Review
by Jack Kost
We love to watch movies, and when they’re over we discuss them in depth, probably more in depth than most people.
We also enjoy discussing books, music, art, et al … also in depth.
My wife loves to paint, I love to write and sketch.
Our recent viewings of the 1982 and 2015 versions of Poltergeist turned from a fond, nostalgic chat about the former, to a “why did they bother” rant about the latter.
I’ll start with the original 1982 version, released in the United States on June 4, 1982:
For us, the 1982 original is a cinematic treat.
Hooper may have helmed the direction, but this has all the heart, feeling, emotion, humor, and suspense of a Spielberg movie.
We – the audience – see the family dynamics, their neighbors, and the history of the ever-expanding housing development.
The movie may be thirty-four-years-old, as of this writing, but it’s still the thrill-ride Spielberg has entertained fans with for decades.
The original is one of the best of the haunted house genre; an eerie and memorable light-show with a perfect end scene.
Spielberg knows how to engage and hold his audience.
Then we experienced the miserable let-down of the 2015 remake:
As usual, we discussed it after the end credits rolled, our discussion fueled by disdain!
We compared both versions, and shook our heads at how dreary and painful the remake is.
It felt like a by-the-numbers run-through for the actors in it, who seemed content to show up, recite the dismal script, and pick up their pay checks.
Not many movies have actually pissed me off, but this one made the list.
Absent is the charm and quality scripting of the original.
It simply goes through the motions without any of the character development, tension, or suspense of the original.
I watched it feeling bored after the first fifteen minutes, hoping it would pick up, get better, curious as to how it would unfold in a new retelling, being more disappointed as each scene unfolded.
I’m a fan of Sam Rockwell, but this was another example of how even a fine actor can’t save a lousy script.
We see some flashy effects, as we expect to see in this modern CGI-heavy age, but there’s nothing behind it, no depth or reason to care about what we’re being presented with.
The scene with Sam Rockwell regurgitating black goo into the sink, then seeing his reflection in the faucet, sores opening on his face, is a reworking of the scene in the original: Marty (Martin Casella) seeing maggots swarming on a chicken drumstick he’s just taken a bite out of, then his own face coming apart in the mirror.
It’s a great scene, even with the dated animatronics, with far more impact than the insipid 2015 version:
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The character is also reworked for the 2015 version, changed for the contemporary audience, but giving nothing new or remarkable.
Running at roughly thirty minutes shorter, the remake has omitted the best elements of the original – to its own detriment.
Gone is the steady build-up of the original, as the 2015 version cuts directly to the shock-free plot markers.
Gone also are the comedic elements with the death of the pet canary, and the neighbor’s battle with the TV remote controls, parts of the story that developed the set-up and made us care more about the family and their predicament.
The key scene of the malevolent force entering the home, via the static of the TV set, is also changed, but as animated as the original was - it still had significant shock value to a first-time viewer:
The 1982 original has rightfully earned its place in cinema history – a classic of its genre; the 2015 rehash deserves nothing more than to be ignored and forgotten.
Thanksgiving: a time to give thanks.
Along with everything else we have been blessed with, we gave thanks for the fact that we hadn’t wasted money at the cinema box office for yet-another pointless, lazy, half-assed, cash-grab.
