REVIEW: BODY PARTS
The Phantom
BODY PARTS
A review in the public domain
by The Phantom
(baum...@esquire.dpw.com)
BODY PARTS ends this summer's horror drought, but what we horror
phans get is less a downpour than a light summer drizzle. Summertime is
traditionally a slow time for horror films -- the industry assumes that
folks would rather see people killed and dismembered by heroes than
serial killers and so serves up T2 and other such wholesome fare -- and
we phans don't usually get something to sink our fangs into until late
August or early September.
This year, however, we have an early entry that provides a
much-needed counterpoint to the seemingly endless stream of moralizing
that's being churned out of Hollywood this summer. With all these films
about nasty and greedy eighties types getting rehabilitated into caring
and feeling Kevin Costner clones, the Phantom has been more than a
little worried that two of his favorite eighties holdovers -- Freddy and
Chucky, both due for a return appearance next month -- will similarly
renounce their selfish and destructive ways and learn to center
themselves in the universe and live in peace with those around them.
So it was with high hopes that the Phantom bought his popcorn and
settled his Nikes into the newly resurfaced floor of the Embassy 2
theater in the heart of New York's own living reason to regret the
eighties, Times Square. (The Great White Way was the centerpiece of
some misguided "urban renewal" that the plunging stock and real estate
markets soon put an end to. In fact, the Embassy is situated right next
to an empty and unfinished 50-story skyscraper owned by a bankrupt
developer, repossessed by a bankrupt bank, and now serving as lighthouse
for those foolhardy enough to sail the troubled seas of New York's real
estate market.) Alas, the floor of the Embassy commanded the Phantom's
attention far more than did the film; and there's no doubt that it will
stick with him far longer.
BODY PARTS is a film that turns out to be all too true to its name.
Starting with the credits, which are each assembled from bits and pieces
of previous credits; to the plot, which appears to have been pasted
together from two or three different films; to the dialogue, which can
only be described as unspeakable; BODY PARTS feels a lot like there was
a mix-up of sorts at Paramount while they were working on FRIDAY THE
13TH PART 14: THE SORRY AFTERMATH. Somehow or other, the editors
managed to splice a good bit of an exceedingly average Tales >From the
Darkside with some of Jason's outtakes. Instead of wrapping the result
with twine and putting it out on the curb for that week's celluloid
recycling pickup, someone decided to make the most of it and make a
movie of it. High on the Phantom's Christmas list for Paramount is two
or three extra balls of twine and a sharp pair of scissors so that this
sort of thing never happens again. After all, one can never have too
much twine or too many pairs of scissors.
The saddest part of all this is that there really haven't been many
(any?) good "medical-experiment-gone-awry" horror films. Nor have
there been a surfeit of "limbs-with-minds-of-their-own" films, though at
least Oliver Stone gave it a go in 1981 with his rather loopy horror
film, THE HAND. On the other hand (sorry, couldn't resist), there have
been many too many horror films that fail to deliver more than
bottom-of-the-barrel slash and trash thrills. After all, such films
require more special effects and Spring-Loaded Cats than they do
directorial skill or originality, and we all know which is easier to
come by. Yet the premise of BODY PARTS is so promising, and its
suspiciously early release date -- so ghoulishly close to the discovery
of some very nasty business in Milwaukee -- almost insures a certain
amount of prurient public interest in the subject. So why does it seem
that the makers of BODY PARTS did all they could to keep their film from
the terrible taint of originality or interest?
The bare bones of the story, after all, hold great promise. Bill
Chrushank is a mild-mannered psychiatrist who spends his days trying to
understand the psychology of inmates on death row and his nights with
his beautiful wife, his beautiful kids, and his gorgeous house in the
idyllic suburbs (as Vincent Canby of the New York Times puts it, "the
Chrushanks, at least in movie terms, might as well have bull's-eyes on
their backs."). Sure enough, one fine morning he makes the near-fatal
mistake of paying more attention to his work as he navigates a crowded
highway than he does to his seat-belt or the car in front of him and its
rather loose and unreliable-looking rear wheel. Sure enough, tragedy
strikes, and his wife is informed at the hospital that although he will
live, his right arm could not be saved. And sure enough, through a
miracle of modern science and movie coincidence, another right arm is
available and can be grafted onto Bill's body the moment his wife signs
at the dotted line (the contract she signs presumably indemnifies the
filmmakers should Bill's right arm decide to review the film). There's
only one problem, however: Bill's right arm originally belonged to a
brutal murderer who was just put to death.
