper — an older woman gets barbecued, a ghost outline appears in fog like Imhotep’s sandstorm face, a younger woman is attacked by seaweed — but execution almost exclusively whiffs. The remake’s drunkard generalization of Father Malone (which is such a slap in the face to Hal Holbrook’s fantastic original performance) should meet an epic death when Captain Blake levitates glass shards as a containment circle, but three pieces fly through Malone’s body, and it’s over. That’s the level of SFX disappointment that festers throughout 2005’s The Fog, all buildup with no reward.

The film’s finale feels like a prank; the rest of the conflict’s resolution is lost at sea. Carpenter’s much heavier scolds against organized religion’s dirty dealings help give his film an identity down to the glimmering golden cross, while Wainwright goes as generic as they come and abandons ship when the well runs dry. Nothing justifies the kind of conceptual excitement that comes along with worthwhile remakes, whether that’s copycat role replications (I love Selma Blair, but her Stevie doesn’t match Adrienne Barbeau’s presence) or storytelling reductions that choose numbing violence over folkloric sensations of dread. We love a horror movie that’s critical of early America’s disgusting colonization tactics, but The Fog doesn’t know how to turn those frustrations into a compelling genre production. Whatever’s kept from the original holds no candle to Carpenter’s version, and whatever’s added — like Nick and Elizabeth’s awkward shower sex scene set to softcore porno music — brings nothing of value.


The Lesson

‘The Fog’ (2005)

Just because your remake starts with a banger like Fall Out Boy’s “Sugar, We’re Going Down Swinging” doesn’t mean the film itself is a banger. There’s no world where I’d recommend Wainwright’s The Fog over Carpenter’s titanically superior original, and I say that as a leading Aughts horror remake champion. It’s another Nu-Horror approach that strips away commentary crucial to the plot’s intrigue since all Layne musters is a non-creepy and waterlogged story that feels like an unwieldy CW episode — not meant as a compliment. Not even the chiseled beauty of an early 2000s Tom Welling in a wool turtleneck can save this travesty from becoming another forgotten wreck.

So what did we learn?

● Not all CW figureheads have a hit horror remake in their blood.

● Less is so often more when it comes to horror movies, as long as you’re selling scares and confidently telling a story within your means.

● Some movies from the 2000s horror era will always suffer thanks to dodgy digital effects because while it was the shiny new toy everyone wanted to play with, golly, the technology was rough to start.

● Horror fans can be easy to please, but they’re also first to call out your bullshit — get out of here with these ghosts and their inability to pick a lane.

Wainwright’s film never knows what kind of horror movie it wants to be, and that’s the kill shot. Is it a slasher flick? Zombie movie? A large-scale haunted house blueprint? There’s never any indication that Wainwright or his screenwriter conceptualize a path forward, so they barrel on, praying there’s enough horror familiarity to appease the masses. There isn’t, it’s a boneheaded slog, and that’s that. Horror fans deserve better than to be fed the equivalent of table scraps for 100 minutes. To each their own and all, but now that I’ve finally seen 2005’s The Fog, the only times I’ll think about this movie again will be if someone interacts with my Letterboxd post.

Continue Reading