There’s an art to delivering what I call television-grade Horror and Fantasy that not a lot of creators can effectively manage.
By its very nature, Horror is and should be disturbing (on some level) as it’s the genre that uniquely explores those dark, dark things that make every one of us tick. In watching it, we get to vicariously experience some of life’s most dangerous settings, watch as its characters encounter the direst circumstances, and revel in the highs and lows that correspond to our brains releasing the adrenaline, endorphins, and dopamine along the way. It can be an encounter like no other – visually, artistically, psychologically, etc. – and, yet how can creators deliver something truly shocking while appeasing the demands of network television censors?
Well, Rod Serling was probably one of the very best to do so. His Golden Era delight – The Twilight Zone – managed to spin yarns in such a way that the characters and their various circumstances needn’t resort to spilling buckets of blood in order to convey the shock of it all. Granted, he went a bit darker in the 1970’s with Night Gallery – his second anthology that focused a bit more of the supernatural – a series that benefitted more in the creation of a more oppressive atmosphere than did his Zone. As a storyteller, Serling rather effectively took theatrical R-rated premises and dialed them back into the PG-rated neighborhood, delivering things that could still go bump in the night but didn’t rely heavily on special effects, make-up, and oozing prosthetics to make their requisite noise.
Structurally, 1981’s superb Horror/telefilm Dark Night Of The Scarecrow – directed by Frank De Felitta from a script by J.D. Feigelson and Butler Handcock – feels very much like it could fit snugly into the Serling Broadcast Universe. While it both does and doesn’t rely on Serling’s signature twist ending, the tale still takes a general concept – here it’s the indictment of those who would take the law into their own hands and render vigilante justice owed more to their own bigotry than any true measure of right and wrong – and pushes it about as far as possibly while ‘twisting’ the narrative into the realm of the improbable. Starring Charles Durning, Lane Smith, Robert F. Lyons, Claude Earl Jones, and Tonya Crowe, it’s a nightmare come back to life in a small town that starkly looks a little something like the one many of us grew up in …
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
By its very nature, Horror is and should be disturbing (on some level) as it’s the genre that uniquely explores those dark, dark things that make every one of us tick. In watching it, we get to vicariously experience some of life’s most dangerous settings, watch as its characters encounter the direst circumstances, and revel in the highs and lows that correspond to our brains releasing the adrenaline, endorphins, and dopamine along the way. It can be an encounter like no other – visually, artistically, psychologically, etc. – and, yet how can creators deliver something truly shocking while appeasing the demands of network television censors?
Well, Rod Serling was probably one of the very best to do so. His Golden Era delight – The Twilight Zone – managed to spin yarns in such a way that the characters and their various circumstances needn’t resort to spilling buckets of blood in order to convey the shock of it all. Granted, he went a bit darker in the 1970’s with Night Gallery – his second anthology that focused a bit more of the supernatural – a series that benefitted more in the creation of a more oppressive atmosphere than did his Zone. As a storyteller, Serling rather effectively took theatrical R-rated premises and dialed them back into the PG-rated neighborhood, delivering things that could still go bump in the night but didn’t rely heavily on special effects, make-up, and oozing prosthetics to make their requisite noise.
Structurally, 1981’s superb Horror/telefilm Dark Night Of The Scarecrow – directed by Frank De Felitta from a script by J.D. Feigelson and Butler Handcock – feels very much like it could fit snugly into the Serling Broadcast Universe. While it both does and doesn’t rely on Serling’s signature twist ending, the tale still takes a general concept – here it’s the indictment of those who would take the law into their own hands and render vigilante justice owed more to their own bigotry than any true measure of right and wrong – and pushes it about as far as possibly while ‘twisting’ the narrative into the realm of the improbable. Starring Charles Durning, Lane Smith, Robert F. Lyons, Claude Earl Jones, and Tonya Crowe, it’s a nightmare come back to life in a small town that starkly looks a little something like the one many of us grew up in …
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In a small Southern town, four vigilantes wrongfully execute a mentally challenged man, but after the court sets them free mysterious "accidents" begin to kill them off one by one.”
