Connect with us

Editorials

Why ‘High Tension’ Still Divides Audiences 20 Years Later

Published

on

High Tension Premise

For a lot of people, Alexandre Aja‘s High Tension (Haute Tension) was their first taste of the New French Extremity. And since 2003, this French slasher has been a source of frustration for horror buffs; they feel betrayed after witnessing one of the most shocking plot twists to come out of the genre. All the while, there are those who are fascinated by the film’s audacity and multifaceted story. Wherever someone might fall on the spectrum, though, everyone can at least agree that High Tension is impossible to forget.

The conventional slasher film never quite caught on in France like it did in the United States. There are exceptions here and there, of course, but as a whole, this subgenre of horror is more of a local flavor than a universal one. However, by the time High Tension had come out, American slashers themselves were victims of postmodern overkill, parody and stagnation. No one took these films seriously anymore once Scream 3 came and went — especially not the filmmakers. In the meantime, transgressive French cinema was on the rise around the turn of the century. Not every film is of the horror persuasion, at least not in the traditional sense, yet these feral stories intentionally evoke a variety of unpleasant feelings.

High Tension is widely recognized as the first film to combine the conventions of horror with the intent and style of the New French Extremity movement. This riff on a well-known setup — women are terrorized by a bloodthirsty assailant — sounds old hat, but the execution is what seized everyone’s attention back then. Free of self-awareness, High Tension draws from the vintage era of slasher films as opposed to the then-recent revival. Marie and Alex (Cécile de France and Maïwenn) portray hapless victims who neither laugh in the face of their attacker nor seek comfort in irreverence. Because they take their dilemma seriously, so do the viewers. Playing everything straight was seen as refreshing.

High Tension

High Tension starts out like other slashers. Students Marie and Alex are visiting Alex’s family in the South of France (really Romania near Bucharest) when a random intruder (Philippe Nahon) suddenly breaks into the house and murders everyone but the two protagonists. Alex is then taken hostage by the killer, urging Marie to come save her. The body count continues to rise as the hero and villain play an especially sanguinary game of cat-and-mouse in the countryside. It all sounds like a series of horror clichés, yet the story does something bizarre and startling toward the end. 

(There are major spoilers beyond this point.)

According to some, one seismic revelation undoes all of High Tension’s good work. To this day critics and audiences alike bemoan the fact that Marie had been the killer all along and how everything seen in the film’s first two acts was her distorted account. The needle has hardly moved an inch in regards to the story’s devastating curveball; the double-crossness of it all still leaves a sting in repeat viewings. To forgive this kind of cinematic head fake seems next to impossible, but detractors can find merit in the film even if they cannot reconcile the ending.

High Tension implements as well as investigates the basic framework of American slashers. While many of its more recent predecessors relocated the killing sprees to urban surroundings and turned everyday safe spaces into death traps, this film steps further into the past. Rural environments, deserted highways, and an isolated farmhouse all register as clichés of the genre. In truth, though, Aja and co-writer Grégory Levasseur are using familiar horror iconography to create a false sense of comfort. The audience, thinking they know what is in store for the characters, fail to realize they too are becoming victims of someone’s break from reality.

Circling back to the divisive ending, High Tension takes the biggest of risks by turning the hero into the villain. Additional viewings would naturally involve the hunting of clues that foreshadow the story’s jarring turn of events. Upon closer inspection, the opening shows Marie inside an unknown facility, injured and incoherent, repeatedly muttering a line heard later on in the film (“I won’t let anyone come between us anymore.”) Then immediately the scene transitions to Marie waking up from a dream on the way to Alex’s house, claiming she was running away from what looks to be herself. What might have been dismissed as a throwaway line is actually a significant indicator of what is to come. 

High Tension

Now aware of the film’s conclusion, rational viewers will undoubtedly be irritated as they go back and uncover one plot hole after the other. To seek logic in High Tension is a Sisyphean task, though, only because the story comes from an unreliable narrator. Marie, in her current frame of mind, is untrustworthy. Rather than admitting her romantic feelings for Alex, she becomes a man. Not an ordinary man either — the killer is a stereotypical brute who unflinchingly acts on every desire and craving without consideration or remorse. He will take Alex’s love, and if not her love, her body. Her life. Eventually Marie subdues her dark half, albeit temporarily, before resuming to inflict her psychological drama on everyone around her.

To convey their hopelessness and harsh worldviews, New French Extremities tend to employ superrealism. This approach is not far off from that of older Grindhouse films, although filmmakers like Aja pursue a more painful aesthetic. Cinematographer Maxime Alexandre, a frequent collaborator of Aja, turned in an impeccable-looking debut with High Tension. The film has a metallic, cold gloss to match the killer’s deadly instruments, the overall bleak appearance channels the foreboding horrors of gritty exploitation classics, such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and The Last House on the Left, and the graphic extravagances of Italian gore masters Dario Argento and Lamberto Bava are evident in the kills. The ferocity of High Tension is certainly not for squeamish or general audiences, however, in line with other works from the New French Extremity movement, this film always manages to find the beauty in destruction.

Some would go so far as to call High Tension a waste of time. It is understandable that the twist would upset people — even more so than the story’s actual violence — but perhaps that was the goal all along. Bodies have been violated and destroyed in horror for decades prior to Aja’s own quarrelsome take on the slasher formula, and audiences, at the time, were not as receptive as they once were. Nothing felt unsafe anymore, so something had to change. Nevertheless, this unique abandonment of self-conscious horror accomplishes what it set out to do; it completely unsettles the viewer like anything else to come out of the New French Extremity. The only difference is High Tension achieves its goal in the most unexpected way.


Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.

High Tension

Paul Lê is a Texas-based, Tomato approved critic at Bloody Disgusting, Dread Central, and Tales from the Paulside.

Editorials

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

Published

on

Netflix It's Alive

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.

Continue Reading