Let's Confuse the Audience to Death
Now that I've finally seen the horror classic Let's Scare Jessica to Death, I have to say that I am completely dumbfounded as to all of the praise that has been heaped onto this piece of schlock. Oh, I've disagreed with cinematic consensus about so-called masterpieces before. But at least in those instances, as much as I've disagreed with the majority view, I could still see what people saw in those films. But Let's Scare Jessica to Death just leaves me baffled. After seeing it, I simply have no idea how people can speak so highly of it.
And make no mistake, people do speak highly of this film. Everyone including my own mother has recommended this movie. The Chicago Film Critics Association lists it in their compilation of the 100 scariest movies ever made. Orville Stoeber cites the main character as "a metaphor for our moral confusion of that time." Stephen King refers to it as one of his favorite horror films. And Allmovie.com refers to it as "eerie" and then lavishes it with acclaim:
"This is a powerful ghost story, skillfully directed by John Hancock and surprisingly well-acted by a talented young cast. Zohra Lampert is especially convincing in the title role, taking her performance several layers beyond the wide-eyed hysteria shown by similar characters in other films. . . This elusive gem is well worth seeking out, and is guaranteed to raise goosebumps."
Wow. Now let me tell you what I see.
The movie tells the story of three middle-aged pseudo-hippies who move from New York City to a small, isolated town in rural Connecticut. There's Duncan, a prematurely retired cellist; Jessica, Duncan's wife, who has just been released from an extended stay in a mental institution; and their friend Woody, whom Jessica calls "David" at one point. (As far as I can tell, Jessica's reference to Woody as "David" is not an intentional plot point, but simply an actor's error that was never edited out. Yeah. It's that kind of movie.)
One of the very few things I like about this movie is the relationship between Duncan, Jessica, and Woody. The film doesn't bother with a tiredly predictable love triangle, nor does it saddle us with an unnecessary subplot about some sort of "third wheel" resentment regarding Woody. He is merely a friend, with a sincere but purely platonic love for his married buddies.
The trio moves into a farmhouse and improbably befriend Emily, a squatter who had moved in because she had thought the house abandoned while it was between owners. They even ask her to stay as an extended houseguest, believe it or not. But Jessica, despite her initial affection for Emily, begins to suspect that Emily may be a ghost of, or reincarnation of, or vampiric resurrection of (the movie is unclear which) Abigail Woods, one of the house's previous residents.
Meanwhile, Duncan and Jessica learn that the town is nearly entirely populated by old men who are inexplicably surly and antagonistic. There is a constant unspoken threat of violence in all of the town scenes, and this tension is admittedly handled well. Interestingly, the one decent resident of the town is the friendly antiques dealer -- who also moved from NYC. (Is this detail intended as some sort of irony or statement, that the people from the big city are friendly and the people from the seemingly Norman Rockwell town are all jerks?) The antiques dealer is brought into the story so someone can explain the direful history of the house Jessica has moved into. I think of such screenwriting as efficient but transparent.
What follows is a series of events so bizarre that they defy explanation. In attempting to craft its mystery, the movie ends up being far too ambiguous. And you know how I know it's not just a matter of yours truly, the Movie Man, being confused by the story? Because I've read two completely different interpretations of the film, with neither author seeming aware that they are offering interpretations; each reviewer, with a completely different and equally valid take on the film, thinks he's relaying an entirely objective explanation of events.
In the first interpretation, the critic declares that all of the unexplained events are the result of a massive conspiracy against Jessica. In other words, for reasons never addressed in the slightest, all of the other characters -- Duncan, Emily, Woody, and all the townspeople -- have inexplicably decided to band together to drive Jessica crazy. Yes, the very idea is ludicrous, especially since there is never even a hint at what the possible motivation for such a conspiracy could be. But this interpretation would at least explain many (not all) of the events in the film, not to mention the otherwise puzzling title of the movie. But, to emphasize a point that does bear repeating, if the events of the film are due to a conspiracy to drive Jessica insane, the complete lack of motivation is a plot hole the size of Gibraltar.
