Thematic Integration

On a final note, the two Thing movies have distinctly different levels of success in integrating their monster theme with the other material. Here is another area where John Carpenter’s version fared poorly with the critics. The ‘82 Thing was widely denigrated for being just a loose sequence of gory episodes with nothing substantial in between. It was, according to the critics, some islands of bloody goop surrounded by oceans of fluff.

Under close scrutiny, however, we discover that Bottin’s monster theme is thoroughly woven throughout the Carpenter movie. There is, in actuality, an incredible thematic unity running through the ‘82 Thing, so much so that the film constitutes nothing less than a pure stroke of artistic genius. It is the ‘51 film that flounders in bringing its monster theme to bare.

Who is the enemy in the Howard Hawks movie? This at first sounds like an absurd question, but let the reader take note: it is posed in all seriousness. Who is the real antagonist portrayed in the ‘51 film? The film obviously makes an attempt to depict a fight between the humans and the Arness Thing, but there is also a "subplot" involved where humans are contending with each other. We see this internecine strife occurring almost immediately when the alien ship is first discovered. Ned Scott wants to radio off a news report of the find, and Captain Hendry promptly vetoes the idea. That sends Scotty off on a 1950’s version of a temper tantrum. The film then keeps on showing Scotty whining about not being able to get his scoop. Towards the end he tones down his rhetoric and decides to join the other men in fighting the Arness Thing.

There is a yet greater struggle occurring between Hendry and Carrington. At first they argue over whether or not to remove the ice around the Arness Thing. When that question becomes moot through the ineptitude of the posted guard, the two men then argue how to approach the released creature. Hendry has a shoot-first, ask-questions-later mentality. Without knowing the alien’s intentions in the slightest, he has already concluded that it must be destroyed. Carrington would rather attempt communication with the Arness Thing as part of man’s overall search for knowledge. He argues that "it is a stranger in a strange land" and that "the only crimes involved were those committed against it." The film has so many verbal spars between Hendry and Carrington, occurring so frequently, that one can easily get the impression that the real struggle is not that of alien versus humanity, but human intellect versus human muscle. The introduction of the Arness Thing is nothing but a pretext for the real battle between scientific investigation and military force. The true tension of the ‘51 film exists between the progressives and the reactionaries, with the Arness Thing serving only as a backdrop. The creature turns out to be nothing else than a fanciful prop that helps set the stage for the real fight.

Admittedly this is a highly provocative reading of Hawks’ film, but there is plenty of evidence to support it. First is the amount of time the film devotes to the verbal clashes between Hendry and the others. Hendry argues with Scotty, Carrington, and his Army superiors. These scenes take up a full 12% of the film. Compare this to the 9.4% allotted to the Arness Thing, and the movie clearly devotes more time to humans versus humans than humans versus alien.

Secondly, there are just two deaths that occur in the ‘51 film. They are the scientists that are posted by Carrington to watch the greenhouse. Carrington has fully deduced that the Arness Thing will return to the greenery, and he wants someone there when it does. The two men end up paying with their lives, all so that Carrington can get a chance to speak to the creature before Hendry destroys it. Thus, it is not the Arness Thing that is ultimately to blame for the deaths of the two men. Rather it is Carrington who is morally responsible for their demise, and the film has Hendry saying as much. So, the ultimate culprit for the film’s only deaths is not necessarily the Arness Thing but rather the wishful scientist.

Thirdly, we see Carrington midway through the film saying to his fellow scientists: "Gentlemen, we find ourselves in a battle. I’m not referring to the minor argument with Captain Hendry but this creature from a new world." This is nothing short than amazing. The ‘51 movie plays up the strife between Hendry and Carrington so much that Howard Hawks apparently thought it necessary to remind the audience of where the "real" battle was! It is pretty bad when a "monster movie" has to go to this extreme in keeping the viewers’ attention focused on the monster.

It is considerations such as the above that inexorably lead to the conclusion that the real enemy in the Hawks film is not the Arness Thing. Rather, it is that which is represented by the Carrington character. Many have interpreted the ‘51 Thing in light of its early Cold War geopolitical climate. In which case, the Arness Thing typifies Marxist socialism while Hendry and Carrington would represent American conservatives and liberals respectively. This is supported by the fact that the research station relocated to Alaska, not Antarctica, where it is obviously much closer to the former Soviet Union. Since Carrington’s sympathies are portrayed as utterly foolish, even deadly, while Hendry’s militarism is magnificently triumphant, the message is crystal clear. Just as the Arness Thing gets barricaded in the greenhouse, communism also can be contained. The real enemies are the sympathizers to be found in our midst. If we don’t keep them under control, then the fight will be lost.

So, after all is said and done, the monster is not really so monstrous. Indeed, the "intellectual carrot" falls for a trap that it should have seen coming a mile away. It is rather the monster’s sympathetic cohorts who are truly dangerous. In this way The Thing from Another World (1951) fails miserably in developing its monster plot. The monster serves only as a context for the real story. It has no substance of its own. Indeed, we could switch the Arness Thing with any number of antagonists, human or otherwise, and not have the rest of the film change in any significant way. Monsters ought to be the ones who are the primary enemies -- not their unsolicited, would-be helpers.

In stark contrast is John Carpenter’s The Thing. Rather than being a few effects-intensive scenes with no substance between them, as the critics would have us believe, the entire film develops its monster theme in virtually every shot. For us to see this, it is necessary to recall the nature of the Bottin Thing. The alien organism essentially de-humanizes persons while maintaining an extraordinary amount of stealth. The creature de-personalizes people without others knowing it. The emptying of a self combined with the ignorance of others, that is the essence of the Bottin Thing. It is this sort of de-humanistic agnosticism (or, should we say, agnostic de-humanism?) that is key to understanding The Thing (1982). The union of personal de-humanization with inter-personal agnosticism constitutes the quintessential theme that runs throughout the whole film. Once we realize this basic truth, every piece of the film falls into place, and the completed jigsaw puzzle that is The Thing (1982) is seen to be nothing but sheer genius.

