“Christine” (1983)
Is there a more perfect creative union than John Carpenter and Stephen King? It’s hard to think of any filmmaker and storyteller who are more well-suited for one another — whether King agrees or not, that’s another matter altogether. Somewhat surprisingly, however, the beloved cult filmmaker and the adored author only blended their brilliant minds together for one film: 1983’s adaptation of King’s best-selling novel, “Christine,” based on a killer automobile — in more ways than one. And while it wasn’t as warmly received by critics as some of Carpenter’s past films, it did, of course, garner its own cult following in the years to come, thanks in no small part to its iconic score, its effective simplicity, and its pulpy edge, capturing something that only a handful of other King adaptations have gotten right about the author’s literary work. It isn’t often considered among the filmmaker’s best and brightest, but it has no shortage of love from genre fans and fans of both King and Carpenter. One would wonder, particularly with the resurgence in popularity in both Carpenter’s past properties and King’s lore (Carpenter was once attached to make “Firestarter”), if the meeting of the minds would happen again, although it doesn’t sound like Carpenter is much interested in revisiting any works written by King anytime soon — at least, professionally. But hey, never say never… — WA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aU5l2e9YlQ
“Starman” (1984)
Returning once again to the science fiction genre, Carpenter’s romantic and idyllic “Starman” is typically remembered for being one of many feature films where its star, Jeff Bridges, earned an Oscar nomination for Best Actor, before eventually and finally getting his proper, honorable due with “Crazy Heart” some time later. But as a film, “Starman” isn’t quite as iconic nor as recounted upon as some of Carpenter’s other, more beloved films on his resume, but it did earn a warm and friendly critical response upon release, and that fondness hasn’t necessarily dissipated over time. Rather, some people consider it among his overlooked films, even though it received no shortage of praise and consideration upon release — even though that wasn’t necessarily reflected by its middling box office receipts. Telling the story of a humanoid alien (played by Bridges) who visits Earth upon an intergalactic request, eventually forming a bond with Karen Allen’s Jenny Hayden, it is the type of plotline that sounds more at home with, say, Steven Spielberg than John Carpenter. Yet the film, which is more gentle and intentionally touching in its approach, is winsome and easygoing. And it makes sense that Carpenter used this type of good-natured film to try to shed away the notion that he was tied down to dark thrillers and horror films. While his later films would, dare one say, return to his more crass sensibilities (and that’s meant with affection, for the record), it’s a nice, lovely change-of-pace from a ever-expanding and truly unbridled journeyman filmmaker who was never completely consistent — not in terms of quality, but in what type of stories suited his fancy at any given point in time. —WA
“Big Trouble in Little China” (1986)
“Who is Jack Burton?” crowed the ads for “Big Trouble In Little China,” mistakenly selling this rare Carpenter blockbuster, produced for major studio 20th Century Fox, as a heroic star vehicle for the forever-underestimated Kurt Russell. The truth was, not a single person within the narrative cares about this white interloper, a commentary on the genre that might have been a generation too early. The story follows an ages-old conflict between warring factions of superpowered Chinese warriors utilizing magic (the darkest kind!) to hold dominion over the planet, thanks to the exoticism of two green-eyed girls (just go with it). Into this mess walks urban cowboy Burton, a truck driver who crashes this mystical Eastern throwdown like John Wayne mistakenly falling ass-backwards into “The Chinese Connection” and attempting to tough-guy his way out. Burton is clever and eager enough to assist the good guys, entering their territory in disguise, or freeing captured prisoners. But he’s also pigheaded enough to accidentally knock himself out as the climactic battle rages on around him, before getting pinned underneath increasingly heavy objects. ‘Big Trouble’ might be Carpenter at his campiest, funniest best, a hodgepodge of genre ideas that still somehow feels as fresh today as it was when it first flopped in the eighties. Much of that comes from Carpenter’s frequent collaborator Russell, who could always be trusted to be loose, charismatic, and dangerous in their joint ventures and who here showcases an affable vulnerability even when he’s attempting to be the hero. With Burton’s smarmy sarcasm and bloated sense of self-worth, Russell’s mixture of alpha male aggression and almost absurd boobery lets the film get away with its increasingly-outlandish storyline and its artful visual effects, composed via optical effects and make up augmentation, has aged gracefully over the years. —DT
