Editorials
An Experimental Slasher Remake: ‘The Town That Dreaded Sundown’ 10 Years Later
The Town That Dreaded Sundown has a hard time fitting in with other slasher remakes, essentially because it’s not really a remake to begin with. At least not in the traditional sense. Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon and screenwriter Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa instead went beyond the expectations of most horror remakes. In lieu of mere reconstructions and callbacks, they offered a multifaceted story that acknowledges the 1976 film and its real-life basis. The end result is a movie within a movie that escapes simple classification. However, regardless of what this film is labeled as, The Town That Dreaded Sundown remains one of the most experimental slashers from this century.
Ryan Murphy brought a relatively obscure horror film to his friend and later co-producer, Jason Blum, in hopes of remaking what he called a “childhood favorite.” As unusual as it may be to have nostalgia for something like Charles B. Pierce’s The Town That Dreaded Sundown , a quasi-documentary cum proto-slasher inspired by the 1946 Texarkana Moonlight Murders, there is no denying its effectiveness. Knowing the real Phantom Killer was never officially apprehended only makes Pierce’s film eerier. That being said, the ’76 Town is rather oddball. When it’s not recreating the Phantom’s attacks with chilling effect — and some creative license — the story is injected with these intermittent bits of tragic relief. The humor is done at the expense of the police, yet the adjacency to murder reenactments leaves a weird taste in the mouth.
The indelicacy of Pierce’s The Town That Dreaded Sundown was identified and responded to long before there was a word (“murdertainment”) to describe such media. The remake doesn’t even try to avoid that notion of insensitivity; in fact, the film turns it into a set piece. The forceful opening sequence holds a mirror up to society, particularly true crime enthusiasts. To be fair, the classic Town plays around with the truth, and most viewers understand that. Even so, there is something morbid about Texarkana hosting retrospective screenings of Pierce’s film at Halloween. The remake is so quick to address that, and it does so with severity.
Image: Addison Timlin and Spencer Treat Clark’s characters are held at gunpoint by The New Phantom.
Murphy was right to pick Gomez-Rejon from his talent pool; aesthetically as well as tonally speaking, the American Horror Story alum knocked it out of the park with his first directed feature. Gomez-Rejon’s flair is quickly evident in the remake’s outset, which in itself is an aggressive demonstration of reflexive filmmaking. From a devious use of split-screen, to the taillight and the Phantom’s knife mimicking parts of a film projector, the remake is a rather shrewd piece of meta-horror.
As a remake, The Town That Dreaded Sundown does precisely what it’s expected to do while also putting its own spin on everything (which is not always intrinsic to every remake). And as opposed to just improving on the original, via effects or pure intensity, the newer film adds a copycat ingredient that only deepens the self-referentiality. The stratification taking place in the story — a remake reconstructing murders from a film based on real murders — is ambitious and, for the most part, successful. The remaking does not stop at the kills either; the assailant goes so far as replicating the tense and paranoid atmosphere of ‘46 Texarkana for a similar span of time. The totality of this remake’s approach is inspiring.
In addition to its narrative layering, The Town That Dreaded Sundown depicts grief uniquely and honestly. In contrast with horror films where the preexisting grief is vocal and active, the remake spreads the anguish over the entirety of Texarkana. And not just in the present; the dated fashion and old cars, the limited use of modern technology, and a general state of apathy all indicate how this place and its residents have been frozen in time for years upon years. There is this pervasive and nearly overwhelming inability to get past the Moonlight Murders. Needless to say, turning the most illustrative manifestation of that tragedy into an annual ritual is only deepening the immobility.
Image: The New Phantom.
The open-endedness of Pierce’s film, which was obviously a reflection of reality, leaves the audience with a haunted feeling. There is no closure to be had. As a piece of fiction, that incompleteness goes a long way; the imagination tangles with that ambiguity long after the story ends. Thematically though, it’s unsatisfying. What can be done when the real case continues to be unsolved? No amount of theories, crackpot or otherwise, can suffice without confirmation. Meanwhile, the remake takes the opportunity to finally turn the page and start a new chapter. The film finds itself an ending and gives its fabricated version of Texarkana the chance to move on. Final girl Jami (Addison Timlin) welcomes the chance, whereas others, as indicated by the resumed screenings, turn it down.
The Town That Dreaded Sundown came out at a time when slasher films were, once again, experiencing yet another downtrend. And until the subgenre recovered — as it usually does — horror was all over the place. The most notable trend of the early 2010s, found footage, was already on the way out, and home invasions were not too far behind. In retrospect, there was a veritable spaghetti-on-the-wall approach before a dramatic shift occurred in the industry. Those specializing in horror began to experience total creative control, and studios were willing to invest in more visionary talents. So had the Town remake been released then, maybe it would have turned out differently. Gomez-Rejon regretted caving to studio meddling that led to a shorter and less fully realized film.
