I was hoping that this weekend I might finally catch Ratatouille
at the dollar theater. Alas, I never managed to fit it in, but my
brother Nathan came trotting home for the day with a most rat-tastic
movie in tow, and now that I've seen it, I think it might be a while
before I can embrace Remy and his fellow rodents with the proper amount
of enthusiasm.
Glen Morgan's Willard is a 2003 remake
of the 1971 film of the same name. When they realized what we were
watching, Mom remarked that the original had given her nightmares, while
Dad had avoided it altogether. Nathan had assured me, however, that
while this version was certainly creepy, the gore was minimal, so I
decided to chance it. After all, I've always found rats to be unfairly
maligned creatures. I expected that when they showed up, I would find
them lovable rather than disgusting, and I was right. For a while...
The focal point of the film is Willard Stiles (Crispin Glover), an
extraordinarily awkward man who lives with his mean-tempered elderly
mother (Jackie Burroughs) and works for the tyrannical Frank Martin (R.
Lee Ermey) at the company his father founded. He remains friendless
until he is moved to rescue a white rat from the adhesive trap his
mother demanded he put up in the basement. He names the rat Socrates,
and he is giddy with the thrill of finally having some companionship.
If it ended with this bright-eyed, philosophic rat that seems genuinely
fond of the eccentric misfit, this might evolve into a touching story.
Sadly, Socrates does not fly solo. Willard feeds him and his family, and
every day more and more rats turn out for chow time. Initially, they do
whatever he tells them to, taking their orders from Socrates, who
evidently understands Willard's instructions. But how long can he
maintain control over the ever-growing horde?
Back when this movie hit theaters, I saw an interview with Glover, who I knew as the nerdy, gutless George McFly in Back to the Future.
I've seen plenty of strange interviews in my time; this one would have
to rank in the top five. The guy just came across as a total oddball,
almost as off-kilter as the character he was portraying. Now and then,
I'll see a really offbeat interview with somebody like Johnny Depp or Viggo Mortensen
and think, "Wow. He's so strange. I'd love to spend an afternoon
chatting with him sometime." With Glover, I thought, "Wow. He's so
strange. I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."
Whether
he consciously cultivates that image or he's genuinely that odd, Glover
seems like the perfect choice to play the unhinged Willard, who swings
between victim and villain, sympathetic and diabolical. His expressive
face, which usually registers some combination of rage and fear or
occasional maniacal glee, is almost ghostly pale. Every word spoken with
his soft voice is impeccably pronounced. Watch for hyperventilation,
beads of sweat and murderous gestures in response to the maddening
behavior of his mom and boss.
Burroughs, heavily made up to
look as grotesque as possible, is bone-chilling as Willard's mother, who
hollers throatily at him from her room in the large house they share.
Though she is dependent upon him for her well-being, she still calls the
shots around the house, and she wants to be sure he knows it. She wins
sympathy points for her medical condition and the loss of her husband,
but her despicable treatment of Willard cancels out any automatic sense
of goodwill we may have toward her. Ermey pours even more unpleasantness
into his role; Mr. Martin seems about ready to have a coronary at any
given moment, so eager is he to ream Willard out with an explosive
temper tantrum. It's no wonder Rat Boy is so messed up when he's
surrounded by people like this.
The only person who treats
Willard with kindness is Cathryn (Laura Harring), the new girl at work
who unknowingly displaces him when she arrives. Her first impression of
him involves him getting berated by his boss, and she feels sorry for
him, aghast that he is being treated so unfairly. She continues to
extend her hand in friendship throughout the movie. But what will happen
when she finds out about Willard's Pied Piper-like tendencies?
I like rats. And I found myself quite attached to Socrates, much as I did with Mr. Jingles, the mouse in The Green Mile.
He's a terribly sweet little thing. But his friends are not,
particularly when engaged in the mob mentality and when led by Ben, a
defiant Rodent of Unusual Size. Not since Ratigan in The Great Mouse Detective
have I come across such a vicious rat, and cinematographer Robert
McLachlan does an impressive job of making him look distinctively
ominous, while Shirley Walker's eerie score sends shivers in all the
right places. As the crowd of a couple dozen rats swells to thousands
and they stop obeying the restrictions Willard places upon them, the
situation gets really hairy in more ways than one.
So while I
found Nathan's assessment of the film pretty accurate - only two scenes
are really grotesquely gory, while another two hint darkly at
blood-curdling calamity - it wasn't exactly a comforting movie. It may
be enough to leave me with the creepy crawlies all week, and if I catch
myself jumping at small noises, especially from the general direction of
the basement, I'll know why...
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