Over the past fifteen years, Peter's work in horror and other genres, in the form of short fiction, poetry, criticism, and comics, has appeared in numerous anthologies and periodicals.
Current publications: Rue Morgue (issue #82) ComiPress Dark Territories Read by Dawn Volume 3 Diamond BookShelf Withersin Speaking gig: SFABC
Despite its success in Europe, this inspired-by-real-events film had only a limited U.S. theatrical run in 2007. Well, here’s your chance to catch this—dare I say it?—instant classic.
As is the case with many classics, the new and the old are not so easily differentiated in Them. Rather, it displays the skillful application of modern techniques and sensibilities to tell a story that is beyond archetypal: it’s practically primal. With a plot that almost exclusively concerns a young couple battling to survive against the mysterious title characters, Them successfully combines elements from siege movies, the “old dark house” subgenre, and conventional slasher flicks. It’s also somewhat reminiscent, and not just because they’re both products of French filmmakers, of High Tension (2003). Both films feature a minimal supporting cast, take place largely at an isolated house and the surrounding woods, feature monsters so shorn of backstory that they’re apparently fashioned out of pure malice, and crown the proceedings with a mega-twist. That’s right, writer-directors David Moreau and Xavier Palud rat-tail their story for us with a deft flourish, but the surprise here is in no way the film’s raison d’être as it is in High Tension (and in many U.S. horror movies, for that matter). Instead, Them consistently works with a point-of-use logic throughout. I didn’t maddeningly question the protagonists’ actions, I just identified with them. So the twist didn’t suddenly cause things to “make sense,” or alternately, force me to re-evaluate everything I’d just seen. Although it adds some thematic depth to the film, the final reel’s big reveal makes not one iota of difference to Them’s smooth functioning as an exercise in sheer fright.
Fear in the dark: you can't get much more basic than this.
From its opening moments, Them establishes a mixed mood of dread, unpredictability and tension. Indeed, in the first five or six minutes it’s scarier than the vast majority of horror movies at ninety minutes. Later the suspense gets ratcheted up even more—I can’t quite decide whether to use the phrase “unbearable heights” or “overpowering terror,” but you get the idea. What makes this suspense so much more effective than that in most other films? It took me a while to puzzle this out, but I think it boils down to the fact that nothing is telegraphed. Consequently, you’re never “popped out” of the film. The combination of the right angles and compositions, the right shots and counter-shots, results in your being totally sutured into the experience. As with all truly involving films of suspense, you start wondering what you’d do in the same situation. To be clear, some viewers may nitpick over why the characters didn’t act smarter in specific scenes, but I found their intelligence and resourcefulness pitched at just right level, neither too high nor too low, which added to the realism. In fact, the best testament I can give to Them is that for long stretches I simply forgot to take notes like I usually do—I was simply too engrossed.
No escape? A hand reaches out from the plane of the film and towards... us.
Another reason why the film works is that while the story is simple—perhaps simplistic to some minds—there’s more than enough subtlety to go around. All right, maybe the use of sound, so masterful here, doesn’t exactly qualify as subtle, but the production design probably does. Courtesy of a color scheme that’s highlighted by superb cinematography, we’re delivered into a place where the civilized world is encroached upon by a wilder, more natural world… which eventually becomes a darker world, a predatory world. Foliage and vegetation are everywhere, even indoors, and the sets are lit so that the line between interiors and exteriors is blurred. This theme is picked up even in the details, with the walls, blankets, and other surfaces in the home all various shades of green. But mostly the film owes its effectiveness to Moreau and Palud getting the maximum impact from simple images that never smack of calculation: a sink tap running; a black-and-white TV playing in a darkened room. You never see the writer’s hand, hovering, thinking, forcing things—everything on the screen seems to be grounded in reality.
