Cujo (1983)

I inaugurated the year in movie-watching with Cujo a couple weeks ago. As with the book, the movie is not as bad as the reputation it carries of a psycho-dog killing random people. In fact, I was a little surprised by what seemingly-minor things were retained from the book, while other major plot points were cut. I honestly did not expect to see the Sharp Cereal Professor, but there he was foolishly pushing Red Raspberry Zingers. Meanwhile, Charity and Brett get out of town and you never see them again. Other changes I rolled with, given the running time of the movie was quite compact, such as Steve being some kind of family friend, already known to Vic. I also believe nobody was sad about omitting Steve leaving a....ahem...."gift" on the upstairs bed when he trashed the house.

Of course, there was one huge change from the book, which came from Stephen King himself. In the book, the big shocker is the death of Tad. On one hand, killing off children, even in the 1980's, was still a touchy area for movies. However, according to the vast amount of ink and pixels devoted to this change King apparently carried a heavy amount of regret for his decision to kill Tad in the book, so he "atoned" for it in the movie. Make no mistake, though, this movie is still really scary, probably the scariest one I've seen yet. I'm usually pretty good at separating real life from what's behind the screen, but the terror of being trapped in a car with a screaming child on the inside and a rabid dog on the outside is downright visceral.

Location, as you know, is always an area of scrutiny for me. I believe to date in this project, only one movie purported to take place somewhere in Maine was actually filmed in Maine. Alas, that was the wretched Graveyard Shift, proving location only isn't going to save a turkey. Cujo, as was the case with many of the early King movies, was filmed in California, in locations north of the Bay Area, with a bit of Utah thrown in for good measure. Needless to say, it doesn't look much like Maine, although if one disregards that, the redneck-chic of Joe Camber's garage/hovel is pretty much the way I envisioned it when reading the book. Again, this is one of the earlier Stephen King movies, the third one (after Carrie and The Shining) to be made into a feature film, just a few months ahead of The Dead Zone, in fact. To date this was one of the fastest page-to-screen jobs in King's bibliography.

Finally, an unusual little challenge for a movie like Cujo, even if it isn't all non-stop dog-killing-man action, is how to handle your animal actors. There are places that go into way more depth on this, so I won't repeat it all here, but let's just say that the actor-dog was quite the opposite of the role he portrayed. The silly dog ruined many a scene because he wanted to lick off the tasty "gore" put on him by the makeup department! I wonder if an outtake reel exists somewhere. It just might soothe any stray nightmares this movie left with you.

Cujo (1981)

Cujo is one of those Stephen King books that probably has an out-sized notoriety. The name has become virtually synonymous with rabid, or just plain mean, dogs. Most people will know that Cujo the book is about a dog gone bad, and they might even know that King wrote it, even though legend has it that King himself, in the throes of drugs and alcohol, has almost no recollection of writing it. So, I was a little surprised to discover that in many ranked lists, Cujo falls somewhere in the middle of the King oeuvre, well below the other novels written in his name prior to this. I was more surprised to read this book and see it not so much as a violent rabid dog story, but as a compendium of human failings.

As I mentioned in the previous post, Cujo is sold as a story about a dog holding an entire town hostage, killing on a mass scale under the sadistic influence of rabies. This really isn't the case though. Sure you get some high-octane gross-out dog mauling scenes, but the first two victims of Cujo are morally bankrupt and pretty much useless. It is only when you get to the last pages where the sheriff and Tad fall victim (the latter more indirectly) that you really feel like Cujo is a super-villain animal. The real tragedies before the final pages come in the separation and hopelessness felt by family members. Vic is away on a business trip, while Brett and Charity are on a short vacation away from Joe, a handy guy who is awful to his family. Their tragedies are having no idea what is happening to their family while they are away. Furthermore, they are actually in many ways glad to be away based on what they do know. Vic is dealing with the fallout of Donna's affair with the charming Steve Kemp, and Charity, a surprise lottery winner, is thinking of escaping her miserable home life with her newfound fortune...but can she convince Brett, who takes after his father? What is heartwrenching about all of this is that they have no idea what is happening back home until it's too late. Also heartwrenching is Cujo's fall into rabid insanity. King occasionally makes Cujo the POV character, so readers experience him first healthy and loyal, then sick and confused. It's as if another demon dog overtook Cujo's body. King never expressly makes this the case, but by intertwining the monster-in-the-closet subplot with Cujo's car siege, he leaves the door open to readers wanting some kind of supernatural connection between them, that a monster lives in Castle Rock, be it Frank Dodds, or Cujo.