In the second interpretation, all of the crazy events in the film occur only in Jessica's mind, which would explain why Jessica (who was, after all, recently in a mental institution, and still hears voices she tries to ignore) keeps seeing scary things happening. But if this is the case, then how are we, as the viewers, supposed to be able to differentiate between Jessica's reality and her wild delusions? This explanation, ostensibly convenient, is ultimately dissatisfying.
Furthermore, there is a moment of the film that defies both of the above explanations, without offering a third. I almost hate to complain about it, since it is in fact one of the few truly effective parts of the movie, but it simply must be addressed, simply because of how completely it renders both of the above explanations invalid.
At one point early in the film, Jessica is in the attic, which still contains items left behind by the previous residents. As Jessica explores, she fails to see a mysterious dark figure lurking behind her -- and it doesn't seem to be shaped like a human. What is it? Is it just a crazy townsperson creeping around under a black blanket (which sounds silly, but would be consistent with explanation #1)? Or is it a supernatural presence, as if the shadows themselves pose a threat? In this scene, the lack of explanation works in the movie's favor, and really is quite creepy. When Jessica turns around, all she sees is Duncan walking into the attic to ask her some mundane question about moving in. But unlike Jessica, we, the viewers, know that Duncan was not the source of the noise that made her turn around. What was that thing?
So if this scene is so effective on its own, why doesn't it work in the movie as a whole? Well, for one thing, it seems completely unrelated to all of the other weird events. Crazy townspeople, fine. Ghostly reincarnations, o.k. And now something creeping around in the attic too? That's never even noticed by any of the characters, and never comes up again? What's up with that? And think about what the presence of that creepy dark thing does for the only two explanations given for the film. If crazy town people are trying to drive Jessica nuts, why not let Jessica see you in all your creepiness? But it can't be just a product of Jessica's delirious imagination; she never even sees the damn thing.
Meanwhile, the movie trudges along at a maddeningly slow pace. This is the kind of movie where you can get up and make a sandwich without pausing the DVD, and probably not miss much by the time you get back. The acting is mostly wooden. The direction is flat. The script is incomprehensible. And the budget is lower than a typical Friday night bar bill. At least the music is pretty good.
And make no mistake, people do speak highly of this film. Everyone including my own mother has recommended this movie. The Chicago Film Critics Association lists it in their compilation of the 100 scariest movies ever made. Orville Stoeber cites the main character as "a metaphor for our moral confusion of that time." Stephen King refers to it as one of his favorite horror films. And Allmovie.com refers to it as "eerie" and then lavishes it with acclaim:
"This is a powerful ghost story, skillfully directed by John Hancock and surprisingly well-acted by a talented young cast. Zohra Lampert is especially convincing in the title role, taking her performance several layers beyond the wide-eyed hysteria shown by similar characters in other films. . . This elusive gem is well worth seeking out, and is guaranteed to raise goosebumps."
Wow. Now let me tell you what I see.
The movie tells the story of three middle-aged pseudo-hippies who move from New York City to a small, isolated town in rural Connecticut. There's Duncan, a prematurely retired cellist; Jessica, Duncan's wife, who has just been released from an extended stay in a mental institution; and their friend Woody, whom Jessica calls "David" at one point. (As far as I can tell, Jessica's reference to Woody as "David" is not an intentional plot point, but simply an actor's error that was never edited out. Yeah. It's that kind of movie.)
One of the very few things I like about this movie is the relationship between Duncan, Jessica, and Woody. The film doesn't bother with a tiredly predictable love triangle, nor does it saddle us with an unnecessary subplot about some sort of "third wheel" resentment regarding Woody. He is merely a friend, with a sincere but purely platonic love for his married buddies.
The trio moves into a farmhouse and improbably befriend Emily, a squatter who had moved in because she had thought the house abandoned while it was between owners. They even ask her to stay as an extended houseguest, believe it or not. But Jessica, despite her initial affection for Emily, begins to suspect that Emily may be a ghost of, or reincarnation of, or vampiric resurrection of (the movie is unclear which) Abigail Woods, one of the house's previous residents.
