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.