Cujo is the first non-Bachman book to have no major supernatural plot element. No characters can read minds, cause things to blow up, communicate telepathically, change form, or teleport. This is more the hallmark of the three Bachman books released thus far. However, Cujo is a little more deft than the Bachman books in that it is more willing to crack into the psyche of its characters, in particular Tad and his convictions of the monster in the closet, so strongly held that the narrative actually supports it. Also, Cujo is directly linked to another King novel, The Dead Zone, which is firmly in the supernatural zone, albeit without the explosiveness of a Carrie or Firestarter. Therefore, I would suggest to those that are inclined to dismiss King's use of the supernatural as a crutch that keeps him stuck in "genre" fiction, to give Cujo a closer look. There is really nothing here that couldn't actually happen. Sure, the fears of monsters in the closet and the thoughts of a dog losing his mind are a bit speculative, but these aren't original to King, as any child or textbook entry on rabies will tell you.

Where Cujo does fall short is in the surprise department. I could see from a mile away how all the character paths would intersect and how Cujo would be involved enough the warrant the title of the novel. All of the elements leading up to the climatic Cujo v. Car showdown were pretty clear from the early part of the book. All told, though, the novel still holds up as a thriller that relies on natural, everyday terror to carry its plot.

In Progress: Cujo

The combination of some slow-reading non-Stephen King books and school responsibilities on top of full-time work meant an unscheduled October break from the blog, but at long last we've reached Cujo. Here are the usual running thoughts.

November 23 (Page 41): I knew going into this that this was one of the Castle Rock books, but Cujo forms a direct connection to The Dead Zone in the opening pages, referencing the middle section of that book. About 25 pages into the book, I also realized there are no chapters in this book, so all I'll say at this point is thank God for paragraph breaks.

November 26 (Page 124): The nice doggy is starting to turn, no surprise there. The description of poor Cujo losing his mind is totally heartbreaking though, like somebody where all the things that used to give them pleasure now only give pain. The real drive of the story right now is more centered on the other (human) characters, most of them awful, some of them powerless.

November 30 (Page 268): I knew going into this book that there was going to be a dog that kills people. My initial uninformed vision was one of a rabid dog indiscriminately taking out helpless townfolk, but the book hangs more on the suspense than gore. If anything is really gross about this book, it's jilted Steve Kemp the Homewrecker leaving a little "surprise" for Donna. As for Cujo, after killing off Gary and John (no tears there), he's been spending most of the time assaulting the Pinto, the only thing stopping him from eating Tad and Donna.

I pretty much finished the book too quickly for another update!

Danse Macabre (1981)

One of the joys of this Stephen King project is that I'm not just reading the "regular" novels. While the sequence of Carrie, 'Salem's Lot, The Shining, The Stand, The Dead Zone, and Firestarter is a fine illustration of King's early career, one cannot get a complete picture without the inclusion of the Bachman books and other less-than-standard fare. By 1981 that expands to include the first of just a few non-fiction works such as Danse Macabre, our featured book, and will go on to add collaborations, original novella collections, and something called "The Dark Tower" sequence. Loyal readers of the blog know we've had Bachman interruptions since almost the beginning, but now we're entering a phase where all these new projects get into the hopper as well. In 1981 alone two works got stuffed in between Firestarter and Cujo and 1982 has no "regular novel" as we will see in the months ahead here.

Danse Macabre touts itself as an overview of the horror genre, which makes it sound way more academic and tedious than it really is. In some ways it is more fair to think of it as On Writing written during the height of King's drug and alcohol binge days. With six novels under his belt (plus three more he wasn't admitting to just yet), he was a well-known author at this point, but with a reputation of being a writer of "pulp" and strictly confined to the horror genre. This book represents his opportunity to both embrace the genre and refute the critics. He does this fairly deftly and really the only thing that holds this book back is its age (more about that at the end). He tackles horror from all angles: the movies, the literature, television (pre-1981 television, mind you), and even radio. For the most part he confines discussion from 1950 to 1980, essentially from his earliest personal memories to the present day.

