Editorials
God, I Love This Street: The Brilliance of Joe Dante’s ‘The Burbs’ at 35
Every town seems to have that one house. The one that children walk by with hushed tones and dare each other to sneak onto the porch or ring the doorbell of. In the movies it’s the Myers House, 1428 Elm (at least in the later movies), or the House on Neibolt Street—usually run down and harboring a frightening history. In my neighborhood growing up, it was not a dilapidated old house, just one that seemed very out of place among the homes of the working class that surrounded it. It was a huge two-story white house, buttressed with gigantic pillars, and surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. I never saw anyone come in or out and I always wondered who lived there. In my mind it was a rich old Mrs. Deagle from Gremlins type, and I wondered, “what’s going on in there?” That question is the engine that drives Joe Dante’s The Burbs (1989) and “is it any of our business?” is its Socratic response.
The suburbs sprang up in earnest in the 1950s just as the Cold War was heating up and the Red Scare was fueling the nation’s paranoia. The epitome of the suburban threat seen in movie houses was Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) and on television “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” episode of The Twilight Zone. By the 80s we were still paranoid, but we didn’t really know why anymore. Instead of a perceived outside threat from international communism, we turned inward. Now it was stranger danger, day care centers, heavy metal music, and any number of scapegoats that fell under the umbrella of Satanic Panic. These were not far-flung aggressors; these threats were in our own backyards. Our next-door neighbor could be spending the evenings driving a windowless panel van around, picking up kids, and chaining them up in basements. After all, John Wayne Gacy entertained children dressed as a clown and Ted Bundy was considered an upstanding young man. The Burbs takes all that 80s paranoia and holds a mirror up to it, reminding us that—hey! maybe we’re all crazy.
The brand of neighborly suspicion lampooned in The Burbs could be called domestic paranoia. These aren’t grand conspiracy theories about the moon landings being faked or the world being run by lizard people, it’s the mundane mistrust of the people around us simply due to their outsider status. It takes all the distrusts and voyeuristic tendances of middle-class American life and makes as much fun of them as possible. It also has a lot of fun digging in various cinematic sandboxes including horror, spaghetti westerns (that moment when the camera pushes in on the little dog’s eyes gets me every time), thrillers, Looney Tunes, Buñuelian dream fantasies, and more. Dante had made horror comedies before—Piranha (1978), The Howling (1981), and Gremlins (1984) all certainly qualify, but The Burbs was something different. It is first and foremost a comedy, filled with often over-the-top absurdist humor, with horror woven through like the dark threads in a tapestry giving the film its wholly unique character.
At heart, The Burbs is in many ways Joe Dante’s Rear Window and shares a fair amount of DNA with the Alfred Hitchcock classic. In fact, according to Dante, the script by writer Dana Olsen was originally titled Bay Window and was meant to be something of a spoof of Hitchcock’s film. There are even a few visual quotations in the final film, the most notable being Lt. Mark Rumsfield (Bruce Dern) lighting his cigar in his darkened window early in the film, which echoes the glowing tip of Raymond Burr’s cigarette as the only indication of his presence in Rear Window. I also think Hitchcock would have loved The Burbs opening shot that zooms in on the Universal globe logo until the camera is flying over a model of the neighborhood, stopping in front of the Klopek house as lights flicker in the basement. This is an extrapolation of the kinds of establishing shots Hitch did in films like The Lady Vanishes (1938), Rebecca (1940), and Psycho (1960). In Rear Window, the core trio of the film (played by Jimmy Stewart, Grace Kelly, Thelma Ritter), observe their neighbors and come to believe that a man in one of the apartments across the courtyard has killed his wife. The Burbs also has a core trio, Ray Peterson (Tom Hanks), Art Weingartner (Rick Ducommun), and Rumsfield, who have a similar common goal to that of the earlier film—they believe their new neighbors are up to something nefarious.
In both films there is also more than a little commentary on male and female romantic relationships. The stance of Rear Window seems to be that they never really work out, but in The Burbs, it appears that they can work out if the men just listen to the women in their lives. The two main female characters in the film are Carol Peterson (Carrie Fisher) and Bonnie Rumsfield (Wendy Schaal) and one gets the impression that their husbands would have avoided a lot of trouble if they just listened to them as the voices of reason. It also seems unlikely that Art’s behavior would have been quite so unhinged if his wife had been in town. But then if Ray, Art, and Rumsfield had listened to their wives, we wouldn’t have much of a movie now, would we.
