Today, Peter Jackson is best known to most audiences as one of Hollywood’s big-ticker filmmakers, the New Zealand visionary who was responsible for bringing Tolkien’s
Lord of the Rings to the big screen in rousing, ambitious fashion. But in 1996, he was still trying to make his way in Hollywood, with a handful of low-budget genre movies and the critically-acclaimed
Heavenly Creatures to his name. He came to America in the hope of eventually making a big-budget remake of
King Kong, a dream project of his since he first decided to become a filmmaker. But first, he had to make a name for himself in the American film industry, which he hoped to do with a horror movie/comedy like the ones that made his reputation in his native land. That movie was
The Frighteners.
Trouble is, most critics weren’t on to Jackson’s game yet. Jackson’s early films such as
Meet the Feebles,
Bad Taste and
Dead Alive had yet to make much headway with American moviegoers, so critics’ only point of comparison was Jackson’s relatively restrained true crime drama
Heavenly Creatures. Those who wanted more of the same were sorely disappointed, and found Jackson’s latest film a loud, obnoxious bore. Roger Ebert’s review of the film was typical of this reaction, as he wrote: “One of the more excruciating experiences for any movie lover is to sit through a movie filled with frenetic nonstop action, in which, however, nothing of interest happens.
The Frighteners is a film like that… Last year, I reviewed a nine-hour documentary about the lives of Mongolian yak herdsmen, and I would rather see it again than sit through
The Frighteners.”
But while those who were in the know were more receptive to the charms of
The Frighteners- Mike D’Angelo wrote, “At last, a big-budget summer movie that actually delivers on its promise of entertaining escapist entertainment, without insulting the audience's intelligence in the process”- the film never really caught on even after the
Lord of the Rings trilogy propelled Jackson to mainstream fame. And that’s a shame, because while
The Frighteners doesn’t reach the frenzied heights of Jackson’s best work in the horror genre, it’s still a blast, especially if you’re a fan of his early films.
For one thing, to dismiss the film as Ebert does as merely being empty, frenetic action is to overlook the infectious strain of sick humor that runs through the film. Look at the character of Judge (played by John Astin), a ghost who’s been dead so long his body is literally falling to pieces. At least once, we see Judge’s jawbone fall to the floor, only to be snatched up by a spectral dog. But that doesn’t stop Judge from forging on with his life, even bursting into a museum exhibition to satisfy his sexual longing with a mummy. After doing the nasty so that his alive, ghost-wrangling pal Frank Bannister (Michael J. Fox) can see him- even though nobody else can- the satiated Judge turns to Frank and sighs, “I like it when they lie still like that.” How many big-studio summer movies would even attempt a joke like that? Very few, I’d wager.
And it’s this refusal to make nice that makes
The Frighteners so much fun. Sure, Jackson had executive producer Robert Zemeckis (fresh off
Forrest Gump) in his
corner, but it’s still surprising how much of Jackson’s sensibility made it into the film intact. One of my favorite elements of the movie is the gleefully unhinged supporting work by Jeffrey Combs as Dammers, a very odd FBI agent. From Dammers’ initial entrance, Combs’ live-wire performance takes the film to a new and more exciting level. It’s the sort of performance most directors would discourage, citing the old saw that, when acting onscreen, “less is more.” But Combs’ work is so inspired and hilarious that it works magnificently in spite of flying in the face of conventional wisdom. Watch him in the scene where he interrogates Frank, as Combs chews up and spits out line after memorable line (my favorite: “What did *he* do? Piss on your Hush Puppies?”). Eventually, it’s all Fox can do with simply sit there and bury his head in his hands, as if to ask the audience, “what? Are you really still watching
me?”
Best of all is the climactic sequence of the movie, in which Frank and his love interest Lucy (Trini Alvarado) are chased through an abandoned mental hospital by a deranged Dee Wallace Stone and her ghostly lover, an executed serial killer played by Jake Busey. On one level, it’s exciting to see Jackson’s talent firing on all cylinders, as he effortlessly cuts between past and present, with Frank seeing the murders that took place decades ago even as he is pursued by those very same killers today. But even in the midst of impressive wall-to-wall effects (provided of course by Jackson’s own Weta Digital), the film’s wicked sense of humor remains intact. If you don’t crack a smile when Wallace Stone picks up a pickaxe and declares, “I’m in the mood for a little vivisection,” then chances are you have no soul.
Through some miracle, the disastrous box-office and critical showing of
The Frighteners didn’t completely torpedo Jackson’s career in America, and while it took a few
years, Jackson even convinced New Line to pony up the dough for his massive
Lord of the Rings trilogy. And the rest, as they say, is history. But as much as I love Jackson’s recent films, I do miss him making movies like
The Frighteners, and every nod he makes to that side of his sensibility fills me with ghoulish glee. Until Jackson can use his clout to make another movie that fully recaptures that old feeling, there’ll always be
The Frighteners, an underappreciated title on his filmography that definitely warrants a second look.