Once Bill recovers the fun starts. It seems that Bill suffers from
terrible nightmares and that his arm doesn't always do what he wants it
to do -- or does it? One of the great tragedies of BODY PARTS is that
such an interesting question is quickly cast aside, the better to make
way for the unoriginal and uninteresting antics that comprise the film's
second half. What a terrible waste, though, for by ignoring that simple
and subtle proposition -- that since the arm can't do anything that Bill
doesn't want it to, perhaps Bill the mild-mannered psychiatrist is in
fact Bill the homicidal killer -- the filmmakers also manage to ignore
the one aspect of their story that could lift BODY PARTS from the ranks
of the banal and the inept and place it among the true classics of the
genre. (Phans who want a taste of what BODY PARTS might have been had
it been more ably handled should rent BRAIN DEAD, a classic
is-he-or-isn't-he tale of psychological horror.)
Instead, it becomes apparent very early on that Bill's arm does, in
fact, act on its own -- that it is still, in some way, under the control
of its original owner. To be honest, it doesn't even do all that much
-- after all, since it's still attached to Bill (unlike Michael Caine's
severed hand in THE HAND), the most it could legitimately do is cut Bill
while he shaves in the morning or strangle his wife while he sleeps at
night. A film based on such restricted mayhem would be even less
interesting than is BODY PARTS, and in fact BODY PARTS ends up focusing
less on Bill and his arm and more on what happened to the rest of the
executed killer's various parts. As it happens, his other arm and both
of his legs turn up, each attached to another lucky accident victim.
(There were more than a few snide remarks passed through the largely
uninvolved audience at the Embassy about certain other of the killer's
parts and what they might be up to, but we'll leave those speculations
for BODY PARTS 2, or perhaps PARTY BODS 2, a film that would at least be
able to generate more audience involvement than the one presently being
reviewed.) It gives nothing away to say that these poor folks also
might just as well have had bull's-eyes on their backs, for they all but
wear red shirts (in the classic security-guard-marked-for-death Star
Trek tradition) in the film. Fortunately, one of the lucky organ
recipients is Brad Dourif, who does what he can to enliven the otherwise
leaden proceedings around him. Unfortunately, we are graced by his
lunatic presence for only about 20 minutes or so during the exceedingly
average Tales From the Darkside section of the film. (The Phantom is,
however, heartened by the thought that Mr. Dourif will be back next
month as the voice of Chucky in CHILD'S PLAY 3.)
Of course, once the film acknowledges the fact that the strange
goings-on are neither in Bill's mind nor caused by either of his arms,
BODY PARTS gets seriously bogged down and the filmmakers, with a slight
air of desperation, resort to sweeping the cutting room floor for
inspiration. So in short order we're treated to bits and pieces of THE
STEPFATHER, some operating room hacking and sawing, a couple of
Jasonized killings, and the aforementioned bit from an exceedingly
average Tales From the Darkside episode. Alas, the whole in this case
doesn't equal the sum of its parts -- body or otherwise -- and as the
filmmakers finally settle on a truly loopy ending involving an evil
doctor and some serious malpractice, the audience comes to realize that
if anyone's arm was going to be cut off, it should have been the
writer's.
Having said all this, the Phantom should add that BODY PARTS isn't
all bad, even if it is mostly dumb. To its credit, it has been graced
with good direction and excellent editing, both of which insure that the
film can get down to its terminally silly plot with a minimum of wasted
time and effort. The film's score, as well, is excellent, and it goes a
long way toward establishing an appropriately chilling mood throughout
the film and during its (very) few scary scenes. Without the talented
direction, editing, and music, BODY PARTS would be all but unbearable.
As it is, it is merely inept and unoriginal, a film that wastes a
perfectly good story idea on a perfectly ordinary script.
Much of the Phantom's negative reaction to this film is his
knowledge that in surer and more able hands, BODY PARTS could have been
so much better than it is. As it stands, the film needs both
intelligence and and originality transplants, and horror-starved phans
would do well to avoid this film until it reaches their local
Blockbusters this winter. About the only reason to go see BODY PARTS
now is to be sure to see the latest preview for the upcoming ADDAMS
FAMILY film; sadly enough, the first 30 seconds of this preview are
scarier, more entertaining and more involving than the whole of the
feature film that follows.
: The Phantom
: baum...@esquire.dpw.com
: {cmcl2,uunet}!esquire!baumgart