When I decided to go ahead and do the blog thing I hit a
roadblock almost immediately – what to call the damn thing? In order to come up
with a title I decided to think about films that not only explored film making,
but films that examined the act of film watching.
The usual suspects came to mind almost immediately – Peeping Tom and Rear Window
– but I was sure that naming the blog after either of those films would give
the, uh, wrong impression, so to speak (although I am somewhat intrigued to see
what a blog called “Rear Windows” would entail). Then I thought of another film
that isn’t as well known but is a wonderful example of a film that not only
explores our relationship to the image, but specifically looks at the changing
face of horror through cinema history – Peter Bogdanovich’s 1968 film Targets. I just added the word “Screen”
in front (deciding against “Cinema” in case I want to look at TV at some point)
and there I went.
Recalling the film has made me realise just how great it is.
Not only does it function quite well as a thriller, it also captures a turning
point in horror representation, when the monster transformed from an inhuman
beast (such as a vampire, werewolf, mummy, or radioactive experiment) to an
ordinary person whose monstrous self was kept hidden under a facade of
normality.
The idea of the human monster, in the form of a serial
killer or mass murderer, goes back to Fritz Lang’s 1931 film M (or perhaps one could even go back to
the silent era and films such as Hitchcock’s The Lodger), and 2 films from 1960, Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom. Although countless other
films featured murder, these three films are some of the first examples where a
narrative has focused on the killer and made them the central role. By having
the killer as the protagonist, these films actually showed these characters as
more than just faceless threats, for although they were capable of heinous
deeds, they were also capable of eliciting sympathy.
A distinction needs to be made, though, between the serial
killer, who commits murder periodically, and the mass murderer, who kills many
people all at once. While M and Psycho feature protagonists loosely
based on real life serial killers (Peter Kurten and Ed Gein, respectively), Targets takes the real life mass
murderer Charles Whitman as inspiration for its character Bobby Thompson. In
his book Bad Blood: An Illustrated Guide
to Psycho Cinema (highly recommended, btw), Christian Fuchs writes of the
“running amok” killer, a type of murderer who, seemingly out of the blue, goes
on a violent rampage. Charles Whitman was one of the first of this type, when,
over the course of two days in 1966, he went on a murder spree, culminating in
him installing himself on top of a look-out tower at University of Austin and
firing randomly, killing a total of fourteen people (with another thirty
sustaining injuries).
Filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich heard of Whitman’s crimes and
thought it would be good subject matter for a movie, given that it typified for
him the idea of “modern horror”. Around the same time he was offered a
directorial job on a picture for Roger Corman, but there were conditions
attached: he had to incorporate footage from a previous Corman production, The Terror, and he had to use Boris
Karloff, who had starred in The Terror
and owed Corman two more days of work. This sparked the idea that is the main
gist of film: the clash between the ‘old-fashioned’ form of supernatural and
Gothic horror that had been portrayed on screen since the silent era (and had
been the style of several Corman pictures), and the actual horror that occurs every
day.
Rather than having Karloff reprising his role in The Terror, Bogdanovich decided to have
Karloff play a character much like himself, an aging horror movie actor (given
the name ‘Byron Orlock’) who realises his brand of scares are no longer potent
enough to frighten a public that watches violence and atrocity each day on the
evening news. The film opens with the ending of The Terror, and then reveals a room of studio execs, Orlock, and
the film’s director, Sammy Michaels (played by Bogdanovich himself, in another
moment of reflexivity). Orlock announces to the room that this is his last
picture and that he is to retire. Sammy and the studio exec try to dissuade him,
as they want him to work on their next film. Orlock will have none of it
though, exclaiming as he gets into his car that he is now an “antique”, and that the world “belongs to
the young. Let them have it.” As Orlock says this there is a cut to an odd
point-of-view shot of Orlock, from the perspective of a rifle viewfinder, the
crosshairs poised over Orlock’s face. There is then a cut to inside a gun shop,
and we see that the person holding the gun is Bobby Thompson (Tim O’Kelly), a young, fresh-faced All-American type. He
is there seemingly to buy supplies for a hunting trip with his father.
We later follow Bobby to his home, where he lives with his
wife and his parents. Immediately there is a different look and feel to these
scenes. Whereas the previous scenes with Orlock are shot in warm yellow and
brown tones, with Karloff allowed letting his innate charm and likeability
shine through, in contrast, Bobby’s world is cold and blue. Although Bobby’s
parents and wife do seem to be caring and loving toward him, their house seems
static and devoid of feeling. It is as though everyone is going through the
motions, a vital connection between them is lacking (and I’ve always found it
highly dubious whenever someone refers to their father as “sir”).
