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Betrayal Swims to the Surface in Larry Fessenden’s Creature Feature ‘Beneath’ [Formative Fears]

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Formative Fears is a column that explores how horror scared us from an early age, or how the genre contextualizes youthful phobias and trauma. From memories of things that went bump in the night, to adolescent anxieties made real through the use of monsters and mayhem, this series expresses what it felt like to be a frightened child – and what still scares us well into adulthood.

Water, water everywhere, nor any friend to help.

Over the course of our lives, we form numerous relationships. Some flourish into more long-lasting bonds, whereas others are fleeting. As much as we try to hold on to those dear and important people, there’s really no telling if they’ll still be there tomorrow. In Larry Fessenden’s creature feature Beneath, Johnny and his friends are about to have the rudest awakening of their short-lived lives. They may have been tight-knit throughout high school, but when the unthinkable happens one day out on the lake, the connection between the six is severed in the most horrifying way possible.

Even as attitudes change and science advances, some legends simply refuse to die. Such is the case in Beneath — the local Black Lake Monster myth still swims in the back of everyone’s minds after all these years. Johnny (Daniel Zovatto) often thinks of the supposed giant fish seeing as his father took the only known photo of it. Regardless, he ignores his own suspicions and visits the lake with his pals. Not without a safety precaution, of course. Despite being warned by an acquaintance of his grandfather (Mark Margolis), Johnny allows his five friends — unattainable crush Kitty, competitive brothers Matt and Simon, filmmaking auteur Zeke, and athlete Deb — to row out to the middle of the secluded lake without even a warning.

All seems well until a few of them decide to go swimming. The movement immediately attracts the attention of Black Lake’s oldest resident: a colossal fish with an insatiable appetite. Following the death of one of their own, the stranded characters distract the predator so they can get back to shore. How do they do it? By feeding the monster their dead friend’s body. Eventually, though, it will take more than that to keep the fish busy. One after another, Johnny and his friends vote each other off the sinking boat until only one of them stands alone.

It’s common in horror movies to see people band together to fight a looming threat. The interpersonal relationships involved don’t always come out unscathed, but the living characters at least find a common ground; if not a haunting reminder of their ordeal. Beneath explores what happens when the one thing that could keep everyone safe is thrown away with little regard. Johnny’s friends end up systematically abandoning one another in a bid for survival — other teen horrors typically go the other direction. By casting one another overboard to the mammoth fish, the characters destroy the taught belief that if we stick together, we can overcome anything.

Under the notion that humans are inherently social, those with few or no friends are considered weird. The importance of companionship is learned at an early age — these links provide a sense of belonging as well as give us purpose. Yet, with friends like the ones in Beneath, who even needs enemies? The best way to describe Johnny’s group is “uncertain;” they keep up the pretense that everything is fine because that’s what they’re conditioned to do. Everything changes once they leave dry land and discover there was trouble in the waters long before the lake was in the picture.

While the movie chiefly takes place on Black Lake, the drive there is a sign of things to come — Simon (Jonny Orsini) nearly crashes the car because he can’t stop staring at Kitty (Bonnie Dennison) as she makes out with his older brother Matt (Chris Conroy). Zeke (Griffin Newman) annoys everyone with his astute observations, and Johnny’s affection towards Kitty isn’t exactly a secret as he tries to give her a strange necklace to wear (whose origin is explained in a prequel comic book). There’s an undeniable tension between everyone, but no one’s talking about it. Not yet. As soon as the fish kills Deb (Mackenzie Rosman), all the rules of decorum are tossed out along with her body.

Fessenden aims for a more sinister update of Lifeboat with this movie — and he succeeds. He breaks the moral compass and undermines the idea of loyalty. Rules known from a young age and practiced well until death are ditched as the characters’ situation becomes dire. The actions of Johnny and his peers are shameful under scrutiny, but the circumstances are unique. They succumb to paranoia and trivial disputes that cloud their judgment. Although there is a series of irrational choices that wear thin for viewers, those lapses in thinking are earned through process. This isn’t a matter of characters deliberately making bad decisions to further the plot; they’re so scared they just can’t think straight.

What hits the hardest about Beneath is its unapologetic cynicism. There are no heroes here. The story is a display of human nature at its most loathsome. The camaraderie is non-existent, and the overarching theme of distrust goes against everything we know and cherish in both the real world and fiction. The movie acknowledges conventions while dismantling them. Fessenden and writers Tony Daniel and Brian D. Smith tapped into something very dark in Beneath, something provocative even for a genre known for twisting reality and challenging ethics. As for the characters, their relationships were undone not because of a carnivorous fish but because they failed one another during times of trouble. It’s a harsh lesson about growing up that Johnny and the others will never have the opportunity to learn from.

