Danse Macabre #14: Film Review — "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" (1978)
In 1981, Stephen King published Danse Macabre, a work of non-fiction wherein the author acts as a tour guide through the history of horror. He addresses the social issues and political conflicts that have influenced creators over the years, and the ways creators have influenced each other.
King closes out the volume by recommending 96 films and 113 books released during the 1950-1980 period that he feels have significantly contributed to modern genre fiction. With this Fearsome Queer column, I’ll be making my way through those titles in no particular order.
I hadn’t figured on re-watching Philip Kaufman’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers so soon, but when one’s boyfriend asks if you want to watch the 1970s Invasion of the Body Snatchers, you watch the 1970s Invasion of the goddamn Body Snatchers. I had planned to write about the novel, the 1950s movie, and this remake much later on, in that order—that’s right, Stephen King recommends the book and two film adaptations of it in Danse Macabre—but I’m nowhere near ready to read the novel (as I have three other King recs in my TBR pile), thus the adaptations would’ve been even further down the road, theoretically. But, thanks to my boyfriend, I’m working in reverse order now, starting with the “Tricky Dick” edition.
Nixon fucked up everything. There. I’d say that pretty succinctly sums up many of today’s problems (see also: “Everything is Reagan’s fault”). By the time Nixon vacated the White House in disgrace in August 1974—and well before Reagan’s callous two-terms as California’s governor came to a merciful close in January ’75—the damage was already deep-rooted and wide-spread. No city in the U.S. was immune to the irreparable harm that American fascism wrought in the mid-twentieth century. Not even gay ol’ San Francisco, the nation’s supposed bastion of progressivism, according to conservative media, could withstand the ripples of right-wing tyranny.
Kaufman setting the film in urban San Francisco stresses the point that every city on the planet is vulnerable to hostile, systematic homogenization efforts—even the most eclectic and open-minded locales. As a diverse hotbed of counterculture, SF has been conservatives’ punching bag for years, because Republicans can’t stand it when folks buck conformity and choose to live truthfully as themselves. They’d prefer a “melting pot” monoculture where, in the end, everyone blends in by acquiescing and submitting to white, straight, Christian customs. What’s truly scary is how pervasive and common their mindset is. And it won’t stop—no matter how hard liberals vote. Considering the slimy ways these vindictive creatures are able to add members to their hordes of mindless followers, they may as well be a bunch of, well, gelatinous invaders from outer space! No place is beyond their grasp. And I hate to say it, but, ya know what, the gayer the city the faster we’re all going down, probably—and not in the fun way!
Plant gays would be the first to go; no self-described “plant daddy” would see Day 2 of the invasion. They’d 100% bring suspicious-ass space-flora into their home just because it looks exotic and expensive, then unwittingly initiate the takeover. Here’s how it happens… A plant gay in athletic-wear goes to the park, whether or not they plan to exercise is immaterial. Once there and taking the requisite selfie (next to a shrub or something), they spot a unique-looking flower. “Oh work bitch,” they whisper. Cut to the plant gay’s apartment: they’re in a jock and croptop now, taking flirty photos with the newest addition to their indoor forest. That night, as their DMs are blowing up, the space-flora births an exact duplicate (right down to the bicep quote tattoo) of the plant gay, whose body totally disintegrates, so the pod person can completely usurp their life. Then, the alien-plant gays turn the bears, who turn the twinks, who turn women who go “yas queen!” So there you have it, aliens! If you’re gonna invade, start with the plant gays.
Depressed, introverted homos like me would probably be the last ones standing, right? I mean, according to Nancy, played by the fabulous Veronica Cartwright, the best way to deceive the pod people is “don’t show your emotions, hide your feelings.” Done and done! The human race could be getting steadily and methodically conquered outside, and I’d be indoors… reading, watching Star Trek: Voyager, minding my own business… for days. Then, once I’m unable to get my Wellbutrin refilled, not displaying emotions and feelings would become even more so my default state. I wouldn’t even have to actively try anymore. I could probably evade the pod people for a while, actually; I’m not super social or expressive. I wonder how I’d inevitably get caught, though… Because, realistically, it’s gotta happen sometime, I suppose. Probably by visiting the library. I can’t imagine that pod people read, so that would likely make me stick out. They’d point at me and do that godawful shriek, which I’m sure translates roughly to, “Get that faggot with the Anne Rice novel!”