Meanwhile, Duncan and Jessica learn that the town is nearly entirely populated by old men who are inexplicably surly and antagonistic. There is a constant unspoken threat of violence in all of the town scenes, and this tension is admittedly handled well. Interestingly, the one decent resident of the town is the friendly antiques dealer -- who also moved from NYC. (Is this detail intended as some sort of irony or statement, that the people from the big city are friendly and the people from the seemingly Norman Rockwell town are all jerks?) The antiques dealer is brought into the story so someone can explain the direful history of the house Jessica has moved into. I think of such screenwriting as efficient but transparent.
What follows is a series of events so bizarre that they defy explanation. In attempting to craft its mystery, the movie ends up being far too ambiguous. And you know how I know it's not just a matter of yours truly, the Movie Man, being confused by the story? Because I've read two completely different interpretations of the film, with neither author seeming aware that they are offering interpretations; each reviewer, with a completely different and equally valid take on the film, thinks he's relaying an entirely objective explanation of events.
In the first interpretation, the critic declares that all of the unexplained events are the result of a massive conspiracy against Jessica. In other words, for reasons never addressed in the slightest, all of the other characters -- Duncan, Emily, Woody, and all the townspeople -- have inexplicably decided to band together to drive Jessica crazy. Yes, the very idea is ludicrous, especially since there is never even a hint at what the possible motivation for such a conspiracy could be. But this interpretation would at least explain many (not all) of the events in the film, not to mention the otherwise puzzling title of the movie. But, to emphasize a point that does bear repeating, if the events of the film are due to a conspiracy to drive Jessica insane, the complete lack of motivation is a plot hole the size of Gibraltar.
In the second interpretation, all of the crazy events in the film occur only in Jessica's mind, which would explain why Jessica (who was, after all, recently in a mental institution, and still hears voices she tries to ignore) keeps seeing scary things happening. But if this is the case, then how are we, as the viewers, supposed to be able to differentiate between Jessica's reality and her wild delusions? This explanation, ostensibly convenient, is ultimately dissatisfying.
Furthermore, there is a moment of the film that defies both of the above explanations, without offering a third. I almost hate to complain about it, since it is in fact one of the few truly effective parts of the movie, but it simply must be addressed, simply because of how completely it renders both of the above explanations invalid.
At one point early in the film, Jessica is in the attic, which still contains items left behind by the previous residents. As Jessica explores, she fails to see a mysterious dark figure lurking behind her -- and it doesn't seem to be shaped like a human. What is it? Is it just a crazy townsperson creeping around under a black blanket (which sounds silly, but would be consistent with explanation #1)? Or is it a supernatural presence, as if the shadows themselves pose a threat? In this scene, the lack of explanation works in the movie's favor, and really is quite creepy. When Jessica turns around, all she sees is Duncan walking into the attic to ask her some mundane question about moving in. But unlike Jessica, we, the viewers, know that Duncan was not the source of the noise that made her turn around. What was that thing?
So if this scene is so effective on its own, why doesn't it work in the movie as a whole? Well, for one thing, it seems completely unrelated to all of the other weird events. Crazy townspeople, fine. Ghostly reincarnations, o.k. And now something creeping around in the attic too? That's never even noticed by any of the characters, and never comes up again? What's up with that? And think about what the presence of that creepy dark thing does for the only two explanations given for the film. If crazy town people are trying to drive Jessica nuts, why not let Jessica see you in all your creepiness? But it can't be just a product of Jessica's delirious imagination; she never even sees the damn thing.
Meanwhile, the movie trudges along at a maddeningly slow pace. This is the kind of movie where you can get up and make a sandwich without pausing the DVD, and probably not miss much by the time you get back. The acting is mostly wooden. The direction is flat. The script is incomprehensible. And the budget is lower than a typical Friday night bar bill. At least the music is pretty good.
posted by Movie Man at
12:57 PM
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