Using horror films to promote a political message is far from unusual, of course.  But one that manages to decry the Vietnam War--without even using the word "Vietnam" in its script--by telling the tender and terrifying tale of a zombie and his mother, is quite unusual.  Inspired by the seminal short-story shocker, "The Monkey's Paw," Deathdream displays the horrors of war by using its ghoulish protagonist to bring war home to roost--and then ravage the innocent.  In other words, a scenario where the body count occurs among the neighbors and...

By HANK REARDON

Be careful what you wish for.

This is the "author’s message" of Deathdream (1974), a Vietnam War-era variation on the clever (and oft-filmed) horror tale "The Monkey’s Paw," by W.W. Jacobs. This famous campfire story, written in 1902, has since been adapted many times for the stage, screen, radio and television. "The Monkey’s Paw" is one of those short stories that everyone has heard about, even if they have not read it.

The plot unfolds as the White family spends an evening around the fireplace at their home in London. Enter Sergeant-Major Morris, back from India after more than 20 years on the subcontinent; he entertains his hosts with exotic stories of life there and sells Mr. White a mummified monkey's paw, a curio that grants its owner three wishes--but always with a catch and at a great price.

Morris warns the Whites not to wish on it at all—but of course they do, with horrible consequences. Mr. White wishes for 200 pounds, and then receives a 200£ check as compensation for his son's death in an industrial accident. His wife makes him wish his son back to life, and the boy returns in a mangled and putrefying condition, having clawed his way out of the grave. The father then wishes his son back into the ground.

The standout film adaptation of "The Monkey’s Paw" is the 1933 version co-directed by Wesley Ruggles and Ernest Schoedsack. Other movies based on Jacobs’s story were made in the United Kingdom, Argentina, Italy and Spain. Notable TV adaptations include a 1949 episode of Suspense starring Boris Karloff and Mildred Natwick; a 1965 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour entitled The Monkey's Paw--A Retelling, starring Leif Erickson, Jane Wyatt and Lee Majors; and a 1973 episode of Orson Welles’ Great Mysteries with Patrick Magee and Cyril Cusack.

Alan Ormsby’s screenplay for Deathdream is clearly based on this well-known story, although the source material is not mentioned in the screen credits. A more accurate title for Deathdream would have been The Night Andy Came Home (one of the film’s many working titles, including Dead Of Night). Set against the Capra-like backdrop of a small Florida town, Deathdream tells the creepy and ultimately very sad story of fatally injured Vietnam war veteran Andy Brooks (Richard Backus), summoned back from the dead by his insanely grieving mother Christine (Lynn Carlin).

Deathdream begins with a Vietnam War scene obviously staged in the Florida swamps. (In his audio commentary, director Bob Clark confirms that the outskirts of Orlando substituted for Nam.) Backus was unavailable for these opening scenes in which the Andy character is killed; the producer added this footage as an afterthought after shooting wrapped on the picture. So it’s rather confusing to observe that the actor playing Andy at the moment of death by a Viet Cong bullet is not Backus, but another actor by the name of Gary Swanson, who signed on when Backus was unavailable.

Returning home, Andy is strangely unemotional and fails to "live up" to people’s expectations, casting a pall of shame and unease over his family. He spends a lot of time in his room, in the dark, rocking back and forth on his rocking chair.

Christine becomes ever more delusional, refusing to recognize her son’s "dead-ish" condition, which in turn causes the father, Charles (John Marley), to drink heavily and erupt in fits of impotent paterfamilias rage and petulance. The patriotic Charles feels intense guilt for having urged Andy to go off to war. Charles wanted his son to be toughened up, as he feared the lad was becoming a mama’s boy.

Marley and Carlin co-starred in Faces, John Cassavetes’ 1968 cinéma-vérité masterpiece tracking a day in the life of an unhappily married couple. Because of the actors’ similar roles in Deathdream, as well as the extensive use of close-ups and the theme of marital discord, I felt at times that I was viewing a horror film directed by Cassavetes. If this acclaimed actor/director had ever helmed a scary movie, I’m sure it would have looked something like Deathdream.

