One of the most noticeable elements of modern capitalism is the slow but inescapable monopolization of media. In the past few years, a handful of corporations have absorbed dozens of different media franchises and smaller companies into their ever-expanding influence. These 6 companies are Disney, Viacom, Time-Warner, NewsCorp, CBS, and General Electric. An ownership stranglehold like that offers a lot of revenue and power to the owners of those companies. This monopoly is most obvious with companies like Disney, who currently own the rights to some of the most financially lucrative films in history: Star Wars, Avatar, and Avengers: Infinity War. The franchising rights for the former and latter film franchises alone could keep the company afloat for decades, but of course that isn’t stopping the Mighty Mouse from getting its gloved hands on as many companies and intellectual properties as it can. Consider this link to a chart detailing its current products and subsidiaries:
Speaking of Star Wars, however, it’s worth mentioning that its influence goes further than the sparking of a lucrative media franchise. The effects studio it founded, Industrial Lights and Magic, would go on to revolutionize the special effects industry. Beginning with practical methods like miniature models and matte paintings, the studio would innovate with both analog and digital special effects over the years, including the world’s first entirely CGI character with the Stained Glass Knight in the 1985 film “Young Sherlock Holmes”. The studio would return to Star Wars franchise in the late 90s and early 2000s, assisting with adapting its older effects alongside more modern methods, including entirely CGI characters and scenery. While most films have embraced computer-generated special effects, the older, more practical effects still have a place in Star Wars, most notably with the Disney+ show The Mandalorian, in which the character “The Child” is portrayed by a classic Frank Oz Yoda-esque muppet instead of a digital model. This choice was suggested by guest actor and acclaimed film director Werner Herzog, who was present on set before the character’s debut. Upon overhearing two crew members arguing over whether to use the puppet Child or insert a digital model in post, the director interjected with: “You are cowards. Leave it.” The decision paid off, as The Child has quickly become one of the most widely beloved Star Wars characters of the past decade.
There’s a facet of the Horror Film genre that can be boiled down to the relationship between hunter and prey. Rather than using fear of the unknown or a sense of looming, existential dread, this subgenre of horror film-codified in classics like Psycho and The Shining, later given a more supernatural edge with films like Alien and Friday the 13th-relies on building suspense, occasionally released through sudden scares often involving the murder of side characters. The climax usually involves a scenario in which either the hero (usually the traditional Final Girl) triumphs and defeats the antagonist, or on rarer occasions, the remaining group of protagonists manages to escape or defeat the beast as a team. The Terminator by director James Cameron, a suspenseful tale of a woman stalked by a determined android assassin from the distant future, is a shining example of this type of horror film. However, Terminator isn’t just a game of cat-and-mouse with firearms and car chases. It contains elements of numerous subgenres of horror, as detailed in the American International Journal of Contemporary Research’s entry titled “The Genre of Horror” by Mgr. Viktória Prohászková. Specifically, Terminator also qualifies for “Apocalyptic Horror”, films detailing the end of the human race or the world as we know it, “Crime Horror”, “Psychological Horror”, playing off the fear of the main protagonist, in this case both Sarah and Kyle, and to a lesser extent “Erotic Horror” thanks to that one scene with Sarah’s roommate and her boyfriend.
Furthermore, it also features numerous elements of a Science Fiction film, such as the overarching plot point of time travel and the mechanical nature of the film’s ‘monster’. As defined in Dartmouth Library’s research guide, Science Fiction is “stories involving conflicts between science and technology, human nature, and social organization in futuristic or fantastical worlds, created in cinema through distinctive iconographies, images, and sounds often produced by means of special effects technology.” The skeletal face of the T-800 is indeed quite distinctive, and the origins of cinema’s most celebrated cyborg is perhaps the best source a horror monster can have: From the nightmares of its creator. According to James Cameron’s official website, the gaunt visage of the Terminator was first seen by the director during a fever-induced nightmare during a vacation in Rome. In this dream, he saw a humanoid figure wreathed in flame, the flesh slowly burning off its advancing form, revealing the robotic skeleton beneath as its unblinking red eyes stared at him from within the inferno. After waking up, James Cameron recorded this vision with pencil and paper, in a sketch seen below:
He would later add detail to this concept with a painting of the vision, establishing the signature chrome skeleton of a monster that would go on to haunt the dreams of moviegoers for generations to come.
