By Matt Harries
When I consider the word ‘horror’ in cinematic terms, I think almost instantly of Marlon Brando’s Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. “The horror! The horror!”, his utterance perhaps an expression of a kind of resigned revulsion at the depths of the human condition, witnessed by and yet simultaneously perpetuated by him. Regarding the connection with Jacob’s Ladder, both obviously deal with aspects of the Vietnamese war. What further unites them beyond some examination of a historical conflict though, is their investigation of what Roger Ebert described as “the dark places of the soul”. This is something that Jacob’s Ladder delves into literally – the battle for the soul of one man between forces of light and dark, the true nature of which is only revealed toward the films culmination.
Where Jacob’s Ladder really succeeds is that for much of the film, the viewer is left guessing as to what extent the nightmarish visions of Jacob Singer (Tim Robbins) are mere hallucinations, or glimpses into a very real hell that lurks tantalisingly close, behind the veil of everyday perception. From the opening frames (the ubiquitous slow motion, dawn footage of choppers in the jungles of Vietnam), to the grime and squalor of New York (rust, urban decay, the homeless), to the stale bureaucracy of the hospital reception, we are grounded in a very recognisable reality. Singer, clearly still traumatised by the memories of the Mekong Delta, begins to sense a malign presence in his life, a feeling enhanced by vivid nightmares recalling the savage final events of his military service. It isn’t hard to imagine these creatures being supernatural, otherworldly beings, but we learn that despite the tentacles and thrashing, inhuman heads, and the chattering, snapping teeth that lunge for him in waking moments, the root of these beings seems to once again be man himself. In this case that old protagonist the Scientist, represented by a “hippy chemist” Micheal (Matt Craven), recruited by the army to add a little chemically-enhanced battle-lust to the grunts on the ground back in the ‘Nam.
This facet of the film echoes the infamous Project MKUltra, the U.S government’s human research project that ran through the 50s and 60s. This controversial program was designed as an investigation into the efficacy of a wide range of drugs in the application of mind control, among them LSD and BZ (which is mentioned in the film’s closing credits). Although BZ was rumoured to have been applied to soldiers in Vietnam, there is no evidence to suggest it actually turned them into killing machines. Nonetheless, there are anecdotal references to a CIA operative who acted as a test subject, and after being dosed with LSD entered a psychotic state in which every passing car appeared to contain monsters. For Jacob, such vehicle-bound creatures almost end his life at one point in the film. Is his battle through this personal hell merely the result of clandestine human research gone badly awry?
Sadly for Singer, munching a tonne of grapefruit isn’t going to help him here. As he struggles to make sense of his decaying mental state, and becomes more and more withdrawn and paranoid, he is embattled not only by demonic hallucinations, but by his own girlfriend Jezebel (the excellent Elizabath Peña), who herself takes on some devilish qualities and who may or may not be in league with the Hellraiser-like entities that continue to encroach on Jacob’s life. When he makes contact with other survivors from his ill-fated platoon, he seems to be honing in on a truth of sorts. Aided by the redoubtable Lou (Danny Aiello), his philosophic chiropractor, Jacob stumbles toward epiphany…
To say, as the blurb on the back of the case states, that Jacob’s Ladder is both mystery, thriller and horror, would be pretty accurate. The way Adrian Lyne (Fatal Attraction, 9 ½ weeks) handles these elements is one of the film’s key strengths. Frightening though they are – the dance scene at the party is an excellent example of Jacob’s monstrous visions impacting in the most mundane of situations – the moments of ‘horror’ are kept relatively fleeting. Indeed, the director is careful to never place these creatures in the same shot as Jacob himself, thereby reinforcing his isolation.
There are some disturbing notions and scenes which have nothing to do with fell beasts, which adds to an increasingly claustrophobic and paranoid tension, The shadow of human experimentation spreads from the field of battle to the grotesque depths of a hospital where the residents resemble thalidomide victims – another indictment of science perhaps? Nonetheless, there is a supernatural element which keeps us guessing until an ending that, in lesser hands, could have slipped into mawkishness. Luckily though, Tim Robbins does a great job as the suffering Jacob, and by the end of the film it would take a wooden heart not to feel he doesn’t deserve a little peace. The somewhat scary Elizabeth Peña does a nice job in not committing completely to either side of her personality, thereby keeping the guessing game going right to the end. The supporting cast have a familiar look to them, but Danny Aiello as Lou stood out for me. Sometimes rambunctious, sometimes wise, Jacob sees this manipulator of spines as his own personal overgrown cherub. ‘Lou’ though…which biblical name does that remind you of? As Lou says himself, with his final piece of advice to Jacob –
“So, if you’re frightened of dying and… and you’re holding on, you’ll see devils tearing your life away. But if you’ve made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the earth”.
Is Lou, Jacob’s saviour, possibly not so much Cherubim, as Lightbringer? While the exact nature of his role is never made explicit, he does illuminate a way out of the hospital, in the bowels of which Jacob faces the inquisitor-surgeons that seem to represent these dualistic devil/angels.
Although Jacob’s Ladder reveals itself to be a complex film that seems to suggest a reality torn between the earthly and the fantastical, its portrayal of the cycle of guilt that seems to anchor Jacob within his personal hell, seems strongly evocative of religious ideas of guilt, sin and repentance, of punishment and purgatory. Always, despite the Old Testament intensity of his hallucinatory foes and paranoid visions, the common thread is that mankind, in his cruelty, predisposition towards violence and affliction of suffering against his fellow man, holds both the keys to his own damnation, and at the same time his own redemption.