In some fashion direct or indirect, all horror films grapple with the ultimate human fear, mortality. But Don Coscarelli’s landmark 1979 horror Phantasm is a film veritably obsessed with the cessation of life, and also the terrible grief that accompanies death for those left behind on this mortal coil.
In fact, it is not at all difficult to interpret the
film’s events as one teenager’s powerful subconscious
fantasy, his sublimation and re-direction of grief as he attempts to make
sense of all the death happening around him, in life and in his immediate
family. The film’s almost childish tale
of a Fairy Tale monster -- a witch-like “Tall
Man” (Angus Scrimm) who enslaves the
dead -- is actually but Michael’s (Michael Baldwin’s) self-constructed mythology
regarding mortality.
Simply put, it’s easier to deal with that orderly
“horror” – a world of monsters and
villains and happy endings – than one in which those Michael loves are lost
and gone forever.
Surreal and haunting, Phantasm confidently moves
and tracks like almost no other horror movie ever made. It vacillates between scenes of outright
terror and ridiculous comedy, and treads into terrains not exactly…realistic. The universe as expressed in the film doesn’t
seem to conform to order or rationality as we understand it, frankly. But importantly, all of this disorder, chaos
and pain feels as though it arises from a deep understanding and sympathy for
childhood. The film’s trademark soundtrack
composition -- which repeats frequently and effectively -- adds to the overwhelming
sense of a lullaby or trance, one we can’t quite awake from.
So many horror fans (rightly) love and cherish
Phantasm because of the horror, because of the flying silver “ball” and
the gore it creates in its monstrous wake.
Yet for me the film is actually a horror character-piece of the highest
magnitude, and actually a tender, even
whimsical reminder of how the world might appear to a sad and lonely adolescent.
“I just don't get off on funerals, man, they give me the
creeps.”
The shadow of death hovers behind Michael. |
Michael
attempts to convince his older brother, Jody (Bill Thornbury), of this bizarre
truth, but Jody is burned out and skeptical.
Since their parents died, he’s been caring for Michael full time, and wants
to leave town. Michael knows this, and
is deathly afraid of abandonment. But
soon, however, Jody is swayed by Michael’s evidence and together with a friend,
Reggie (Reggie Bannister), the trio launches a frontal assault on the Tall Man…
After the Tall Man is defeated,
Michael awakes from the long dream to face hard reality. Not only are his parents dead, but Jody is
gone too. He died in a car crash. Now Reggie promises to take care of him, but
the specter of death is not yet gone from Michael’s life…
“First he took Mom and Dad, then he took Jody, now he's after
me.”
Surrounded by the trappings of death |
In some instances, however, teenagers do not
react to such losses as expected, with tears and outright declarations of
sadness or pain. Instead, they may not
confront their grief at all. Rather they
sublimate and deny it, even crafting complex stories and belief systems around
the death of their loved ones, such as the fiction that they are somehow
responsible or guilty for those deaths.
We are confronted in Phantasm, then, with a young
protagonist, Michael, who has seen the death of both his parents, and also -- as we learn at film’s end -- the death
of his brother, Jody. Instead of coping
outright with the grief, however, his mind has fashioned a phantasm, a dream which
to attempts to “re-order” his disordered life.
In this story, Michael and Jody are still a team, defeating monsters and
solving the mystery of Morningside. In
this dream, death has become embodied in a person, the Tall Man, and as
something that Michael, importantly, can combat and defeat.
Michael (left, background) is left behind, while Jody heads...where? |
In terms of grappling with the idea of death, the
film proper actually opens with it, as a friend of Jody’s named Tommy is
killed. Michael observes the funeral
from a distance, with a set of binoculars.
This particular shot stresses the importance of how Michael sees, and later scenes in the film are similarly composed
to reflect the same thing: effectively highlighting Michael’s eyes (as he sees
through a crack in an open coffin, for instance) as he views the world. This visual framing is our cue that the film
itself is Michael’s “phantasm,” his way of perceiving and interpreting the
things he experiences.
How Michael sees #1 |
As adults, these things are accepted, perhaps
reluctantly, as part of the landscape, and don’t necessarily have the power to
frighten or disturb us. We know such things
exist, and we deal with them. But because Michael is obsessed with death, the
film reflects his fetish most vividly, creating a world where the trappings of
death are visible and prominent in nearly every frame, and suffused with a dark
malevolence. The funeral director is a
monstrous crone (The Tall Man), the graveyard is a place of darkness, danger
and entrapment. The hearse is a vehicle
for the enslaved “dead” dwarves employed by the Tall Man, and so on. The Tall Man hovers in the background of some
shots like the Angel of Death himself.
