Editorials
Tear It Up: Revisiting the Rat-Infested Cult of ‘Willard’
As a teenager, I stumbled upon Willard by pawing through the discount DVD bin at Blockbuster. Intrigued by the premise of an outcast with a vengeful rat army, I purchased it on the spot and it was love at first viewing. 17 years later, I rediscovered the very same DVD amongst my collection. I wondered, “How do the Willard films stand the test of time?”
The original Willard celebrates its 50th anniversary in 2021. It was a critical and box office success that inspired copycats Stanley (with rattlesnakes), and Kiss of the Tarantula (a woman with tarantulas), giving way to ’70s animal revenge films like Frogs, Killer Bees, Night of the Lepus and years later, Jaws. Despite the film’s influence, its legacy remains an underrated horror gem.
But before Willard was a film, it was a book… a diary, to be exact. Stephen Gilbert’s Ratman’s Notebooks first piqued interest by presenting itself as a series of journal entries, even opting out of chapter breaks for an authentic feel. The first page kicks off with mystery: Gilbert explains that the original manuscript was provided anonymously by a shy, middle aged man (later revealed as Willard’s next of kin) who suggested these words be published. Its success gained horror a reputability in the literary industry in the ’70s, which opened doors for Stephen King and James Herbert soon after. The film adaptation was hatched three years later.
Willard (1971)
Director: Daniel Mann
Through Daniel Mann and Bing Crosby Productions, our ratman first graced the screen in 1971 with the newly christened name, Willard Stiles. Mann paints the world with a colorful atmosphere, pacing it as a slow-burn daytime horror. Willard (Bruce Davison) is a 27 year old lonely, neurotic All-American boy. In Year of the Rat, Davison discusses his approach: “I made him as childlike as I could, and as you say, I wanted him to be this man-child stuck in a perpetual innocence.” Fun fact: Before he was cast, Davison recalled seeing an early poster of the film with Michael J. Pollard (Bonnie & Clyde) as Willard, suspecting he was originally set to star.
Willard lives with his domineering mother (Elsa Lanchester, The Bride of Frankenstein) in the notable Higgins/Verbeck/Hirsch Mansion, a designated Los Angeles Cultural-Historic Monument. At work he’s faced with a devilish boss, Mr. Martin (Ernest Borgnine), and the only person who offers sympathy is the office temp, Joan (Sondra Locke). He finds solace by befriending the rats in his backyard and trains them to terrorize at his command. He favors a white rat named Socrates who gets in-house privileges. A brown rat, Ben, seeks the same affection — but Willard despises him from the start. He rejects him repeatedly, and after a number of betrayals, Ben orchestrates a retaliation that leads to the ratman’s demise.
It was unique in its time, but for 2020 the rats in Willard are not particularly scary (though the rat training is worthy of applause) and the sunny palette doesn’t always work in its favor. However, the film endures with how it successfully highlights the horror in the mundane. In the words of Lee Gambin, Willard “took the story of Faust and cemented it into the world of real life problems.”
Ben (1972)
Director: Phil Karlson
The tale continued in the 1972 sequel Ben, pouncing off the success of its predecessor. It centers around a younger but similar protagonist: a 10 year old boy named Danny (Lee Montgomery), who has a heart condition that prevents him from leaving the house. He lives with his sister (Meredith Baxter) and protective mother (Rosemary Murphy), while creating his own friendships in a shed with impressively crafted marionette puppets. The film maximizes musophobia with Ben leading a colony to terrorize the city. Strangely, Ben is gifted the skill of reading, which is evident when the rats attack a truck marked “Fish and Poultry.” Tonally it tries to mix a sense of dread, comedy and heartwarming moments which are hit-or-miss. The climax in the sewers spends too much time to come back up — but there is a hilarious scene at the spa, feeling so vividly ’70s, as women scream with vibrating exercise belts on.
The most memorable aspect is the charming friendship between Ben and Danny, convincingly portrayed through the sincerity of Montgomery, so much that it feels like a scene from Stuart Little. At one point, Danny makes a marionette of Ben and performs a private musical number for the giggling rat. Furthermore, it’s a neat triumph that the theme “Ben’s Song,” (sung by Michael Jackson) was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Song; though it lost to “The Morning After” from The Poseidon Adventure.
If Willard is about revenge, Ben is about survival. The reporter covering the rat attacks confirms this idea by explaining, “The territorial imperative. Living area is all they want.” Overall, it doesn’t live up to the standards set by its source material, but it always tugs at my heartstrings when Danny and Ben reunite at the end. It’s a tender portrait of Ben finally receiving the love and acceptance he never got from Willard.
