Marwella (Helen Hughes) has a small greenhouse which she tends with great
passion. Another of her (not-so-great) passions
is her handyman friend Fred (Sandy
Webster), and Marwella is delighted when he asks her to dinner. After Fred pricks his finger on a plant Marwella
had received from the Micronesia area but had been doing poorly of late, he collapses
and is rushed to the local hospital. A
large, larval worm emerges from his mouth, and suddenly a little prick is the
least of Fred’s troubles.
William Fruet’s Blue Monkey
(aka Insect! aka Invasion of the Bodysuckers) is yet another in the long, long line
of films I read about way back in the day in the pages of magazines like Fangoria (issue 69, in fact). And like a great many of those (another
would be Slaughterhouse, which I
reviewed on this very site some time ago), they slipped through the cracks of
time and eventually faded to little more than distant memories. But before that occurred, they became grand flights
of fancy as they played out in the theater of my mind. Never mind that, one, the theater of my mind
would never translate into a coherent film narrative, and two, there is a
reason why some things are best left unknown.
Thus, this film looks good on paper, while it ultimately fails on
screen. This is not for lack of material,
mind you. In fact, part of the reason
that it fails is the sheer amount of material in it. By that same token, this same volume is what marks
Blue Monkey as a slight standout in
the Horror genre. Just for all the wrong
reasons.
If you were simply to read the above
synopsis, you would think this was a straight ahead monster flick (or maybe a
melodrama about two elderly people falling in love and failing in health). However, you have a subplot involving the
disease that sprang from the same plant as the insect. You have Jim (Steve Railsback), our hero cop, who is only in the hospital in the
first place because his partner Oscar (Peter
Van Wart) was shot in the stomach while on duty. You have the comedy stylings of SCTV alumni Joe Flaherty and Robin Duke
as the Bakers, who are expecting their first baby any second now. You have the tiresome exploits of the grating
child patients (one of whom is played by the soon-to-be-worth-a-damn Sarah Polley). You also have the notion that the hospital is
actually a remodeled insane asylum. But
for as intriguing as any one of these elements may be, they fail because they
never form a cohesive whole when they’re all put together. Each of these subplots seems to exist in
different films from this one, and they rarely intermingle with each other in
any meaningful way. This would be fine
and dandy if the disparate pieces were at least entertaining in their own
right, but they’re more missed opportunities as a whole rather than successful
fragments.
If filmmakers like David Cronenberg have taught us anything,
it is that our bodies hate us and are looking for the first available
opportunity to revolt and kill us.
Diseases, viruses, what-have-yous are scary because they are faceless
(unless you’re an epidemiologist or the like).
They are the brutality, the caprice, of nature incarnate in much the
same way as the animal/insect world.
They cannot be reasoned with, or jailed, or chopped into pieces like a
flesh and blood enemy might be. They
embody the loss of control we see in a great many Horror films, and worse than
that, they do not discriminate (or in so much as they discriminate according to
the wishes of filmmakers/storytellers).
You can employ whatever safeguards you like, but if a disease wants to
get you, it will get you. And even if
you choose not to believe in the all-pervasive nature of diseases, this is how
they are perceived by a vast number of people.
Ergo, they are excellent fodder for genre films. You might find it risible that Jason Voorhees
could be hiding under your bed, waiting to stab you with his index finger, but
a disease could already be inside your body, waiting to burst forth, and that’s
suddenly not so ludicrous anymore.
Either way, you stand a good chance of seeing your innards on the
outside (at least from a cinematic standpoint).
The only difference is whether they’re taken from the outside in or the
inside out.
Naturally, one would think that
people should feel safe in hospitals (and especially if one is afraid of dying
from disease in the first place). Yet
the vast majority of non-medical personnel don’t take a great deal of solace in
these institutions, and this is a significant reason why hospitals are
excellent locations for Horror stories. These
are places where people are literally paid to stab, cut, and drill the bodies
of their customers. Even if the
practitioners aren’t malevolent like we imagine, relishing the torment they
bestow on us, there is always the possibility that they are incompetent (and
no, that’s not a statement or accusation on my behalf; merely an observation on
the general perception/misperception by the average person). What if you receive the wrong medicine? What if they amputate the wrong limb? What if they leave an instrument inside your body? The point is people die in hospitals every
day. You may survive your surgery, but
there’s no way to tell if there won’t be complications afterward, from
infections, to organ rejections, to just sudden fits of death. Every patient in a hospital is vulnerable,
and there are more than enough dark corridors and eerily silent rooms to creep
out the most stalwart among us.
Because the threats in Blue Monkey are so impersonal, one would
think that it would help greatly if the characters weren’t. Sadly, they are all stereotypes of the
flattest variety. Dr. Carson (Gwynyth Walsh) is the classic, capable
female doctor who instantly turns into a Screaming Mimi when faced with things
outside her range (read: giant insects).
Marwella and her blind pal Dede (Joy
Coghill) are the matter-of-fact, elderly folks who just happen to know more
than they think they do. Jim is the
classic hardassed cop who grinds his teeth and flips out at the smallest piece
of bad news (being played by Railsback
doesn’t really help in this regard). The
children all act like little adults in that
oh-look-how-cute-they-are-but-not-really way that simply makes them annoying rather
than charming. Even John Vernon gets to briefly strut his bureaucratic jerkoff routine
for the camera. Nevertheless, not one of
these people manages to be engaging, so following them around on their little
misadventures is nothing less than heavy lifting for the viewer. This is one of those films I think it’s
better to read about than experience, and that’s pretty sad.
MVT: Once again, I have to
give the award to the practical effects.
They’re cool to look at when they show up. That said, they’re shot in such an
insignificant fashion (quick cuts, low lighting, strobe lighting, shaky
handheld) that you never get to fully appreciate the work that went into them.
Make or Break: The first
scene with the kiddy characters was like a prelude to the kiss of death the
filmmakers would deliver just a short way down the road.
Score: 5.5/10
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