Editorials
What Does ‘Doom’ Mean to You?
It’s weird that I’m writing this. I’m hardly qualified, and yet, I think this is a discussion worth having. I assume this conversation hasn’t been had because those who are more qualified to have it are busy stewing in their own eager anticipation for any clip, screen or detail that might give them an idea of what the Doom reboot we’ll be reacquainting ourselves with in the coming weeks will look like.
I’m afraid the anticipation for this game has reached a point where its long-awaited unveiling will only disappoint. Hype has taken down a lot of games, and while that’s definitely an obstacle the next Doom will need to overcome, it’s not the real problem.
The real issue is this series has an identity problem.
Before I can get into that, I’d like to share with you my own perception of what Doom is. Unfortunately, I can’t do that without talking about myself, but I promise to try my best to keep this from reading like a memoir.
Even before I joined Bloody Disgusting, I fancied myself a well-rounded enthusiast of the spooky scary genre. I had to up my game considerably when horror games became a pseudo-career, and in the six years since, I’ve made a concerted effort to try and play as many of them as I can. In my mission to be worthy of a genre I’ve loved my whole life, I tried everything from ambitious indies to often creatively limited AAA titles and even a bunch of more conceptual projects that likely would’ve required 6-12 more months of steady development before they would qualify as video games.
This would eventually lead me to the Doom franchise. The original served as my introduction to its hellishly bombastic world and a singular unnamed marine’s fight against the legions of hell.
It’d be a long time before I would get around to playing Doom 2 for the first time, and that was only because I thought doing so might help me develop a fuller understanding of the chunk of gaming history that I had missed out on. I’m not sure what it is about older video games that disagrees with my frail, sickly body, but 30 minutes with a 90’s era shooter tends to make me motion sick. Since the original two Doom games were more or less guaranteed to leave me feeling like I had just spent hours in a hot car on a bumpy road, I had to move on.
Doom 3 is the only game in the series that I’ve spent a significant amount of time with, and I didn’t actually beat it until a few years ago when I had to review the BFG Edition. The way I played horror games back then was dramatically different from how I experience them today, but the change wasn’t gradual, it was sudden.
That sudden change would happen just a year later, in 20015, with the arrival of Resident Evil 4. That game turned the horror genre upside-down, and at least a small part of the monumental impact it had also affected me.
Because 2004 me wasn’t burdened by what often feels like an endless piling on of responsibilities that starts almost immediately after high school, I was free to really take my time with it. This involved a number of habits that sound like gargantuan wastes of time now, such as investing way too much time into scouring text logs for codes that would grant me access to precious bounties that had been left unguarded inside storage lockers by the very people whose corpses now littered every other room.
Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t develop some form of mild OCD. If I thought there was even the smallest chance I could’ve overlooked something, I wouldn’t hesitate to go well out of my way to see if I indeed had. If left unchecked, the thought that “I might have missed something” would almost always congeal into “I definitely missed something” which I would then need to remedy with completely unnecessary backtracking.
In the decade and change that’s come and gone since, backtracking is now a dirty word to many gamers. It’s become synonymous with lazy game design, just as one might bring up BioShock in an argument for video games as art, or Gone Home as an example of what this medium is capable when it comes to telling meaningful stories, Doom 3 was often brought up for the simple fact that it was lousy with monster closets.
Too many monster closets and not enough flashlights is a shitty legacy, but I could’ve made it so much worse by including that deliciously cheesy film adaptation starring The Rock and that guy from The Lord of the Rings who always looks like he just woke up.
If you’re familiar with the series, you know how much it’s changed since the early 90’s. That’s sort of the core of what I’m trying to get at with this article, which I legitimately believed would be a super quick thing I could knock out in an hour. That was a half dozen paragraphs ago, and now when I close my eyes all I see is the big, blocky Doom logo pressed against the inside of my eyelids.
I’ve tried to explain, as coherently as I’m capable of at 3am, what this series means to me. Even after all that, I can honestly say that I have no idea what I my expectations are for the game Bethesda doesn’t want us to call Doom 4.
The point of this, all of this, is what is Doom to you? I have the sneaking suspicion that my idea of what this series is about, what it aspires to be and where I think it’s headed won’t match up with what someone who grew up playing the classic games in the mid-90’s, or someone who only recently made the plunge with the Doom 3 BFG Edition. More importantly, I have no real idea of what the team at id Software sees when they’re contemplating its future.
I’m sure the enigma that’s kept them busy for what feels like a lifetime will come out, eventually, and it’ll be adored by many. I can’t say whether or not it’ll be “scary”, but I also don’t know if that’s the point. It may even follow Wolfenstein: The New Order and favor bombastic action and violence over nightmarish visuals and constructing effective scares. It may find a balance between the two, if that falls on the path that was chosen for it.
I can name quite a few franchises that came out of the early to mid-90’s, but none of them were ever as amorphous as Doom is now. Resident Evil has endured enough reboots, remakes, remasters and various other course changes to be comparable, but it never lost its core identity even when it was clear Capcom had no idea what they were doing with it.
The timeline of the first three Doom games is an odd one. This series has gone dormant for over a decade twice. That means enough time has gone by between the the last two games and the one we have on the way that each generation will have formed a different idea of what it is, because chances are, you haven’t played classic Doom and modern Doom. There’s no “correct” perception of what Doom is, but there’s only one that matters and it’s not ours.
So tell me, what’s your Doom?
Editorials
Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ Still Towers Over a 2009 Remake That Maybe Should’ve Stayed Unborn
When I write about remakes, I often bring up the word “justification.” What’s the impetus for the remake’s existence? Reinventing icons for a new generation, or benefiting from a few decades’ worth of special effects advancements? Often, there’s a reason that you can acknowledge and say, “Alright, I see what you’re going for.” That holds in Josef Rusnak’s It’s Alive, which tries to reinvent Larry Cohen’s mutant baby B-movie of the same name in what I consider the worst possible way.
I didn’t say it had to be a GOOD reason.
I’ll start with Cohen’s own reaction to Rusnak’s 2009 update: “It’s a terrible picture. It’s just beyond awful … I would advise anybody who likes my film to cross the street and avoid seeing the new enchilada.” A blunt take, but I agree. Rusnak justifies his remake by diverting drastically from Cohen’s exploitation-y flick about a newborn monster killinPreview (opens in a new tab)g Los Angeles residents, but it’s such a bafflingly weak reimagining. Cohen remains faithful to tenets of creature features while tugging at our hearts with commentaries about parents caught between morality and adoration, whereas Rusnak asks, “What if we punished a mother for trying to have an abortion?”
As Cohen says, cross the damn street.
The Approach