Willard (2003)
Director: Glen Morgan
31 years later, Willard gets a reboot. There was talk of a Bruce Davison and John Landis collaboration, but it was ultimately scrapped. Strikingly different from the original, the X-Files’ Glen Morgan (in his directorial debut) alongside producer James Wong up the horror with a gothic and Hitchcockian approach, pulling inspiration from Psycho and The Birds. Composer Shirley Walker pairs it with a gorgeous, sinister yet playful accordion-heavy score and Ben is revived as bigger than ever as a giant Gambian pouched rat. There is also a nod to Davison as Willard’s father, who makes a cameo in pictures and a painting, which was gifted to him when the film wrapped.
The cast is a lively ensemble of characters, including R. Lee Ermey as Mr. Martin, Laura Harring (fresh off Mulholland Drive) as Cathryn the temp, and Jackie Burroughs as Willard’s mother. It was a struggle to cast Willard: Joaquin Phoenix, Macaulay Culkin and Mark Ruffalo all rejected the role. Trying to keep the spirits high, the crew joked behind the scenes, “What if Willard was a girl? Neve Campbell?” Eventually they landed with Crispin Glover, who is brilliant and iconic in this role. He delivers an unforgettable performance that gives Willard a vulnerable and manic energy that just works. Glover himself published a collage book in 1988 titled Rat Catching, and these images were used in the opening credits. He also recorded a rendition of “Ben” with a surreal music video that is available in the special features.
Even with the ambitious and stylistic reincarnation of Willard, it was a box office failure — pulling in only $8 million on a $22 million budget. Morgan mentions regret in not fighting against New Line Cinema’s decision to make it PG-13 instead of R, which would have included more gore and terror. I suspect the marketing misguided audiences, as the trailer sets expectations for a tonally different film, playing The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” underneath it. This Willard is my favorite of the three, as it underscores the tragedy of loneliness most effectively. To watch it with no preconceived notions is the best way to experience it.
There is a special place in my heart for Willard; he’s a timeless character who neither fits in as villain or hero. He was a man who simply yearned for love, friendship, and respect… and found it within a group of rats. With the amount of animal revenge films that have since succeeded it, it’s easy for it to be tucked in the metaphorical basement.
But they rarely make feel-good horror films like these anymore, and Willard and his pals absolutely deserve a spot on the shelf today.
Sources:
Gambin, Lee. Year of the Rat. BearManor Media, 2016.
Gilbert, Stephen. Ratman’s Notebooks. Valancourt Books. 1968
Ng, Julie. The Year of the Rat Documentary. New Line Cinema. 2003.
Horror was thriving so well in the 1980s that movies like Pen Densham’s The Kiss (1988) would understandably get lost in the shuffle, only to then gain their fans later on in life. Even still, this one Canadian-American curio has had a more challenging time than others, as far as contemporary reevaluations go, which is very likely due to the movie’s limited availability—at least as of this write-up.
However, the scarceness of The Kiss, while a bit annoying, makes it like catnip for ‘80s horror completists everywhere. Hopefully, a lot of them will walk away satisfied after watching this hidden gem.
Even though The Kiss was intended as the first of several horror collaborations between Astral Pictures and TriStar, as well as the first feature produced by Densham, Richard B. Lewis and John Watson’s Trilogy Entertainment Group, it ended up being the only one produced from that former union. Once the movie was released, TriStar’s distribution jitters—they opted for a regional rollout—did the $6-million flick no favors. TriStar’s cold feet toward horror releases have been well noted, but The Kiss still did a tad better than Night of the Creeps (1986), another genre outing that flopped due to its regional opening.
Shot in Montreal, but set in Albany, New York, The Kiss—which was still called The Host just a few months before its October premiere—concerns an average middle-class family and their forthcoming situation. The uncanny problem in store for them was, in fact, set in motion some years earlier. As that hot and dusty flashback to the Belgian Congo shows, a familial curse was set upon the two Dunbar sisters well before Meredith Salenger’s teenage character was born.
Meredith Salenger, Nicholas Kilbertus and Mimi Kuzyk in The Kiss
The Kiss, which was based on a story by co-writer Stephen Volk (Ghostwatch) and penned by both Volk and Tom Ropelewski, has the outward appearance of The Stepfather (1987). This movie, though, is anything but a gender-flipped retread of that classic domestic disturber. For starters, The Kiss is far less grounded in reality—that much is clear from its unsettling opening scene. There, a trusting girl (Priscilla Mouzakiotis) is the victim of her own deceptive aunt (Céline Lomez); the movie’s titular act, and the story’s first shock, becomes the means of transferring an ancient evil from one host to another.
