I Don't Know Who To Trust

Rating: 8/10 (25 August 2009)

The peace of a US scientific outpost in Antarctica is suddenly shattered when a dog runs into camp being shot at by some crazed Norwegians. That night, bewilderment turns to terror when the dog abruptly mutates into a howling tentacled beast Â…
John Carpenter's remake of The Thing is one of the best science-fiction/horror movies ever made. It's better than the original, much more faithful to the short story it comes from, is extremely well played by a fine ensemble of character actors, features incredibly inventive and horrifying makeup effects, and is an utterly riveting suspense yarn about distrust and paranoia taken to the ultimate level. Scary stories tend to break down into two distinct types; the externalised campfire story, where the monster is out there (Jaws, Frankenstein) trying to get at us, and the internalised Edgar Allan Poe confession, where the monster is within us (Psycho, The Exorcist) and trying to break free. This movie is a perfect example of the latter. The Thing is both a slimy alien creature waiting to eat us but also a metaphor for pretty much anything you like (cancer / xenophobia / nature gone mad). The first half maps the scientists' discovery of what's happening, and the second pulls all the tension out of the situation as they snap, bicker, point accusatory fingers and fail to follow through on half-hearted plans of action. The 1951 movie is a model of men behaving with calm organisation in a desperate situation. This film is much braver, as it depicts a little society splintering into pieces and self-combusting; rarely does a film revel so much in tragic misanthropy. Carpenter's films deal again and again with isolation as a main theme, both celebrating the individuality of the lone hero but mostly reinforcing the grim reality that we are all ultimately alone. On a technical level it is a stunning film; the base and its snowy exteriors are brilliantly realised by designer John Lloyd, and Dean Cundey's fluid, unhurried photography is dazzlingly beautiful, all frozen blues and fiery oranges. The eye-popping effects by twenty-two-year-old Rob Bottin are nothing short of astounding, as dogs mutate into nightmarish beasts, a man's stomach turns into a gaping maw, a disembodied head grows spider legs, and flesh and blood dissolve into plant-like monstrosities. These elements, combined with a creepy low-key Ennio Morricone score, create a tremendous realism to what would otherwise be a totally insane story, and the end result is a powerful, disturbing, terrifying film. On its release, this movie had many critics, most of whom could not see anything beyond the special effects. Some who did also argued that the story is confusing and badly plotted - when and how do Blair and Palmer get infected, what happens to Fuchs and Nauls, does Norris even realise he's been taken over, who framed MacReady with the shredded clothes, and always, why don't we find out what happens in the end ? This for me is perhaps the best aspect of the movie - the answer to any of these questions is we don't know, and that's the entire point. The movie is about not knowing what's going on, not knowing who you can trust, not even knowing if you're human or not; that's what real fear is, and few movies show it, but this one does. Watch it, and figure it out for yourself. Based on a great 1938 novella, Who Goes There ?, by John W. Campbell Jr. Trivia - the dog/Thing in this movie was played by a malamute/wolf half-breed called Jed, and for my money he gives the best animal performance in all cinema; a lot of Oscar-winning stars could learn from him.