In an era dominated by what’s colloquially known as “elevated horror” (think Get Out, Midsommar, The Menu), Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance smashed onto the scene with a resounding, collective YUCK! late last year. Chock-full of gag-inducing gore, this grotesque body horror film walked away with multiple Oscars wins and produced what was perhaps a rather wary concession from the Academy that “scary movies” could be taken seriously.
Starring 80s icon Demi Moore, The Substance’s intense temperament and repulsive practical effects harkened back to films of the same nature from 40 odd years ago. Although I’ve yet to watch the full thing, the clips I’ve seen reminded me of, well, movies like The Thing — which got me thinking about transmogrification and body horror in films from my absolute favorite decade: the 1980s.
Bookended by Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979) and Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch (1991), the 80s were the crème de la crème of horror cinema. Why? Because this was before the now-hackneyed slasher tropes and predictable plot beats of legacy sequels (I’m looking at you, Scream franchise), before the clunky CGI of the early 2000s, before the now too-seamless VFX of today (when entire creatures or entities are entirely digital, they stop being frightening to me). And more importantly, this was well after the abolishment of the Hays code, which allowed directors like John Carpenter to get freakier and nastier than ever.
If you’re interested in viscera and pus and the malignant growth of extra extremities, below is a breakdown of four essential body-gore films from the 1980s.
Possession (1981)
Based on the poster and screenshots I’d seen on social media, I went into this movie thinking it’d be a typical popcorn slasher, or perhaps the European version of Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead (1981)…but no. To my surprise, it was excruciating 120 minutes of actress Isabelle Adjani incessantly shrieking whilst surreptitiously constructing an evil humanoid version of her character’s ex-husband to-be.
Directed by Polish filmmaker Andrzej Żuławski, Possession is a confounding and extremely graphic film. It follows Anna and Mark, a young couple whose marriage swiftly crumbles once Mark finds out his wife’s having an affair. He tries to salvage the relationship for the sake of their young son but Anna is abusive, plagued by spells of madness and virulent fantasies. When she eventually moves out of their shared apartment, she turns her new bedsit in a seedy part of town into a petri dish in order to…um, cultivate Mark’s evil clone.
Per the title of the film, Anna is possessed by some vague yet evil force (the devil? a spirit? the dark side of herself?), indulging in unremorseful killing sprees in order to “nourish” the monster in her room. Each time she kills, the creature gets stronger, more malevolent, and more humanoid. What starts out as a smatter of ooze on the walls becomes a tentacled beast, which eventually turns into a creature indistinguishable from Mark. The movie ends with a subsequent “Mark-off,” both of them fighting for the right to maintain their place in the human race (that may or may not be a Smiths reference).
Whether this battle of the Marks is an allusion for good vs. evil or some other deeper metacommentary on parenthood is never explained. There’s a pivotal scene about halfway through the film where Anna, in a possessed state, starts bleeding and caterwauling in an empty subway station — it looks like she’s having a miscarriage. And later, when we glimpse the monster she’s creating (perhaps evil Mark a manifestation of her unborn child?) the bed it’s lying on is splattered in blood and entrails, which is also reminiscent of an abortion or failed pregnancy.
Overall, this movie is not for the faint of heart. It’s one of the most disturbing pieces of cinema I’ve ever seen, so if you are interested in watching it, just know there are scenes involving self-harm and domestic violence.
The Fly (1986)
Perhaps this is a bold claim to make, but The Fly is Jeff Goldblum at his best. Although on the surface it may seem like your run-of-the-mill pulpy thriller (mad scientist inadvertently turns himself into an insect, how campy can you get?) this movie has far much more to offer than a few stomach-churning scenes.
Not only is it a nightmare sequence of human disintegration that’ll make even the most apathetic viewer queasy, the film culminates into one of the most harrowing monster reveals of all time. And unlike a lot of horror flicks (particularly slashers) that cluttered up the box office during the 80s, The Fly has meat on its bones — it isn’t just a foray into cheap excess and shocking scenes designed to produce a reaction.
The Fly opens with Seth Brundle (Goldblum) beta testing his home teleportation device. He’s frustrated because he’s on the precipice of a breakthrough but can’t seem to stop his specimens from dying shortly after being transported. A marvel of modern science, journalist Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis) is sent to write a column on Brundle’s invention, but ends up falling for him in the process. The two of them team up to perfect Seth’s device and, once they get it working, Seth places himself in the teleporter to see what it’s like.
The only issue with this is that a fly snuck its way into one of the pods, splicing its DNA with Seth’s during the teleportation process. The next hour of the film details his slow and agonizing metamorphosis into a fly-human hybrid and Veronica’s struggle to keep loving him despite this. And man, is it grim. Seth’s skin peels, his teeth and nails fall out, wings splinter out from his back and no matter how hard he tries to stay human, he can’t stop his body from deteriorating.
