Editorials
‘Husk’ – Digging Up a Scarecrow Horror Hidden Gem
The road to turning Husk into a longer feature was not without its bumps. While Brett Simmons‘ 2005 short film was met with favorable responses at Sundance, there were several upsets before After Dark Films finally entered the picture. The one positive about the years of delays was Simmons then having time to rewrite the screenplay. Now more to the filmmaker’s liking, the revision delved into those intentionally unexplored parts of the short.
The featurette satisfies as a standalone experience, but it also serves as the proper base product for a more complex narrative. After all, there are enough unanswered questions about Simmons’ compact chiller to warrant an extended visit. The impulse to decry overexplaining in the genre would be in vain here, considering that the fuller Husk still maintains a modest sense of mystery once everything is said and done.
With 2011’s Husk barely breaking the eighty-minute mark, it skips the formal introductions and delivers the inciting incident during the cold open. This car crash out in Nowheresville, USA is the work of a few now-dead and feathery omens, and as a result of that collision, the human survivors are sentenced to a fate worse than death. Launching the story in broad daylight seems to be the opposite of scary, yet as the camera reveals the characters’ immediate surroundings, there is a rising sense of unease to the view. There is not another living soul in sight, and wherever you look, you only see more cornfield.
Pictured: Tammin Sursok meets “Smiley” the Scarecrow in Husk.
This is one of those cases where the characters start off empty, then gradually — and just slightly — get filled in as their situation worsens. Upon first glance though, there is detectable tension in the group, on account of one member’s girlfriend tagging along for what used to sound like a guys-only trip. The short film lacked a female presence, however, as it turns out, Tammin Sursok’s addition here is misleading. By instead keeping Husk focused on its male characters, Simmons is already subverting one big expectation of horror, a genre that frequently protagonizes women.
Mind you, Sursok’s Natalie is not completely wiped from the story once her character meets a quick and surprising end out in the nearby cornfield; even in death, Natalie continues to drive a wedge between Chris (C. J. Thomason) and best friend Brian (Wes Chatham). It is worth noting that Husk winds up being more about an endless haunting than a bid for survival against living and wicked scarecrows. And that is partly because the victims, who are the next in line as opposed to the last, are replaceable components of a ghostly cycle.
With Sursok no longer viable as the hoped-for Final Girl, Husk appoints Devon Graye as the next best thing: a bespectacled observer. The receptive Scott is granted clairvoyant access to the haunted history of this place, namely the past sibling rivalry foreshadowed by a Biblical reference — Genesis 4:11 — from earlier. It is through Scott that we the audience get a better understanding of what happened at this farm and why visitors can never leave.
Simmons’ sinister scarecrows have soaked up their environment, and like in real life, they need humans in order to exist. The expounding of their creation — the supernatural outcome of two brothers (Joshua Skipworth, Nick Toussaint) at odds with one another, hence the Cain and Abel mention — is not required, at least as far as your enjoyment goes. Yet, for the inquisitive types who prefer knowing the origin of evil, fictional or otherwise, Husk quenches their curiosity. The film dishes out details without also being too divulging.
Pictured: Devon Graye’s character watches as Wes Chatham and C. J. Thomason’s characters argue in Husk.
The killer-scarecrow subgenre is neither barren nor oversaturated, and there are a handful of highs to compensate for the many lows. As for Husk, it falls somewhere on the positive end of the spectrum, but much like 1988’s Scarecrows, a benchmark in this unfrequented alcove of horror, it is not just about murderous men of straw aimlessly slashing away and working toward a sizable body-count. As any legitimate scarecrow horror film should, Husk portrays the uncanny relationship between these effigial creatures and the lands they watch over.
The scarecrow has long been a universal source of discomfort, seeing as their natural state stirs thoughts of death. And despite their distinguishing inertness, they appear to know everything about the world around them. This concept of scarecrows possessing omnipresence is unnerving without even adding a malevolent element. Bringing them to life, as one would do in any offering of overt scarecrow horror, is the obvious next step, however, a cold and long glance from one of these dead things is as alarming as witnessing their new-found mobility, if not more so. Husk alternates between both types of scare techniques, although, ultimately, the film favors the dynamic method. There is no need to pretend its monsters are not alive and their would-be prey are unaware. So, vagueness is resolutely thrown out the window early on, but the film still manages to maintain a semblance of fright, due to its creator’s fascination with the scarecrows and their machinations.
Husk, even with its shortage of thematic depth and a cast of static characters, yields a furious ghost story. One that reminds us of the scarecrow’s most important task: to terrify.
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.
Pictured: C. J. Thomason is trapped in Husk.
Of the three films that make up the Diabolical Trinity of classic religious horror films—Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), and The Omen (1976)—The Omen is the most purely entertaining.