What’s perhaps most interesting and suspenseful about the first act of The Terminator is that upon first viewing, the audience isn’t sure who to fully trust. We’re given two time travellers, one cold, unfeeling, and merciless, the other frantic, desperate, and subtle. While the Terminator’s first scene indicates exactly what its overall intent is, Kyle Reese is shown to consider violence a last resort instead of a first impression. However, we only see the Terminator kill the first Sarah Connor, with the second’s death mentioned in the televised news report. This makes the audience reconsider Kyle’s intent, especially considering the shotgun he’d concealed in his stolen coat a few scenes prior. This is in stark contrast to most other horror films, in which there’s only one monster present, and no question about their morality. It’s only when Kyle turns his shotgun on the Terminator inside the nightclub that the audience is given concrete evidence of his motive. The building suspense as we’re shown one murder in its entirety, but only told about another through a news broadcast while Sarah Connor begins to fear for her life, is a vital part of the film’s structure as a horror film.
Even with Kyle Reese on her side, it’s made incredibly clear throughout the latter two acts of the film that direct confrontation with the Terminator is not an option. Even though Kyle had grown up living in the distant future, fighting every day for survival against the ever-present Skynet army, his only advice is for Sarah to keep her head down and drive away from the mechanical monster as far as she can, to buy time to formulate a plan of attack. Most of the time, horror monsters are limited to melee combat, like Jason’s machete, Freddie Krueger’s claw, or the Alien’s fangs, talons and tail. Not only that, but they’re often limited to a single confined area, such as Camp Crystal Lake, Elm Street, or the Nostromo. They employ stealth, psychological manipulation, and ambush tactics to catch their ‘prey’. That isn’t the case here, Kyle and Sarah can drive anywhere they want. The point is, it doesn’t matter. The Terminator isn’t some reanimated shambling beast, a bloodthirsty nightmare demon, or a mindless creature. It’s a thinking, learning computer who never tires and will always arrive at its prey’s destination eventually. It gathers clues from its surroundings, and can disguise its voice to infiltrate areas with ease. It has no need for stealth or subtlety here, besides the bare minimum of occasionally concealing weapons. It made that clear by carving through a police station-what could be a sanctuary from anything else-like a hot knife through butter, prompting Kyle and Sarah to resume their escape. This is perhaps one of the most potent aspects of The Terminator’s horrific appeal to audiences: dissolving the sense of safety that comes from either distance or the presence of authority figures.
Despite the first Terminator film being mainly a horror film with a foundation of science fiction and faint elements of traditional action, these horror elements were heavily diluted in the later sequels, with one clear reason: The existence of an allied Terminator. Perhaps due mostly to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s iconic marketability, his character found a way to return as a main protagonist through some manner of convoluted plot events in nearly every sequel in the series. While this is to be expected from what is perhaps Arnold Swartzenegger’s most recognisable and iconic role, it disrupted the power dynamic that made the first film so effective as a horror film. The T-800’s presence made the conflict between the target humans and the most recent upgrade of the Terminator a lot more even, though every film still involved a customary amount of fleeing and car chases. The horror elements slowly faded away, even as more and more Terminator variants were introduced over the years, each more advanced than the previous models. But in the end, it never truly matters: The new monsters aren’t destined to be the victims of the Final Girl (most often Sarah Connor, either young or old), they’re dispatched by Arnold’s newest timeline variant of the T-800, with a steely glare and a one-liner. While this series hasn’t lost its original gruesome and suspenseful edge as much as other films of the era (looking your way, Jurassic Park), it’s still disappointing to see a film franchise built from the ground up to inspire as much fear in its viewers as that old fever dream instilled in its director distance itself from the elements of Horror cinema.
“Film Genres: Science Fiction.” Research Guides, researchguides.dartmouth.edu/filmgenres/scifi.
Martin, G Neil. “(Why) Do You Like Scary Movies? A Review of the Empirical Research on Psychological Responses to Horror Films.” Frontiers in Psychology, Frontiers Media S.A., 18 Oct. 2019, www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6813198/.
It is, admittedly, rather unfair to place the success of a film squarely on a director’s shoulders. They are undoubtedly group efforts, with the actors, editors, writers, and other crew members providing invaluable contributions to the look, sound, and overall appeal of the film. When directors reach the podium, award in hand, to thank those who assisted in their success, film crews are often listed shortly after family members. But it’s also hard to ignore how the guidance of a certain director can heavily impact certain parts of the film, be it casting, appearance, or editing. This is where “Auteur Theory” gets its main merit of discussion, although the way these director’s signatures are shown have changed since the days of the old, Studio-controlled Hollywood. Back then, Directors displayed their Auteur signature through overwhelming influence, in a way that studio influence couldn’t interfere. Alfred Hitchcock used suspense, unique camera angles, and recurring themes to create films still lauded, if not outright worshipped, by film scholars today. Ed Wood used recurring cast members (including horror legend Bela Lugosi), sudden plot twists, and stock footage, to achieve…the opposite effect to Hitchcock’s. And Akira Kurosowa’s particular brand of suspense and action in his Samurai films would leave a lasting impact on the genre. While the control the Studio has over film production has somewhat lessened since that era, directors are still trying to make a name for themselves through unique and recognizable approaches to filmmaking that remain consistent throughout their careers.