To get the ball rolling he steps back in time a bit. After a preliminary chapter about "the hook" which sets the parameters for what constitutes horror, he identifies three horror classics from well before the time period he is to discussion: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Bram Stoker's Dracula, and Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Taken together they form the "tarot" by which all other horror spawns: the Thing Without a Name, the Vampire, and Apollonian/Dionysian Split Personality. Henry James is a bonus unofficial card as The Ghost, for his novel Turn of the Screw, but King routinely downplays the centrality of The Ghost to the others.

The movie discussion is divided into two chapters, which he admits from the outset is nowhere near enough ink to plumb the depths of the genre on film. I must say that he brings up a lot of truly awful movies in this section, with the second chapter even calling them out as "junk food" in its title. It seems like the main engine was the notorious AIP, the studio that handled the bulk of the Roger Corman oeuvre. That should give you an idea of what level we are working with. For the most part the first chapter says we shouldn't settle for only high-quality films, but then the second part cautions against a diet of pure junk food when it comes to movies.

The television and radio stuff was kind of a blur, as radio horror was pretty much DOA by 1960 and television even by the 1980's was nowhere near what we now come to expect in the heady era of "Peak TV". This takes us to a monster chapter on horror fiction, which is really where I make a point of listening more closely to what King has to say. Rather than attempt to cover a lot of material at a very shallow level, he uses some exemplary titles to illustrate horror fiction during this thirty year window. Some authors are no surpise: Shirley Jackson, future co-author Peter Straub, and Ira Levin. Others are a bit odd for being better known in other genres: Anne Rivers Siddon, Ray Bradbury, and Harlan Ellison. He also devotes some space to two authors I've never heard of: Ramsay Campbell and James Herbert, both British and very much entrenched in the genre. It is here though that King makes a tripartite distinction in fiction. You have literature, genre, and pulp. Exclusive readers of the first consider all the rest to be mere "genre" (using the term derisively), but King points out there is a middle ground for true non-derisive genre fiction, above what he calls "pulp" but not up in the pretentious heights of "literature". Throughout the book I kept in mind that as of 1981 much of the world considered King genre-phenomenon at best and the notion of him writing a non-fiction work seemed a bridge too far. Therefore I see this book as King's way of both proving his chops to those above, but also a platform for attacking the critics who see no value in genre or pulp. It is a bit of a tightrope act for King not to accidentally for to one side or the other. On one hand he seems to like to name drop a lot of required reading books, but almost in the same breath he lashes out with pride that he writes "genre" books.

In Danse Macabre, we hear Stephen King in his own voice, something previously relegated to prefaces and forwards of his earlier novels. Also, for this particular edition of the book there is a 40-page introduction called "What's Scary?" and this makes it pretty clear King is a much snarkier writer now than he was in 1981. However the preface is essential reading for anyone reading the book now, as it is your only chance to let King update his discussion on movies, moving past the state of the genre in 1981. Not to get too spoiler-ish, but he will challenge you with his take on The Blair Witch Project 2.

In Progress: Danse Macabre

July 30 (page 18): There's over forty pages of prefatory material here, so I'm actually more into this book than it would seem. Stephen King has definitely gotten more snarky with age, if the criteria is a comparison of the 2010 introduction with the original. He has some pretty weird thoughts on what constitutes a good horror movie, though I generally agree with him on what constitutes a bad one. And your fun fact for the day: Dawn of the Dead was the movie that knocked Passion of the Christ out of the top spot at the box office!

July 31 (page 50): The first chapter is all about movies. King's got some interesting theories about what is scary and how the times impact the popularity of the horror genre. Also, I have this strange desire to watch garbage AIP movies now.

August 6 (page 102): I thought it would be nice to check in after each chapter, until I noticed a later chapter is about one-third of the entire book. I'm somewhere in the "autobiographical" chapter right now, which reminds me a lot of On Writing, but somewhat less lucid. The previous chapter was on the Big Three classics of horror: Frankenstein (definitely read), Dracula (might have read), and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (definitely have not read). An interesting observation: for two of these, the author is really only known for that particular work. Good work, Mr. Stevenson.

August 17 (page 300): I'll do the mature thing and blame it on a final exam, but I let the updates slip. No worries. The two chapters on horror movies were fun because many of the films discussed were so ridiculously bad, yet getting a rather serious treatment. I then turned into the slog of a chapter about horror fiction. I feel like King is trying to distance himself from the authors he was getting lumped with at the time by name-checking Faulkner & Co. as often as possible. However, two of the books he reviews admirably are by Peter Straub and Anne Rivers Siddons, which are at a more even keel as his own work.

