Editorials
‘My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To’: Anatomy of Addiction – A Personal Essay
This editorial contains major spoilers.
A child of an alcoholic, I grew up conditioned to expect my mother would be totally blitzed anytime I walked through the front door. An uncontrollable need to drink, often before breakfast and always those 40-ounce tall boys, turned a caring, attentive mother into a mangled and malnourished shell of a person. Her personality changed, and a past littered with trauma bled into desperation, bitterness, and anger. She frequently erupted into juvenile tantrums until you caved and further enabled her behavior. With writer/director Jonathan Cuartas’ My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To, I found myself replaying our entire relationship and witnessing not only her devolution unraveling on screen but my own.
The film follows two siblings Jessie (Ingrid Sophie Schram) and Dwight (Patrick Fugit) as they care for their sick younger brother Thomas (Owen Campbell), whose strand of vampirism, even though it’s never explicitly described as such, requires frequent feedings. When Thomas is well, he’s sprightly, dashing, and curious about the world, often begging to be let out of the house and play with the neighborhood kids. When Thomas isn’t well, he’s sluggish, lifeless, and practically catatonic. He doesn’t hunt on his own, as the traditional vampire does; but like a vampire, though, sunlight is toxic, and he takes to his bed for hours or days at a time. Jessie and Dwight instead do the hunting for him, choosing their prey based on status in the world 一 the homeless, sex workers, and immigrants commonly cross into their path as potential food.
“She’d actually be a great catch,” says Jessie, suggesting a red-headed hooker named Pam (Katie Preston) as the next target. “She probably knows a lot of people,” Dwight counters, shuffling his body to mask the truth that he knows her quite well. “I doubt any of them care about her,” Jessie argues. The next afternoon, she trails Pam to a sleazy motel on the outskirts of town and quickly discovers Dwight is a regular client. Later, fully knowing his secret, she does not hesitate in playing the familial obligation guilt card (it’s the Queen of Hearts, by the way, displaying a sheepish smile and holding a delicate rose in one hand and a switch knife in the other). “I know it’s hard, but we can’t do it without you. It has to be the three of us… together,” she says, her resentment hanging cool on her tongue. Perhaps, she envies her brother’s midnight dalliances, his way to find joy and pleasure in an otherwise suffocating existence, and likely hates herself for feeling the same way.
Jessie inevitably murders Pam, wheeling her dead corpse back into their home, much to Dwight’s shock and horror. Cracks have splintered all across their relationship, and there’s no other way to go but plummet further into the stench-filled abyss. My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To works as wonderfully as it does because we’re catching Jessie, Dwight, and Thomas in the middle of their story. We don’t get a glimpse into how this all started, and we don’t need to. The gravitas Schram, Fugit, and Campbell bring to their respective roles is electric 一 oscillating between violent outbursts (the scene in which Thomas goes for a leisurely nighttime drive is a prime example) and the quieter, lightning bulb flashes, as when Dwight takes a bath and the sorrow is so indelibly etched into his face you don’t know where his wrinkles begin and pain’s razor edge ends.
I had a difficult time loving my mother. In the last few years of her life (she passed two months ago), I began harboring resentment and rage of my own. Her dependency on alcohol wasn’t the trigger; it was her dependency on me that eventually wore down my mind, body, and spirit. Much like Dwight, I conjured up detailed fantasy of grandeur, living somewhere else, anywhere else, as long as it was another state. I dreamt most often about the shimmering lights of New York City, and for Dwight, ocean sounds and sandy beaches lining California had caught his wonderment. Fleeing to a coastal city seemed to make the most sense when I was younger. Instead of confronting and processing the reality set before me, I wanted to get the hell out, leave the troubles and the pain behind, and wipe the slate clean.
When Jessie kills Pam, it totally destroys Dwight. Pam was his ticket out of this endless hell. Pam was somewhat of a kindred spirit. And it was Pam who regaled a tale of going down to Miami back in the ‘90s. “It’s nice. It’s not what it looks like on TV,” she says. But now, Dwight has to deal with things. He must deal with the responsibility he has to his brother, and he owes his sister the truth. Once one emotional bomb detonates, all bets are off. Earlier in the evening, while Jessie and Dwight are both out scavenging for food, Thomas befriends a local boy named Turner (Judah Bateman) and invites him inside, where they talk about Christmas and play Thomas’ favorite piano game. Dwight’s premature arrival back home catalyzes the rest of the plot, a ripped band aid leading to chaos and Jessie’s death when Turner, hiding in a closet, lurches from the dark and stabs her in the stomach.