Another technical detail that becomes apparent is the film’s
lack of a musical score (in a nod to Rear
Window). This contributes to the stagnant feeling of the Thompson
household, while also emphasising the constant noise coming from televisions
and radios. This is a modern urban environment where all interactions and
communications are accompanied (or in some cases, completely overtaken) by
sounds and images from the mass media. This is not conveyed in a totally
negative sense, though, as the magic of the movies is also celebrated through
the Orlock plotline and Bogdanovich’s references and homages to earlier films.
It is this aspect of Targets,
its reflexivity and intertextuality, that continues to make the film so
prescient and relevant. Surely, if the film were made today Karloff would have
played the role with his own name rather than the alias of Orlock, and possibly
Bogdanovich would have as well (although his character’s name Sammy Michaels is
actually a tribute to Samuel Fuller, who helped rewrite the film and whose
middle name was Michael). The film came out in 1968, the same year that another
horror classic, Night of the Living Dead,
was also released. Night of the Living
Dead is widely considered to be a game-changer, signalling a change in
horror that continued into the 1970s, with films such as Last House on the Left, The
Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Hills Have Eyes, where
the horror and violence became more graphic and brutal, and the monsters were
no longer supernatural creatures (although the zombies in Night of the Living Dead still fit into that category). What these
films (including Targets) also have
in common is that they were made independently and on low budgets, by young
directors who were wanting discuss issues and conflicts of the time (such as
the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement) within a genre context. It could
be argued that Targets is more of a
thriller rather than a horror, but the film does explicitly address the changes
that were occurring within the genre, and the relationship between the genre’s
representations and audience reception.
Thankfully, Targets
never goes down the whole “violence in films made me do it” route. Much like
Gus van Sant’s film Elephant, we are
given some clues that perhaps point to why Bobby does what he does (there is a
brief glimpse of a photo of Bobby in a military uniform – is he a Vietnam
vet?), and certainly the prevalence of guns in Bobby’s life, and the ease with
which he buys the guns and ammunition used to perpetrate his crimes, is
definitely highlighted by Bogdanovich.
In his commentary Bogdanovich mentions that he hoped the film would help start
a dialogue about gun control in the US, but the release of the film was marred
by two violent gun deaths that occurred that year – the assassinations of
Martin Luther King Jr, and Robert Kennedy. One would think that such tragedies
would lead to the issue being a topic brought up in public discussion, but
unfortunately the opposite occurred (a situation still pertinent to today, given
the recent shooting at a screening of The
Dark Knight Rises, where once again calls for revisions to gun laws appear
to have been silenced).
Bobby begins his killing spree in his own home, killing his
mother and wife (and a grocery delivery boy). After committing the murders,
there is a long take as we watch Bobby take the women’s bodies and place them
in their beds, mirroring what Charles Whitman did with his family members. Many
of the shots of Bobby in his home are wide shots with few edits, we monitor his
movements like a distant observer, with the same lack of feeling and detachment
that Bobby also displays. He leaves his home and drives to a nearby freeway,
where he sets himself up and starts firing randomly at cars. This is a
terrifying scene, as it reminds us all how vulnerable we all are once we walk
outside our front door (although the previous scene has also demonstrated the
threat that can come from within). Bobby is creating chaos and carnage for no particular
reason, his innocent victims are completely oblivious until they are suddenly
confronted with violence and death.
Again, the lack of score adds to the realism of the scene, helping
convey the coldness and calculating nature of Bobby’s acts (Verna Fields’ sound
editing is to be commended, since the scene was shot silently and all effects
were added in post-production).
Clearly, Bobby and Orlock are fated to connect, and later Bobby decides to continue his shooting rampage at a drive-in theatre, where Orlock’s new film (which he says will be his last) is set to premiere. The climax of the film occurs here, with Bobby poised behind the screen, shooting through a small hole into the crowd. When Orlock decides to confront the shooter he walks toward Bobby, just as he walks across the screen in the film – that he wears a similar tuxedo both in the film and in the film-within-the-film helps create a doubling effect. Bobby almost can’t believe his eyes as he looks between Orlock’s screen image and the man himself standing before him. Although he portrays a force of evil in the movies, it is only Orlock who is willing to face the real evil that threatens them. Reducing Bobby to a crying child, he murmurs “Was that what I was afraid of?” The monster is scared of the boy next door (which also makes me think back to a scene from Karloff’s iconic turn in Frankenstein – those ordinary folks with pitchforks and torches are much scarier than the monster they are chasing!).[i]
Targets is a film
made by a cinephile, which explores the medium’s relationship with reality,
finding that cinema can never equal the terror of everyday life. What cinema
can do is provide an escape, a safe place to scream and laugh and cry, to
explore our fantasies and face our fears.
[i]
There is also a connection here with my previous blog entry on American Mary, a film that also reveals that
the real freaks and monsters are those who look the most ‘normal’ and
respectable.
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