Here's the Thing

I’m a bit concerned about this “Thing” thing. This is the thing; “The Thing from Another World” was an admirable picture for 1951. Margaret Sheridan would have definitely been supremely doable bent over a stump in a garter and some hose with a bright red ball gag in her mouth, and Corporal Barnes went on to manage the production of several episodes of Batman, Land of the Giants, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Time Tunnel and Lost in Space; some of the best TV Sci-Fi of my youth. Of course, no one can forget a young Marshall Dillon as the carrot from outer space. The black and white portrayal of the Arctic monochrome and the creeping claustrophobic paranoia of hunting the budding extraterrestrial vegetable definitely gave the movie an “in the produce section, no one can hear you scream” quality. The Cold War (Arctic, Cold? anyway…) was in full swing and we were under siege from every treachery imaginable with nothing but the All-American electrical technology of Nikola Tesla to preserve us. I didn’t see the movie for the first time until around 1970, but I was young enough, and not quite completely spoiled enough by “special effects”, to still find it frightening.

Along comes 1982, Reagan is President, and I, listlessly killing time between the Army and college, go with my sister and some friends to the Omni in Atlanta to see John Carpenter’s “The Thing”. It’s an afternoon matinee and, consistent with Atlanta’s demographic, the crowd is almost exclusively black. Without undue stereotyping, it is accurate to report that many patrons were already talking to the screen while Snake Plissken was still in the Viking research station eyeballing frozen corpses. What proceeded to unfold was a grotesque ballet of nauseating imagery, gallows humor and the anxious fear of genuine uncertainty. I’m not going to say that “The Thing” is a masterpiece, but “The Thing” is a masterpiece. I have this movie on DVD and have nearly worn a hole in it. I never get too much of Kurt Russell’s sneering or Wilfred “Diabetes” Brimley’s deadpan. And the black guy doesn’t get killed first, or perhaps, at all. Keith David, whom I sleazily loved in “Requiem for a Dream” and admired in “Dead Presidents”, is the perfect foil for Russell’s I’m-young-and-good-looking-and-in-charge-and-also-white. It was 1982, remember. I will say, while I did miss some of the dialog that day, I don’t think I had before or since enjoyed a more blissfully uncontrolled communion of terror with my fellow Homo sapiens. Anyway, I didn’t feel John Carpenter had ripped off “The Thing from Another World” so much as allowed it to evolve. It was more than “updated”; it was transformed into the gag reflex horror of the full color, post Vietnam reality of human civilization which the naiveté of hiding under a desk to escape from a 20 megaton hydrogen bomb would never have been able to comprehend. It was simply, “The Thing”, and it didn’t matter where the fuck the thing was from; it was fucking bad news. John Carpenter had already proven he could generate return on investment with “Halloween”, “The Fog” and “Escape from New York”, so you knew it was going to be good, but it was better than good; it was different.

So now, along comes “The Thing” 2011 style. Of course I have not seen it yet, and, of course, I will, but I can’t help feel like somebody wants to replace the Mona Lisa with a digitally enhanced Mona Lisa. Matthijs van Heijningen Jr. hasn’t directed shit, and while Mary Elizabeth Winstead is a babe, eye candy does not a horror movie make. You just can’t tell me that you can do better than MacReady and Childs, surrounded by the flickering remains of the research station, sharing a drink, while the frozen darkness slithers in from all sides. My children say I’m getting old and stupid, but I’m still smart enough to follow MacReady’s advice and just wait here for a little while... see what happens. 

The Origin of Father's Day

2,000 years ago, during the Han Dynasty, there lived a poor peasant named Wu Chan Chu. He resided with his wife and eight children in the small village of Wuwei near the capital of Luoyang. For many months, children had been disappearing from the village without a trace, despite the best efforts of their parents to keep a constant eye on them. Many feared that wolves or a bear that had acquired the taste for human flesh were to blame, but Wu Chan’s wife practiced the old religion and she told all who would listen that a demon stalked the town seeking revenge for being cheated by the villager’s ancestors. Wu Chan did not believe in such superstitious nonsense and he was embarrassed by his wife’s backward ways, but she was a good wife and had borne him many healthy children, so he kept his tongue.

One evening Wu Chan was returning to the village after having delivered a wagon-load of wheat to a nearby town. Darkness was falling as he approached the outskirts by the lonely road that passed through a thick wood. Only minutes short of home, he came upon a terrifying sight; a grotesque and ferocious creature was eating the remains of a child Wu Chan recognized as a son of a neighboring family. He thought to take a stick to the creature, but it rose and stood like a man, blood and gore dripping from its enormous teeth. It looked as if its skin was alive with a coat of flesh-eating beetles and it gave off the most over-whelming stench of decay. Wu Chan did not want to believe it, but he knew he was in the presence of a demon; he would be very sorry to have to admit to his wife that she had been right.

“Wu Chan. Your feeble efforts cannot deter me. I am the powerful Demon Shen, and I have returned after a long absence on important business to claim what is rightfully mine.”

The words felt as if they were hammered into Wu Chan’s ears. He was frightened and wanted to run away, but he feared for the safety of his children. “O Great Demon Shen, what can you possibly desire from our humble village?” Wu Chan could hear his teeth chattering.

The demon spat out a small human tooth and looked at Wu Chan, though he seemed pleased to have someone to converse with. “Since you have the courage to inquire, I will answer your inquiry. Over two-hundred years ago this village sought my aid during a time of drought. In exchange for bringing the rains, I was to have a child to be my companion in Diyu (Hell), but I was tricked and they gave me a child made of straw to accompany me, which promptly burst into flames when I returned to the underworld. I have been totally pissed ever since, and now I am here to claim all the village’s children, the last of which shall accompany me to Diyu.”

Wu Chan had no doubt that some in the village, even today, would greedily and foolishly try and cheat a demon, but Wu Chan loved his children and prayed that they might be spared. “O Great Demon Shen, I beg to accompany you to Diyu in the stead of the promised child so that my children might be spared.” Wu Chan knew his wife would be quite cross about having to provide for eight children on her own, but this was better than having them eaten.

“Ah, Wu Chan” said the demon, “I can see that you are a sentimental fool, but you have displayed great courage and selfless love. As a demon, I do not understand this and, quite frankly, it makes me a little uncomfortable. I am in the mood to eat children and cannot, therefore, accept your offer, but because you do not fear evil when faced with harm to your loved ones, I will spare all your children on the condition you return to this place each year at this exact time and say “Shen is fucking awesome!” You must do this each and every year until the day of your death.” Having said this, the demon billowed into a sulfurous cloud and blew into the dark woods.

Wu Chan returned home and greeted his wife and children affectionately. He told no one but his wife what had occurred and, while children continued to disappear for some years, Wu Chan’s children were spared (this did, however, create some friction with the neighbors, but what can you do?) Every year on what came to be known to his children as “Father’s Day” Wu Chan faithfully returned to the spot and paid homage to the demon until Wu Chan died in his bed surrounded by his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.