At some point, each of us came across a blowhard. You know the type? A blustering, bigoted fool who thinks he knows better than anyone else. Despite the fact that he rarely shows any life experience that would suggest a foundation for such intellect, he spouts his nonsense and corrals followers to his cause more over the emotional intensity of his banter than anything else. Seeing the world with his own professed absolutes, he casts judgments on anything in sight; and he’s never happy until he can convince everyone around him to embrace his ideas or ideology even though he’s never run for office nor held any position of distinction in his circle of influence much less the nearest city hall.
Otis Hazelrigg (played by the late, great Charles Durning) is such a man. As apparently the only postal worker in a small Southern town, he sees all, knows all, and condemns all that fails to meet with his personal satisfaction; and – even worse – he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut over his discontent with the smallest insult. In the film’s opening, he’s shown spying via binoculars on Bubba Ritter (Larry Drake) – a mentally-challenged adult – picking flowers with the young Marylee Williams (Tonya Crowe) in a vibrant open field. Disapproving of their friendship, Hazelrigg spreads his gossip to his local cronies – Harless (Lane Smith), Philby (Claude Earl Jones), and Skeeter (Robert F. Lyons) – that someone should put a stop to that relationship before something bad happens.
Not all that much later, Marylee is attacked by a guard dog when she trespasses beyond a locked gate. When Bubba shows up at her house with the injured, bleeding girl in his arms, assumptions are naturally made even though the simpleton repeats over and over and over “Bubba didn’t do it!” As the dimwit flees for home, the news of the child’s condition reaches Hazelrigg who promptly responds with rounding up his fellows and forming a lynch mob to see Ritter dealt with once and for all. After a chase, they find the young man disguised as a scarecrow leaning on a cross in the family field. The deranged postal worker takes the first shot with his revolver, and then his posse responds, filling Bubba’s body full of lead.
Had they shown only a few minutes more restraint, then they would’ve heard the news that Marylee was, in fact, attacked by a dog but was going to recover. Feeling he has no other recourse, Hazelrigg stages the scene to appear as if the armed men were defending themselves from Bubba – he places a pitchfork in the dead man’s hands – and the frame-up is complete. In court, the case gets dismissed on technicalities, leaving this four-man murder squad free and clear to go about the rest of their lives and besmirching the Ritter family’s good name.
“In a small Southern town, four vigilantes wrongfully execute a mentally challenged man, but after the court sets them free mysterious "accidents" begin to kill them off one by one.”
At some point, each of us came across a blowhard. You know the type? A blustering, bigoted fool who thinks he knows better than anyone else. Despite the fact that he rarely shows any life experience that would suggest a foundation for such intellect, he spouts his nonsense and corrals followers to his cause more over the emotional intensity of his banter than anything else. Seeing the world with his own professed absolutes, he casts judgments on anything in sight; and he’s never happy until he can convince everyone around him to embrace his ideas or ideology even though he’s never run for office nor held any position of distinction in his circle of influence much less the nearest city hall.
Otis Hazelrigg (played by the late, great Charles Durning) is such a man. As apparently the only postal worker in a small Southern town, he sees all, knows all, and condemns all that fails to meet with his personal satisfaction; and – even worse – he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut over his discontent with the smallest insult. In the film’s opening, he’s shown spying via binoculars on Bubba Ritter (Larry Drake) – a mentally-challenged adult – picking flowers with the young Marylee Williams (Tonya Crowe) in a vibrant open field. Disapproving of their friendship, Hazelrigg spreads his gossip to his local cronies – Harless (Lane Smith), Philby (Claude Earl Jones), and Skeeter (Robert F. Lyons) – that someone should put a stop to that relationship before something bad happens.
Not all that much later, Marylee is attacked by a guard dog when she trespasses beyond a locked gate. When Bubba shows up at her house with the injured, bleeding girl in his arms, assumptions are naturally made even though the simpleton repeats over and over and over “Bubba didn’t do it!” As the dimwit flees for home, the news of the child’s condition reaches Hazelrigg who promptly responds with rounding up his fellows and forming a lynch mob to see Ritter dealt with once and for all. After a chase, they find the young man disguised as a scarecrow leaning on a cross in the family field. The deranged postal worker takes the first shot with his revolver, and then his posse responds, filling Bubba’s body full of lead.