One notable example of a modern director with a recognisable Auteur’s Signature would be Tim Burton. From the very beginning of his career, the recurring themes in Burton’s filmography were obvious. Movies like Beetlejuice, Batman, and Edward Scissorhands presented moody, often morbid visuals with a mix of whimsy and dark humor. Certainly a contrast to his first film, Peewee’s Big Adventure, but this madhouse tragicomic approach to visuals and dialogue would become a recurring theme in his works. Later films like Sleepy Hollow, Corpse Bride, and Sweeny Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street are excellent examples of this, as well as two more repeating elements of his work: The casting of Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter in significant roles (and to a slightly lesser extent, Christopher Lee), and a soundtrack composed by Danny Elfman. These traits would even carry over to his adaptations of media that at first seemed like improper fits for his approach, such as Alice in Wonderland and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Another personal favorite example of a modern Auteur’s Signature would be the works of director Edgar Wright, whose main recurring trait-the casting of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost-began with his late 90s to early 2000s era sitcom Spaced. This casting partnership would carry over to Wright’s famous “Cornetto Trilogy”, consisting of Hot Fuzz, Shawn of the Dead, and The World’s End. These three films also exemplify his other noticeable director’s traits, often mixing action and comedy with the help of snappy editing, match cuts, montages, and creative scene transitions. While his partnership with Pegg and Frost would fade, the other elements of his signature style carried over to his later works; Baby Driver and the film adaptation of 6-volume graphic novel series Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World.
The last director I can think of who has a noticeable and consistent style throughout his career would be Wes Anderson. The overall mood of Anderson’s films could best be described as “Eccentric, yet Dignified”. His signature includes long, wide shots of houses and other living spaces (often in a “dollhouse” format to display the occupants) and deadpan, witty dialogue occasionally delivered by characters who seem surprisingly intelligent and verbose considering their age. When it comes to recurring actors as a recognisable directing choice, few could match Wes Anderson’s devotion to casting Bill Murray as either the main character or a significant side character. Other recurring cast members include the Wilson brothers, Willam Dafoe, and Tilda Swinton. This Auteur’s Signature became so consistent and recognisable that Saturday Night Live at one point parodied it with a theoretical horror film directed by him.
It’s interesting to consider how much an actor’s impact on the culture around them continues after they pass on. Indeed, their impact could last for so long that their most memorable traits can last longer than their name. Sometimes these impactful performances result in the actor being typecast in future roles, in an effort by the directors to revive that initial success. Sometimes this strategy works wonders, sometimes it fails. Sometimes the actors seek to distance themselves from this remarkable role, while others embrace it. One of the more famous, and indeed classic examples of a typecast actor would be Bela Lugosi. Perhaps the great-grandfather of how Dracula and vampires as a whole are depicted in visual media, Bela continued past his famous 1931 film to numerous other pictures, which tended to lean towards horror. His signature piercing gaze and Hungarian accent made him stand out in whatever role he was given. Often, he’d be cast alongside fellow “horror icon” actor Boris Karloff. To Boris’ increasing irritation, he would often be cast in minor roles with few lines, but still have his name prominently featured on the film’s posters. While he’d delve into being cast against type, most notably as Igor in numerous Frankenstein films, he couldn’t quite escape the gravitational pull of Dracula. At one point, he even reprised his most famous role in the 1948 film “Abbot and Costello meet Frankenstein”. After a brief collaboration with director Ed Wood, in part to assist with his rehabilitation with drug addiction, Bela would act in the last film of his life in 1955: “The Black Sheep”. To his display, he was cast as a mute, giving him no final lines. Test footage filmed earlier in his partnership with Wood later appeared in 1959’s “Plan 9 from Outer Space” Bela Lugosi would die of a heart attack in 1956, at the age of 73. At the request of his wife and son, he was buried in one of his many Dracula costume capes as a final tribute to what would be his longest-lasting legacy. And indeed, though his name may not be as instantly recognisable as it was in his heyday, his piercing eyes and Hungarian accent would become as synonymous with the image of a “Vampire” as the traditional fangs and cape. This legacy of traits is perhaps most famously exemplified with Sesame Street’s Count Count.