In the present day, Salenger’s role of Amy Halloran, a religious schoolgirl, is dealt a harsh blow in life once her mother, Hilary Halloran née Dunbar (Pamela Collyer), suddenly dies in a freak accident. But rather than a complete stranger sweeping the Halloran widower (Nicholas Kilbertus) off his feet some months later, Joanna Pacula’s character is that chosen temptress. Here, Pacula plays the grown-up version of the afflicted girl last seen in the movie’s opener. Since Amy’s mother is insistent about there being no reunion between estranged sisters, and she even contemplates buying a gun shortly before her tragic demise, it’s presumable that Aunt Felice poses a threat to her family.
The Kiss isn’t a movie ever too concerned about its own predictability. The audience is indeed often one step ahead of the story here, but also keep in mind how every one of those steps is loud. Take, for instance, the death of Amy’s mother; the Halloran matriarch goes out in garish, gruesome fashion, as a supernaturally commandeered truck sends Collyer’s character through a store window first, then leaves her one leg short. The directorial enthusiasm truly comes out in horrific moments such as these.
The Kiss is always sure to revel in its characters’ ills and misfortunes. So if the plot doesn’t impress, then its lurid parts should. Amy’s mother’s exit scene was proof of an eager, first-time horror director proving his worth. Then, bestie Heather (Sabrina Boudot) survives to tell the tale of a bizarre escalator mishap that, despite showing relatively less gore, spikes viewers’ empathy meter. The wilder bits of this movie, however, commence with that inevitable hookup between Felice and Amy’s bewitched father; their kitchen coitus is paralleled by Amy’s feverish classroom terror. The outcome there is a disquieting cross-cut of sex magic and a young woman’s menstrual onset plus hallucinations.
Sabrina Boudot in The Kiss
From foam appliances to bladders, that parade of special effects in The Kiss casts its own spell on the audience. Felice’s familiar, a visibly malevolent cat, was realized here with several models, some more articulate than others. Admittedly, the demon cat’s not as convincing as most of the effects here, but accepting that artifice, as opposed to fighting it, will make the whole experience way more enjoyable. As for the makeup used to manifest Felice’s inner villainy, it is more minimal and subtle than one might like; yet the work done to turn Pacula into an antithesis of herself is nonetheless compelling.
The otherworldly perils and dreadful goings-on wouldn’t work half as well as they do in The Kiss without the story’s contrast effect. Finding frights in picturesque, extremely ordinary settings was something that took off in the ‘80s, thanks to that sweeping shift to locales like the suburbs. And Amy’s home, a replica of a real Montreal suburban house, is the ideal battleground for any proper good-versus-evil story. It’s also prime real estate for this movie’s satanic panic-inspired horrors.
Because of their ostensibly similar plots, The Kiss has been compared to The Exorcist (1973). Except in Densham’s movie, the sinister, non-Christian entity targeting a teen girl lies within something less apparent and, perhaps, more devastating upon its exposure. To an outsider, Pacula’s Aunt Felice is too beautiful and unobjectionable to ever suspect of being a monster. More suspicious is how quickly she rips into the fabric of the Halloran home. Felice’s mere presence upsets the “texture of family life,” according to the director.
The demon cat in The Kiss
Taking out Amy’s mother and best friend, and distracting her father, would suggest The Kiss is playing by a different set of rules. It is initially leaving its adolescent target unsupported in a rather grim scenario. In contrast, though, this story offers up a surrogate parent who does her best to fill in the holes of Amy’s eroding home life. Mimi Kuzyk does good work as that family friend and doctor, Brenda, who guides the lost child without also steering her in any one direction; she is naturally skeptical of Amy’s accusations until it’s almost too late to do anything about them. So although The Kiss does an admirable job of undoing the main character’s support system, it never leaves her without a lifeline. This dark movie, in spite of everything that’s transpired, doesn’t deprive itself of light and hope.
The Kiss is a potent mélange of familiar ideas. If not for the director’s surprise flair for horror, though, the movie would have been less effective. What a shame that Pen Densham didn’t continue with the genre. As for Joanna Pacula, she is, too, owed credit as the wicked vixen opposite Meredith Salenger’s pitiable Amy; she never fails to be unsettling in her role. Pacula makes Aunt Felice a sexy yet intimidating character.
For horror that steadily doles out madness and menace, while also delivering a flashy and ghastly conclusion, The Kiss is certain to please. Yes, it’s cheesy all the way, but most favorably, everyone involved plays everything straight. That kind of commitment goes a long way with this movie.
The Kiss
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