Editorials
Gremlins are from Space?! Lessons Learned from Horror Novelizations!
As a child I used to love tie-in novelizations based on my favorite films. They were like a great placeholder between being able to own the movies on VHS and watch them whenever I wanted. I remember getting in trouble for reading Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park in the fourth grade (it was apparently “too adult”), yet I found humor in the fact I was able to pick up the novel based on the movie at the library’s book fair. Horror film novelizations have become quite the item for collectors. A quick search on eBay shows a Re-animator novel going for $200 and a signed copy of The Bride of Frankenstein selling for a jaw-dropping 28k!
The allure of these quicky tie-ins seems to fall on the fact a lot of these books were written before the films themselves were ever completed. The authors had very little to go off of other than early drafts of the films’ screenplays. This can lead to some truly interesting deviations from the finished products. Take for example the tie-in for April Fools Day. The novel includes a completely different ending that sees the character of Skip attempting to murder Muffy in order to reap the family inheritance for himself. While apparently this ending was actually filmed, it’s never seen the light of day. For now the novel remains the only insight into that infamous sequence.
So, what are some other surprise revelations that appear in classic horror film novelizations? Let’s take a look, shall we?
‘Gremlins’ by George Gipe
As many fans know, Chris Columbus’s original screenplay for the Christmas horror classic was much darker in tone than the film turned out to be in the hands of Joe Dante. Gremlins was filled with wild Looney Tunes-esque gags that brought a sense of fun to the fearful tale of a small town monster invasion. The novelization was likely based on an earlier draft as it doesn’t feature the over the top lunacy of the tavern sequence. Therefore, one of the most apparent difference here is in tone. Gipe weaves a more straightforward horror tale. The biggest jaw dropper, however, comes from the truly bananas origin given to the Mogwai.
The opening chapter is told entirely from the perspective of Gizmo as he awaits dinner from the shopkeeper. It is here we are given insight into just where the Mogwai come from. They were created by a man named Mogturmen on the planet of Enz. Yes, the Gremlins came from outer space! Where else? Apparently Mogturmen’s intentions were pure:
“… the galactic powers ordered the Mogwai sent to every inhabitable planet in the universe, their purpose being to inspire alien beings with their peaceful spirit and intelligence and to instruct them in the ways of living without violence and possible extinction.”
So, sure, it didn’t necessarily work out that way, but at least the guy was trying to get into the spirit of giving. Tis’ the season and all.
‘Return of the Living Dead’ by John Russo
John Russo is an interesting character. He helped produce George Romero’s original classic, Night of the Living Dead, and after a legal battle, the two men went their separate ways. George was given the rights to “of the Dead” whereas Russo was granted “of the Living Dead”. 10 years after the release of Night, Russo set out to try to launch his own sequel. Meanwhile, Romero’s Dawn of the Dead was already nearing release. Russo’s plan was to pen a direct sequel to Night in the form of a novel, hoping to drum up interest for the film adaptation.
Russo’s 78′ novel of Return of the Living Dead exists in a world that has come to terms with the zombie plague. When people die, you simply destroy their brains to keep them from coming back. The story opens with a bus load of kids dying in a tragic accident. The townsfolk aren’t able to terminate the soon to be walking dead in time, and pretty soon the town is overrun with new hordes of the living dead. In typical Russo fashion, the characters are horrendous people who do more harm than the zombies lumbering about. Needless to say, once Dan O’Bannon came on board eight years later, Russo’s original concept was tossed out to the funerary heap.
Upon the release of the film, Return of the Living Dead, Russo saw another opportunity to mark his territory. He wrote the movie’s novelization! That’s right, there are TWO books penned by John Russo with the title Return of the Living Dead. Ultimately, this version stays pretty true to the finished film sans a Cold War conspiracy leading to the outbreak rather than US military fumbling. It seems Russian spies were sent to random locations throughout the US (such as U-Needa) to plant the barrels of toxic gas. Their hopes were that some day the metal would erode causing a massive outbreak across the country? Yep. That’s a plan, alright.