Had they shown only a few minutes more restraint, then they would’ve heard the news that Marylee was, in fact, attacked by a dog but was going to recover. Feeling he has no other recourse, Hazelrigg stages the scene to appear as if the armed men were defending themselves from Bubba – he places a pitchfork in the dead man’s hands – and the frame-up is complete. In court, the case gets dismissed on technicalities, leaving this four-man murder squad free and clear to go about the rest of their lives and besmirching the Ritter family’s good name.
What develops from here is a fairly standard and slightly predictable tale of vengeance. Once Marylee is back in good spirits, she begins preaching to the citizenry that Bubba was peaceful and would never have tried to harm anyone, not even those who were hunting him in a frenzy of misplaced righteousness. It doesn’t take long for her words to reach Hazelrigg’s ears; and he confronts her, threatening her to mind her own business as there’s no way she could possibly know what happened. Plainly, she replies, “Bubba told me.”
One by one, the mob find themselves confronted by a lone scarecrow suddenly appearing out of the ether on the edge of their respective properties; and, one by one, they’re dispatched by circumstances the law can only determine to be unfortunately accidental. As the bodies begin to pile up, Hazelrigg realizes his time will come, pitting him on a collision with forces beyond our world.
Much like those journeys hosted by Rod Serling, Dark Night Of The Scarecrow delivers some wonderful developing tension without resorting to the usual practical effects. There’s a great deal implied and not much shown; though a death or two are deliciously grim – hello, woodchipper – director De Felitta accomplishes far more with this nuanced exploration of violent redemption than audiences today might have patient for. If you’re looking for bloody payback, then you might want to turn elsewhere: but if you’re patient and accepting of good drama delivered by a talented cast all wrapped up with some excellent cinematography, the Dark Night is worth surviving.
In fact, when it comes to nuance there’s another nugget worth discussing.
Feigelson and Handcock’s script rather deftly traffics closely to the subject of pedophilia, perhaps even groundbreakingly so for the early 1980’s. Clearly, Hazelrigg suspects that something sexually inappropriate is at risk between Bubba and Marylee, and this appears to be at least circumstantially the man’s fear in the opening segment. And why wouldn’t this be? He sees Bubba as a half-man-half-child not in proper control of his mind and body; and, thus, Hazelrigg sees himself as needing to assume the role of the child’s protector. Interestingly enough, it’s no less than Bubba’s mother – Mrs. Ritter (Jocelyn Brando) – who confronts the ill-tempered postal worker with the allegation of “I’ve seen how you looked at that girl!” Could it possibly be that Hazelrigg’s deep-rooted hatred of Bubba is nothing more than projection on his part of his hidden desire to bed the child against her will? Rarely have I seen this topic proposed as strongly as it is here in 80’s television, and it’s handled with a masterful touch.
One by one, the mob find themselves confronted by a lone scarecrow suddenly appearing out of the ether on the edge of their respective properties; and, one by one, they’re dispatched by circumstances the law can only determine to be unfortunately accidental. As the bodies begin to pile up, Hazelrigg realizes his time will come, pitting him on a collision with forces beyond our world.
Much like those journeys hosted by Rod Serling, Dark Night Of The Scarecrow delivers some wonderful developing tension without resorting to the usual practical effects. There’s a great deal implied and not much shown; though a death or two are deliciously grim – hello, woodchipper – director De Felitta accomplishes far more with this nuanced exploration of violent redemption than audiences today might have patient for. If you’re looking for bloody payback, then you might want to turn elsewhere: but if you’re patient and accepting of good drama delivered by a talented cast all wrapped up with some excellent cinematography, the Dark Night is worth surviving.
In fact, when it comes to nuance there’s another nugget worth discussing.