The movie is outwardly memorable because of its creative practical effects and unpredictable behavior. The characters are detestable and the outcome is grim. Even so, Beneath is a shrewd morality experiment that asks its audience a difficult question — what would they do if they were in the same boat — on top of showing what happens when baser instincts supersede compassion.

Paul Lê is a Texas-based, Tomato approved critic at Bloody Disgusting, Dread Central, and Tales from the Paulside.

Editorials

‘Phantasm’ – Why the Horror Classic’s Exploration of Death Still Resonates 45 Years Later

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As Benjamin Franklin famously wrote, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”

The horror genre offers a controlled environment in which viewers can reflect on their own morality, whether it be via catharsis or escapism, but a personal loss can complicate one’s relationship with horror. Even the most hardened of fans may struggle to find comfort in the genre after experiencing the death of a loved one.

45 years ago today, Phantasm helped viewers confront death head-on while subtly exploring the grief that accompanies it. In the film, 13-year-old Mike (A. Michael Baldwin) convinces his older brother-turned-guardian Jody (Bill Thornbury) and their affable neighborhood ice cream man, Reggie (Reggie Bannister), to investigate a mysterious mortician dubbed The Tall Man (Angus Scrimm).

Phantasm was the third feature from writer-director Don Coscarelli (The Beastmaster, Bubba Ho-Tep). The seed was planted upon witnessing the audience react to a small jump scare at a preview screening for his previous effort, the 1976 coming-of-age tale Kenny and Company. Chasing that jolt of adrenaline, he challenged himself to make a movie that delivers scares regularly throughout.

The independent production was shot in 1977 on weekends over the course of nearly a year in and around southern California’s San Fernando Valley. The 23-year-old Coscarelli shrewdly rented the film gear on Fridays and returned it Monday morning, getting three days of work out of a single day’s rental fee. When all was said and done, the film cost an estimated $300,000.

Unable to afford a full crew, Coscarelli also took on director of photography and editing duties. His father, Dac Coscarelli, receives a producer credit for providing a large chunk of the film’s funding. Additional financing was invested by doctors and lawyers, accruing a total estimated budget of $300,000. His mother, Kate Coscarelli, served as production designer, wardrobe stylist, and makeup artist under different pseudonyms, and she later wrote the novelization.

Hot off the success of John Carpenter’s Halloween, AVCO Embassy Pictures purchased Phantasm for distribution. It was released on March 28, 1979 in California and Texas before expanding to other territories and becoming a box office success. It spawned four sequels, with Coscarelli and the core cast on board throughout, along with a cult following that counts Quentin Tarantino, Rob Zombie, Snoop Dogg, and JJ Abrams (who named Star Wars: The Force Awakens‘ Captain Phasma in its honor) among its ranks.

PHANTASM Remastered

The film embraces nightmare logic – in part by design, as Coscarelli drew influence from Suspiria; partly the result of extensively editing down an overlong first cut to a tight 89 minutes. The it-was-all-a-dream ending is a rare one that doesn’t undermine the entire movie that preceded it. Not every plot point is spelled out for the viewer, and some dots may not completely connect, but the narrative is conveyed in such an engrossing manner that it hardly matters.

A particularly striking pair of back-to-back sequences occur at the conclusion of the first act. Following a late-night graveyard excursion, the camera pulls out on a shot of a sleeping Mike to reveal his bed in the cemetery with The Tall Man poised over him while ghouls attack from their graves. The next day, Mike witnesses The Tall Man affected by the chill of Reggie’s ice cream truck via a spine-tingling slow-motion zoom.

The special effects also shine, from flying metallic spheres that suck the blood out of victims’ heads to lifelike severed fingers that bleed viscous yellow gore. The visuals are supplemented by progressive music composed by Fred Myrow and Malcolm Seagrave, to whom Coscarelli recommended electronica maestro Vangelis and Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. Despite its repetition throughout the film, the power of their haunting musical theme is never diluted.

The cast was populated by amateurs, but occasionally hammy performances are far outweighed by naturalistic character moments, best exemplified by the scene in which Jody and Reggie jam on their guitars together. In addition to serving the plot by introducing the tuning fork that plays an integral role in the finale, it allows the viewer to better connect with the characters, thereby making their peril all the more frightening.

It’s character building like this that makes Phantasm‘s exploration of death so effective. The film is ultimately about Mike coming to terms with the passing of Jody, portrayed as the cool older sibling every adolescent wishes they had. Mike confronts his fear by dreaming up a final adventure with his dearly departed brother in which they manage to defeat death itself, represented by The Tall Man. Upon doing so, he’s awakened to the harsh reality that Jody died in a car accident, allowing Mike to reach the final stage of grief: acceptance.

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