Editorials
[Editorial] Facing the Horrors of Reality TV With ‘Series 7: The Contenders’
From Scream to Goosebumps and even those annoying little snap bracelets, you’ve got to admit that the 90s were pretty terrifying. However, there’s no doubt in my mind that the scariest thing to come out of that decade was the rise of Reality Television. Quick and cheap to produce while allowing for endless variations of the same formula, it’s no wonder that shows like The Real World and Taxicab Confessions became overnight sensations around the globe.
Of course, this popularity also led to quite a bit of controversy as audiences began to question the ethics behind turning the struggles of living, breathing people into disposable entertainment. After the Reality TV boom of the past two decades, we’re all painfully aware of the horrifying issues that often plague this kind of programming, but back in 2000, there was one eerily prescient film that somehow foresaw the future of these predatory productions and their ill-fated celebrities. That film is Daniel Minahan’s underrated Series 7: The Contenders.
Presented as a marathon of the 7th season of an extremely popular Reality TV show, Series 7 can basically be described as The Running Man meets The Amazing Race. The titular show randomly picks out contenders through a lottery and then places them in a deadly game of cat and mouse where they must hunt each other down until there’s only one left. This time, reigning champion Dawn Lagarto (Brooke Smith) is forced to compete for the third and hopefully final time while also being in the late stages of an unexpected pregnancy. Of course, there are several surprises in store as the producers do their best to provide hungry audiences with an unforgettable competition.
While it’s easy to dismiss The Contenders as a reactionary parody of Reality TV tropes, the project was actually being shopped around by Minahan as early as 1998 (originally in the form of a TV series), preceding the premiere of shows like Big Brother and Survivor which kick-started the genre’s “golden age”. The director’s initial intentions were simply to create a caricature of what he perceived as the dark side of television, but he ended up with a prophetic vision of a world where entertainment had gone too far, predicting harmful trends that we now consider staples of Reality TV.
You’ve got to admit that “life” is a pretty compelling prize for a game show.
By today’s jaded standards, some of the film’s over-the-top lines and visual gags don’t even register as humor anymore, as we’ve seen similar incidents in everything from Iron Chef to Punk’d. From manipulative interviews to executive meddling for the sake of ratings, everything here but the legalized murder has become commonplace in television. That’s why I’d argue that Series 7: The Contenders is much more disturbing now than it was during its original release, as modern audiences have had time to realize that we’re not too far off from enjoying televised murder.
The film’s realistic presentation is part of the reason why this satire is so believable in the first place, with Minahan perfectly replicating the manic energy of a ruthless television crew desperate for scraps of drama. The upbeat editing and humorous narration (provided by a pre-fame Will Arnett, who later shows up as the program’s host) also add to the experience, making The Contenders feel like something you might actually stumble upon while channel-surfing in the 2000s.
I particularly enjoy the confessional interviews, which allow us a brief glimpse inside the mind of regular folks who find themselves committing atrocities in order to survive. From elderly nurses to cancer patients, it’s the kind of gratuitous cruelty that only Reality TV can provide, and it only works because of the film’s dedication to crafting believable characters. There are no action heroes here, only normal people forced into stardom as they unwittingly become modern-day gladiators.
Dawn (whose name was inspired by a close friend of the director) makes for an unusually compelling protagonist, having developed a cynical outlook on life after a troubled upbringing and two previous seasons on The Contenders. While you may remember Brooke Smith as Buffalo Bill’s main victim in Silence of the Lambs, I can assure you that she’s no damsel in distress here, with her character going so far as to call her competitors before the game just to psyche them out and give herself (and her baby) an advantage.
I’d be mad too after three seasons of the same Reality TV show.
The movie is really at its best when engaging in this kind of dark humor, with several memorable moments like a teenager bragging about how her boyfriend paid for half of her Kevlar vest and several obvious hints that the game is clearly rigged. I also love how the show reveals to the competitors that they’ve been selected by simply showing up to their homes unannounced and handing them a gun while capturing their befuddled reaction on camera.
Unfortunately, the movie runs into some issues with its heavy-handed script and a second act that kind of loses itself in the minutiae of Dawn’s backstory. Her relationship with her estranged family and the other competitors is interesting enough, but these scenes sometimes bog down a movie that would have worked much better with a more frenetic pace. Even so, Series 7 is still a highly entertaining ride that leads to a devilishly clever climax.
I won’t spoil anything for those of you who haven’t seen the movie, but suffice to say that the “series finale” features classic game show tropes and an ominous teaser for an even more disturbing 8th season, making it clear that the show must go on. There’s even an absurd dramatic re-enactment of Dawn’s final confrontation, and I love how it’s implied that this cathartic conclusion might not be what actually happened once the cameras stopped rolling.
Series 7: The Contenders may not be a perfect film, but there’s so much heart behind the satire that I can’t help but appreciate its vision of a world where life is only worth its weight in ratings. Reality TV probably won’t be condoning murder anytime soon, but this hidden gem reminds us that the media we consume says a lot about who we are, and it’s scary to think that the film’s promise of “real people in real danger” sounds so damn interesting.
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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