Turner bolts into the night and hops on his bicycle, pedaling for dear life and not taking a second to glance over his shoulder. Initially, Dwight wavers on what to do next, but at Jessie’s behest, he’s soon hot on the young boy’s trail, eventually catching him a few blocks away. Perched in his pickup truck, the two share one of the film’s most intimate scenes, containing a sliver of dialogue that further punctures into Dwight’s tortured state of mind. “You don’t know what it’s like to be alone,” he tells the teenager. The rain splatters on the windshield, somehow framing the moment like a polaroid. Dwight’s pain feels like my pain, pulsating and red in my brain, even now. I think about those words, those nine simple words, and it captures the experience of living with and trying to care for an addict. You try to help them, but you lose yourself in the process.
Meanwhile, Jessie instructs Thomas to feed and to drink and to be full of her blood. She’s never one to waste, after all. Dwight later returns to discover his brother Thomas gorging on her neck. “Get off of her!” he screams, slamming the bathroom door. This end was inescapable. You could say, it was always their fate.
Most days, my mother was a creature of the night, sucking on the long-decayed stems of her life, yet there were those brief, blinding flashes of compassion and joy and free-spiritedness that would jolt you awake. It was often music, much like the film’s central characters, that brought out those traits and a renewed zest for living. Now, I cherish those glimpses into the person she always was but which she kept largely hidden from the world.
Dwight scrambles to pack up his belongings, guitar clenched in his fist, and fully intends to leave small town life and his brother in the rearview. He drives out to a local café to enjoy a meager breakfast before hitting the open road. But his guilt, shame, fear, and above all, compassion tugs him home. “I thought you weren’t coming back,” squeaks Thomas, visibly rattled. “I’m here now,” Dwight whispers, barely able to get out the words, as he pulls his brother closer.
The film’s finale is quiet but explosive. Thomas takes a beat before uttering his own death sentence: “Open the window.” Dwight’s eyes balloon for a moment, the gravity of those three words pulverizing his skin. The floodgate instantly bursts with Fugit delivering one helluva performance. Dwight places his brother tenderly back against the headboard, and he two lock eyes, resigning themselves to the only possible way ahead. The silence is deafening. Dwight creeps to the window, and in between his tears, he rips away the curtains and boards blocking out the sun. Without cutting to Thomas, or using silly CGI, Cuartas utilizes the power of suggestion to inform the viewer of what’s happening. Thomas has likely burst into flames, and a stunning white light covers the frame. It’s a beautifully rendered sequence, a true gut punch, the kind that knocks every ounce of air from your lungs.
When it became clear to me I needed to construct boundaries in my relationship with my mother and, more importantly, give myself permission to do so, she suffered a grave personal setback. Coincidentally, as I’m writing this piece, I’ve realized it was exactly 10 years ago this month that she shattered her kneecap on her way to get more beer. It was a characteristically cool November evening, and the time change made the days seem eerily longer, as it always does. My mother had already gulped down five or six canned Natural Ice beers, so you could say she was four sheets to the wind. She left and never came back. A neighbor later told me what happened, and it was then I vowed to enforce the necessary limits in our relationship and never to feel guilty about it.
My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To is magnificent in the way it holds a mirror up to addiction, familial ties and obligation, and the compromises we make to extend our own suffering. The last scene, finding Dwight finally making his way to the shoreline, is that moment when make the choice to live. Whether literally, as with Thomas’ or my mother’s death, or metaphorically, severing the ties that have caused you so much pain over months or years can be cathartic. Dwight looks out over the sea, and a smile pops across his face. He almost can’t believe the beauty and majesty before his very eyes. It’d been there all along, but only now can he fully appreciate it. He’s learned that each moment truly is fleeting and that living, really living, is all any of us have in the end.
The great Ernest Dickerson turns seventy-five years old this month, so we’re looking back at his most memorable contribution to the horror genre – 1995’s Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight!
The film hit screens while the Tales from the Crypt series was winding down its run on television, and it stands apart with a story that feels a step or two removed from the franchise norm. That was the smart play, though, as the show’s stories – and those from the original EC comics – work best in short bites. The result is a film that holds up beautifully as a gory good time.
