REMAKES GHOUL — OR

By Greg Lamberson

In my first column, I launched a diatribe against the DAWN OF THE DEAD remake before it was even released. I saw no reason for an R-rated remake of a revolutionary classic when creator George A. Romero was struggling to get his fourth Dead film, DEAD RECKONING, off the ground. Many people liked the remake; some even preferred it to the original. I hated all but the first 10 minutes of this mediocrity, and it depresses me that its fans have no regard for nuance, theme, or character. The film garnered almost unanimously positive review from the mainstream press, did moderate business, and rode off into the DVD sunset. The world didn't end, and Romero recently announced that his project, re-titled LAND OF THE DEAD, will begin lensing in his native Pittsburgh this October-possibly because of interest stirred up by the attention that the remake received.

Judging by history, the 26 years that lapsed between Romero's classic and Zack Snyder's dumbed down remake is about the normal span for cinematic revisionism. Let's face it: remakes have always been with us. Back when stage productions were the dominant form of pop culture entertainment, remakes were common and necessary: after all, no one could enjoy Shakespeare's productions on TV, VHS, or DVD. When the era of silent films started, celluloid was considered a disposable gimmick, with no thought given to preserving film negatives for historical purposes.

F. W. Murnau's silent 1922 masterpiece, NOSFERATU, was an outstanding (if unauthorized) adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel, Dracula. Nine years later, after the advent of sound, Tod Browning brought Bela Lugosi's Hungarian accent to the screen in DRACULA, also regarded as a classic (at least its first 20 minutes, anyway). 26 years later (see!), Hammer brought the Count to the screen for the first time in color, in HORROR OF DRACULA (my personal fave). So three different versions of the novel were produced when technical innovations warranted them.

In 1975, Dan Curtis directed his DRACULA, with Jack Palance providing the first sympathetic portrayal of Drac. Two years later, the BBC produced a 3-hour TV miniseries, COUNT DRACULA, which was the first truly faithful version of Stoker's tale. Two years after that, Frank Langella starred in a version based on the same John Balderstone play that inspired the Lugosi version, with an emphasis placed on Drac's romantic aspects. That same year, George Hamilton starred in the comedic LOVE AT FIRST BITE. In BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA (1993), Francis Ford Coppola infused the story with a lavish, operatic style. Unfortunately, he decided to incorporate the "history's greatest lover" theme into an otherwise faithful adaptation.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein shares a thematic and, cinematically speaking, historical bond with Dracula. Edison's silent, 1910 adaptation led to James Whale's 1931 talkie, which led to Hammer's 1958 color remake. Both Universal and Hammer produced multiple sequels, and on TV, Dan Curtis produced a remake starring Bo Svenson as the Creature (!), and Jack Smight directed the elaborate FRANKENSTEIN: THE TRUE STORY (1973) starring James Mason and Jane Seymour, among others. Mel Brooks brought us YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974), the ultimate horror spoof, and BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA inspired Kenneth Brannaugh's MARY SHELLEY'S FRANKENSTEIN (1994).

Last column, I examined the numerous remakes of Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There have been numerous versions of the Wolfman and Mummy at that have followed the Universal-to-Hammer-and-back again route. So far, my favorite monster, the Gill Man, has dodged the bullet; a version of a remake that John Carpenter developed featured pyramids, Bigfoot, and the Abominable Snowman! Recently, Guilermo del Toro planned to remake THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON as a Victorian era piece, which sounded interesting. His reason for backing out? He loved the original too much! Ya gotta love this guy (even though I didn't love HELLBOY).

My other favorite monster, King Kong, has had a less successful remake career. Although MIGHTY JOE YOUNG (1949) was a remake of sorts that employed stop motion animation by pioneer Willis O'Brien and his successor, Ray Harryhausen, a man in a monkey suit filled in for the Japanese KING KONG VS. GODZILLA (1962) and KING KONG ESCAPES (1967), as well as the Dino DeLaurentiis travesties KING KONG (1976) and KING KONG LIVES (1986). Following my earlier paradigm, advances in CGI—as exemplified in Steven Spielberg's JURASSIC PARK (1993) justify remaking the story again, and Peter Jackson is just the man to return Kong to his original glory. (It's worth noting that Jackson's LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy is technically a remake of Ralph Bakshi's 1978 effort, as well as Rass-Rankin's TV sequel, THE RETURN OF THE KING (both animated).

Purists scoffed when Richard Franklin directed PSYCO II, a noble effort, in 1983; they were more forgiving when Anthony Perkins directed himself in PSYCHO III (1986), a fun and creepy film. After TV's BATES MOTEL (1987), which starred Bud Cort (HAROLD AND MAUDE) as Norman's successor, fans welcomed Perkins's return to the series in PSYCHO IV: THE BEGINNING (1990), a cable telefilm that explored Norman's origin and offered Olivia Hussey as the demented Mrs. Bates. In 1998, rather than retire the series after Perkins's death, Universal allowed Gus Van Sant—an otherwise respectable director—to helm the ultimate pointless remake, his shot-for-shot colorization of Alfred Hitchcock's original classic.

In 1999, Jan de Bont unleasheed THE HAUNTING, which lacked the style, grace, and class of Robert Wise's 1963 version of Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House. Tobe Hooper remade his own TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (1974) with a bigger budget, as THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2 (1986); since continuity was abandoned, and the main character's death ignored, Jeff Burr's LEATHERFACE: THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE III (1990) is also a remake; and Kim Henkel, who wrote the original, re-wrote it as THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE: THE NEXT GENERATION (1994), a bizarre entry starring Matthew McConaughey and Rene Zellweger. So any objections to Marcus Nispel remaking the film in 2003 were ludicrous. The success of the most recent TCM—an excellent remake, in my opinion—led to the current remake craze.

Stepehen King launched a cottage industry of horror films, and now he's launched a cottage industry of remakes. Dissatisfied with Stanley Kubrick's brilliant 1980 adaptation The Shining, King wrote a faithful, lengthy version for TV, directed by Mick Garris, In 1987: STEPHEN KING'S THE SHINING. King finally got his topiary animals, but he also subjected us to lame sentimentality in the coda. NBC's CARRIE (2002) sought to turn Brian DiPalma's pitch-perfect 1976 into a TV series that never materialized. TNT's SALEM'S LOT (2004) needlessly updated Tobe Hooper's 1979 version, which was closer to the spirit of the novel; both versions have their strong points, but the novel has yet to be done right. Next up: a two-hour remake of STEPHEN KING'S IT, originally done as a four-hour mini-series in 1990. Can new versions of GRAVEYARD SHIFT (1990), CHILDREN OF THE CORN (1984,) and MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE (1986) be far off?

When will it end? Never, my friends. Hollywood loves name brand recognition, and even as you read this, remakes of THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (1979), MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM (1933; remade in 1953 as HOUSE OF WAX, shot in 3-D), Bob Clark's DEATHDREAM (1974), Romero's DAY OF THE DEAD (1985) and THE CRAZIES (1973), THE FLY (1958) and THE THING (1991 and 1982) are all in the pipeline.

Call them remakes, re-imaginings, or re-envisioning; I call them all unnecessary, but inevitable.