While Rosemary’s Baby digs into the societal shifts of the 60s and The Exorcist explores spiritual tensions between faith and doubt in an ever-shifting world, The Omen seems most interested in just telling a thrilling story. It achieves this by blending two major trends of the 1970s, the devil movie and the paranoid thriller, into one crackling adventure yarn. In the process, The Omen has sparked fear and curiosity about what could happen in the “end times” if such events are to occur.
After seeing The Exorcist, producer Harvey Bernhard contacted writer David Seltzer and said something along the lines of, “Hey, write me one of those.” Seltzer, having never read the Bible, thought it would be an interesting challenge, so, according to various interviews, he read the Bible and several commentaries in search of a story. Then he stumbled upon a passage in the book of Revelation, the image of a great Beast rising out of the sea, that sparked his imagination. In the commentaries, he found that the sea represented politics in some interpretations of the text, and he began building his story on that foundation.
Seltzer has told this story often, and I am inclined to believe him. However, from there, much of the theological-sounding lore of The Omen was created purely by Seltzer. Many of the ideas surrounding The Antichrist in the film appear to be drawn much more from the pop-eschatology sensation of the 1970s, The Late Great Planet Earth by Hal Lindsay, than any Biblical source.
Lindsay’s book was the bestselling nonfiction book of the 1970s and re-popularized views of the “last days” that had been dying along with fundamentalism for decades, namely Dispensationalism, Millennialism, and the Pre-Tribulation Rapture. In dispensationalism, history is broken into several epochs of time (or dispensations) that culminate in the return of Christ and his thousand-year (millennial) reign.
Before this return, a seven-year Tribulation will occur in which the Antichrist comes to power and persecutes all who oppose him, culminating in a battle between the forces of good and evil at the valley of Megiddo, usually called Armageddon. Of course, in this worldview, the true believers in Jesus will be lifted out, or raptured, before all this takes place. Since the publication and popularity of The Late Great Planet Earth, this has been the prominent belief in Evangelical and Fundamentalist Christian circles, though Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and mainline Protestant denominations largely reject it.
Lindsay also did something unique that had not been the case even in dispensationalist circles before him—he posited that the creation of the modern state of Israel in 1948 started the countdown to Armageddon. Fans of the film will immediately realize where Seltzer ran with this idea in the first line of the poem created for the movie: “When the Jews return to Zion…”
Damien Thorn and the Creation of Horror’s “Innocent Villain”
Seltzer’s next inspiration focused on the idea of the Antichrist as a child, what he would call the film’s “innocent villain.” In watching The Omen, it is readily apparent that Damien Thorn (Harvey Stephens) does not really do anything evil beyond a bit of normal kid mischief. Even the moment in which Damien knocks Kathy Thorn (Lee Remick) over a second-floor railing can be read as an accident orchestrated by Damien’s diabolically connected nanny, Mrs. Baylock (Billie Whitelaw). The film takes this idea of the innocent villain a step further by casting Gregory Peck, best known for playing arguably the greatest father in film history, Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), as Damien’s earthly father, an element that greatly satisfied Seltzer.
The New Testament itself says very little about the Antichrist and certainly nothing about his childhood. In fact, the word antichrist is used twice (1 John 2:18 and 2 John 7 for the curious) and refers to groups of people, not a particular person. There is also a passage in 2 Thessalonians 2:1-12 in which the writer (usually attributed to Paul) discusses “The Man of Lawlessness” who will “exalt himself over everything that is called God” and “proclaim himself to be God.”
Then there is the Beast of Revelation chapter 13 with “seven heads and ten horns” that Seltzer latched onto, which has been interpreted in a multitude of ways over the centuries. Powerful people throughout history, from Charlemagne, various Popes during the Protestant Reformation era, Napoleon and Hitler, to modern politicians, including Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, Vladimir Putin, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump, have all had the label placed on them by various circles. Even religious leaders like Billy Graham have not escaped being called the Antichrist.
Lindsay and modern dispensationalists are certain the Antichrist will be a 21st-century individual as they are equally certain that the Rapture, Tribulation, and return of Christ are imminent, likely within their lifetime. Many scholars and theologians, however, interpret these passages as symbolic representations of the Roman Empire and the first-century Caesars who persecuted, tortured, and murdered Christians and Jews who refused to submit to Imperial rule and worship them as gods. For example, that the Beast from the sea in Revelation has seven heads is symbolic of the famous seven mountains of Rome, with the 10 horns referring to rulers and magistrates of the Empire.