Instead, we get Art working Ray into a frenzy, convincing him that the Klopeks, the outsiders with the perceived “Slavic name” (another remnant of the Red Scare) are up to no good. When their neighbor Walter Seznick (Gale Gordon) disappears, Art tries to convince Ray that the Klopeks are satanists that used the old man in a human sacrifice. Ray does his best to dismiss all this, but Art’s paranoia begins to rub off on him. He at least has to admit that the new neighbors are unusual. When visiting the Klopek’s house, the Petersons and Rumsfields are treated to some frankly bizarre hospitality in the form of sardines and pretzels offered by the young Hans (Courtney Gains). They also witness firsthand the unusual behavior of Uncle Reuben, played brilliantly Brother Theodore Gottlieb and the painting skills of Dr. Werner Klopek (Henry Gibson). Ray also finds Walter’s toupée nestled in a pile of magazines all addressed to their missing neighbor.
This sends Ray, Art, and Rumsfield on a collision course toward the climax of the film in which they destroy the Klopek’s house while they are away. The final monologue delivered by Tom Hanks at an inimitable fever pitch underscores the point of the film:
“Get off their case already. They didn’t do anything to us…All right, so they’re different! So they keep to themselves. Can you blame them? They live next door to people who break into their house and burn it down while they’re gone for the day…Remember what you were saying about people in the ‘burb’s, Art?…People who mow their lawn for the 800th time and then snap? Well that’s us. It’s not them!…We’re the ones who are acting suspicious and paranoid, Art! We’re the lunatics! Us! It’s not them! It’s us.”
And there is simply no doubt that Ray is right. Even now after they have blown up their neighbors’ house, Art still insists that he is in the right and the Klopeks are satanists. Even after Walter returns home after having family take him to the hospital when he was having some chest pains, he wants to lay suspicions on them because they are outsiders.
Of course, the ending does undercut this point a bit as it turns out that the Klopeks, though not necessarily satanists involved in human sacrifice, did kill the former owners of their home. This ending really used to bother me, but the fact is, it is a comedically and dramatically satisfying conclusion. It wraps everything up in a fun way, even if it does prove the rather obnoxious (though certainly hilarious) Art Weingartner right. This was a common factor in several movies that tried to poke fun at the satanic panic in the 80s including Trick or Treat (1986) and Black Roses (1988) as the “panicked” are generally proven right, but the satire still shines through. Besides, with this ending we get one of the great closing lines of the 80s when Corey Feldman as Ricky Butler, who has organized his own voyeuristic party to be entertained by his neighbors’ hijinks, turns to the camera and says, “God, I love this street.”
I’d like to be able to say that we have made a lot of progress since the late 80s and have given up our paranoid ways, but The Burbs is just as relevant as ever today. In fact, things may well have just gotten worse in the cul-de-sac jungle. At least in the film the three disparate characters of Ray, Art, and Rumsfield can find enough common ground to work together toward a goal. I’m not sure that would happen today as we have only isolated ourselves more and more from our communities over the past 35 years. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you the names of the people that live next door or across the street from me. Our divisions have grown so deep that we can’t even risk saying hello anymore it seems.
But then maybe I’m getting a little too philosophical, this is after all an article about one of the most fun and rewatchable comedy horror films of all time. I clearly remember seeing it in the theater back in 1989 on a double bill with the Nick Nolte/Martin Short comedy Three Fugitives in a multiplex that has since been converted into a Goodwill. I also remember being kinda freaked out by some of it at the time. My dreams that night may well have included being strapped to a giant barbecue grill and being chased by a satanist with a chainsaw. But I am eternally grateful to The Burbs. It solidified my love for the films of Joe Dante, gave me my first glimpses of Race with the Devil (1975), The Exorcist (1973), and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986), and provided some cause to laugh at the whole satanic panic thing that various adults in my orbit bought into at the time. The more I watch it, the more I love The Burbs. It continues to only get funnier and more insightful with each viewing. I know I’m not alone in my praise of The Burbs but join a growing multitude when I declare, “God, I love this street!”
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.
Dev Patel’s ‘Monkey Man’ Is Now Available to Watch at Home!
‘Infested’ Review – One of the Best Spiders Attack Horror Movies in Years
Five Underseen Vampire Horror Movies to Stream This Week
Limited Edition ‘Creature from the Black Lagoon’ Monster High Doll Releasing This Week!
‘Stream’ – Horror Movie from the Team Behind ‘Terrifier’ Sets August Theatrical Release
You must be logged in to post a comment.