[2.8]
This one didn’t really do much for me. I’m not the biggest Peter Jackson fan, but this horror-comedy fell into a strange place between the off-kilter craziness of DEAD ALIVE and the special effects-obsessed coldness of KING KONG. The film opens in medias res with an old school haunted house vibe and a woman screaming and running through an ornate mansion while being chased by an apparition living in the walls. Jackson is preparing us for a goofy supernatural yarn. The scenes then move quickly as we are introduced to Frank (Michael J. Fox), a huckster who uses his ability to communicate with ghosts to con people into thinking they are haunted and need his help. He is aided by three roaming spirits: Cyrus (an uncomfortable parody of a 1970’s black man, who angrily shouts all of his lines), Stuart (a clumsy 1950’s nerd), and the Judge (a raunchy, dilapidated Old West figure). We also meet Magda, an uptight British newspaper editor, and her wide-eyed assistant. It seems like these media figures will have prominent parts to play, but they are both dispatched with rather quickly later. We also are introduced to Ray, a meathead who is married to Lucy, who Frank is setting up to con. After Frank rids their house of spirits, Ray immediately dies (off screen) and Frank starts hitting on his widow. Through a series of flashbacks and exposition, we learn that there has been a rash of mysterious heart failures that have left several people dead recently. For the audience, this barely registers as a ‘mystery’, as it is readily apparent that these are the continued killings of the mass murderer Johnny Bartlett (who was executed, but since this is a movie about ghosts, we are led immediately to the conclusion that Johnny’s ghost will be revealed to be the killer). Frank takes it upon himself to start hunting this ghost killer after seeing the black-hooded evil spirit crush the life out of a random guy in the bathroom. For whatever reason, Lucy has already fallen for Frank, and helps him out by going alone to the creepy mansion where Johnny’s accomplice Patricia lives with her mother. Patricia is clearly more than a bit mentally disturbed, but Lucy seems to barely notice, even after Patricia kills her mother.
Eventually, there is a big showdown in the hospital where Johnny and Patricia first committed their crimes, which neatly ties the plot together, as it is revealed that these two were also the ones responsible for killing Frank’s wife after a car accident (the accident that also gave Frank the power to talk to ghosts). In the end, Frank wins and lives happily ever after, with Lucy now having the power to see ghosts too (how? By this point, I could hardly care). I appreciated the rapid escalation of plot in the beginning of the film, but eventually the script took on a rather traditional structure, and I grew bored of the shenanigans. While a horror-comedy about ghosts immediately brings to mind the charm of GHOSTBUSTERS, THE FRIGHTENERS never figures out how to balance it’s tone, with the comedy often coming across as a bit hokey, and most of the horror revolving around actually-disturbing mass murders. And while the story tries hard to depict a clichéd redemption arc for our protagonist (the jaded con-artist who gets a chance to love again and save the day), none of the characters ever really grabbed my attention. As Frank, Michael J. Fox is a bit too dour and aloof, and there’s something about his exhausted-looking face that makes it seem like he’s really not having a lot of fun making this movie. As Lucy, Trini Alvarado is fine in an unremarkable one-dimensional role. As mass murderers, Jake Busey and Dee Wallace Stone are terrifyingly energetic, and their crazed mannerisms steal the show (though I cringed every time I had to see Busey’s disturbing face), but they are also completely motiveless “pure evil” deranged villains. A bit ho-hum. There’s also an eccentric paranormal-and-cult-expert FBI agent Milton Dammers, who ends up being a side villain, as he truly believes Frank is the one who is responsible for all the killings. As Dammers, Jeffrey Combs is pure ham, reveling in the Twin Peaks parody-on-amphetamines role (at one point, the bug-eyed agent rips off his shirt to reveal a chest scarred with occult symbols, as he battles Frank and Lucy with huge automatic weapons). While these differing tonal characters may work on their own (the loony Dammers being the most joyously early-Jackson-style creation), they don’t mesh well together. I laughed a few times during the movie, and was caught by surprise at the sudden turns to truly dark content, but I often found myself wanting the film to speed up and end. Jackson tries to channel his wild energies into a more typical Hollywood product, and it just doesn’t work.
burning retina 