Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Year:
1956
Directed by:
Don Siegel
Rated:
Not Rated
Country:
United States
Runtime:
1 hr. 20 min.
Production Company:
Walter Wanger Productions
Written by:
Jack Finney (source novel)
Daniel Mainwaring
Starring:
Kevin McCarthy
Dana Wynter
Larry Gates
King Donovan
Similar Films:
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)
Invaders from Mars
The Invasion
The ultimate paranoia film.
What if you woke up one day and everything was exceedingly normal? What if everybody and everything looked the same, but they all began converging toward absolute efficiency, just for the sake of survival, life, and procreation? That's what Invasion of the Body Snatchers asks. It also provides an answer: It would be pretty horrifying.
Dr. Miles Bennell has been out of town for a while. When he arrives home, he is met by patients who insist that certain family members are not who they used to be. They look the same, act the same, and have the same memories, but "something" is just not right. One colleague suggests that this is probably mass hysteria brought upon by "worry about what's going on in the world." This comedy -- make that horror -- of errors puts a characteristic 1950s sci-fi twist on the problem, as alien plants have invaded Santa Mira, California with the sole purpose of taking over Earth's population. These gigantic seedpods birth replicas of the humans that already live here. When the original human goes to sleep, he becomes the plant-replica (or maybe the replica becomes him). Either way, the being becomes a pod-person with the sole desire of species survival. The mechanics behind this invasion are never completely explained (perhaps that is for the best), and there is one huge plot hole near the end that renders the replicating totally meaningless, but despite all of this, Invasion of the Body Snatchers does a great job of creating an overwhelming sense of fear and paranoia.
There are a lot of reasons why this film is so successful, but the most important is that it has the basics down. The pacing and atmosphere here are right on. We are left in the dark just as long as our protagonist is, gradually witnessing increasingly odd things. All around us, the people who were just as confused as us begin to act normal, even insisting that nothing is wrong with the town. Before we know it, there are giant seedpods in the next room birthing partially formed humanoids, and there are few people we can trust.
The fact that Bennell's character is written and acted so perfectly is what allows the equally perfect pacing to work. He is never the idiot that we yell at from the couch, and he is never the genius that unravels the greatest mystery with the most insignificant clue. His knowledge and wisdom progress right along with the audience. In every part of this movie, the character does just what we would do. That is why we can relate to him, and that is how this film scares us. In fact, the film never relies on jump scares, monsters, or gore (unless you count the brief seedpod birthing scene). All of the frights come from pure they're-after-me paranoia. This is something that only well-crafted stories can do, and something that pays off when executed as well as it is here.
You would have thought that the excellent writing is enough, but the film is also well made from a technical standpoint, specifically in the sets and lighting. In this movie, light represents knowledge, which allows us to use reason. Darkness, therefore, represents pure instinct. The characters' progression through both light and darkness adds another layer to the film in this respect. There is a nice exchange that takes place between Bennell and Becky Driscoll, his former girlfriend who is also recently divorced. He takes her home one night, comes inside for a moment, and offers, with no attempt to hide his intent, to tuck her in (wink, wink). She responds, "That way lies madness." He turns off the light and says, darkly, "What's wrong with madness?" She turns the light back on and answers simply, "Madness. Now, goodbye." It reminds me of the scene near the end of Eugene O'Neill's great play, Long Day's Journey into Night, when Tyrone and his son try to escape their problems by playing cards in the dark. In both instances, when people try to hide themselves in darkness, they ironically end up revealing even more of who they are. The use of light is always measured -- and measured well -- in this film.
The set designs are perfect in reinforcing the film's evocation of paranoia, especially when Bennell and Driscoll are on the run from the podpeople (interesting side note: Jamie Russell observes that the two are "among the first cinematic characters to experience the terror of being pursued by a zombie horde."1). In one scene they are running down a hallway too narrow for them even to stay side-by-side, and there are doors on either side of them, from which, presumably, a podperson could step at any moment. When they do make it to a larger room, there are windowpane shadows covering all wall space. When they finally have this room to breathe, they are practically standing in broad daylight. There are also scenes in which a tightly crammed space is the only place the two are safe, demonstrating that paranoia, especially paranoia which is rightly felt, leads to such confinement. It also forces the viewer to feel thus confined. The set design not only makes the film smarter, it makes it more frightening.
