Jacob’s Ladder (1990) – A nightmarish final struggle:

Jacob’s Ladder (1990)

A nightmarish final struggle

 

Jacob’s Ladder (1990), directed by Adrian Lyne, released in the United States on November 2, 1990, and based on the screenplay by Bruce Joel Rubin, is a rarity of the genre: an intelligent horror story.

Jacob Singer (Tim Robbins) is a traumatized Vietnam veteran.

He works for the Post Office, and shares a cramped apartment with his girlfriend and co-worker, Jezebel (Elizabeth Peña), in a dilapidated block in Brooklyn, New York, during the 1970s.

Suffering from PTSD, Jacob is haunted by flashbacks from his time in the war, his pain compounded by the grief of losing his son in an accident.

His waking hours are invaded by bizarre and terrifying hallucinations of a locked underground subway station, and demons that stalk him wherever he goes.

He has disorientating periods when he awakes to find himself in an alternate reality where he is still married to his wife, Sarah (Patricia Kalember).

In these sections, his son Gabe (Macaulay Culkin) is still alive.

Jacob attempts to discover the truth about his condition and uncovers a conspiracy involving a failed drug experiment.

The title: Jacob’s Ladder, is a Biblical reference, from Genesis 28:10-21, in which a spiritual staircase, flanked by angels, provides a bridge between Heaven and Earth.

In the latter part of the movie, the chemist, Michael Newman (Matt Craven), describes the enhanced drug as: The Ladder.

Afflicted with back pain, Jacob visits his Chiropractor, Louis (Danny Aiello).

Louis is also his friend and confidante.

When Jacob confides his hallucinations, Louis offers solace and reassurance by quoting the 14th-century German theologian and philosopher, Meister Eckhart:

LOUIS:

Eckhart saw Hell, too. You know what he said? He said: ‘The only thing that burns in Hell, is the part of you that won't let go of your life, your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away. But they're not punishing you,’ he said. ‘They're freeing your soul’ … So, the way he sees it: ‘if you're frightened of dying and – and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. But, if you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the earth.’ It’s just a matter of how you look at it, that’s all.

Bruce Joel Rubin’s screenplay, available in paperback, is an essential read for anyone who appreciates the movie.

It provides a wealth of insight and background information on the development of the story, including the inspiration and meaning behind some of the movie’s most stunning and disturbing images, particularly the visions of the “vibrating” men Jacob glimpses.

The book includes deleted scenes, with reasons why they didn’t make the final cut of the movie.

The acting is understated and flawless.

The strong supporting cast includes excellent character actors: Jason Alexander, John Capodice, Matt Craven, Pruitt Taylor Vince, Eriq La Salle, Ving Rhames, Brian Tarantina, Anthony Alessandro, Brent Hinkley, S. Epatha Merkerson, and John Patrick McLaughlin.

Adrian Lyne, like Ridley Scott, knows how to use light to powerful and atmospheric effect.

Maurice Jarre’s soundtrack sets a melancholic and haunting tone.

So many movies rely too heavily on the jump-shock moment to compensate for lack of plot, or character development.

Jacob’s Ladder doesn’t make that mistake.

The script and plot structure have been carefully thought out.

Jacob Singer is the main character, but in no way heroic.

We feel Jacob’s pain, bewilderment, and terror.

He fights when he has to, particularly in the scene where he is abducted from the street and forcibly strong-armed into the back of a car.

Jacob’s demeanor is, for the most part, quiet, friendly and affable, making his mounting fear and vulnerability more believable.

The quieter sections of the story are emotionally involving enough to make the moments of jarring horror nightmarish and chilling, with a final reveal that is both subtle and moving.

Jacob’s Ladder succeeds on many levels: as part war story, tragedy, drama, horror, mystery, hallucinatory nightmare, and theological thriller, giving the viewer much to think about and discuss.

It’s a disquieting and unforgettable experience that improves with repeat viewings, compelling the viewer to examine reality, existence, and the question of what comes after.

Life is fleeting.

Death is a certainty.

One day, we all have to climb that spiritual ladder.

Ascend … or descend?

Heaven … or Hell?

Which direction and destination will be yours?

Happy Halloween:

October 31 - Halloween

 

The Telephone Box (1972) - it’s enough to give you phone phobia!

Shortly before New Year, we watched Phone Booth (2002) again, a great thriller starring Colin Farrell, Forest Whitaker, Katie Holmes, Radha Mitchell, and Kiefer Sutherland.

Farrell plays an unscrupulous New York publicist who answers a ringing phone in a booth he’s standing next to.

The caller warns him he’ll be killed if he attempts to leave the booth … and … the story develops from there.

The claustrophobic atmosphere of Phone Booth reminded me of a 1972 Spanish short movie I saw on TV during the mid-‘80’s called La Cabina (aka The Telephone Box).

A unfortunate guy (José Luis López Vázquez), in a world long before the invention of the cell phone, attempts to make a call in a street booth.

The door closes on him as he discovers the phone doesn’t work.