By the end of the movie Seth is quite literally a shell of his former self, effectively becoming the terrifying “Brundlefly” chimera that’s so gross Google’s “Safe Search” kicks in and blurs the images when you look it up. Yet even after he’s rendered mute and handicapped from the transformation, his heart still remains. In the end, he puts Veronica first and tries to save her life.
Through the tragic fate of Goldblum’s character, Carpenter delicately skirts around a broader conversation about the dangers of technological advancement and our avaristic desire to play god (Gattaca (1997), anyone?). More than anything else, this movie is about what happens when limits are pushed too far, harkening the aphorism of “just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.” This movie is not just entertaining but deeply sad. Seth may be a tad hubristic but he is not an inherently bad person; he’s a man who must come to terms with his impending mortality very rapidly and with immense pain. It’s almost as if he has a terminal illness.
To me, being powerless against your own body failing you is what’s most unsettling about The Fly. Seth just has to sit there and watch himself become a stranger.
The Thing (1982)
Who can you trust?
Something is rotten in the tundra of Antarctica as a research team on a scientific expedition stumble across a peculiar spacecraft embedded in the ice. After accidentally releasing a shape-shifter from the alloy, the group must contend with the fact that any one of them might secretly be an alien, slowly turning on one another in the process. It’s like a classic game of Mafia — or for the younger demographic, Among Us.
The premise of The Thing is not unique; it’s a story with what feels like a thousand and one iterations, but John Carpenter tells it the best. One of the reasons this film works so well is because the audience is only drip-fed information, never fully “in on the joke.” We’re just as unwitting as the innocent crew members because we never know who shape-shifter is impersonating. Anyone can be the alien at any given moment.
As a result, a frustrated skepticism foments between the group. Someone can get on their knees and plead for their life, desperately asserting that they’re human, but without any way to prove it their promises mean nothing. A paranoia quickly sets in, and you find yourself unable to root for a single character because you’re never sure of their identity. “Is so-and-so who they say they are?” is a question you’re constantly asking.
The first half of this movie is a by-the-book thriller, but takes a sharp nosedive into horror in the second act. Once the crew discovers the alien’s kryptonite (fire) we finally see its true form, and my God, is it disgusting. A humanoid face with vampire teeth swivels atop an accordion giraffe neck attached to an arachnid body sprouting bony crab legs. There’s fur, slime, and blood. There’s also a lot of pyrotechnics. Watching the alien scuttle around as it jumps from body to body reminds me of why infectious diseases are so scary; just like the Thing, bacteria phages are tiny interlopers that invade the body and control it from inside, without the host even knowing.
An American Werewolf in London (1981)
This movie tows the line of being a genuinely frightening film and a cheesy popcorn flick you can throw on with a group of friends on a dark and stormy night. And that’s exactly how the film opens: in an empty countryside under a pitch-black sky.
Jack and David, two American college students backpacking abroad, seek shelter in a small tavern ominously named the Slaughtered Lamb. They’re starved, exhausted, and in dire need of a rest after tromping around for hours. Although the pub’s cult-like insignia and standoffish clientele rattles the boys, the Lamb is the only establishment for miles, which means beggars can’t be choosers. When they finally head out, the bartender warns them to stay clear of the moors and beware of the full moon. Spoiler alert: they don’t.
Jack is brutally mauled by a werewolf and David suffers minor injuries, including a scratch (this is key). Whilst recovering in the hospital he begins to see visions of his friend, whose ruined face haunts him for the remainder of his days. In these hallucinations, Jack guilt-trips David by blaming him for his death and encouraging him to kill himself.
After being discharged (but not before falling in love with his nurse) David spends the rest of his time in London recuperating at her flat. This is when the changes start to occur. As the moon begins to wax again, David grows ravenously manic, eventually transforming into a fully-fledged werewolf.
And this change is brutal to watch. David writhes on the floor in agony as his torso distorts and his limbs elongate and sprout fur. We hear bones snap and pop, the sound of flesh tearing, slowly watching claws and fangs erupt under his skin. Much like The Fly, this transmogrification is loud and messy, and the end result is a humanoid/lupine hybrid that’s wrong in all the right places.
The Golden Age of Body Horror
Are you grossed out yet? I’d hesitate to call any of these movies my “favorites” as none of them were particularly enjoyable to watch, but their ability to thoroughly repulse me even in retrospect makes them worth discussing.
Happy viewing! Please don’t watch these movies with your families on Christmas.