THE FILMS OF JOHN CARPENTER

A critical examination of Carpenter's career

By Jason Bovberg     July 07, 2000

John Carpenter's résumé is top-heavy with such genre classics as Halloween, The Thing and Escape from New York, and yet lately the director's name conjures more groans than cheers. Who didn't walk away from Village of the Damned or Vampires with a sour taste in his mouth? Carpenter's path from surefootedness to the wildly staggering gait that describes his more current work is absolutely frustrating to the fans who've stuck by him through thick and thin. John Kenneth Muir, author of The Films of John Carpenter, seems to be just such a fanan exasperated worshipper at the feet of a talented filmmaker who seems to have lost his way.

The Films of John Carpenter is a textbook that you'll probably find at the USC film school next semester. It's also an entertaining and informative fan guide to some pretty cool flicks. At times, Muir seems to fall all over himself with praise for his movie god, but you can't fault him for thatno matter how far Carpenter strays from excellence, he'll always be one of the Greats. And in the end, Muir redeems himself with his breadth of Carpenter knowledge and, later, with deservedly harsh criticism for the director's more recent work.

The book examines Carpenter's filmography from Dark Star to Vampires. Its structure is oddly repetitive, reinforcing the textbook feel. The first 50 pages provide an extremely interesting historical perspective of Carpenter's body of work, film by film, in chronological order. The next 130 pages offer a more critical studyagain, film by film. I would have preferred exhaustive chapters on each film, incorporating the historical and critical perspectives. Each of the critical examinations is preceded by totally complete cast and crew lists that don't, unfortunately, benefit from any textual formatting. You'll also find excerpts from critical reviews, which are fascinating. I respect the fact that Muir doesn't shy away from some jaw-droppingly harsh reviews.

Muir's central argument is that Carpenter is a true auteur, a maverick filmmaker who produces his best work when independent of the studio system. The director enjoyed such autonomy with Dark Star, Assault on Precinct 13 and Halloween. The tragedyand perhaps the central conflict of Carpenter's lifeis his desire to emulate Howard Hawks, director of the original The Thing from Another World and Rio Bravo. Carpenter has always wanted to make big ol' studio movies for the masses that everyone loves. In this mode, he's produced such dubious fare as Memoirs of an Invisible Man and even the trying-too-hard sequel Escape from L.A. Today, Carpenter is stuck with a feverish cult audience and, beyond that, indifference.

That kind of reception must endlessly frustrate a man who desires only to please. Consider that most of the films he knows are his bestThe Thing, Escape from New York and even Big Trouble in Little Chinawere bombs. 'I'll tell you what I am,' reveals Carpenter in an early chapter. 'In France, I'm an auteur. In England, I'm a horror movie director. In the U.S., I'm a bum.' One look at his box-office tallies reveals the terrible, sad truth of that quote. Perhaps, like Howard Hawks, Carpenter is doomed to be unheralded and under-appreciated until he's an old man. This book's most important attribute is that it reminds us of the occasional brilliance of Carpenter's eye.

Muir's critical study of the Carpenter oeuvre is impressive. I learned a great deal about the director's motivations, recurring themes, and passions. Muir draws valid parallels between Dark Star and 2001. Similarly, his studies of Assault on Precinct 13 and Escape from New York as modern-day westerns (in particular, Carpenter's favorite, Rio Bravo) are thorough and engaging. I particularly enjoyed Muir's insightful discussions of the absolute evil in Halloween and of the icy paranoia in The Thing.

In several places, however, I doubted Muir's conclusions. His statement that Dark Star was the first 'slacker film' put me on the defensive. What about M*A*S*H? His comparison of Starman and Star Trek was equally suspicious. His assertion that Big Trouble in Little China 'borders on camp' seems a disconcerting understatement. And, of Prince of Darkness, he maintains that 'nowhere in American film has the fear of AIDS been so succinctly stated in visual terms.' That statement is awfully big and empty.

The appendices that end the book are mostly gratuitous, and a couple are even cringe-worthy. Glancing through Appendix B: Slasher Films That Followed John Carpenter's Halloween, I couldn't help but think that Muir had a little too much time on his hands. The Rating John Carpenter appendix (though Muir gets #1 right with the increasingly appreciated The Thing) represents my main problem with an otherwise fine studya little too much objectivity has been sacrificed in the interest of hero worship.

Muir's book is packed with the kind of information that you'd love to find on a feature-rich collection of Carpenter DVDs. Hell, I'd buy that box set. I finished the book wanting to watch each film againyep, even the guilty pleasure They Live and the well-intentioned but awful In the Mouth of Madness. All in all, though, I think it's about time for Carpenter to direct a serious sequel to The Thing.

The Films of John Carpenter, by John Kenneth Muir. 265 p. Critical Non-Fiction. $48.50. ISBN: 0786407255