A racist (Vic Morrow) quantum leaps into the bodies of people he hates…
A group of elderly rest home residents get to experience youth again…
A school teacher (Kathleen Quinlan) is lured into the orbit of a young boy (Jeremy Licht) with a terrifying talent…
A man (John Lithgow) on a commercial flight sees something out on the wing…
A film derailed by a horrific offscreen tragedy, Twilight Zone: The Movie has become a footnote, a cautionary tale for hubris and unscrupulous behaviour.
On July 23, 1982, actor Vic Morrow and two illegally-hired child actors, Myca Dinh Le and Renee Shin-Yi Chen, were killed when a special effects explosion hit a helicopter which was flying too close to the ground. The helicopter crashed, killing Morrow and the children.
That tragedy is this movie's legacy, no matter the qualities of the movie that was eventually released.
For years, it was the only thing I knew about it.
A few weeks ago it piqued my curiosity. I had heard a couple of podcasts review it, and wanted to check it out.
I had seen a smattering of random Twilight Zone episodes when I was younger (including the original episode of “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet"), but I have never done the whole series.
I had actually read Richard Matheson’s original short story in an omnibus of air-related suspense stories. My familiarity with the story - and knowing George Miller directed the cinematic version - were an additional hook.
For a few minutes at the beginning, Twilight Zone: The Movie feels like it is going to be great.
The prologue - a casual conversation between two friends (Dan Akroyd and Albert Brooks) driving on a dark road - is fantastic as a piece of scene-setting.
The empty road, the way the conversation segues from music to old theme songs, the misdirect of Brooks’ rather bullying gag (switching off the headlights) which then sets up Akroyd’s final reveal (“Wanna see something really scary?”)
"Time Out", the only original segment, is built on such a simple premise (see my logline above), it feels like a bad joke that goes on for twenty minutes.
One can almost imagine the two friends making it up as a riff during their talk about the original show.
All the other segments were apparently made after the accident on “Time Out”, and the rest of the film feels like a reaction.
Spielberg’s segment "Kick the Can", which follows, feels like a blatant apologia to the cynicism of the first segment. It was also an attempt at psychological repair - the original plan was for Spielberg to remake “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but after the accident, the director lost interest in the project and wanted to film something more hopeful.
"Kick the Can" is a great example of a filmmaker trying to force a Spielbergian sense of childlike wonder - the short is filled with so many close ups of smiling old people it feels like it is trying to prompt the same reaction from the audience.
It is awful.
It does succeed in one function - in its own over-sentimentality, it completely negates the aftertaste of the Landis segment.
And now the movie starts to cook.
Directed by Joe Dante, "It's a Good Life" is delightfully macabre.
I had no knowledge of this segment so it was a complete surprise. Of all the segments, this is the one that I would not mind watching more of.
A unique take on the idea of the ‘evil child’, "It's a Good Life" takes its time to slowly show its hand.
When Anthony’s (Jeremy Licht) ‘family’ are introduced, they are presented as archetypes of a close family.
As soon as Anthony is out of sight, they grab his new friend’s bag and coat and start to search through them like they are looking for something.
The primary set of the home is brilliant, slowly revealing a more uncanny and cartoonish aesthetic as our heroine gets deeper into Anthony’s world.
The home is revealed as a childish caricature of domestic bliss, with a cast of unwilling performers as Anthony’s family.
The portrayal of the child at the centre is unique - Anthony never comes across as overtly diabolical. Licht’s performance is perfectly judged - he seems more distressed than enraged when his new friend wants to leave, and Dante lets the ‘family’s’ increasingly frenzied reactions speak for themselves.
Anthony is not scary because he is evil - he is terrifying because he is just a child, with all the impulses and self-absorption of the same.
If "It's a Good Life" feels like the promise of a great feature, "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet" is a pitch-perfect short.
It is the high-point of the film.
George Miller’s approach is the most full-realised of any of the segments:
Starting with a fish-eye lens of our protagonist in the airplane bathroom, the filmmaker puts us in the character’s headspace - he is already losing it and he has not even seen the gremlin yet!
Even as it ratchets up the tension, the segment features a great dash of dark humour (the little girl with the puppet, yelling at our hero to stop smoking) that punctuates the gremlin’s increasingly disturbing appearances.
The portrayal of the central menace could have only come from the Eighties - a combination of a performer in makeup and puppetry, the gremlin’s disconcerting speed and agility are almost as disturbing as its distorted visage.
What a barn-burner.
If you are curious, watch those final two segments. They work on their own, and act as fine showcases for the unique talents of their filmmakers.
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