Looking back on cinema, you’ll notice that there have been quite a few movies based on urban legends. Most found their pop folklore inspiration without spending a lot of time and energy, but some others were a little more obscure in their choices. Either way, adapting urban legends always requires a good deal of creativity, especially if a movie doesn’t have the horror genre to lean on for its embellishments.
Horror’s on-and-off relationship with urban legends dates back to the ‘70s, give or take. That particular decade was an age of substantial cultural changes, and one method of acknowledging the world was different was telling these friend-of-a-friend stories. It was only understandable that the more dreadful myths would then make their way to the screen; “The Babysitter and the Man Upstairs”, for example, was the starter material for Black Christmas and When a Stranger Calls.
Fast forward to the ‘90s, and we had another discernible uptick in urban legend movies. Horror remained the favorite destination, if you wanted to get these stories made and seen; the proof being Campfire Tales, I Know What You Did Last Summer, The Last Broadcast, and of course, Urban Legend. However, there was the occasional switch to other genres.
Twin films are not an uncommon occurrence in the industry, and they happen for a number of reasons. Even still, having two movies about the same campus legend was as freaky as it was refreshing. While their peers were more keen on turning the grislier myths into slashers, The Curve and Dead Man on Campus acted on their shared influence with humor.
The “Pass by Catastrophe” (or “The Suicide Rule”) legend first began to pop up in—where else?—the ‘70s. Although there have been plenty of variations since then, the original outcome endures; because of an obscure college policy, students are granted an automatic passing grade after enduring some kind of hardship. The version used for both The Curve and Dead Man on Campus, and the one I grew up hearing, has a roommate’s suicide being the deciding factor in that instant 4.0. These two movies, however, take the myth even further by having the students take the initiative, rather than waiting for fate to get involved.
The Curve and Dead Man on Campus were each shot in ‘97, but the former was the first to premiere. Before its title was changed from Dead Man’s Curve, Dan Rosen’s directorial debut was screened at Sundance. Initial reviews were more lukewarm than expected, but that wasn’t because of the cast. Coming hot off of Scream, Matthew Lillard was a certified scene-stealer here. That one-half of the original Ghostface duo proved he could work alone, even though he technically was partnered up in this wicked college thriller. Nonetheless, upstaging everyone came easy to him, and he did it with a deranged gleam in his eye.
Michael Vartan and Keri Russell, prior to their own breakout roles in the then-near future, were also mixed up in this messy murder plot to score passing grades. Vartan is Lillard’s more subdued accomplice who is still willing to kill for a spot at Harvard Business School, and Russell is his not-so-innocent girlfriend. As for the victim, who’s played by Randall Batinkoff, he was no slouch when it came to demanding your attention; that increasing misogyny is enough to make you side with his killers.
If The Curve lacks anything, it’s a stronger saboteur for the young criminals (other than themselves). The two detectives (Anthony Griffith, Bo Dietl) on the case do have some clue as to what’s really going on among these dangerous collegiates, yet this duo is so unremarkable, they may as well have been left on the cutting room floor. Or at the very least, their parts should have been transformed into more screentime for Dana Delany’s underused character.
Accusations of mean-spiritedness have been thrown around in regard to The Curve, but surely, isn’t that the whole point? Entitled, desperate, and unfeeling college kids off one of their own just to get ahead—that concept alone is worthy of an “A”. The twisted conclusion is also the stuff of classic YA suspense; my own rewatch ended with the same sort of amusement I got from reading the works of R. L. Stine and Christopher Pike. It’s so overworked that it’s almost brilliant.
Had it not been for Halloween H20: 20 Years Later, Disturbing Behavior and Blade, the summer of ‘98 would have been a dry season for horror. And even though the plot of Alan Cohn’s Dead Man on Campus comes across as horror, I assure you, it is most definitely a college comedy. Granted, it’s darker than most—college freshmen are typically looking for fun, not at-risk students.
The Curve saw its cast committing murder, whereas Tom Everett Scott and Mark-Paul Gosselaar’s characters in Dead Man on Campus never draw blood. Hoping to score a suicidal roomie, so as to secure perfect grades that semester, is bleak stuff. Even so, the scenario here is one more akin to instant wish fulfillment. The two main characters ask for what seems like the impossible, then they eventually receive it.
Enter Dead Man on Campus with certain expectations, and it just might satisfy your craving for black comedy. Mind you, it’s neither pitch black, nor does it go as far as its setup suggests. For a more grim college comedy, I point you toward Douglas Curtis’ The Hazing (a.k.a. The Curious Case of the Campus Corpse) and Doug Liman’s Getting In. Those two movies, which aren’t without their own tone issues, are even bigger oddballs than this one.
These movies are of that “you had to be there” category of ‘90s cinema. It’s hard to think that either of them would be produced today, at least not without advisory warnings. Of the two, though, The Curve is the least likely to shock, on account of it being a thriller. Death comes with the territory. With Dead Man on Campus, its era-specific approach to mental health is perhaps too indelicate for modern, more enlightened audiences. Proceed with caution if you think the pitches sound iffy.
I can’t speak for everyone, but laughing about my own dark times is how I cope with them. It’s likely why I enjoy the urban legends that give shape to our innermost fears, and make life feel more manageable (logic be damned). Absurd as they are, they can also be weirdly comforting. It only makes sense that the movies they inspire have a similar effect.
