Hassle at 20,000 Feet
So, here's what I wrote under pressure of homework deadline. I only post it because its sheer length might make up for missing yesterday. I finished it in my office and then frantically printed it off and then ran to class. I arrived ten minutes late. It felt just like college again, especially in how crappy it is. Oofah. Anyway, it's a review of both versions of an old "Twilight Zone" classic.
Someday, if you ever stay awake long enough on that redeye flight across country, you’re bound to hear somebody chuckle, “There’s something on the wing of this plane!” If you’re unfortunate enough to be seated next to the wit, you have two options: you can either feign comatose sleep, or you can foolishly check to see for yourself. Be warned, though: choosing the second route might just guarantee you the worst flight of your life. However, if spending a long, sleepless night discussing the nuances of every episode of “The Twilight Zone” with a self-proclaimed expert sounds like a treat, then go ahead. Look out the window.
Granted, it is a deliciously macabre thought, that somehow in the darkness; something evil is staring back, eager for a chance to do us harm. This visceral fantasy is so ingrained in American pop culture that many are surprised to learn it actually originated in a birthplace so natural it’s almost cliché. Yet, every child in America owes at least one shuddering nightmare to Ron Serling and his “dimension, not only of sight and sound…”
“Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” was first directed by Richard Donner in 1963 as an adaptation of Richard Matheson’s short story. Although purists swear by Donner’s black-and-white, many today recognize the tale from its second incarnation, a vignette in the 1983 film, “Twilight Zone: The Movie.”
Considering how different the two versions are, they have a lot in common. In both, a man who is terrified of flying boards an airplane which is unwittingly headed into a violent storm. During the rough flight, he spots a creature wreaking havoc on the wing of the plane. Everyone he warns dismisses him as delusional, and he is faced with the choice: give in to paranoia and try to save everyone, or shut his eyes and hope for the best. The two films’ most important shared aspect, however, is that their creatures look completely and utterly ridiculous. The original resembles Gene Simmons in a furry costume, while the second looks more like E.T.’s older, skinnier, dreadlocked cousin. It is in how each director handles this particular problem that their strengths shine through.
Donner chooses to focus not on the thing on the wing, but on Bob Wilson (played gleefully by a young, handsome William Shatner). It is a wise choice, considering the limitations of special effects in the sixties. While the creature still gets plenty of screen time, it is Wilson’s struggle to retain his sanity that provides most of the drama. Donner’s focus on character development is strong; Wilson is a complex, layered individual whose unraveling is fascinating to watch. Shatner’s over-the-top acting actually works, because it lends credibility to the idea that Wilson is dangerously unstable. By the end of the trip, it’s clear that the biggest threat was inside the plane.
George Miller’s take is much more tongue-in-cheek. His creature is ridiculous looking, which should be unforgivable considering the twenty years of advances in special effects, but he embraces the silliness with gusto. In fact, every aspect of the film is as satirical as the grinning monster outside the window.
John Lithgow plays the neurotic antihero, John Valentine. Instead of gradually losing his nerve like the stoic Wilson, Valentine is a sniveling coward from the onset. Lithgow is more convincing an actor than Shatner is, but that’s not important to the success of the movie. Rather than identifying with Valentine and sharing his terror, you feel as though you’re seated on the plane next to him. Your other flight mates are the vaguely malevolent flight attendants, the ever-intrusive elderly couple, and an annoying, precocious little girl. It isn’t a gripping thrill ride, but it is, by far, the worst plane trip imaginable. In Miller’s hands, the greatest danger isn’t the monster, and it isn’t the frightened man inside the plane. It is the plane itself.
Clearly, Miller has been on the plane, seated next to the eager fan, and he knows how truly terrifying that can be.
Someday, if you ever stay awake long enough on that redeye flight across country, you’re bound to hear somebody chuckle, “There’s something on the wing of this plane!” If you’re unfortunate enough to be seated next to the wit, you have two options: you can either feign comatose sleep, or you can foolishly check to see for yourself. Be warned, though: choosing the second route might just guarantee you the worst flight of your life. However, if spending a long, sleepless night discussing the nuances of every episode of “The Twilight Zone” with a self-proclaimed expert sounds like a treat, then go ahead. Look out the window.
Granted, it is a deliciously macabre thought, that somehow in the darkness; something evil is staring back, eager for a chance to do us harm. This visceral fantasy is so ingrained in American pop culture that many are surprised to learn it actually originated in a birthplace so natural it’s almost cliché. Yet, every child in America owes at least one shuddering nightmare to Ron Serling and his “dimension, not only of sight and sound…”
“Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” was first directed by Richard Donner in 1963 as an adaptation of Richard Matheson’s short story. Although purists swear by Donner’s black-and-white, many today recognize the tale from its second incarnation, a vignette in the 1983 film, “Twilight Zone: The Movie.”
Considering how different the two versions are, they have a lot in common. In both, a man who is terrified of flying boards an airplane which is unwittingly headed into a violent storm. During the rough flight, he spots a creature wreaking havoc on the wing of the plane. Everyone he warns dismisses him as delusional, and he is faced with the choice: give in to paranoia and try to save everyone, or shut his eyes and hope for the best. The two films’ most important shared aspect, however, is that their creatures look completely and utterly ridiculous. The original resembles Gene Simmons in a furry costume, while the second looks more like E.T.’s older, skinnier, dreadlocked cousin. It is in how each director handles this particular problem that their strengths shine through.
Donner chooses to focus not on the thing on the wing, but on Bob Wilson (played gleefully by a young, handsome William Shatner). It is a wise choice, considering the limitations of special effects in the sixties. While the creature still gets plenty of screen time, it is Wilson’s struggle to retain his sanity that provides most of the drama. Donner’s focus on character development is strong; Wilson is a complex, layered individual whose unraveling is fascinating to watch. Shatner’s over-the-top acting actually works, because it lends credibility to the idea that Wilson is dangerously unstable. By the end of the trip, it’s clear that the biggest threat was inside the plane.
George Miller’s take is much more tongue-in-cheek. His creature is ridiculous looking, which should be unforgivable considering the twenty years of advances in special effects, but he embraces the silliness with gusto. In fact, every aspect of the film is as satirical as the grinning monster outside the window.
John Lithgow plays the neurotic antihero, John Valentine. Instead of gradually losing his nerve like the stoic Wilson, Valentine is a sniveling coward from the onset. Lithgow is more convincing an actor than Shatner is, but that’s not important to the success of the movie. Rather than identifying with Valentine and sharing his terror, you feel as though you’re seated on the plane next to him. Your other flight mates are the vaguely malevolent flight attendants, the ever-intrusive elderly couple, and an annoying, precocious little girl. It isn’t a gripping thrill ride, but it is, by far, the worst plane trip imaginable. In Miller’s hands, the greatest danger isn’t the monster, and it isn’t the frightened man inside the plane. It is the plane itself.
Clearly, Miller has been on the plane, seated next to the eager fan, and he knows how truly terrifying that can be.
posted by Skim at Thursday, May 18, 2006
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