The Boogeyman (1980) – Review

John Carpenter’s horror classic Halloween ended with Jamie Lee Curtis questioning if it was, in fact, the boogeyman who had hounded them, and then Donald Pleasance responding, “As a matter of fact, it was.” That exchange is pretty much responsible for writer/director Ulli Lommel’s film The Boogeyman, an attempt to cash in Carpenter’s film, only without the skill to pull it off.

The first question that must be answered is, “Does this movie contain a boogeyman?” Well, Webster’s dictionary defines the term boogeyman as a monstrous imaginary figure used in threatening children, and secondly, a terrifying or dreaded person or thing.  Fair enough, and it is this second definition of the boogeyman that is the basis for Ulli Lommel’s film, unfortunately, that is also the least interesting of the two definitions and is what we are saddled with here for this outing. The story kicks off with a prologue where we see two young children, Willy and Lacey, watching their mother and her boyfriend through a window while they make, as kids are want to do, but when their mother (Gillian Gordon) notices them she has her boyfriend (Howard Grant) tie Willy to his headboard before sending Lacey to her room. Lacey sneaks out of her room to get a knife from the kitchen and cut her brother free, but then Willy takes the knife, heads to his mom’s room and stabs her boyfriend to death. This is all done in front of a large bedroom mirror.

Note: The film tries to utilize several pieces of folklore regarding mirrors, such as mirrors containing everything that has been reflected on their surface but the script doesn’t go beyond this rudimentary explanation and leaves the viewer hanging.

The film jumps ahead twenty years where find that Lacey (Suzanna Love) has grown up married a cop named Jake (Ron James) and they have a young son named Kevin (Raymond Boyden), who seems really interested in going fishing. They all live together with her aunt (Felicite Morgan) and Uncle (Bill Rayburn) on a nice farm, one that is only a few hours from the murder house from the film’s opening, because it’s important to be near your traumatic roots. Also, part of the family is brother Willy (Nicholas Love) who lives with them but has remained mute ever since the night he killed his mother’s boyfriend, and while the events of that night twenty years clearly had a strong effect on Willy, his being mute and all, Lacey herself isn’t one hundred percent fine and suffers from terrible nightmares.

 

There is a strange amount of bondage in this boogeyman movie.

After waking up from a nightmare, where she is tied to a bed and threatened by a knife, she confides to Jake about her fears “I don’t want to remember and I’m not going to see my mother. Jake, please help me” and her husband responds “Let’s get rid of these ghosts once and for all. I think you should see your mother and I think we should stop by the old house where you grew up in as a child.” This not only goes against what she just said but makes it perfectly clear that he has never seen a horror movie before. Then to make matters worse he takes her to see a psychiatrist (John Carradine) who uses hypnosis to regress her back to that horrible night.  I should point out, that if your attempts to help your wife overcome trauma consists of going to John Carradine for assistance then you deserve whatever is coming to you. That Jake actually survives to the end of the film is an affront to the horror gods everywhere.

 

“I’m only here to provide a little horror cachet to the proceedings.”

This dipstick of a husband practically drags poor Lacey back to her ancestral home, with the two of them pretending to be prospective buyers so that they can have look around, but then when Lacey wanders off on her own and sees a reflection of her mother’s deceased boyfriend coming towards her in the bedroom mirror. Her reaction to this is quite understandable, she smashes the mirror. Jake is very apologetic to the homeowners, who think they’ve let a crazy person inside their house, but then Jake does something even crazier, he collects all the broken mirror shards and takes them home so that he can later repair them and make his wife confront her crazy fantasies once and for all. Did I mention Jake is an asshat? Too bad for those understanding homeowners, it looks like Jake missed one of the mirror shards and before you can say “Through a glass darkly” a malevolent force is wreaking telekinetic havoc and murdering these nice people.

 

When an Open House goes off the rails.

