We can all imagine the fear that comes along with being chased by a werewolf. Or waking up to find Dracula staring down at you. They are living, breathing (or in Drac’s case, dead and not so breathing, but you get the idea) embodiments of evil. But how about inanimate objects? Have you ever been terrified of a lamp? Or creeped out by a tire?
In this weekend’s The Possession, a Dybbuk Box purchased at a yard sale brings misfortune to everyone who comes in contact with it.
It’s not the first time that the movies have imbued an inert object with evil powers.
There have been loads of haunted houses in the movies. In most of them, however, the house is merely a vessel for a spirit or some unseen entity that makes its presence know by making the walls bleed or randomly slamming doors. Rarer is the house that is actually evil.
Stephen King wrote about a house that eats people in the third installment of his Dark Tower series. On screen Robert Zemeckis and Steven Spielberg visualized the idea in the appropriately titled Monster House.
In this animated movie three teens figure out the house across the street is a man-eating monster.
By the time they got around to the fourth installment of the most famous haunted house series, the Amityville Horror, filmmakers had to figure out a new plotline apart from the tired “new owners move in to the house, get freaked out leave,” storyline. In The Amityville Horror: The Evil Escapes, a cursed lamp causes all sorts of trouble when it is shipped from the evil Long Island house to a Californian mansion.
Much weirder is Rubber, the story of a killer tire — yes, you read that right — with psychokinetic powers — think Carrie with treads — who terrorizes the American southwest. It’s an absurdist tract on how and why we watch movies, what entertainment is and the movie business, among other things. But frankly, mostly it’s about a tire rolling around the desert and while there is something kind of hypnotic about watching the tire on its murderous journey — think Natural Born Killers but round and rubbery — that doesn’t mean Rubber is a good movie.
Finally, think bed bugs are bad? How about a hungry bed? The title of this one sums it up: Death Bed: The Bed that Eats.
“Rubber” is an odd movie. It’s become fanboy-fashionable to rave about the story of a killer tire—yes, you read that right—with psychokinetic powers—think “Carrie” with treads—who terrorizes the American southwest and I’ll throw my hat in the ring, but only to a certain point. Writer/director Quentin Dupieux begins the film with an existential manifesto, an ode to the “no reason” element he says is crucial to the success of any movie.
“In the Steven Spielberg movie E.T, why is the alien brown? No reason,” says Lieutenant Chad (Stephen Spinella) in the film’s opening minutes. “I could go on for hours with more examples. The list is endless. You probably never gave it a thought… but all great films, without exception, contain an important element of no reason.
The speech, while entertaining, is a dodge that allows the director to present all the story’s bizarre twists with a straight face but it is kind of disingenuous. Of course there is a reason why the tire comes to life and kills people. Just like there is a reason why there is a group of people in the desert watching the tire’s killing spree through binoculars as though they are watching a movie. I could go on for hours with more examples, to quote Lieutenant Chad, but you get the point.
It’s an absurdist tract on how and why we watch movies, what entertainment is and the movie business, among other things. But frankly, mostly it’s about a tire rolling around the desert and while there is something kind of hypnotic about watching the tire on its murderous journey—think “Natural Born Killer” but round and rubbery—that doesn’t mean “Rubber” is a good movie. For all its subtext, style and audacious storytelling it is still essentially a cool short film idea stretched beyond comfort to 82 minutes (with credits).
“Rubber” is an odd movie. It’s become fanboy-fashionable to rave about the story of a killer tire—yes, you read that right—with psychokinetic powers—think “Carrie” with treads—who terrorizes the American southwest and I’ll throw my hat in the ring, but only to a certain point. Writer/director Quentin Dupieux begins the film with an existential manifesto, an ode to the “no reason” element he says is crucial to the success of any movie.
“In the Steven Spielberg movie E.T, why is the alien brown? No reason,” says Lieutenant Chad (Stephen Spinella) in the film’s opening minutes. “I could go on for hours with more examples. The list is endless. You probably never gave it a thought… but all great films, without exception, contain an important element of no reason.”
The speech, while entertaining, is a dodge that allows the director to present all the story’s bizarre twists with a straight face but it is kind of disingenuous. Of course there is a reason why the tire comes to life and kills people. Just like there is a reason why there is a group of people in the desert watching the tire’s killing spree through binoculars as though they are watching a movie. I could go on for hours with more examples, to quote Lieutenant Chad, but you get the point.
It’s an absurdist tract on how and why we watch movies, what entertainment is and the movie business, among other things. But frankly, mostly it’s about a tire rolling around the desert and while there is something kind of hypnotic about watching the tire on its murderous journey—think “Natural Born Killer” but round and rubbery—that doesn’t mean “Rubber” is a good movie. For all its subtext, style and audacious storytelling it is still essentially a cool short film idea stretched beyond comfort to 82 minutes (with credits).
We can all imagine the fear that comes along with being chased by a werewolf. Or waking up to find Dracula staring down at you. They are living, breathing (or in Drac’s case, dead and not so breathing, but you get the idea) embodiments of evil. But how about inanimate objects? Have you ever been terrified of a lamp? Or creeped out by a tire?
