From the Crazed Mind of William Bibbiani:
I didn’t see The Call this week – blame the stupid SXSW Film Festival – so I left the review in the capable hands of my B-Movies Podcast co-host Witney Seibold. I have no idea if his opinion is “right” or not, although Dave White and Alonso Duralde seemed to agree that it was a competent thriller with a dumb ending, but his review included a handy list of 1990s thrillers that The Call evoked during its running time. Many of them starred Ashley Judd. We just really, really loved putting Ashley Judd in jeopardy in the 1990s. Sometimes in Double Jeopardy.
We’re getting far enough way from the 1990s to look at the decade objectively, and we’re finding some weird stuff. It’s hard now not to see the Clinton era as a blissfully naïve period of self-involvement, when films like Fight Club complained that wars no longer defined new generations, and criticized consumerism for filling that void. Sure, consumerism has its problems, but I’d trade a few more decades of whining complacency to undo 9/11 any day. But hindsight is 20/20. For whatever reason, the 1990s were a time when audiences flocked to serial killer movies, which looked into a generally cynical, unmotivated society and found dangerously desensitized sociopaths with troubling gender issues therein.
The Silence of the Lambs was not the first serial killer movie by a long shot, but the story of an inexperienced but complex female FBI cadet fighting a serial killer who wore women’s flesh – while simultaneously battling the sexual reactions of every other male character in the film, good or evil – spoke volumes about how far women had come in society and how much further we had to go. Shortly thereafter, erotic thrillers like Basic Instinct turned women into the homicidal maniacs, simultaneously empowering and demonizing them.
Slowly, the sexiness dissipated into a string of “women in peril” movies, many of them starring Ashley Judd (after the success of 1997’s Kiss the Girls), who was sympathetic enough to victimize on-screen for entertainment value, but charismatic enough to triumph over adversity by the end of every movie. The “women in peril” genre could, with little effort, include most of the slashers you’ve ever seen. The women in these films overcome all odds, but only after suffering and tearing their tank tops for your titillation.
It’s a little gross actually. Individually, most of these films seem harmless, but when viewed as a whole I’ve always found the genre a little unsettling. “Men in peril” movies tend to focus on the hero’s daring deeds to stop the bad guys. “Women in peril” movies tend to focus on the horror of their victimization. There are exceptions to this rule – David Fincher’s The Game comes to mind, and I’d say Fatal Attraction and even The Firm do too – but it’s an observation I think we need to make and maybe do something about in case The Call takes off and inspires a proper reinvigoration of the genre. (It didn’t do that well over the weekend, but hey, anything’s possible.)
Since we’re looking at the 1990s, and the serial killer knock-off genre in particular, I’ll come up with a few recommendations of my own if you’re either feeling nostalgic or are too young to remember when this was a ubiquitous trend. And if you are that young, don’t get indignant about it. You’ll feel like this about the superhero craze someday, I assure you.
Raising Cain (dir. Brian De Palma, 1992)
Raising Cain is one of the last truly great films from Brian De Palma, who helped modernize the thriller genre after Alfred Hitchcock shuffled this mortal coil, and who made no bones whatsoever about following directly in his footsteps. Many of De Palma’s films, even the better ones, feel like Hitchcock riffs thanks to his elaborate set pieces, suspense set-ups and blonde heroines. Raising Cain could, in that respect, be seen as Brian De Palma’s Psycho, but regardless of influence it’s a stunning thriller about a normal guy, played by John Lithgow, who dodges the homicidal impulses of his identical twin brother. Or is it his twin brother? Or is it his father? Or are they all the same guy? De Palma’s visual dynamism has never felt more invigorating, and John Lithgow gives one of the best performances of his career as a helpless victim and homicidal maniac, often at the exact same time.
Malice (dir. Harold Becker, 1993)
I don’t want to tell you too much about Malice, other than it’s been unfairly neglected over the years, and that you should see it if you haven’t already. Bill Pullman plays a college professor whose students are being murdered left and right, and it might have something to do with the doctor, played by Alec Baldwin (in his “sexy” phase), who just moved into his guest room and started treating Pullman’s wife, played by Nicole Kidman. The plot has a lot of twists and turns, so if anything the relative obscurity Malice lives in today might almost be a good thing, since the ending(s) probably haven’t been ruined for you yet. Suffice it to say it’s a cracking suspense thriller with one of Alec Baldwin’s best a-hole performances.