Stray Observations:

• The opening piano music to this film is so close to that of John Carpenter’s Halloween theme I’m actually surprised lawyers weren’t called in.
• If horror films like this and Bloody Birthday have taught us anything, it’s that small children are impossible to overpower when they are in a killing mood.
• A grown-up Lacey tells a priest “I can’t escape it, that night still haunts me, there must be a reason” I don’t know, call me crazy, but maybe seeing a brutal murder while a child will leave a few emotional scars.
• The aunt’s house has those iconic attic windows found in The Amityville Horror, so things going bad here is a foregone conclusion.
• A cute neighbour tries to seduce Willy while he’s working in the barn, as one does, but his response to this is to nearly strangle her to death. Weirder still is the fact that she never reports the incident nor is this event ever explained or referenced again.
• The family priest tries to use his faith in God to fight this evil but the nature of this threat rings kind of hollow and I’m left wondering if there is another draft of this script out there that explains all of this.

 

“May the power of this script compel you!”

There are a few interesting ideas peppered throughout the film, such as Willy going around the home painting over all of the mirrors, but as no mythological groundwork has been set we don’t know if what he is doing will have any effect at all, which it doesn’t. The one truly interesting moment in the film is after Jake and the reverend discover the aunt and uncle’s dead bodies in the barn he then races back to the house where he finds Lacey blissfully making dinner, not knowing that she’s been possessed by a shard of the mirror, and we get this lovely exchange.

Jake: “Lacey, what are you doing?”
Lacey: “I’m fixing supper, dear.”
Jake: “Lacey, Ernest and Helen are dead!”
Lacey: “Ah that makes dinner for four. Father Reilly, you’re staying, aren’t you?”

 

“I will sup on your soul!”

That kind of dark humour should have been the central element of this movie, sadly, instead of a clever and dark twist on the boogeyman all we get in this outing was a series of lame generic kills and uninspired gore, all surrounding a group of characters we couldn’t care less about. Not to mention the fact that several of the kills were just random people who had the misfortune to be caught in the reflection of a mirror shard. If Ulli Lommel had spent a little more time on the script, setting up the rules for this supernatural threat, this could have been another 80s horror classic, instead, all we got was another fairly forgettable horror entry that was doomed to clutter video rental store shelves.

Incarnations of Death: A Cinematic Journey

The incarnation of Death has been a compelling and enduring subject in cinematic history. This essay examines how filmmakers have personified Death, exploring the character’s various representations, from the ominous and fearsome to the sympathetic and misunderstood. Through these portrayals, the movies delve into humanity’s complex relationship with mortality, each iteration of Death reflecting different cultural, philosophical, and emotional perspectives.

Death, as an abstract concept, has been personified in various forms throughout human history, reflecting cultural, philosophical, and existential perspectives. In cinema, the portrayal of Death transcends mere narrative function, often embodying complex themes of mortality, inevitability, and the human condition. This essay explores the cinematic incarnations of Death, highlighting the multifaceted ways filmmakers have brought this character to life, and examining the thematic significance behind these portrayals.

 

“It was the salmon mouse.”

In 1934’s Death Takes a Holiday we find Death being portrayed as a character yearning to understand human emotions and experiences. This film features Fredric March as Death, who takes on human form to experience life and understand why humans fear him. This narrative explores the duality of Death as both a fearsome force and a seeker of understanding, highlighting the intrinsic link between life and death. The films suggest that understanding and empathy can bridge the gap between fear and acceptance, offering a more nuanced view of mortality.

 

Death Takes a Holiday (1934)

The Grim Reaper, cloaked in black and wielding a scythe, is perhaps the most iconic representation of Death. This image is steeped in Western medieval tradition, symbolizing the harvesting of souls. One of the most iconic cinematic representations of Death is found in Ingmar Bergman’s 1957 film The Seventh Seal. In this entry, Death is personified by a pale, black-clad figure who engages in a chess game with a knight, Antonius Block, returning from the Crusades. Bergman’s Death is both an inevitable force and an intellectual counterpart, embodying the existential anxieties of the knight and, by extension, humanity. The chess game symbolizes the human attempt to delay or outwit death, a futile endeavour that underscores the film’s exploration of faith, doubt, and the search for meaning in the face of mortality. Bergman’s austere, yet nuanced portrayal highlights Death’s omnipresence and impartiality, serving as a stark reminder of life’s impermanence.