“Prince of Darkness” (1987)
After a string of excellent, yet financially unsuccessful, bigger-budgeted films, Carpenter returned to smaller-scale — but no less thematically grandiose — filmmaking. Opening with one his best musical compositions (with the title card arriving nine minutes in), Carpenter takes many of the themes that he has explored throughout his career (man’s capacity for evil and how humanity can turn on one another at the flip of a coin) and morphs them into a literal physical manifestation (that being the green canister of Satan’s essence that drives the plot). “Prince” is an incredibly slow-burn, and outside of Donald Pleasence doing his best work in a Carpenter collaboration since “Halloween,” there are some rough performances to get past (which may explain the polarizing nature of this particular film). But, if you can get past them and get sucked into the haunting atmosphere and terrific climax, you will be rewarded with one of Carpenter’s messier, but most fascinating films. Fans of more recent, meticulous “satanic panic” films like Ti West’s “The House of the Devil” or Na Hong-jin’s “The Wailing” should go back and seek this one out, if they haven’t already. — Ryan Oliver
“They Live” (1988)
Only John Carpenter could turn a movie whose plot goofily hinges on a pair of magical sunglasses (that expose the alien menace lying just beneath the surface of everyday life, in black-and-white for some reason) into a stone-cold classic, one whose imagery has been appropriated by both Barack Obama‘s 2008 presidential campaign and American skateboard culture and deemed worthy of both an entire book-length dissection by acclaimed novelist Jonathan Lethem as well as a shot-for-shot remake on acclaimed animated television series “South Park.” Weirdly, it seems that “They Live,” a low budget B-movie takedown of Reagan-era politics starring a non-professional actor (wrestler “Rowdy” Roddy Piper) and pleasurably lo-fi visuals straight out of a fifties sci-fi movie, would go on to become Carpenter’s second most influential movie of his career after “Halloween.” Part of what makes “They Live” so much fun is how on-the-nose it is; it’s rare to see a movie of Carpenter’s this uninterested in nuance. And it’s kind of liberating. There is nothing subtle about “They Live,” from the evil alien menace being a stand-in for the Republican party, to the epic fight sequence between Piper and “The Thing” alum Keith David that seems to go on forever, to the surprisingly effective lead performance by Piper (who fits perfectly into the Carpenter “fuck you” hero mold and ad-libbed immortal lines like “I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass, and I’m all out of bubblegum”), to the ghoulish design of the aliens, who are straight out of a Saturday matinee shocker. One of the great moments on the “They Live” Blu-ray, also produced by Shout Factory, is when an interviewer asks Carpenter if there was ever any consideration given to cutting down the seemingly endless fight sequence between David and Piper. Carpenter’s face curls into a snarl and he says, with mock incredulity, “Fuck no.” The sequence in the film when Piper puts on the sunglasses and the “real” world is revealed—”composed with the serene assurance of Hitchcock or Kubrick” according to Lethem—is the source of much of the film’s influential power. The black-and-white signage that says “OBEY” was appropriated first by street artist Shepard Fairey for his own campaign and later for Obama’s initial presidential run; replicas of the sunglasses (embossed with the film’s memorable logo) are sold on fashion websites; and a lone man, awash in a sea of bullshit, has become a striking metaphor for being halfway aware of what was happening while Reagan pushed his dangerous economic and social agendas. On that same Blu-ray interview, Carpenter said, “I would like to point out that I think that the eighties have never ended. They’re still with us today. We’ve never repudiated this Reaganomics idea. They’re still here. And they’re still among us.” In other words: they live. — DT