Feigelson and Handcock’s script rather deftly traffics closely to the subject of pedophilia, perhaps even groundbreakingly so for the early 1980’s. Clearly, Hazelrigg suspects that something sexually inappropriate is at risk between Bubba and Marylee, and this appears to be at least circumstantially the man’s fear in the opening segment. And why wouldn’t this be? He sees Bubba as a half-man-half-child not in proper control of his mind and body; and, thus, Hazelrigg sees himself as needing to assume the role of the child’s protector. Interestingly enough, it’s no less than Bubba’s mother – Mrs. Ritter (Jocelyn Brando) – who confronts the ill-tempered postal worker with the allegation of “I’ve seen how you looked at that girl!” Could it possibly be that Hazelrigg’s deep-rooted hatred of Bubba is nothing more than projection on his part of his hidden desire to bed the child against her will? Rarely have I seen this topic proposed as strongly as it is here in 80’s television, and it’s handled with a masterful touch.
Even after all of this, there’s still more to relish about Dark Night. The setting has an almost timeless quality to it: while I don’t believe the script ever clearly specifies where and when we are (despite the obvious indicators), the story could be told almost in any era. Granted, it’s the kind of spectacle that works best in rural areas – you’re not going to see a scarecrow in the big city, thank you very much – so it’s appropriate to think of the telefilm as another entry into the whole Folk Horror sub-genre, one that excels in crafting its own mythology specific to the place and its people. Performances are solid – Durning is a great lead though one of the interviews in the special features discusses he was hesitant to take the part because of its dark angle – and the talent on display should be commended for knowing what spooky truly looked like and making it come alive.
Dark Night Of The Scarecrow (1981) was produced by Wizan TV Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at VCI Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the delivered sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish; the film honestly benefits from some very good cinematography, even more so considering this was shot for television and not theatrical presentation. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The film comes as part of a two-disc set paired up with Dark Night Of The Scarecrow 2, a sequel-of-sorts that takes place over four decades later and is vastly inferior. Additionally, there are multiple commentary tracks and a few extra shorts that make this collection worth your attention.
Strongly Recommended.
Wow. Even as a kid who came of age in the 1980’s, I just don’t remember Dark Night Of The Scarecrow, and that saddens me somewhat. It’s the kind of thing I would’ve loved to have seen on television of the day, and I undoubtedly would’ve loved it as much then as I do in discovering it today. While I do have some misgivings with the closing scene – it both embraces its ‘Twilight Zone’ quality and ignores it to a small degree – the rest of the feature is winning entertainment. Though Durning is a bit uneven when the action isn’t of dire consequence, he certainly fills the shoes of the town villain nicely; and it’s really grand to see that spectral influences from the other side aren’t willing to let him ‘get away with it’ any longer. High marks. Great film.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at VCI Entertainment provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of Dark Night Of The Scarecrow (1981) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Dark Night Of The Scarecrow (1981) was produced by Wizan TV Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at VCI Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the delivered sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish; the film honestly benefits from some very good cinematography, even more so considering this was shot for television and not theatrical presentation. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The film comes as part of a two-disc set paired up with Dark Night Of The Scarecrow 2, a sequel-of-sorts that takes place over four decades later and is vastly inferior. Additionally, there are multiple commentary tracks and a few extra shorts that make this collection worth your attention.
Strongly Recommended.
Wow. Even as a kid who came of age in the 1980’s, I just don’t remember Dark Night Of The Scarecrow, and that saddens me somewhat. It’s the kind of thing I would’ve loved to have seen on television of the day, and I undoubtedly would’ve loved it as much then as I do in discovering it today. While I do have some misgivings with the closing scene – it both embraces its ‘Twilight Zone’ quality and ignores it to a small degree – the rest of the feature is winning entertainment. Though Durning is a bit uneven when the action isn’t of dire consequence, he certainly fills the shoes of the town villain nicely; and it’s really grand to see that spectral influences from the other side aren’t willing to let him ‘get away with it’ any longer. High marks. Great film.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at VCI Entertainment provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of Dark Night Of The Scarecrow (1981) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
RSS Feed