He tries to leave, but the door is locked tight.

He’s trapped in there a long time as a crowd of onlookers gather … and … the story develops from there.

La Cabina is quirky and dated, but still worth the half-hour to watch, with an original story that delivers a surreal and scary twist.

Although street booths have mostly disappeared, La Cabina is a great reason to own a cell phone … but then you have to consider what happened in Stephen King’s novel: Cell.

Yikes!

I read that folks in Spain, shortly after La Cabina was released on December 13, 1972, took to preventing the door in phone booths from shutting completely by keeping their foot in the gap.

I can’t imagine why.

Poltergeist (1982) vs. (2015) - no contest!

My wife and I are both “arty” souls.

We love to watch movies, and when they’re over we discuss them in depth, probably more in depth than most people.

We also enjoy discussing books, music, art, et al … also in depth.

My wife loves to paint, I love to write and sketch.

Our recent viewings of the 1982 and 2015 versions of Poltergeist turned from a fond, nostalgic chat about the former, to a “why did they bother” rant about the latter.

I’ll start with the original 1982 version, released in the United States on June 4, 1982:

It was produced by Steven Spielberg, based on his own story, and directed by Tobe Hooper.

For us, the 1982 original is a cinematic treat.

Hooper may have helmed the direction, but this has all the heart, feeling, emotion, humor, and suspense of a Spielberg movie.

We – the audience – see the family dynamics, their neighbors, and the history of the ever-expanding housing development.

The movie may be thirty-four-years-old, as of this writing, but it’s still the thrill-ride Spielberg has entertained fans with for decades.

The original is one of the best of the haunted house genre; an eerie and memorable light-show with a perfect end scene.

The high entertainment value reminds us of why we watch movies in the first place.

Spielberg knows how to engage and hold his audience.

Then we experienced the miserable let-down of the 2015 remake:

This was our post-Thanksgiving movie.

As usual, we discussed it after the end credits rolled, our discussion fueled by disdain!

We compared both versions, and shook our heads at how dreary and painful the remake is.

It felt like a by-the-numbers run-through for the actors in it, who seemed content to show up, recite the dismal script, and pick up their pay checks.

Not many movies have actually pissed me off, but this one made the list.

Absent is the charm and quality scripting of the original.

It simply goes through the motions without any of the character development, tension, or suspense of the original.

I watched it feeling bored after the first fifteen minutes, hoping it would pick up, get better, curious as to how it would unfold in a new retelling, being more disappointed as each scene unfolded.

I’m a fan of Sam Rockwell, but this was another example of how even a fine actor can’t save a lousy script.

We see some flashy effects, as we expect to see in this modern CGI-heavy age, but there’s nothing behind it, no depth or reason to care about what we’re being presented with.

The scene with Sam Rockwell regurgitating black goo into the sink, then seeing his reflection in the faucet, sores opening on his face, is a reworking of the scene in the original: Marty (Martin Casella) seeing maggots swarming on a chicken drumstick he’s just taken a bite out of, then his own face coming apart in the mirror.

It’s a great scene, even with the dated animatronics, with far more impact than the insipid 2015 version:

Zelda Rubinstein’s portrayal of Tangina, the psychic brought in to rescue their daughter and “clean” the house, is one of the high points of the story.

Her monologue to the family and investigators about what is really going on is chilling.

The character is also reworked for the 2015 version, changed for the contemporary audience, but giving nothing new or remarkable.

Running at roughly thirty minutes shorter, the remake has omitted the best elements of the original – to its own detriment.

Gone is the steady build-up of the original, as the 2015 version cuts directly to the shock-free plot markers.

Gone also are the comedic elements with the death of the pet canary, and the neighbor’s battle with the TV remote controls, parts of the story that developed the set-up and made us care more about the family and their predicament. 

The key scene of the malevolent force entering the home, via the static of the TV set, is also changed, but as animated as the original was - it still had significant shock value to a first-time viewer:

It felt like the 2015 version had been made quickly and rushed out the studio door, nothing more than another vacuous money-making product.

The 1982 original has rightfully earned its place in cinema history – a classic of its genre; the 2015 rehash deserves nothing more than to be ignored and forgotten.

Thanksgiving: a time to give thanks.

Along with everything else we have been blessed with, we gave thanks for the fact that we hadn’t wasted money at the cinema box office for yet-another pointless, lazy, half-assed, cash-grab.

Goya and The Shining link:

In the front of Stephen King’s source novel, The Shining, there is the quote:

The sleep of reason breeds monsters.

– GOYA.

This is a reference to the 1799 etching by Francisco Goya:

The pose of the man in the etching is eerily like Jack Nicholson in Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 movie adaptation: 

Coincidence … or an intentional reference?

Alien Trading Cards:

During the '80s, these trading cards were part of my collection of movie merchandise and memorabilia.

The movie poster also adorned my wall when I was a teenager …

I eventually got rid of my memorabilia when my hobby became dangerously close to hoarding.

Now I just hoard books …

… and it’s not classed as hoarding if it’s books.