Poltergeist (1982)
When we think of haunted house movies, we think of sprawling Georgian-era manors in isolated countryside expanses, or decaying Middle Age castles sitting perilously atop mountains. Poltergeist takes a different approach; it’s a modern day haunted house movie, taking place in a California-style suburban housing development. All the houses have the same general design, and they’re all right next to one another. Neighbors know each other. Kids ride their bikes down the streets and play games in the cul-de-sacs. people water their lawns in the middle of the day. One gets the sense that crime is virtually nonexistent. Indeed, it’s the kind of neighborhood where the predominantly white middle class are made to feel safe. No one would think that all hell could break loose right next door.
It’s in this setting that the lives of the Freeling family, a typical nuclear unit, are upturned. At first, it’s by unexpected bouts of paranormal activity. Breakfast table chairs move by themselves. Dining utensils bend on their own. And there’s a spot on the kitchen floor where an unseen force pushes anything, people included, towards a wall. All this started after the youngest Freeling child, the adorable five-year-old Carol Anne (Heather O’Rourke), communicates with something only she can hear through a TV set. It isn’t long before an interdimensional portal opens up in her closet and sucks her in. Desperate to rescue their daughter, realtor Steven (Craig T. Nelson) and housewife Diane (JoBeth Williams), turn to a paranormal research team led by Beatrice Straight, who in turn introduces the Freelings to the obligatory eccentric psychic (Zelda Rubinstein) with the ability to open the portal.
In the weeks leading up to its release, Poltergeist was the subject of debate over who the main creative force was. Officially, the co-producer, co-writer, and sole story creator is Steven Spielberg, while the director is Tobe Hooper. Unofficially, it was hard to not notice an ad campaign that minimized Hooper’s involvement – sometimes literally, the credits at the end of the trailer showing Spielberg’s name in a conspicuously larger typeset. In an attempt to be diplomatic, I see the film as belonging to both men. With Hooper, it’s seen in his familiarity with the horror genre. It’s most evident in a scene where a man looks in a bathroom mirror and has a gruesome vision of tearing off his own face, exposing the skull underneath. The puppet and makeup effects are sadly not very convincing, but it’s great on a conceptual level.
With Spielberg, it’s seen in his understanding of ensemble casts and the use of special effects. With the exception of the aforementioned face-tearing scene, the effects work is nothing short of incredible. There’s an especially mesmerizing sequence in which a supernatural being – enrobed in free-flowing folds of fabric, surrounded by brilliant orbs of light – descends the Freelings’ staircase, only to be sucked into another portal in the ceiling of the living room. There’s also a macabrely fun scene in which the middle child, eight-year-old Robbie (Oliver Robins), is attacked and nearly eaten by the gnarled, barren tree standing menacingly in the Freelings’ backyard. And of course, the time must come for Rubinstein’s psychic to make it possible for Diane to enter the spirit realm and hopefully rescue little Carol Anne.
If there’s a flaw to Poltergeist, it can be found in the plot, which was obviously built to entertain the masses, not to challenge their perceptions. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this approach; I, like just about everyone else on the planet, had the time of my life watching Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and Raiders of the Lost Ark. However, when it comes to haunted house movies, or any movie in which the supernatural is considered as a possibility, they tend to be more effective when they steer clear of expectations, of certainty, of explanations. This was understood by Jack Clayton and Robert Wise when they respectively made The Innocents and The Haunting. The true horror, common to both films and the books that inspired them, was that we weren’t sure if any of the scary happenings were the result of paranormal activity. It all could have been in the minds of the lead characters.
Poltergeist, by contrast, is all about spelling things out for the audience. It’s a valid storytelling approach, although it doesn’t always succeed. A speech given by the psychic, for example, intended to provide a reason for Carol Anne’s kidnapping, comes off as cryptic and cliche-riddled ramblings, mostly about the nature of death and the “terrible presence” she senses in the Freelings’ house. Still, Hooper and Spielberg know what audiences want, and they’re happy to deliver it. Of course Steven’s superior (James Karen) is exactly like Murray Hamilton in Jaws, placing money and success above safety and basic human decency. Of course Robbie would be attacked by a possessed clown doll. And of course there’s an action-heavy final act that puts the special effects on full display. The long and short of it is that, though not perfect, Poltergeist is spooky fun, a serviceable summer popcorn movie.