Even in its current state, the remake is bold and innovative. Nothing quite like it has come out since then. And while most slashers would prefer to focus on the before and, to a lesser extent, the after, The Town That Dreaded Sundown tackles the often ignored in-between. The film’s fetching direction in combination with its sharp script makes that tale of transition all the more sizable.
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.
Image: Addison Timlin’s character Jami lies in the grass, bleeding from her encounter with The Phantom.
Found footage movies rely on immersion and a particular kind of suspension of disbelief in order to scare viewers, so it stands to reason that playing along with the “kayfabe” of it all is necessary for these movies to be effective. However, despite being something of a purist when it comes to in-universe recordings, I’ve come to accept that traditional productions can benefit from the occasional injection of found footage thrills.
For instance, Kane Parsons’ Backrooms adaptation makes genius use of the analog gimmick in order to trap us in the titular rooms alongside our main characters before effortlessly switching back to a more cinematic language. In honor of these dynamic films that manage to combine the best of both worlds, today I’d like to share six other hybrid horror movies that successfully incorporate found footage into their scares!
For the purposes of this list, “hybrid” horror movies are defined as any flick that shifts between diegetic recordings and traditional filming techniques for a significant amount of time (or at least for pivotal scenes).
As usual, don’t forget to comment below with your own hybrid favorites if you think a particularly freaky one was missed.
With that out of the way, onto the list!
5. The Last Broadcast (1998)
Internet critics may have overstated the influence that Stefan Avalos and Lance Weiler’s The Last Broadcast had on The Blair Witch Project, but the found footage subgenre still owes a huge debt to this underrated piece of avant-garde filmmaking. However, while the movie sets itself up as a documentary about the disappearance of a group of cryptid-hunters attempting to track down the Jersey Devil, things take a darker and much more grounded turn towards the final act.
I won’t get into details in order to avoid spoilers, but suffice to say that the jarring shift in perspective actually helps to sell the idea that everything we’ve seen before the finale was an attempt at using filmmaking to manipulate the public perception of a “real” incident.
Not bad for a movie with a $900 budget!
4. Cam (2018)
When you consider just how much the internet affects our daily lives, it’s strange that we don’t see Screenlife elements pop up in more movies these days. For instance, Isa Mazzei & Daniel Goldhaber’s highly underrated Cam only works as a freaky parable about online sex-work because it masterfully balances Madeline Brewer’s intimate moments with highly immersive segments within cyberspace.
While one might argue that the entire film could have been produced as a Screenlife experience, the hybrid approach allows the filmmakers to explore our main character’s life beyond the screens – with the duality of modern human existence actually becoming a recurring theme in the story.
3. Banshee Chapter (2013)
Most of H.P. Lovecraft’s popular stories were told in the epistolary format (where the text is presented as an in-universe compilation of letters or personal notes), so it makes sense that a spiritually faithful adaptation of his work would incorporate elements from the modern-day equivalent to epistolary fiction – found footage!
That’s why Blair Erickson’s Banshee Chapter is such an effective scare-fest, as this hybrid adaptation of From Beyond -retold through a conspiratorial lens as it references MK-Ultra and even secretive numbers stations- immerses viewers in a mind-bending tapestry of Cosmic Horror that blurs the line between fiction and reality.
2. The Deep House (2019)
The underwater setting does a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury’s The Deep House, with the film being especially uncomfortable if you’re already scared of tight spaces and being deprived of oxygen. However, even the universally unsettling elements of the flick only work because the POV often shifts into claustrophobic footage courtesy of our main characters’ GoPro cameras.
Telling the story of a couple of YouTubers who encounter a haunted house at the bottom of an artificial lake while vacationing in France, The Deep House’s first-person exploration sequences contain some of the film’s scariest moments. In fact, I’d argue that the movie didn’t even need ghosts, as becoming trapped in the titular House already sounds like a fate worse than death.
1. Behind The Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon (2006)
My personal favorite instance of filmmakers successfully managing to combine traditional cinematography with POV filmmaking, Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon, is proof that the two formats can co-exist if the right story comes along.
After all, what better way to conclude a mockumentary all about reality getting increasingly more cinematic than by ditching the found footage gimmick altogether during the finale? Not only does this shift in presentation work on a conceptual level, but it also elevates Behind The Mask into a proper Slasher, which is probably why we’re so excited for that long-overdue sequel!
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