It’s Alive (2009) is one of those women-focused horror projects that make you scoff, derogatorily, “This was written and directed by dudes, wasn’t it?” Cohen’s original screenplay isn’t airtight, yet it does well to respect Sharon Farrell‘s “shaken mother of a monster,” Lenore Davis. Paul Sopocy and James Portolese, on the other hand, pen a screenplay that reductively focuses on Lenore protecting her bitey offspring, with a bent-out-of-shape abortion subplot thrown in. That’s not to say Cohen’s Lenore doesn’t display the same protective maternal instincts, but Rusnak plays in a sandbox of lame-duck tropes, dooming Lenore for the supposed sin of a mother’s love.
Teenage party-girl turned actress Bijou Phillips stars as Lenore Harker, a New Mexico college student who quits to live with her architect boyfriend, Frank (James Murray), and raise their incoming baby. She’s ditching pizza nights and girl talk with bestie Marnie (Ty Glaser), moving into the Albuquerque woods, where Frank has a secluded homestead with brother Chris (Raphaël Coleman), who is wheelchair dependent. Lenore goes in for a pregnancy checkup, where she learns her unborn child has doubled in size, requiring a cesarean section birth. So the surgical team opens her up and extracts “Daniel,” only to be murdered by the newborn, found resting on Lenore’s stomach, taking a post-slaughter rest.
The immediate deviation is how Daniel is found nuzzling Lenore in the hospital, and doesn’t look “freakish” at first glance. Daniel comes home with Lenore and Frank, setting up the happy lil’ family dynamic. It’s no longer a conspiratorial hunt-and-hide scenario; the “home sweet hell” take on Cohen’s original. Which, frustratingly, dissolves the core suspense that Cohen achieves. For Daniel to kill, victims have to come knocking on Lenore’s door, which becomes a repetitive cycle of visitors and hidden bodies that remove any excitement and surprises.
Does It Work?

Rusnak earns points for trying something new. Remakes have historically been less willing to put unique spins on existing stories (see: Cabin Fever). But there’s also a question of retaining the essence of the source material. Why remake a movie if you’re going to spin so far from the original that you don’t even need to use the title? It’s the Child’s Play of it all. If you wanted to make a killer AI toy movie, why use the Child’s Play legacy to do so (outside of market familiarity)?
It’s Alive doesn’t fully abandon Cohen’s ideas, but it does feel thinner than expected. There have been plenty of killer baby movies since It’s Alive—Cohen hardly has the concept trademarked. What’s fun about Cohen’s It’s Alive is how Frank chases his mutant kin around Los Angeles, eventually into the sewer system, culminating in the Los Angeles (drained) river. Rusnak directs what’s essentially a one-location thriller that minimizes the scope to meet not only its lower budget, but lesser ambitions. Where Cohen pushes farther, Rusnak pulls back, losing the idiosyncratic quirks of Cohen’s superior It’s Alive.
There’s nothing wrong with a good chamber piece, but the psychological torments Sopocy and Portolese opt for are soft as fresh-out-the-bag marshmallows. So much of the film hinges on Lenore’s cover-up tactics when she realizes her wee one is a maneater, which becomes one-note in the process. Frank wanders around, ignoring red flags, and Chris is removed from the picture for a small bit to keep the massacre going. In both films, Lenore has trouble turning against her child—but Cohen is much more thoughtful about Lenore’s state through it all. Rusnak’s direction is short-sighted, rudimentary, and flat, as it has nothing interesting to say about the fears of parenthood that drive Phillips’ Lenore to nurture the vengeful child she once wanted to terminate.
The Result