But this is all really of no matter to Seltzer and the story of The Omen. Instead of being concerned with any historical or theological accuracy, he instead built his own lore, which sends Robert Thorn and photographer Keith Jennings (David Warner) on a globetrotting investigation into the nature of the Antichrist and how to stop him. Some of this lore includes the child being born of a jackal, the reaction of animals, the protective cult that arises around Damien, the daggers of Megiddo, and maybe most interesting of all, the peculiar flaws in Jennings’s photographs that presage the ways certain individuals will die.
All these aspects are where the paranoid thrillers come in, as films like Blow Up (1966), Z (1969), The Conversation (1974), The Parallax View (1974), 3 Days of the Condor (1975), and All the President’s Men (1976) were all the rage at the time. Especially in the wake of the Watergate scandal, the idea of journalists (like Jennings) as ordinary heroes who could bring down the powerful, nefarious forces in the world was exactly what audiences craved. And what greater hidden evil force was there than the Devil? This is also why the device of the daggers of Megiddo is so important to a movie like this. If Damien is indeed the Antichrist, there must be a way to stop him, though in the Biblical text, the only power capable of destroying the Devil is God Himself.
The Mark of the Beast, 666, and the Film’s Most Famous Religious Symbolism
The piece of lore created for the movie with the most solid Biblical grounding is the Mark of the Beast. Revelation describes a mark on the forehead or hand of those who worship the Beast and his image. Again, this is symbolic language differentiating those who belong to the power of the Roman Empire and those who belong to Christ, who have the Mark of the Lamb. In Seltzer’s hands, the mark is very literal, a birthmark that is borne by not only the Antichrist but all his followers, meaning they are marked from before birth as belonging to Satan, and there is no escaping it. This is all rather distressing to the priest Father Brennan (Patrick Troughton), who betrays his mark by warning Thorn about Damien and pays the price by memorably being impaled by a spire that falls from a church steeple after being struck by lightning.
Why is the mark three sixes? Again, this is drawn from a passage in Revelation that states that the Beast can be identified by calculating his number. In Biblical scholarship, this is believed to be the sum of the name of a man transferred into Hebrew numerology, a practice in which each Hebrew letter also represents a number. Using this method, the number of the name Caesar Nero, which many believe to be the most logical choice, is six hundred sixty-six. In the film and elsewhere, this number is changed to three individual sixes. According to the film, this represents the Diabolical Trinity (a designation also unique to the film) made up of Satan, the Antichrist, and the False Prophet. That Damien carries this unique birthmark under his hair convinces Robert that the child is the Antichrist, and it’s up to him to destroy him.
Part of what makes The Omen great is its ambiguity. Damien could be the Antichrist, or he could be at the center of a series of coincidences. Director Richard Donner stated in interviews that he believed Robert Thorn had gone insane by the end of the film, which, to Donner, is the only explanation for why Thorn would attempt to kill an innocent child. However, that enigmatic smile in the final shot suggests that Damien does embody a spirit of great evil. The sequels, however, all but erase this ambiguity.
In audiences, The Omen sparked a renewed interest in the concept of the Antichrist and the dispensationalist interpretation of the end times that continues to echo throughout the last five decades. Around the time of the film’s release, even Elvis Presley was photographed brandishing a paperback copy of Seltzer’s novelization. Dispensationalist authors like Hal Lindsay, Tim LaHaye, and John Hagee have made millions publishing books and giving lectures about the Antichrist and the end of the world.
The Legacy of The Omen, 50 Years Later
Though A Thief in the Night (1972) preceded The Omen in initial release, it gained quite a resurgence (along with the ability to create three sequels) in the wake of the popularity of The Omen and went on to scar the psyches of Evangelical children for decades. Hal Lindsay was also able to release a film version of The Late Great Planet Earth in 1978, complete with narration and a brief onscreen appearance from Orson Welles.
In the 1990s, the Left Behind series became a cultural phenomenon, spawning twelve books in the core series, a YA spinoff series, video games, and a movie series (2000-2005) starring Kirk Cameron. A bigger studio adaptation of the first book was released in 2014, starring Nicolas Cage. 20th Century Fox and The Omen got in on the renewed “end-of-the-world” vigor by releasing a remake of the original film on June 6, 2006. The franchise was revived once again in 2024 with The First Omen, which explores ideas of the Antichrist and the motivations of those in power in our current religious, social, and political context.
But despite all the sequels, spinoffs, rip-offs, remakes, and “end times” money grabs of the last 50 years, the original version of The Omen remains untouchable. Its greatest strength is that it seeks, first and foremost, to entertain. And it does so admirably.
After half a century, its influence can be felt in horror, the culture at large, and even in various faith circles. It is a testament to the power of story and film that, consciously or unconsciously, fans of The Omen and those who have never seen it alike are, to this very day, marked by the Beast.
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