Now keep reading to see what I heard on the commentary for…
Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight (1995)
Commentator: Ernest Dickerson (director), Michael Felsher (moderator)
1. Dickerson was in post-production on Surviving the Game when he got a call from his agent saying that producer Gil Adler wanted to meet about a Tales from the Crypt feature film. It went well, so Dickerson met with Joel Silver next and secured the job.
2. The original screenplay for the film came to the producers as a spec script wholly detached from the Tales from the Crypt brand. They added the Crypt Keeper (voiced by John Kassir) bookends to make it fit.
3. Dickerson was more familiar with the original EC comic books having read them as a kid, but he had watched a few episodes of the HBO series, so he knew what the current vibe was for the project.
4. Adler directed the film’s wraparound segments, meaning Dickerson never actually got to work with the creepy puppet. “Gil and the Crypt Keeper had a great relationship,” he adds, “they worked together for years.”
5. While he was new to the Tales from the Crypt family, Dickerson had previously worked as a director of photography on the Tales from the Darkside anthology series. That show is underappreciated in my humble opinion, and I will go to bat for both it and the equally underloved Monsters.
6. A big appeal of the horror genre for Dickerson is the idea of dark mysteries that challenge our imagination. For this film, that came down to the mythology being created between the characters.
7. Five executive producers are listed in the opening credits, but Dickerson says the only two he had dealings with were Silver and Richard Donner. The other three were Walter Hill, Robert Zemeckis, and David Giler.
8. Dickerson had only ever seen Billy Zane in movies with a full head of hair, so he was surprised when Zane showed up on the first day with a bald head. “He had this case, and he opened up the case that he had all these hair pieces in, and he says, ‘So which one of these do you think I should use?’” Dickerson looked at him and suggested he just go bald for the character.
9. While the bulk of the opening exteriors were filmed in a desert just outside Los Angeles, the shot of the old church at 11:26 was created on a warehouse hangar soundstage where the film’s interiors were shot.
10. When he had read the script, Dickerson pictured the character of Jeryline (Jada Pinkett Smith) “as a little, tough lady.” He had recently seen Smith in Menace II Society, and while the producers had someone else in mind for the role, he fought to get her instead.
11. Just as Zane surprised Dickerson with his hair (or lack thereof), Smith arrived on the first day with her hair dyed platinum white. He “liked the idea” but asked her to please get it tweaked so it looked more yellowish blond. “It’s definitely a statement.”
12. He had seen Brenda Bakke in the 1989 sci-fi/action film from Japan, Gunhed, and thought she’d be great here as Cordelia. The rest of us might recognize her from Death Spa or Trucks.
13. Felsher comments that the film’s setup does a good job not telegraphing who’s going to live or die, and he uses the “nice guy” (Charles Fleischer) and “the kid” (Ryan O’Donohue) as examples. “You don’t play by those rules here,” he says, and Dickerson replies that he wanted to subvert those rules. That extends to Smith as well because she’s Black, “and usually in movies like this they’re the first folks to die.”
14. Dickerson says they had forty days of filming, “which, the way I’m used to working, was a very generous schedule.” It was budgeted at around $10 million.
15. This probably won’t surprise you, but Zane improvised the bit at 26:25 after he jumps out the window and says, “Fuck this cowboy shit! You fuckin’, hodunk Podunk, well, then, motherfuckers!”
16. In the original script, the demons that The Collector (Zane) raises from the dirt actually looked more like the people they used to be. “They were more human,” but the very smart decision was made in pre-production to make them look far more unique instead.
17. The demons are killed by shooting their eyes, but Dickerson felt there should be one more element to it. “Shoot out their eyes, you gotta duck because the souls come shooting out, and if it hits ya, boom, it can kill ya.” This is a fun touch.
18. He’s been asked more than once if these demons are where Peter Jackson got the idea for how the orcs would look in his Lord of the Rings movies. “They do look like orcs.”
19. He recalls having seen Ronny Yu’s The Bride with White Hair shortly before going to work on Demon Knight, and he hoped to bring some of that staged style into his own film. An example of that in practice is Brayker’s (William Sadler) brief flashbacks to Christ on the cross.
20. Character deaths were mostly based on the idea that “each person’s downfall was going to be predicated by their weakness.” The Collector discovers someone’s weakness and then uses it against them. Cordelia wants to be loved, Jeryline wants to travel, Uncle Willy (Dick Miller) is a horndog for both liquor and ladies, Danny loves horror comics, etc.