In It’s Alive (1974), Cohen makes a point of referencing Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, as John P. Ryan’s Frank recalls having the epiphany that Dr. Frankenstein is the villain, not his creation. It’s what drives Cohen’s screenplay, as we learn how the doctors tried to kill the original baby, since its deformities made it look like a melon-headed, fang-toothed freakshow. There’s none of that in Rusnak’s remake, which diminishes the creature’s origins and motives to anger. It’s an uninteresting modification because the point of Cohen’s picture is to question what makes a monster, and how its creators process their hand in the chaos. Rusnak’s not interested in such explorations, except when the screenplay shoehorns what foolishly appears as an anti-abortion undertone when we learn about Lenore’s sketchy internet baby-be-gone pills.
Even worse, the technical merits of Rusnak’s It’s Alive are unfortunate. Credit to the original’s cast, because Ryan and Farrell bring dramatic acting chops that accentuate their film’s tragedy; a legitimate heartbreaker. None of Rusnak’s cast are hitting on such a high caliber of talent, especially since there’s nothing meaty about Sopocy and Portolese’s character designs. It’s very Horror 101: ignore the obvious, act gobsmacked when the obvious happens, and bring it home. Phillips has been better in films like Bully and Hostel: Part II (maybe even The Wizard of Gore), while Murray is your average 2000s straight-to-video throwaway boyfriend. The rest of the supporting cast, sadly, barely even register.
There’s a charm to Cohen’s monster SFX, whipped up by Rick Baker—but also an opportunity. Cohen decided to use this three-mirror-blur vision, seeing through the baby’s eyes to show the beast as little as possible. If Rusnak wanted to make a stronger impact, he could have gone all-in on Daniel’s appearance to say, “Hey, at least we developed a rad creature!” But, alas, Rusnak might show even less of Daniel. When he does appear in the basement, or leap out of a trash can in the film’s climactic finale, it’s CG augmentation that distorts a puppet reportedly crafted by SFX superstar Tony Gardner. Cohen accomplishes infinitely more by putting his then-girlfriend Elaine Parkyn in a full-head monster mask, a pair of pointed gloves, and a partial body suit that benefit from optical tricks—because practical always wins.
The Lesson

It’s not hard to wonder why Millennium Films lost faith in Rusnak’s It’s Alive and opted for no theatrical release. In a time when horror remakes were all the rage, Millennium buried It’s Alive so deep that it’s not even watchable or rentable on streaming (ain’t even worth Tubi). No hyperbole, this remake stinks with the stinkiest of ’em. It’s slight on innovation, filled with awful genre generics, and is a slap in the face to what Cohen accomplished. There’s something so fresh about a killer baby flick that focuses on the suit-and-tie-wearing father, who is forced to challenge the stern, macho gender roles of the 70s, and something so disappointing about a 2000s horror movie that falls right back into outdated mindsets.
So what did we learn?
- Yes, for the hundredth time, some of those 2000s horror remakes are as bad as the haters made them all out to be.
- Ex-David Lee Roth, Ozzy Osbourne, and Alice Cooper bassist Todd Jensen plays Lenore’s doctor for some reason (which I wouldn’t have known without the internet).
- You can appreciate a remake for trying something different, but you can also detest a remake for how poorly it does something different.
- Why does Daniel look like a baby shark (doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo)?
Watching both It’s Alive flicks back-to-back gave me whiplash. When John P. Ryan (as Frank) confronts his cowering, terrified child-monster in the bowels of Los Angeles, I nearly shed a tear. That whole scene really, as Ryan realizes he’s become the Dr. Frankenstein of sorts, and his miserable, deformed boy craves his father’s affection in a time of need. Then you have Rusnak’s film, which brutally kills the pro-abortion character, insinuates Lenore is being punished for trying to abort Daniel early in the pregnancy, and deserves to die with her demon spawn engulfed by the worst CG flames this side of Birdemic: Shock and Terror. I just … kudos to Cohen for richly developing a sci-fi curio with a tremendous sense of emotional understanding, and nothing but thumbs down for Rusnak’s remake, which comes off as plenty boneheaded and hella halfhearted in the process.

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