The Temp (dir. Tom Holland, 1993)
I was tempted to put Basic Instinct on my list, but I wanted to give a little love to one of its own knock-offs, Tom Holland’s enjoyably trashy The Temp, which stars Lara Flynn Boyle as a temporary replacement for Timothy Hutton’s personal assistant, who winds up taking the job full time – and rapidly giving the glass ceiling a run for its money – after her co-workers start falling prey to one mysterious “accident” after another. Hutton’s impossibly aroused by Boyle, since she’s never looked sexier, but he’s also respectably suspicious, since he’s not a total idiot. But Boyle always has the right answers to all of his accusations, and for a long time The Temp is pretty coy about whether she’s a homicidal maniac or just trying to get ahead in business while really, really trying. The last line of dialogue is a corker, but I suspect someone probably got stabbed right after saying it.
Shallow Grave (dir. Danny Boyle, 1994)
Danny Boyle made his first feature film in 1994, which introduced the world to both Ewan McGregor and future “Doctor Who” Christopher Eccleston. They’re looking for a new flatmate along with Kerry Fox, but their pick turns up dead right after he moves in, leaving only a body and a briefcase full of money to remember him by. McGregor, Eccleston and Fox decide to keep the money and dispose of the corpse, but when Eccleston draws the short straw and has to mutilate the cadaver all by himself, the emotional trauma begins to drive him insane. Soon, their relationships being to dissolve, and Eccleston takes to living in the attic, drilling holes in the ceiling to keep an eye of his so-called “friends.” Shallow Grave isn’t a “serial killer” movie per se, but it adapts many of the visual tropes associated with the genre, and the anxiety of living with a maniac, into a darkly comic thriller that promised a great cinematic future from Danny Boyle, who delivered in spades with films like Trainspotting, 28 Days Later and Sunshine. I argue it counts, at least as a member of the genre’s extended family.
Se7en (dir. David Fincher, 1995)
Se7en may seem like its own entity now, but when it came out in 1995 many critics wrote it off as the MTV generation knock-off of The Silence of the Lambs. As director David Fincher said when Se7en won the MTV Movie Award, “What’s wrong with that?” Se7en is an impossibly cynical motion picture about a weathered homicide detective, played by Morgan Freeman, whose last case turns out to be a serial killer whose victims personify each of the biblical deadly sins: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The murders themselves are fiendishly creative and cruel – lust in particular still gives me the shivers – but the film’s daring structure is unlike any of the other serial killer films of the era. Se7en moves forward at a breakneck pace, but takes time for quiet moments with Freeman’s partner Brad Pitt, and robs the heroes of anything resembling a victory. Eighteen years later Hollywood is still mining the same old thriller clichés, and Se7en still feels just as daring as ever.
Primal Fear (dir. Gregory Hoblit, 1996)
The other suspense genre that dominated the 1990s, thanks to the breakaway success of novelist John Grisham, was the legal thriller. Many of them were quite good, but Primal Fear is one of the most notable for combining that genre with the serial killer archetypes that were making the rounds at the same time. Richard Gere stars as a high-priced defense attorney who takes a pro bono case for the publicity, representing an alleged murderer played by Ed Norton, who may have murdered a beloved Chicago Archbishop. Gere’s investigation leads him to many dark corners, including the Archbishop’s own sordid past and the dangerous inner world of Norton’s character, who has many secrets of his own. Primal Fear has a noirish sensibility – nobody is the hero – which makes Gregory Hoblit’s film feel morally apocalyptic. And the dangerous supporting turn by Ed Norton, who earned an Academy Award nomination for this (his first proper on-screen appearance), immediately jumpstarted his career as one of the finest actors of his generation.
William Bibbiani and Witney Seibold are the co-hosts of CraveOnline‘s B-Movies Podcast and the co-stars of The Trailer HItch. Follow them on Twitter at @WilliamBibbiani and @WitneySeibold.
