Having knocked it out of the park twice in a row with 1976’s Assault On Precinct 13 and 1978’s Halloween (three times if you count 1974’s Dark Star, which I do), it’s safe to say that John Carpenter had folks clamouring for his next project. For some, it was a surprise that, after the nigh on perfectly assembled shock machine which propelled Jamie Lee Curtis to S-tier scream queendom, his next project would be an atmospheric, slow burn of a ghost story.
The notices were middling, to say the least, as reviewers took aim at the plodding pace, lack of a decent villain and a piece bogged down by too many storylines. Few people hated it, but few people loved it. As the years passed, The Fog steadily garnered a cult following and, as a result, subsequent re-appraisals of the movie have been much kinder to it. It made number seventy-seven on Time Out’s 2010 list of the top one hundred horror films. Carpenter himself has a lot of affection for the film, even though it’s not his personal favourite and the desire for a redo with higher production values was one of the factors which led to the 2005 remake. So, forty-five years on, are we talking a genuine classic, or a serviceable shocker boosted by a wave of nostalgia?
Firstly, regardless of issues that could be levelled at the pacing, it’s difficult to criticise the look and feel of The Fog. The 2.35:1 format accentuates the sweep of the piece and the opportunity for the viewer to sit back and appreciate the beauty of the compositions is welcome. It may take a while for the titular, spooky weather front to hit, but its slow creep towards Antonio Bay is still good for a few jolts before the main event of the final act.
It’s possible that Carpenter is a little too in love with this world and wants you to soak up as much of the community vibe as possible rather than actually getting on with things. This doesn’t lean on the dependable tick-over of Halloween’s body count, although the occupants of a trawler are killed off early on to establish that Blake and his fellow spectral sailors on the Elizabeth Dane aren’t mucking about. The lore specifies that six must die, which admittedly puts a dampener on the proceedings for anyone expecting a climactic, no holds barred, spirits versus Antonio Bay smackdown.
Another rule governing the ghouls getting their revenge on is a restrictive murdering period of just midnight to one o’clock. This hamstrings the story in that we know there’s not going to be any additions to the roster of kills until the killing hour swings around but the script, by Carpenter and Debra Hill, mines chills and shocks from the investigations of Nick Castle (see what they did there?), played by Tom Atkins in the first of his “shag the hitchhiker and solve the mystery” double bill. Before Tom charmed the pants off Stacey Nelkin in Halloween III: Season Of The Witch, Jamie Lee Curtis – weirdly underused here as screamy, supporting object of protection that is Liz – was the one to say yes to the Atkins diet.
Perhaps the reason that some of the characters feel underwritten is that there’s so many of them fighting for space in what is generally a straightforward plot. Antonio Bay’s one hundredth anniversary celebrations are given regular focus as Kathy Williams and her capable sidekick Nancy attempt to keep the festivities on track and, to be fair, Janet Leigh and Nancy Loomis make for an engaging double act. However, switching from a nail-biting scene of a body rising from the slab and closing in on the permanently unaware Liz to the latest issue with the town’s event planning isn’t necessarily a recipe for generating tension.
It’s to Carpenter’s credit as a filmmaker that such a slim tale feels like it has far more meat on its bones and we all know that the guy can put together a suspense sequence in his sleep. This is particularly evident as Blake’s boys close in on the main players, including now iconic genre figure Stevie Wayne, the town’s DJ, played by Adrienne Barbeau. Stevie’s main crime seems to be broadcasting light jazz and big band tunes for seven hours of an evening, but the lighthouse from which she spins the platters that don’t matter is a beacon for those salty phantoms. Her scramble up to the rooftop and subsequent battle with two hook wielding attackers still cuts the mustard all these years later, as does the Night Of The Living Dead-inflected assault on the church of Hal Holbrook’s Father Malone.
Holbrook is, as always, excellent, but he’s often relegated to doling out exposition or prophesising doom for both himself and his flock. Even so, he manages to make an impact, as does the superb John Houseman, turning up in a lovely cameo to set the pre-titles table with a scary campfire story. Elsewhere, the Carpenter rep company is on below the line duty, with Charles Cyphers playing a weatherman called Dan O’Bannon (see what they did there?) and George “Buck” Flower as the seagoing Tommy Wallace (see what they did there?). Darwin Joston also shows up, relocating from Precinct 13 to play a doctor whose surname is revealed to be Phibes (!) during the end credit crawl.
Perhaps the lukewarm reception of this, both from critics and audiences, drove Carpenter to more action-heavy territory for his next movie, the peerless Escape From New York. However, there’s much to commend The Fog, most notably the visual impact of a slow moving, but nevertheless inescapable threat and a motley crew of superbly silhouetted, leprosy infected seafarers whose nightmarish visages are merely glimpsed and otherwise left to the imagination of the watcher.
In keeping with Halloween, The Fog also swerves any genuinely gory business but still manages to provide several frissons with its brief, jarring – but essentially bloodless – violence. It also lands a final, grim punchline as someone who can’t believe just how they survived the night suddenly discovers they won’t. You’ll probably see it coming just as much as the poor sod on the receiving end of something sharp doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop it from being fun.
The Fog may sometimes creak as much as the boards of the Elizabeth Dane, but there’s no denying that it still works beautifully as a compelling horror piece which refuses to wallow in blood and guts. You may not be as terrified as those early 1980s cinema goers – who themselves may have been expecting more of the unrelenting, seat grabbing tension of Halloween – but it continues to be creepy in all of the right places, backed up with another fine Carpenter synth score. To anyone reading this, look across the water, into the darkness. Look for The Fog.
The Fog (1980) screened as part of this year’s Spirit of Independence Festival in Sheffield, UK.