The pod people being depicted as emotionless oppressors (who don’t read!) is fairly par for the course, if we’re going with this “politically conservative” allegory. First of all, don’t get me wrong: conservatives are fervent cry-babies. Ever watch Glenn Beck? Dude weeps all the time. Or remember when a U.S. Rep from Missouri had a full-on breakdown in Congress over the idea of same-sex marriage? Or how about the insecure guy who smashed a bunch of beer in a grocery store over Bud Light’s partnership with a trans influencer? Don’t let ’em fool you. Conservatives are very hot-blooded people, especially when it comes to queer issues, and yet they are the first to censure their challengers for being too emotional.
A lot of conservative ideologues view themselves as astute intellectuals (lmao) whose worldview ought to reign supreme because theirs is professedly unhindered by pesky feelings, so they claim, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Growing up, we listened to quite a bit of Rush Limbaugh in the car—we meaning my family, and I being a child. To my memory, Limbaugh was not as prone to sobbing as some of his peers, but he certainly censured any “liberal” or “progressive” whose beliefs were tied in any way to basic empathy and understanding, claiming that those sorts of opinions were *based on emotion and not logic* or some such nonsense—as if it’s impossible to think and feel at the same time. It’s a common rhetorical tactic, a way of dismissing dissenters and affirming followers, most of whom never have real skin in the game—must be nice!
This thinking vs. feeling dichotomy, as a motif, is partly why I admire the casting of Leonard Nimoy so much. Leonard Nimoy’s name will forever be synonymous with Mr. Spock, the half-human-half-Vulcan whose affinity for logic-based decision-making was often challenged by the nuances and contradictions of human emotion on Star Trek. For Invasion, Philip Kaufman recruited Nimoy to play Dr. Kibner, a famous psychiatrist—a career at the intersection of thinking and feeling, you might say. Kibner’s rise in success and notoriety is hitting at a time when it was becoming trendy (for a certain type of person) to have an analyst (a word we should bring back)—see: any Woody Allen film from the 70s for proof. What I find funny now, as a recent therapy-goer, is how Kibner comes across like a real asshole from the jump, appearing completely devoid of empathy (or maybe my therapist analyst is overly empathetic). Kibner’s cold pre-invasion demeanor, as a shrink who’s more interested in the brain than the heart, metaphorically speaking, is a brilliant signal of what’s to unfold. Nimoy’s portrayal is so smart.
The whole ensemble is the gold standard of genre film casting, truly. For Veronica Cartwright, Alien was just around the corner and Emmy noms for The X-Files farther down the line. And, um, hello? Jeff, uh, Goldblum? Whose, uhh, iconic work in Jurassic Park and, uhhh, Independence Day shaped my youth, and whose performance—and physique—in, uhhhh, The Fly continues to shape me, in a manner of speaking, as, umm, uh, an adult. Then there’s Donald Sutherland. Like Jeff Goldblum, there will never be another Donald Sutherland. What a varied and wide-ranging body of work he has… From MASH to Klute to Don’t Look Now to this to Ordinary People, my god. And that’s just a single decade. Sutherland is particularly great in Invasion of the Body Snatchers, though. Few actors are as captivating as him. His ability to go from super ornery to emotionally raw in seconds is spectacular—and I think it has a lot to do with his face, just the fact that he has such a good one. While Sutherland is pretty much always good, the stronger the direction, the better he is.
Thankfully, Kaufman directs the hell out of this film. The hilly terrain of San Francisco gives him plenty of opportunities for “practical” canted shots, which add a queasiness to the atmosphere. Also taking advantage of the setting is DP Michael Chapman. His shadowy, and sometimes dingy, lighting really ups the dread. He also plays around with gloomy hues as the story progresses, as the pod people’ population increases. The film is not just a visual feast. The sound is extraordinary, too, namely the horrific pod person shriek—I can’t think of a noise that upsets me more! On top of all that, the special effects are superb as well. It had been so long since I last watched this that I forgot how bizarre and gorgeous the pod person-birthing process is, and it goes on for quite a while, growing more disturbing with each passing second… What a picture!
I know that the usual reading of Philip Kaufman’s version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers is one inspired by Nixon, Watergate, the Pentagon Papers, etc.—and I’m not repudiating that by any means; I acknowledge that was largely the impetus here—but watching it now as 30-something gay man in living in Greg Abbott’s Texas… I saw it a little differently this time. As more laws and restrictions that discriminate against the queer community go into effect, the more it will feel like the pod people are here and winning. Legislators represent a very small fraction of the population overall, but each of them got elected—and keep getting re-elected—by a majority vote. So when the Republican-dominated House and Senate wreak havoc upon us, they are doing so on behalf of most of the populace, technically. They want to systematically eliminate us. They want us to vanish by assimilation. They want absolute rule until they, like the pod people, render our planet uninhabitable. They want it all for themselves just to fuck it all up. Fuck…
