The Fly (1986)

David Cronenberg burst onto the international filmmaking scene with the freaky 1976 horror film Shivers, which he quickly followed up with Rabid (1977). Both of these films were heavily subsidized by the Canadian government (as were Cronenberg’s earlier experimental feature film efforts), but following the success of Rabid, Cronenberg struck a partnership with fellow Canadian Ivan Reitman and continued to explore his growing fascination with the decay and mutation of the human body.

After achieving an international cult following, cemented with the release of Videodrome in 1983, Cronenberg leveraged this success into his first Hollywood job, directing the screen adaptation of Stephen King’s The Dead Zone (1983). However, it wasn’t until Cronenberg took on the remake of a classic b-movie for Twentieth Century Fox that he was truly able to achieve the culmination of his “body horror” obsession…and make an indelible film that is widely regarded as a horror classic.

The first version of The Fly, starring Vincent Price and directed by Kurt Neumann, was released by 20th Century Fox in 1958. It was a relatively standard genre film that was followed by two quickie sequels, Return of the Fly and Curse of the Fly. Never going much  beyond the surface of the scientist’s conundrum, the original film was a straightforward b-movie that culminated in a memorable shocker of a finale.

Cronenberg took the original premise and expanded on it in many interesting ways, most importantly by keeping the focus on the horrific body transformations experienced by Dr. Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum) and their effect on his relationship with reporter Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis). As the film progresses, Brundle’s early giddiness at the initial amazing results of his experiment are replaced by a growing revulsion as the realization dawns on him that he is no longer in control of his own body. This theme of the “body in revolt” is a common element in many of Cronenberg’s films and achieves an early pinnacle in The Fly.

On paper, a studio-backed remake of a b-movie may seem like a recipe for a disastrous film, nevermind a work of art. But with the generous budget offered by Twentieth Century Fox, Cronenberg was able to fully develop the themes he began to explore in his early independent work while simultaneously delivering a piece of first-rate entertainment. As such, The Fly is a quintessential example of the work that was done during Hollywood’s Second Golden Age (1981-1989).

1980’s Music Videos as Transmedia Storytelling

There was an interesting phenomenon that that took hold in the 1980s, and very well might have set the stage for today’s more sophisticated transmedia experiments. Transmedia is loosely defined as multi-platform storytelling, with one platform, say a theatrical film release, serving as the primary conveyance and other platforms, in this case, music videos, both extending and deepening the story world.

Though there had been music tie-ins and soundtrack albums in the past, it wasn’t until the advent of MTV and the music video format that they began to function in ways currently attributed to transmedia storytelling. For instance, each of the videos below include a number  of similarities that could qualify them as transmedia elements:

1. Film actors performing in character;

2. Film locations used in appropriate context;

3. Storyline extensions and/or tangents;

4. Lyrics that directly reference story elements from the film;

This first video, for Cyndi Lauper’s The Goonies ‘R’ Good Enough, features all of the above, plus additional film references via character’s wardrobe choices, a similar plot to that of the actual film, a meta reference featuring none other than Steven Spielberg AND a cliffhanger apparently intended to hook audiences for future installments.

This second video, for Ray Parker Jr.’s Ghostbusters, is not as narrative-driven as Lauper’s, but still features all of the above main features, plus random cameos from actors not related to the original film in any way (other than that they might be friends of Dan Aykroyd or Bill Murray), including Chevy Chase, John Candy, Al Franken and Danny DeVito.

In this video for St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion), by John Parr, the film characters actually return to the now abandoned central location of the film. This Georgetown bar,  featured prominently in the film, now reflects the fleeting youth of the characters themselves (though none are as worse for wear as the bar). In fact, the argument could be made that this music video acts as a type of coda, or epilogue, to the film itself, portraying the characters a few years down the road, reflecting on their youth. Or something.

This next clip features Huey Lewis and the News performing The Power of Love, a song that features prominently in the film Back to the Future. This music video gives Doc Brown (played by Christopher Lloyd) the opportunity to step out of Marty’s shadow and have a small adventure of his own.

And here we have El DeBarge performing his hit Who’s Johnny, from the film Short Circuit. The video stars DeBarge and the actress Ally Sheedy, the female lead in the feature film. There’s also a cameo from Johnny 5 itself near the conclusion of the video.

This final video, for The Fat Boys’ Are You Ready for Freddy?, is a companion piece to the film A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master. Not only does it feature all of the hallmarks of 1980’s-era transmedia content, but also includes a rapping Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund). Mere words really can’t do it justice…

With the fragmented and fractured digital media landscape, it’s not possible for an independent filmmaker to attain the combined level of reach that any of these six film/video combos had in their day. There is no single platform with the type of focused reach that MTV had during this period, though YouTube and the web offer additional audience engagement opportunities that were not available in the MTV era.

Which model is better for building an audience: a large single channel with one-to-many broadcast capability or a fragmented channel with many-to-many networked capabilities? Will a modern filmmaker be able to craft as savvy a multi-platform content strategy as their 1980’s-era predecessors? Will a modern audience even appreciate it?

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

Photo credit: http://www.impawards.com/

Wes Craven began his directing career in 1972 with the seminal The Last House on the Left, a gut-wrenching, cinéma vérité-style horror film that got up close and personal with unsuspecting audiences, setting a new standard for terror on the screen. Though it made a name for the young director, it wasn’t until 1977’s similarly harrowing The Hills Have Eyes that he would have another opportunity to direct.

With these two groundbreaking films under his belt, a sturdy argument could be made for Craven’s status as one of the leaders of the subversive group of New Horror filmmakers, whose ranks included such future luminaries as John Carpenter and Tobe Hooper. Unfortunately, Craven subsequently released a string of ho-hum horror flops, culminating with 1984’s The Hills Have Eyes II, widely reviled as one of the worst sequels in history.

And then came A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984).

This unabashed return to form put New Line Cinema on the map (the studio is often referred to as “The House That Freddy Built”) and rejuvenated Craven’s flagging career. Like the great Surrealist filmmakers before him (Bunuel, Makavejev), Craven found his way into his characters through their dreams by creating a memorable villain (Freddy Krueger) that could mess with people when they were at their most vulnerable. One such unforgettable moment occurs during one of the first dream sequences, when Freddy’s arms extend to three times their normal length as he approaches an unsuspecting teen. This image could easily have appeared in Bunuel’s Un Chien Andalou, and it helped distinguish this film as something more than the cheap Halloween knock-offs that were popping up on screens across the country. 

Not surprisingly, the original Nightmare was a massive success, paving the way for numerous, lesser sequels. This film also launched the career of none other than Johnny Depp, giving him his first starring role (and a place in the horror film pantheon). Nightmare went on to make over $26,000,000 at the box office on a budget of less than $2,000,000, a phenomenal return. But, more importantly, Craven got his groove back with this film and there was no looking back.

Welcome to the New New Hollywood

When Michael Cimino’s HEAVEN’S GATE was released in 1980, not only did it put United Artists out of business, it also put an end to the era of the maverick New Hollywood auteur.

Forced to make a living in a studio system that no longer valued their unique perspective, the “auteurs” of the 70′s learned to become the hitmakers of the 80′s. This blog will explore the evolution of these directors during that decade and how their films managed to be both commercially successful and still preserve the director’s unique authorial voice, even in the face of test screenings, tight budgets and a new focus on the bottom line.

Each week, we’ll take a film from this period and evaluate its effectiveness in accomplishing these two seemingly opposed goals (commercial viability and independent vision) in the hopes of creating a template for today’s filmmakers, helping them to maintain their artistic integrity while still thriving in an increasingly crowded commercial marketplace.