Editorials
I Was a Teenage Monster – Reappraising ‘The New Daughter’ Starring Kevin Costner
Based on its setup, The New Daughter would appear to be a ghost story. A troubled novelist moves his two children into a large and isolated house in rural South Carolina, and immediately they start to experience things that cannot be so readily explained. The audience might soon expect to see spirits of the dead haunting the film’s family, yet the fact is, something else entirely lurks on this cursed property.
Kevin Costner was coming off positive reviews for his villainous role in the psychological thriller Mr. Brooks when he was cast as the father in The New Daughter. Also joining the first directorial feature from REC screenwriter Luis Berdejo was Pan’s Labyrinth star Ivana Baquero. The talent behind this adaptation of author John Connolly’s short story piqued an interest at the time, but upon its release in 2009, critics largely panned the film, singling out the pacing, the lack of originality and the low scares. Somewhat valid as these criticisms may be, this overlooked tale of domestic dread still has its good points as well as a surprising amount of darkness.
Berdejo and screenwriter John Travis considerably reworked the source material for their film, but the bones of Connolly’s story are intact. Now taking place in and around a Deep Southern house — the real-life Wedge Plantation is located near McClellanville, South Carolina — rather than inside an old Irish rectory, The New Daughter has a similar yet different atmosphere. Because of the house’s history, there is a lingering sense of pain in these walls that is only exacerbated by the Jameses’ presence. John (Costner) has recently survived a bad divorce; his ex-wife left him for someone else. The film’s basis adds: the mother saw her children as “a burden that she wished to relinquish.” Between the two of them, Louisa (Baquero) openly wears her emotional scars, whereas younger brother Sam (Gattlin Griffith) puts on a brave face despite his complete awareness.
While American Gothic and haunted-house films were a lot less common to see in the 2000s, An American Haunting, the Amityville Horror remake, The Messengers and The Haunting in Connecticut showed there was still interest in the subgenre. Of course anyone watching The New Daughter will quickly learn how it trades ghosts for something more tangible, despite its vague marketing and ambiguity about what exactly is the story’s “ancient evil.” The film’s unique antagonist is hinted at as early as the opening; the beginning shows what looks to be scenic shots of Mother Nature and her children. A prolonged clip of an active ant bed also alludes to something sinister. Mysterious, muddy footprints on the Jameses’ staircase as well as, and most importantly, grotesque shadows crawling around the house’s exterior all point to this film being a creature-feature, not a haunter.
Moving from Ireland to South Carolina required an adjustment of the story’s mythology. What were once Irish fairy folk or changelings in the original short were now “mound-walkers,” the ghastly inhabitants of what was said to be Native American burial mounds on the Jameses’ property. In either version, the characters are dealing with preternatural mound dwellers. Subterranean fae, trows and their akin entities hail from Irish and Scottish folklore, so the film created its own local analog. Archaeological earthworks, including mound-building, date far back in North American history, but The New Daughter fabricates an alternate history for these curious structures.
On top of Louisa’s growing anger with the divorce and school is a festering plot about adolescence. The daughter’s frustration leads her to explore the new property, and in turn, climb the foreboding mound. This then sets off a kind of maturation that can only be described as monstrous. The transformation is not immediate or overt, but it is enough for Louisa’s father to take notice directly or otherwise. Berdejo limited the use of the color red early on in the film just so he could save it for the exact moment that reality and fantasy come together; John injures his finger at the same time that Louisa is attacked by the mound-walkers. To reinforce the metaphor for Louisa’s change, a creepy straw doll “gives birth” to a spider at one point.
The 2000s saw multiple films on the opposite ends of the horror spectrum; some were graphic, violent and transgressive, and others stayed on the safer side. Most notably there was a trend of PG-13 rated horror films in force, and this practice was primarily a bid to make more money. The New Daughter was indeed rated PG-13, however it is neither light nor safe. In place of the usual spectral possession is a horrifying instance of crossbreeding; the all-male mound-dwellers apparently swarm Louisa when she is lying outside near the house, thus turning her into their “queen.” While this sexual assault is only implied and never explicitly shown — other than the suggestive bite marks seen all over Louisa’s bare back — it is a disturbing moment upon realization. The first of several in this film.
John wants to keep his children close to him after his divorce, so naturally he is anxious when Louisa starts to show signs of growing up. Fearing what he originally believes is the first stage of adolescence, John goes to great lengths to stop the change. This includes tracking down the house’s previous residents, who went through a similar situation. John’s effort is in vain, though, because Louisa is too far gone.
In the film’s climax, John retrieves Louisa before detonating the mound. Once again, Berdejo cuts away prematurely to avoid confirmation and leave the audience hanging. Without concrete answers to comfort them, however, eternal optimists can only hope John saved his daughter first, then later his son. Of course others will speculate that John had to euthanize his daughter, who was probably well past the point of saving. Was the finale’s big explosion all part of an act of mercy — a bit on the nose considering that the town is called Mercy — or, in a more pitch-black interpretation, was John ensuring he and his daughter never grow apart, and she never leaves him much like his wife did? If Costner’s character did in fact go through with the hardest decision a parent can make, perhaps John also chose to perish with the child who already felt abandoned by one parent.
As if this whole ordeal was not gloomy enough, the film leaves the viewers questioning the status of Sam. The brother is presumably left to fend for himself as surviving mound-dwellers descend on the house and, from the looks of things in that last second, him. The framed family photo Sam clutches, in what might very well be his final moments, shows the reflection of someone (or something) approaching him from the fiery aftermath of the explosion. This open-ended conclusion was foreshadowed by an earlier exchange between father and son; when John marvels at how Sam unpacked his belongings and decorated his bedroom without any help, the boy proudly says, “All by myself.”
Audiences familiar with Berdejo’s past work would argue this was an example of a creative, up-and-coming filmmaker whose wings were clipped when handed a commercial project. On the contrary, his first film is not as sterile as initial reviews suggest. Wringing out attractive cinematography and solid performances, Berdejo manages to raise the value of his folk-horror/creature-feature, not to mention darken the implications and themes of the short story. In some ways this film might have fared better had it been released in this era of horror rather than back then. The director certainly relies on one too many clichés in the process, but once the training wheels are taken off, The New Daughter grows into a bleak example of how broken homes allow demons to come in through the cracks.
Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.
The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.
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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