August 21 (page 403): The book is about done. This long penultimate chapter (150 pages) is getting wearisome and should probably be called "Ten of My Favorite Books in the Past 30 Years" of which probably not all will resonate with the reader. To King's credit, his list is pretty solid. Some are of no interest to me, but I do feel more than a little shame about neglecting Harlan Ellison, and not reading more Ray Bradbury. Also of interest is King's tripartite division of fiction into "literature", "mainstream", and "pulp" and he most certainly holds to the middle category, but is happy to show he is knowledgeable in all three.

Sometimes They Come Back (1991)

We've finally made it to the end of the Night Shift mostly-awful movie marathon! While Sometimes They Come Back wasn't total dreck like Graveyard Shift and its ilk, it fell short of some of the better adaptations such as Cat's Eye. Actually, the original short story was a fair bit better than most of its companions, written around the time Carrie was published, so it straddles King's juvenilia and more professional short work. This probably made it more tempting than the others to get the movie treatment. Unfortunately, the original plan to integrate it into Cat's Eye, something I have a lot of trouble wrapping my brain around, didn't pan out and six years later it ended up on the small screen as its own movie.

The original story is a bit of a puzzler. It starts off fairly heartfelt, about dealing with loss and change and not even all that scary, like King was trying to bust out of the genre. That doesn't last as it becomes clear the old bullies are inexplicably coming back (as they sometimes do) into Jim's new classroom. So much for the non-genre story, but it moved the story more in line to what King does best. Then the story goes completely off the rails, with his wife being killed, Jim doing a deep dive into the occult, and the suffering reader chucking the book in bewilderment.

Needless to say, a straight-up adaptation of the story would be nothing short of box office tragedy, but one way or another, this one was going to get the treatment. The small screen ended up fielding it, resulting in a better-than-average TV movie for the 1990's, but another mediocre attempt overall. First off, the scenery was changed to the Kansas City area, and the town is Jim's old hometown. That way when he experiences the flashbacks everything is conveniently close by. Also, no family (wife or son) were killed in the movie, because it was primetime network television and that's not cool. Finally, the occult element is dialed way back. While there are still demons and afterlife matters, there are no real rituals (like cutting off fingers, etc.) beyond just having to reenact the past murder to push the demons officially into hell. As a quick sidebar here, I get it that "greaser" bullies like to be mean and hurt little kids, but murder? It seems a little casual for these guys.

Out of curiosity I looked at the plots for the two sequels and they are completely bonkers. Both unsurprisingly are straight-to-video gems that have nothing to do with the first movie. Number two is a similar incident, but with way more occult. Not to be outdone, the third takes place in (wait for it) Antarctica....and don't worry, the occult is still there!

The Mangler (1995)

I wish I could say that we saved the best for last, but if you've read anything here you should know by now that Night Shift is guilty of inflicting the world with some of the worst Stephen King adaptations ever. The Mangler definitely scrapes the bottom, with some out-of-left-field humor being one of the movie's few saving graces. This review will be shorter than most, only because I watched this over a month ago and just couldn't work up the inspiration to give it a thorough recap.

Having watched this on the heels of reading Roadwork, I can only assume Stephen King had some unpleasant experiences with industrial laundry facilities. While in Roadwork, it was just an unpleasant place to work, in this story it is home to a terrifying machine that eats people when properly "woke". But this is no Exorcist knock-off, as John and his occult-knowledgeable brother-in-law discover the hard way; the machine works on antacids! I should say antacids and body-part and virgin sacrifices. Sure, why not.

Like many of the other adaptations from Night Shift, this movie also suffers from trying to pad a substance-lite story. The machine monster is stuffed full of CGI and the blood spray effect is in full use, making the movie's tone more violent and thrilling than the mysterious and lower-key one of the original story. Then again, if you have Tobe Hooper in the director's chair, you're probably expecting something a least a little bit gross.

Needless to say this movie bombed pretty hard and further diminished Tobe Hooper's already-sagging fortunes as a horror-movie icon. Speaking of horror-movie icons, Robert Englund gets top billing in this movie even though he isn't in it a whole lot, although I'll grudgingly admit his portrayal of a disgusting old disabled owner of the Laundry Shop of Horrors is pretty good.