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The (French) Language Lesson in ‘Pontypool’ [Maple Syrup Massacre]

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Maple Syrup Massacre is an editorial series where Joe Lipsett dissects the themes, conventions and contributions of new and classic Canadian horror films. Spoilers follow…

Language is paramount in Pontypool, Bruce McDonald’s Canadian (don’t call it zombie) thriller. The film concerns a shock jock DJ and his pair of female colleagues who manage a radio station over the course of a morning as a word-based pathogen destroys the surrounding community.

Based on the book by Tony Burgess (who also wrote the screenplay), the film is a single location thriller that relies heavily on its small cast and mildly claustrophobic setting. Dialogue and audio (taped segments, phone calls, and off-camera announcements) flesh out not only the world and the looming threat; it also captures the power and impact of language.

It’s vital that Grant Mazzy (Canadian screen legend Stephen McHattie) is something of a disgrace at the beginning of the film. He’s only recently moved to Pontypool because he was involved in a scandal that effectively got him fired/demoted. Grant’s penchant for rants and uninformed diatribes is reflective not just of the idea that outrage makes for good entertainment, but the belief that facts and opinions are interchangeable (this has only gained more traction since the film’s premiere back in 2008).

Grant and his crew, producer Sydney (Lisa Houle) and technician Laurel-Ann (Georgina Reilly), have an amusing – sometimes combative, sometimes supportive – relationship that carries the film through its expository first act. Their banter helps to establish not just the characters’ relationships, but also fleshes out the (never glimpsed) small town and the evolving nature of the air born threat.

As Pontypool progresses and the coordinated attacks on families and businesses escalate, the station becomes not just a refuge, but something of a beacon. It provides a haven to refugees like Dr. Mendex (Hrant Alianak) while also dispensing information and news (some true, some “fake” since Grant is often forced to spin hypotheticals to fill dead air).

The thesis of Pontypool is that language is a dangerous weapon. Grant’s recent fall from grace is proof that words have consequences, though that doesn’t stop him from frequently running his mouth in order to entertain listeners. The battle of wills is adeptly captured by Sydney’s responses from the other side of the glass, pushing back when Grant oversteps and cuing him when he needs to move on or go to commercial.

This shorthand becomes even more important as the station comes under threat by infected individuals whom Burgess refers to as “conversationalists.” It begins with Laurel-Ann, whose symptoms are identified by Dr. Mendex when he arrives to seek refuge. As they watch, Laurel-Ann struggles with her words, repeating statements before eventually becoming monosyllabic and animalistic.

While Pontypool is routinely categorized as a zombie film because of its shared conventions, the film is less interested in the final state of its infected conversationalists than their linguistic de-evolution from contributing members of society to primal figures.

Unlike other films of this kind, the solution is not to flee or find a medical cure; the solution involves a low-fi reframing of how words are understood. Grant discovers that linguistic regression can be thwarted by confusing and changing the meaning of words, as demonstrated by his rescue of Sydney with the phrase “Kill is kiss.” There’s a suggestion that this is a temporary fix, however, as common English words are “infected.”

Intriguingly, Pontypool has a more simple, elegant strategy, which is also uniquely Canadian: Grant and Sydney switch to French, Canada’s other official language. With their halting, clipped sentences, Grant and Sydney clearly fall into the 1/3 of the country’s population (10.4M of 35M) who can carry on a conversation in French, but they’re hardly fluent. They understand enough to get by briefly, but they also don’t seem to fully grasp the seriousness of the situation when French riot-police threaten to kill them for continuing the broadcast.

Historically in Canada the relationship between English and French language has been a source of tension. (For additional context, revisit the discussion of David Cronenberg’s Rabid and its links to the Quiet Revolution).

Quebec, where the majority (85%) of Canada’s French speaking population resides, has taken legal steps to protect the French language by adopting the Charter of the French Language, “which provides for the predominant use of French within provincial government institutions and in Quebec society.” In 2022, Bill 96 was passed to amend the Charter in ways that verge on penalization for not speaking French and have far-reaching implications for sectors such as education, health, and immigration.

French – and by extension language – is a contentious, often politicized issue in Canada. Therefore its inclusion as a cure for the “conversationalists,” as well as the reference of French-Canadian riot police bombing the residents of an English-speaking Ontario town (and the infection of another town, Peterborough) in the film’s closing moments is telling.

Burgess and McDonald are clearly capitalizing on Canada’s status as a duo-lingual country, but they’re also quietly referencing the history of conflict that involves Quebec and the French language. It’s a compelling component of Pontypool that international audiences may not pick up on, but it’s worth considering on subsequent rewatches of the film.

Joe is a TV addict with a background in Film Studies. He co-created TV/Film Fest blog QueerHorrorMovies and writes for Bloody Disgusting, Anatomy of a Scream, That Shelf, The Spool and Grim Magazine. He enjoys graphic novels, dark beer and plays multiple sports (adequately, never exceptionally). While he loves all horror, if given a choice, Joe always opts for slashers and creature features.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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