21. Dickerson says that plenty of genre classics were in the back of his head while making the film, including Assault on Precinct 13, Alien, Aliens, and more.
22. Cordelia is possessed into a demonic form, and Dickerson’s idea for how she’d look was originally a bit different. “Since Cordelia was a prostitute, I thought that her mouth should actually be a vertical slit that was in her stomach… which would open up with teeth and a tongue.” It was nixed, he says, when “the wife of one of the producers read that and said ‘no way you’re putting that in the movie.’”
23. The key makes an appearance in the followup, Tales from the Crypt: Bordello of Blood, but it wasn’t originally meant to. Apparently, early test audiences expected it to be a more connected sequel to Demon Knight, so the filmmakers added it in to appease them. This is where I go on record saying that Bordello of Blood is a fun time. Can’t touch Demon Knight, obviously, but it’s more entertaining than its reputation suggests.
24. They had to film Uncle Willy’s bar scene “dream” twice, once with the women topless and once with them in bikinis, to have versions for both theaters and television broadcast. “Dick’s a pro.” (To be fair, Dickerson says this in regard to Miller having to endure the makeup application, but the sentiment fits both situations, so…)
25. Dickerson says he’s “always amazed at the love that people show this film,” and adds that fans bring it up to him incredibly often. This is great to hear, as we should always be telling artists how much their work means to us while they’re still alive and able to hear it.
26. Zane also suggested the gag at 1:08:21 with the sponge coming out of his mouth. The beat reminds Dickerson to praise the actor even more, adding that he was an “ally” to the director when “bad ideas” came down from the studio suits.
27. He didn’t get any pushback on killing little Danny. He did insist on one added element, though, as he wanted to immediately follow the boy exploding in the air with a shot of his bloody and torn sneaker hitting the ground below. “And the sneaker had to be a hightop.”
28. Dickerson says there’s “something kinky sexy about” Smith being covered in blood, and then the two commentators go quiet for almost two minutes out of respect for the scene. It’s a good opportunity to reflect on how Dickerson had previously mentioned Alien and Aliens as films being in the back of his head during filming, and how two scenes here reflect that – Jeryline stripping down to her underwear for the final confrontation feels like a nod to Ridley Scott’s film, while an earlier scene with Irene (CCH Pounder) and Dep. Bob (Gary Farmer) realizing they’re surrounded and choosing to blow themselves up alongside some of the demons is something of a callback to the air vent sacrifice in James Cameron’s film.
29. Asked about the film’s critical reception at the time of release, Dickerson says it received good reviews from horror-loving critics and then talks about the importance of horror in general. “Horror has always been a great way of putting out ideas, of talking about some of the things that affect us as people. Some of the best horror, like the best science fiction, talks about what it’s like to be human. Some of the best horror gets very political.”
30. The original ending would have featured The Collector showing “his true self, which is a demon made of fire.” They spent a lot of time trying to make it work, but it was “extremely difficult… back in the day of analog effects.” It was rewritten into the faceoff between him and Jeryline featuring the dancing, the crotch fire, Zane’s attempts at saying “love,” and his eventual demise from her bloody spit.
31. They both agree that a direct sequel to Demon Knight could be a lot of fun, but Dickerson says he’s unaware of any talk on the possibility.
32. Dickerson was super excited about this new Scream Factory Blu-ray in 2015, and he mentions that before its release, he had imported a Blu-ray from Germany presumably to enjoy the film in HD. He’s just like us! (Or am I the only one here who’s imported a German Blu-ray of the much maligned werewolf flick Big Bad Wolf…)
Quotes Without Context
“I was so happy to get Dick Miller for this movie.”
“There was a time when guys used to put ketchup on everything.”
“I’m a big student of Hitchcock, and the best way to make a moment of horror work is to lull the audience into a false sense of security.”
“A villain should always be the most interesting person in a movie.”
“They were a really great bunch of performers who were performing on these little leg-extension stilts wearing a diaper that had a radio-controlled tail that was being manipulated by a special effects tech right out of the frame.”
“It’s hard to direct air; it doesn’t do what you want.”
“The only censorship problem came from the producer’s wife, who didn’t want the vagina dentalis [sic] in the movie.”
“One of the executives wanted to know why the devil didn’t try to have sex with Jada.”
“It always starts with the script.”
Keep up with more horror commentary breakdowns here.
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