In any event, Deathdream’s very talented director Bob Clark (who went on to direct Black Christmas and Murder By Decree) chose to cast brilliant actors in the lead roles and this makes all the difference, imbuing this low-budgeter with more than a touch of class.

Deathdream introduced me to a marvelous actor I’d never heard of: Richard Backus. Mother-dominated Tony Perkins in his prime could not have delivered a more powerful portrayal of oedipal weirdness than Backus does as the undead Andy. On the strength of his performance in Deathdream, I’d say Backus deserved a formidable acting career, which unfortunately did not happen. There is not one false note in his performance as a vampire/zombie.

Appalled by his hideous fate, Andy is forced to kill in order to stay "alive" and to stave off signs of decomposition. He drains people of their blood using a hypodermic syringe and injects the fluid into his own body--a visually poetic metaphor for the plight of many Vietnam War veterans who picked up a nasty heroin habit during their tour of duty.

The most violent scene in Deathdream occurs when Andy kills the mature and humane town doctor (well played by the late Henderson Forsythe) in his clinic, stabbing him with a syringe while uttering the deathless lines: "I died for you, Doc. Why can’t you return the favor?"

Brought back from death by his mother’s iron will, Andy has only one means of escape from his artificial "life." He drags Christine to the town cemetery, hops into the family plot and proceeds to scoop dirt over himself. Only then does his mother realize the terrible crime she has committed against nature and "the way of things." No longer in denial about Andy’s condition, Christine accepts her son’s death and lets him go. Half-buried, the monstrous Andy closes his eyes and passes on. This makes for a very powerful and downbeat ending.

Deathdream is, to the best of my knowledge, the first anti-Vietnam War film made in the USA. But the political subtext is kept deliberately subtle and the film never indulges in polemics. In fact, the word "Vietnam" is not uttered once during the film’s 88-minute running time.

Deathdream is the first professional credit of makeup wizard Tom Savini. Yes, this was his first job as chief make-up/FX artist, and he makes a very impressive debut. That Andy’s undead state is rendered so convincingly is another reason why Deathdream has stood the test of time, despite having enjoyed only a scattered theatrical release in the Deep South 32 years ago.

Deathdream bypassed theatres in the northern States, and was sold directly to television, airing on many Shock Theatre-type shows through the seventies and early eighties. From this limited exposure, its reputation endured, leading to Blue Underground’s first-class DVD treatment (highly recommended for the quality of the transfer and for such extras as Deathdreaming, a 12-minute interview with Backus, who parodies his mad stare as the end credits roll).

Deathdream was a major influence on John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978), which originated after Clark told Carpenter how a Deathdream sequel would unfold. Andy would have somehow survived and been incarcerated in a mental hospital, from which he escapes, returning to his hometown on Halloween night.

Deathdream is also the template for George Romero’s Martin (1977), the twisted tale of a razor blade-wielding vampire wannabe. Coincidentally, Savini served as makeup artist and special effects maven on Martin--his first screen credit after Deathdream.

I daresay that Deathdream is the greatest zombie soldier movie since Abel Gance’s J’Accuse! (1938) and it’s a must for any lover of "living dead" cinema. Go Underground and dig that crazy grave!

Thanks, Hank.  It's a shame that Deathdream suffered such a sporadic play in the US and then received less-than-stellar treatment on home video...it is truly a complex and textured tale of terror, one that is at times almost lyrical in its depiction of the horrors of war brought home to roost.  Deathdream was, in fact, a forgotten film for many years.   But, thanks to Blue Underground's excellent rendering of it on DVD, we can now see and appreciate this horror gem in the pristine condition it once appeared on a relative handful of drive-in screens.  Unlike poor Andy, Deathdream now will not decompose in the grave of neglect and apathy.

Article copyright © Hank Reardon

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