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Love and Death: Why Lovecraftian ‘Spring’ Is One of the Most Romantic Horror Movies Ever Made

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“Love and death are the two great hinges on which all human sympathies turn.”

-B.R. Haydon

Love and death are the two most powerful forces in human experience. They are the engines of our stories because they are the engines of our existence. Our hopes, desires, heartbreaks, and fears so often hang on these two factors—ever-present and constantly in tension. Horror, more often than not, preoccupies itself with the latter but from time to time, a really great horror love story comes along. Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson’s Spring is not only a great love story but an acknowledgment of the eternal balance of love and death that connects us to each other, the ancient and ongoing human story, and perhaps even the infinite.

Spring is quintessential Moorhead & Benson, who from their first feature, Resolution (2012), to their most recent, Something in the Dirt (2022), have explored vast and often difficult to grasp ideas through intimate and accessible stories. Their films are exercises in the great tensions, balancing the mystical and the scientific, the inscrutable and the relatable, the cosmic and the personal, the infinite and the intimate. And considering the low-budget, independent nature of their collaborations, their films are minor miracles, possessing a magical quality in the innovative nature of the visuals, expression of ideas, and emotional impact. Spring is no exception, managing to express regenerative and evolutionary theories, vast cosmic themes, and an examination of the human condition all packaged in a moving and satisfying love story. And at the heart of it all are those two most powerful of forces—love and death.

The story itself begins with the two entwined in the complex feelings involved with the death of the main character Evan’s (Lou Taylor Pucci) beloved mother. As she approaches her last breath, the two share a few moments of deep affection, but her death sends Evan into a tailspin. Later in the film we learn that he had also suddenly lost his father to a heart attack not long before. On the night of his mother’s funeral, Evan and his friend Tommy (Jeremy Gardner) head to the bar where Evan works to have a few beers and attempt to drown their sorrows. While there, he picks a fight with a drunken loudmouth and gets himself fired. The guy he beat up finds out where he lives and sends the cops after him. With no job, no prospects, and nothing keeping him in L.A., Evan hops a plane for Italy and finds the love of his life. But of course, there is a catch. Isn’t there always a catch?

From the moment Evan sees Louise (Nadia Hilker) he is struck by the proverbial lightning bolt, and as an audience, so are we. Yes, she is beautiful, but it is more than that. Part of Louise’s allure is the mystery around her, and the mysteries only deepen as Evan spends more time with her. She is drawn to the past, spending time in museums looking at classical paintings and ancient relics. She has travelled and studied all over the world, speaks about a dozen languages—some of them dead, has held many jobs, is a scientist fascinated by old evolutionary illustrations, has two different colored eyes, and refuses to be photographed. The closer she and Evan become, the more guarded she seems to be about certain aspects of herself. She never lies to him, but she does withhold elements of the truth. The storytelling is brilliant throughout this section of the film because we are given just enough information to be drawn in. We know that something strange is going on before Evan does. We see that after the first time they make love, Louise sneaks out of the house while Evan is asleep and does…something…to a stray cat. At first, she appears to have a skin affliction that seems to be getting worse and uses a syringe to medicate herself in some way. In private moments, we see that it is far more than just a rash, but something much more monstrous and bizarre.

Parallel to the budding romance between Evan and Louise, which mostly takes place in the evenings and night, is a commentary on living and true love from Evan’s day job on a farm where he works to provide for his ongoing stay. Angelo (Francesco Carnelutti) who runs the farm had lost his wife some time before in a car accident—again, the convergence of love and death. He calls women the “jewels of the world,” a sentiment that Evan agrees with increasingly the more time he spends with Louise. We also see strange happenings in nature on the farm along with the motions of life, death, and new life as winter comes to a close and spring approaches. Flowers suddenly bloom, caterpillars appear out of nowhere, and a fruit tree bears both oranges and lemons side by side. Here we see the sweet and the sour, love and death, in balance and tension once again.

