So far, I've stuck to safe and familiar territory with the movies I've watched. It's time to take the bit in my teeth and plough into the unknown. What horrors (or comedies!) await...
I had never heard of Clownhouse. It is one of the many movies I discovered when I started to poke around online for the best killer clown movies ever made (a fool's game, if ever there was one). As you can imagine, it is a fairly limited field, and much of the cream of the crop is rather curdled. However, Victor Salva's 1989 effort, Clownhouse, had received some okay reviews, so I figured it was a good place to start. A quick check on IMDB revealed that Victor Salva also directed Powder and the Jeepers Creepers series, and while I haven't seen either, I know that both are flawed, but decent movies.
My initial reaction to Clownhouse was slight confusion. The DVD cover is printed entirely in German. That, along with the directors name, led me to believe that this was going to be a foreign language film; some B-movie Euro-trash that Victor Salva directed before making a name for himself in Hollywood. However the opening titles revealed that the cast and crew all had very English/American sounding names, none more so than the third credit to come on-screen; Sam Rockwell! I hit pause, and had another quick root around online. This time I discovered that Clownhouse was nominated for the Grand Jury Prize at the 1989 Sundance Film Festival! What the hell was this movie?
I hit play, and watched on, intrigued. I don't know who was on that Sundance jury - Clownhouse isn't a bad movie, but it sure ain't award worthy.
The story follows a young boy, Casey (Nathan Forrest Winters, in his first and last feature film performance), who has an intense fear of clowns (coulrophobia, for all you pedants out there). With his mother away for the weekend, he is left in the care of his two older brothers, Geoffrey (Brian McHugh) and Randy (Sam Rockwell, in his feature film debut). They want to go to the circus, and thinking that Casey's fear is just a bit childish, they drag him along. Casey, of course, has the shit scared out of him, but he gets through it unscathed. However, what they don't know is that after the show, three escaped inmates from the local mental institution kill the clowns, dress up in their costumes, and because their mental, follow the boys home to kill them (obviously).
What follows is, despite its R-Rating, essentially a horror movie for kids. If you are looking for gore, turn your blood-lusting eyes elsewhere. There is barely a drop of blood split here. Clownhouse should not be any more than PG-13. Gremlins is far scarier.
While there is little on-screen gore, there is also little on-screen death. Clownhouse is considered to be a slasher movie, but very few of the swipes draw blood. The body count is low, though there is one particular fatality that is fantastically daft, and worth the price of admission alone! But the intention here isn't to make you cringe, it is to provide some fun frights, and this it does quite effectively. There are some neat visual gags, one in particular which involves a reflection, where it takes you couple of seconds to realise what you've just seen. On more than one occasion, I couldn't contain a guffaw of appreciation!
What works best about this movie is the interaction between the brothers. The dynamic is brilliantly captured, and even the patchy performances don't hamper its authenticity. You really believe that these guys grew up together. Each character is well defined, both in their personality, and their role in the brotherly hierarchy. They are well written, and had this material been performed by better talent, Clownhouse would have been a far superior movie. As it stands, the only one to deliver a solid performance is, unsurprisingly, Sam Rockwell. It's the little nuances that distinguish him. Bad actors just stand there and deliver their dialogue as best they can remember it (which is what the other two leads do). You can see them running the lines through their head as they wait to deliver their next one. Good actors keep the performance up, even when the camera isn't on them. They let the character shine through in everything they do. Anyone can walk down a hallway, but a good actor walks down the hallway in character. You can always tell the difference, and it is this that separates Sam Rockwell and his co-stars.
But in a movie called Clownhouse, the main thing we wish to know is; how are the clowns? The clowns are good, but not great. They are mute throughout, so there is no real sense of character. They are just guys in clown costumes who terrorise the boys, and that is that. What makes them work isn't the acting, but the way the clowns are presented. The most effective moments come about by how the camera is framed to captures their actions, rather than through any actual performance. Basically, they look good, and on the day, the director told them where to stand, and this worked nicely. Beyond that, there is nothing memorable about them. Pennywise can float away contently knowing that he is still the boss clown.
Overall, Clownhouse is a perfectly good watch. As a horror movie, it is benign, but what jumps it does deliver are fun. It's the sort of thing that, had you discovered it on TV one night when you were fourteen, you would have had a ball with it. As it stands, I could only reccommend it if you have a particular interest in the that limited genre that is killer clown movies.
For those who are paying attention, at the end of my previous blog, I said that I would next write about a movie director who abused his lead actor. You're probably thinking that, once again, I have teased you with the prospect on one movie, only to sucker punch you with another. While you were busy entertaining that thought, here comes the real blow from way out of left field. The review I promised is no movie, I'm afraid.
As I mentioned earlier, this was Nathan Forrest Winters first and last feature film. The reason for his brief career is more disturbing than any horror movie. In 1988 Victor Salva was charged with having (and filming) oral sex with Nathan Forrest Winters. Salva was 29 at the time; Winters was 12. Salva pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 3 years in prison, of which he serve 15 months.
Upon his release, he found it understandably difficult to get work, but he had a very powerful benefactor; none other than Francis Ford Coppola. It was Coppola who had given Salva his big break. He was instrumental (though uncredited) in Salva getting the funding for Clownhouse. As Salva stove to break back into the film industry after his release from prison, Coppola stood by him. Looking back on his defence of Salva, Coppola said, 'I was criticized for it, but my attitude is, he has a talent, and that talent in itself is good.'
Salva eventually returned to directing in 1995, and has been working steadily ever since. This LA times article, conducted in 2006, gives a full account of these events:
It does seem that Salva has acknowledged his crime, and has worked hard to atone for his sins. It's easy to judge, but if the victim's mother is able to forgive the man, and not resent his continuing to work in the industry, then who are we to condemn him? While I don't for a second believe that any level of talent should mean horrific acts be overlooked, if someone dedicates themselves to making reparations for their crimes, that person deserves a second chance. We all make mistakes, and while Salva's was particularly vile, I would prefer to live in a world where a person can change, than one where only the alternative holds true. But that's an idealistic view. Given the crime here, it is hard not to be appalled. If this was my child, I don't think I could ever forgive him. I'm not like Hollywood, which appears to have a very ambivalent attitude towards sex offenders (and plenty of other socially unacceptable behaviour), as long as the perpetrator is talented.
I did not know any of this when I watched the movie, though it does go some way towards explaining why an American made movie I purchased on Amazon is not readily available in the English language. I'm not claiming that people who don't speak English are more lenient towards this subject than the rest of us (though they totally are), but I think this film might have been somewhat blacklisted in the States, and shipped off into foreign markets where it might stand a chance of escaping it's stigma.
Next up, I'm going to take a break from the movies. I'm tired of staring at screens, so I'm going to stare at a page instead, and clown through my first book review.
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