He marshals all these familiar trappings of death and renders them
frightening once more. They serve him.
How Michael sees #2 |
I’ve written above that some aspects of Phantasm
seem childish or childlike. This is not
an insult or a put-down. For instance,
Michael and Jody easily destroy the Tall Man, essentially trapping him in a
hole in the Earth (a mine shaft). That
this simple, almost cartoon-styled plan works against a Dedicated Agent of Evil
reminds us that we are dealing with a child-like intelligence as the primary mover of the action. We are seeing Michael’s dreams made manifest
before our eyes. We can destroy the devil by burying him up on that mountain!
How Michael sees #3 |
I believe this interpretation is borne out, to
some degree, by the depiction of the film’s deadly siren, the Lady in
Lavender. She is a mysterious figure
promising sex but delivering death. She
is very much a product of a fearful teen’s imagination and fear. That teen does not yet understand what sex
is, or the power of sex as a desire and appetite. Instead, the “unknowns” of sex become, in the
film, disturbingly intermingled with death.
The moans of love-making transform, in short order, into the groaning of
a monster lurking in the nearby bushes. Both
sex and death are things that seem to take Jody away from his brother, after
all.
Although all the Phantasm sequels surely
preclude the possibility that this film is but the dream of a sad, grief-ridden
teenager, the interpretation tracks admirably if you take Coscarelli’s original
as a standalone effort and not part of a “franchise.” As I have also written before, I believe this
quality of the film (as a teen’s dream) is also made clear by Michael’s
unbelievably good survival rate. He
tangles with the Tall Man and his minions no less than four times in the film,
and always emerges unscathed, only to prove, finally, victorious in his
campaign. I submit that this “luck” too
is a reflection of a youthful mentality: the belief that you are somehow immune
to death. Furthermore, it reflects the
idea that we all place ourselves at the center of our fantasies, as the heroes
in our own adventures. Here, Michael
deals with death by becoming a superhero of sorts, one who conquers long-lived
monsters and solves mysteries.
I admire the film because its distinctive visuals so beautifully mirror Phantasm's themes. In some shots, the Tall Man seems to be the shadow of death himself. And in one haunting composition, Michael sees Jody for the last time (before waking up into a world where he is dead). Jody stands high in the frame, atop a mountain. Jody stands on that pinnacle, a heavenly light (like angel wings?) behind him. It's the distant, final view of a man going to the great beyond, and Coscarelli's imagery captures it with wonder and a degree of lyricism.
Our last, wistful view of Jody, from a distance and bound for parts unknown. |
Charting the disturbed mental landscape of a
grieving boy, Phantasm gets to a very simple and emotional truth about human
existence. It is often easier to live in
a fantasy world (even one with monsters, dwarves, giant flies, and alien worlds…)
than it is to face head-on the fact that, in the final analysis, we are all
going to lose our loved ones. Because it
deals so sensitively and succinctly with that tough, hard-to-accept idea, Phantasm
always gets to me on some deep level. The
film makes me ask myself an important question: Why do I like and enjoy horror
movies so much? Why do I love being
scared and challenged by them?
With films like Phantasm, am I actually
preparing myself, in some way, for the inevitable?
Perhaps
so.
I know only this: I deeply fear death, and
sometimes obsess on it, both in relation to the end of my own life, and deaths
of those I love. In Phantasm Michael reveals
one way to grieve, or perhaps to escape grieving. Phantasm makes me wonder about my own
solution to the Phantasm equation. Am I
going to be that boy, left behind on the bike while others leave me behind? Or
will the Tall Man show up for me first?
At some point, the Tall Man is going to look all
of us straight in the eye, commend us for a good game -- now finished -- and remind us it is time to die. You don’t have to be a teenager to fear that
day, and in some way Phantasm helps us to explore
meaningfully the ideas of grief, loss, and the inevitability of death.
A wonderful article about a wonderful film. Consider me subscribed.
ReplyDeleteIt is entirely possible to interpret the sequels in this light.
ReplyDeleteConsider Liz, who can communicate with Mike only telepathically until the death of her grandfather sets into motion the events that lead to their meeting in the flesh. Consider Tim, who loses his parents to the Tall Man before meeting Reggie. Consider Reggie himself, who seems to have repressed the memory of the first picture until his own family is taken from him. Consider Rocky, who loses first her town and then her partner.
Death unites them into a kind of group psychosis. The characters we see who do not seem to have experienced loss - the three thieves in the third film, say - are villainous and doomed to fall victim to their delusion.