I find it fascinating how, when it comes to typecasting actors, it seems that villainous roles seem like the hardest to shake. Usually those with menacing or intimidating appearances, low or gravelly voices, or prior experience in similar roles to make adapting to the character easier. Even if such actors manage to have a more diverse selection of roles before or after that which the public deems their most ‘iconic’, the memory of that role will almost always be the first on people’s minds when discussing them. Take, for example, Peter Cushing. A horror legend much like Lugosi, Peter Cushing’s career was dominated by the horror films of Hammer Productions, with his friend Christopher Lee as perhaps his own Karloff-like counterpart. From Baron Frankenstein to Doctor Van Helsing, to starring in a BBC adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984, he was a prolific portrayer of legendary literary characters. He even had a brief period of time playing Dr. Who in two films ( “Dr. Who and the Daleks” and “Daleks’ Invasion of Earth”) in the mid-sixties. And yet, what is undoubtedly his most recognisable role and the one which has cemented his place in the minds of film-goers everywhere was his role as Grand Moff Tarkin in 1977’s Star Wars.
Peter Cushing’s role as Tarkin was considered so irreplaceable that, when filming the 2016 film Rogue One set around the events before the first Star Wars film, director Gareth Edwards decided to preserve the character’s original likeness through a mixture of Industrial Light and Magic’s CGI effects and the acting and voice of British-trained actor Guy Henry.
Another prime example of an actor’s legacy would be Alan Rickman, a classically British-trained actor who had a long career with a wide range of roles, and yet his most memorable roles are that of Severus Snape from Harry Potter and Hans Gruber from Die Hard. In fact, at one point Rickman took on a role in the film Galaxy Quest that intentionally mirrored the career of the late Leonard Nimoy, who was often typecast after his legendary role as Spock on the original Star Trek.
Al Pacino doesn’t quite qualify for the “legacy” part of this idea, but it’s worth noting that his most famous roles are still Micheal Corleone in The Godfather and Tony Montana in Scarface, often leading to being typecast in similar roles despite having done performances of Shakespeare’s Richard the Third for a documentary and playing Shylock on both stage and screen productions of Merchant of Venice. In fact, despite being nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award for playing Corleone in the Godfather part 2, it was his emotional and masterful performance as a blind war veteran in the 1992 film Scent of a Woman that earned him the award. His dedication to maintaining a respectful portrayal of the blind while still keeping the unrelated negative qualities of the character intact probably helped win over the Academy.
But when it comes to method acting, recognisable roles lasting beyond an otherwise bountiful career, and an unforgettable legacy, my favorite example would be Puerto Rican actor and Addams Family patriarch Raul Julia. From a young age, Julia had an interest in classical performances. At the Colegio San Ignacio de Loyola in San Juan, he would organize performances of Hamlet, King Lear, and The Tempest. This love of the theater would soon draw the eye of producer and director Joseph Prapp, who offered him a job at the New York Shakespeare Festival. From there, he would divide his time between roles on stage and TV screen, from The Gentlemen of Verona to Sesame Street. He earned 3 Tonys for Best Actor in his performances of The Threepenny Opera, Where’s Charley, and Nine. He made his film debut in 1971, alongside the aforementioned Al Pacino in The Panic of Needle Park. But no performance could truly match his bombastic enthusiasm as Gomez Addams in 1991’s The Addams Family and its ‘93 sequel Addams Family Values. But in 1994, while filming The Burning Season in Mexico, Raul Julia got a bad case of food poisoning from eating some sushi, disturbing a stomach that had already received surgery a few months earlier for cancer treatment. After hospitalization and severe weight loss, he completed work on Burning Season, but at this point he knew his next role could easily be his last. Reviewing his options, he decided on a film that most would consider below his prestigious ability. He accepted the role of M. Bison in Street Fighter: The Movie.
Since the movie was being filmed on-site in Australia, Raul requested that his family would be able to accompany him on the journey. And this is where the true motivation behind his choice became clear: Raul was turning “Research for Proper Character Acting” into time to spend with his wife and children. He’d known his kids were fans of the franchise, and now he could prepare for his final role by playing alongside them. And it was worth it.
Starring Jean-Claude Van Damme as Guile, Street Fighter: The Movie is widely considered to be a film with few redeeming qualities, with the sole exception being Raul Julia’s performance. Despite no longer having the energy and health of his days as an Addams, he donned the cap and cape and delivered his lines with the weight and grandeur of his Shakespeare days, while maintaining a balance of Ham and Cheese that matched the film’s tone. Without his unforgettable performance, Street Fighter would have been merely another subpar Van Damme action film, forgotten like so many other video game adaptations. Viewers and professional critics agreed when this film came out that Raul Julia singlehandedly. And if you were to ask a fan of Street Fighter today if the film adaptation was memorable, they would without a doubt respond the same:
Introduction to Film Studies 