‘Halloween’ by Dennis Etchison
Michael Myers as presented in John Carpenter’s seminal slasher pic was the walking/stalking embodiment of evil. It wasn’t until years later we were told the “Cult of Thorn” somehow imbued evil into little Mikey to set him loose on that inaugural killing spree, or according to Rob Zombie, it was a piss poor home life. Either way, fans have never been too keen on explaining the evil or trying to rationalize it. With promise the newest incarnation of the Halloween series will return to the franchise’s roots, it’s interesting to see what direction that original film might have taken.
While as far as we know, Carpenter never intended a specific supernatural origin to be attributed to Michael. That said, the master himself did drop a few clues within the first two films. Take for instance the word “Samhain” scrawled across the classroom chalkboard in Halloween 2. The Celtic festival from which Halloween originated is given even more prominence in the original film’s novelization. The book opens with this ominous passage:
“The horror started on the eve of Samhain, in a foggy vale in northern Ireland at the dawn of the Celtic race. And once started, it trod the earth forevermore, wreaking its savagery suddenly, swiftly, and with incredible ferocity. Then, its lust sated, it shrank back into the mists of time for a year, a decade, a generation perhaps. But it slept only and did not die, for it could not be killed. And on the eve before Samhain it would stir, and if the lust were powerful enough, it would rise to fulfill the curse invoked so many Samhains before.”
As a huge Halloween history buff, the concept of Michael Myers being taken over by an ancient Celtic curse more defined than Thorn is exciting if not wholly unnecessary. The novel further solidifies Michael’s supernatural urgings by allowing us to witness him trick-or-treating just hours before stabbing his sister to death. He claims the voices “tell me to say I hate people.” It’s even alluded that his grandfather suffered a similar psychosis many years ago. Once whisked away to Smith’s Grove, the story switches to Dr. Loomis’s perspective where we’re told those who have slighted Michael in any way have a strange habit of turning up injured.
It’s certainly for the best that these details never made it to the final film or were merely dreamed up by the novel’s author, Etchison. Nonetheless, it does make an easy breezy read just ripe for a chilly autumn day.
‘The Funhouse’ by Dean Koontz
This is one novelization that is strikingly different from the source material. Written by a young Dean Koontz (under the name “Owen West”), this movie tie-in has the rare distinction of being released well before the film in which it’s based upon. Tobe Hooper’s Funhouse had a longer than expected production, and apparently massive changes were made to the script from which Koontz adapted his novel from.
The finished film is a fairly standard “teens trapped in an isolated location fight for their lives against a crazed boogeyman” slasher flick. In fact, Universal Pictures greenlit the film in hopes of generating their own Friday the 13th style success. The novel tackles similar ground but throws in Satanist, the antichrist, and abortions. Ellen is young woman who is madly in love with a carnival worker named Conrad. Against her parents wishes, she runs away with the man and soon becomes pregnant after realizing she is merely a pawn to bring forth the antichrist.
After giving birth, Ellen destroys the mutant child and is cursed by her husband, vowing he will return to her years later to kill her and her future children. Flash forward to 25 years later and Ellen’s teenage daughter has just discovered she’s pregnant. Ellen flips out and demands she abort the child…ya know, just in case it’s another antichrist. Around this same time, the carnival is pulling into town and Conrad is prepared to finally exact his revenge. He manages to lure Ellen’s children to the carnival with intent to sick his OTHER mutant child on them. As you can see, Dean Koontz’s Funhouse is all over the place in the most delightfully twisted way. I can barely imagine what Hooper’s film may have looked like had it followed this version more closely.
While novelizations are still made today, they are nowhere near as popular as they once were. It’s a fascinating world to dig into with infinite variations on some of our most beloved classics.
Do you have a fondly remembered novelization from yesteryear? Are there any specific ones worth tracking down?
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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