As Louise’s affliction worsens, she abruptly breaks up with Evan, who is concerned about her having found a discarded syringe on the bathroom floor. He returns later to discover her on the floor transformed into a writhing creature, part octopus, part lizard, and any number of other animals found on land and in the sea. After an injection that returns her to human form, Evan asks, “Are you a vampire, werewolf, zombie, witch, or alien?” Her response is surprising—“Human.” She goes on to ask, “are you afraid of me?” His response is an honest and relatable “Yeah,” but his affection for her leads him to add “but explain it to me.” She does explain, but this is where those complex ideas that Moorhead and Benson are so good at come into play. In a nutshell she is an immortal who sheds her skin every twenty years or so into a new body. As this change nears, she goes through increasingly bizarre transformations into creatures from the evolutionary past and becomes less able to control when and how they happen. To keep them at bay, she injects herself with stem cells and eats raw meat. Though she does turn into a monster, her pheromones can cause flowers to bloom and the world to spring back to life.

This central conceit has fascinating possibilities. It uses scientific theories to explain ancient beliefs in the gods and goddesses of spring. Louise herself inherited the gift, curse, condition, however it can be described, from her mother who perhaps had lived for centuries before giving it up for love and dying in Pompeii under the ash of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. Was her mother the beginning of belief in Persephone, the goddess who spends half the year in Hades bringing autumn and winter but returns life to the earth in the spring? Is the “ex” Louise had in Mexico who “always had to conquer something” the conquistador Hernándo Cortés? During her travels in the United States did she happen to cross paths with one Howard Phillips Lovecraft while in one of her transitions? There is certainly a Lovecraftian element to the proceedings in Spring, specifically in the look of the various creatures Louise becomes.

In the third act of the film, Evan is determined to spend as much time with Louise as he can. They have until the spring Equinox before she changes for the next twenty years into someone new with the aid of a new set of embryonic stem cells. He is convinced that she is the love of his life, but Louise, who has loved and lost more times than Evan can imagine, is not sure if she loves him in return. She believes that anything she feels for him is chemical and hormonal. He persuades her to take a road trip with him. “You get until the earth dies. I get one more day.” To be honest, I don’t entirely understand the whole embryonic stems cells and transformation thing, so I admit that I may have some of those details wrong, but what I do understand is the beauty and simplicity of the love story as it unfolds in this final day.

During this section, the film takes on the feel of a travelogue, a bit like Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise (1995) if Julie Delpy was an immortal being going through a twenty-year transformation cycle and occasionally tried to bite off Ethan Hawke’s face. There is also an infusion of humor as Louise’s changes happen without her awareness and others observe their interactions. As Linklater’s lovers discuss various philosophical and experiential ideas, so do Evan and Louise. Her centuries-long life has given her insights into the human condition that have both jaded her and given her a zest for living in the moment. Many of these observations give Evan pause, prompting him to think about the finite nature of his own existence. Louise also tells him of a theory that if she does not get new cells and endures through the final transformation, she may retain the same body and continue on with her current identity. If this happens, it may well signify that her love for him is true and not merely chemical.

The final scene is one of the most moving scenes I have seen in any movie, horror or not, as love and death intertwine once more. Before reaching Pompeii where they are to spend the final moments of winter together, Louise warns Evan to run as the spring sunrise approaches because her final transformation will be the most fearsome and deadly creature of all. As they sit in the shadow of the dormant Vesuvius, he refuses to leave her. She lays her head in his lap and asks him to tell her more about the finite. The camera moves in on his face as he movingly discusses the beauty of knowing there will be an end and we hear the sounds of transformation, but he continues, his love for her keeping him near her. The mountain releases a puff of ash as if the earth itself is shaken by the moment. As he finishes his heartfelt monologue, he looks down to find her very human hand grasping his.

Maybe I’m a sentimentalist or a hopeless romantic but this is what movies can do—make the cynic believe in the power of love. In this moment, all the big complex ideas, the cosmic themes, the evolutionary science are set to the side and all that matters is Evan and Louise. Love has won. There are two great forces in human existence—love and death. And the greatest of these is love.

Editorials

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

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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.

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