 

The Seventh Seal (1957)

In some films, Death is not personified as a character but is represented through symbolism and abstract forms. In Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, the monolith can be interpreted as a harbinger of change, representing the unknown and the inevitable evolution of mankind, akin to Death. The transition through the Stargate and the eventual transformation of astronaut Dave Bowman into the Star Child symbolizes the death of the old self and the birth of a new existence. This abstract portrayal invites viewers to contemplate the transformative power of death and its role in the cosmic order.

 

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

In contrast, Terry Pratchett’s “Discworld” series, adapted into several films and TV series, presents a more humorous and endearing version of Death. This Death, a skeletal figure with a deep, booming voice, is far from the terrifying spectre seen in Bergman’s work. Instead, he is portrayed as a character with a dry sense of humour and a surprisingly compassionate demeanour. Pratchett’s Death, who often speaks in CAPITAL LETTERS, provides a satirical yet thoughtful commentary on the human condition, emphasizing the absurdity of life and the inevitability of death. This version of Death is approachable and almost likable, reflecting a more modern, perhaps less fearful, perspective on the end of life.

 

Hogfather (2006)

The 1998 film Meet Joe Black, a remake of Death Takes a Holiday, offers a romantic and philosophical take on the character of Death. Here, Death assumes the form of a handsome young man, played by Brad Pitt, who takes a temporary hiatus from his duties to experience life and love. This incarnation of Death is curious, introspective, and emotionally complex, exploring human relationships and the subtleties of life. The film examines themes of love, loss, and the preciousness of time, presenting Death as an entity capable of empathy and transformation. Through this portrayal, the film attempts to humanize Death, making the concept more relatable and less terrifying by intertwining it with the beauty and fragility of the human experience.

 

Meet Joe Black (1998)

Some films anthropomorphize death, giving it human traits and a personality, often to blend dark themes with humour. In sequel, Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey, death is portrayed as a comedic, competitive character who eventually aids the protagonists. This light-hearted representation diminishes the fear of death with a not to subtle nod to The Seventh Seal, making it a part of life’s absurdity.

 

Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991)

In Final Destination, directed by James Wong, Death is depicted not as a physical being but as an unseen force orchestrating a series of fatal accidents. This representation taps into the horror genre, playing on the fear of the unpredictable and inevitable nature of death. The franchise’s premise revolves around characters who cheat death, only to find that they cannot escape their fate. Death, in this context, is a relentless and invisible presence, an entity that cannot be bargained with or avoided. The films reflect a fatalistic view of mortality, emphasizing the randomness and inevitability of death, and exploiting the audience’s fear of sudden and unforeseen demise.

 

Final Destination  (2000)

In the 2014 animated film The Book of Life, La Muerte, voiced by Kate del Castillo, represents Death in the Mexican tradition of Día de los Muertos. La Muerte is a vibrant, skeletal figure adorned with flowers and colourful attire, celebrating the cyclical nature of life and death. This portrayal underscores a cultural perspective where death is not an end but a continuation, intertwined with the joyous remembrance of those who have passed

 

The Book of Life (2014)

The cinematic incarnations of Death reflect a rich tapestry of human beliefs, fears, and hopes regarding mortality. From the Grim Reaper’s sombre inevitability in The Seventh Seal to the curious, humanized Death in Meet Joe Black, and the cultural celebration in The Book of Life, filmmakers have used Death to explore profound existential themes. Abstract representations in films like 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Final Destination further expand the contemplation of death beyond the personal to the universal. Each portrayal invites audiences to engage with the concept of Death, not merely as an end, but as a fundamental aspect of the human experience, enriching our understanding of life itself.

In conclusion, the cinematic incarnations of Death reveal a rich tapestry of interpretations, each reflecting different aspects of human thought and emotion regarding mortality. From the grim reaper in The Seventh Seal to the curious and empathetic figure in Meet Joe Black, these portrayals offer insights into our deepest fears, hopes, and philosophical inquiries about life and death. Whether depicted as a foreboding force, a humorous entity, or a romantic figure, Death in Cinema continues to captivate audiences, providing a mirror to our own existential musings and cultural attitudes toward the end of life.