Obviously, the Bottin Thing is most striking for its de-humanization at the physical, biological level. As everyone would agree, the ‘82 feature shows this in all its gruesome details. But it seems that few have realized the other dimensions inherent to the creature’s de-personalizing activity. Not only does de-humanization occur physically and biologically, but the film portrays it happening at the social, psychological, and functional levels of humanity. In between the scenes of the alien’s physical transformations, the same type of metamorphosis is occurring to the whole group as their relationships and work functions within the camp degrade or even disappear altogether.

This is most clearly seen when the men are divested of that which sets them apart as individuals within the overall group. Clark, for instance, is the dog handler. The audience sees him for the first time when he comes outside to comfort the Norwegian dog. He clearly has an emotional bond with his huskies and seems to prefer their company over that of his fellow humans. Yet as the film progresses his dogs are all killed, first by the Thing and then by a deranged Blair. Clark is devastated, and from that point on, he is always seen with the group -- even tied down to keep him with the others. The dog handler has no more dogs and is forced to be with the other men. It is in this manner that we can say Clark gets emptied of that which makes him unique in the group. Even though he never gets physically attacked by the Bottin Thing, Clark is nonetheless de-personalized by it as much as if he were physically overcome.

Another example is Childs, the mechanic who is responsible for the maintenance of the camp’s vehicles. He is working on one of the tractors when we get to see him the first time. He is also the one who operates the snow plow during the scene where the Things in storage are burned and buried. But as the Thing infiltrates the camp more and more, all the vehicles are rendered inoperative beyond Childs’ ability to fix them. Indeed it is the Bottin Thing, wearing the guise of Blair, that gets to salvage parts from the tractors and helicopter in order to put together its own makeshift escape vehicle. The activity of the Thing ultimately takes away the mechanical devices from the mechanic, and he is thus robbed of his own identity among the inhabitants of Outpost 31.

The above pattern observed with Clark and Childs is seen among the other men as well. The radioman Windows has all of his equipment destroyed. The roller-skating cook Nauls soon stops his skating and even is no longer allowed to prepare meals for the camp. The biologist Blair loses that which best qualifies him as a scientist: his rationality. Doctor Copper is killed by the organism, but the way this happens is most ironic. The Thing kills him by dismembering that which most distinguishes him as a surgeon: his hands. Garry’s character is distinctive as station manager, especially when linked with the symbol of his position: the six-shooter which is constantly at his side. Yet, as the Thing infiltrates the Outpost, Garry is removed from his leadership position, relinquishing his gun in the process. Thus, Garry is forced to undergo his own form of de-personalization by the Thing.

The trend is clear for all to see. The creature is not just working to empty humanity in a purely biological fashion. Rather, all throughout the film the Bottin Thing effectively strips Outpost 31’s inhabitants from those functions and possessions which make them unique as individuals. De-humanization is occurring on a massive scale in Outpost 31. The film shows it happening in virtually every scene, and it does so by using a multitude of different plot techniques.

Yet, as we have hinted at before, there is one man who stands out as the glaring exception to this general rule: MacReady. We first observe him playing computer chess while sitting alone in his shack with a bottle of J & B whiskey. This is what sets MacReady apart from the rest of the crowd. He is a man who enjoys his solitude and his alcohol. The ‘82 film explicitly brings this to light when MacReady says: "I’m tired of talking, Fuchs. I just want to get up to my shack and get drunk." There are no less than four other times when MacReady is seen alone with his alcohol companion. He is by himself in the kitchen grabbing a beer from the fridge when he hears the Thing attacking the dogs. Just before Bennings is killed, MacReady is alone examining some shredded clothing, the bottle of J & B prominently sitting next to him on the table. Before Fuchs is murdered, MacReady is shown talking into a tape recorder in a room all by himself. Again, the J & B bottle is right there with him. Finally, at the film’s end MacReady is again all by himself carrying his bottle of J & B -- at least until the errant Childs makes his surprise appearance.

In the face of the alien onslaught, MacReady successfully maintains his individuality and resists the Thing’s de-humanization. He is the only man in the whole camp that doesn’t allow the Bottin Thing to de-personalize him. This contrast between MacReady and the other men only adds to MacReady’s "hero" status and gives the ‘82 Thing a depth that is truly extraordinary. Those critics who like to slam Carpenter’s film as lacking character development only succeed in revealing their own shallowness. There is plenty of character development, or rather, character de-development. The incorporation of the Thing’s de-humanization into the very fabric of the film’s plot is a remarkable achievement. The critics were just too simplistic and shallow to see it for themselves.

Yet, MacReady’s victory of self over non-self is not allowed to be final and ultimate. After his big confrontation with the Blair monster, MacReady does indeed get to be alone with his alcohol (the two prominent elements of his personality) but his personal victory is rudely interrupted with the introduction of Childs into the final scene. This beautifully illustrates the other aspect of the Bottin Thing: the incipient agnosticism it brings with itself. Did MacReady really win? Is Childs human? Will either of them survive? The answers are patently agnostic: we just don’t know.

As with its de-humanization, the agnostic dimension of The Thing (1982) is seen virtually everywhere throughout the movie. We don’t know how the Norwegians came across the alien ship in the ice. We don’t know how the organism escaped from its icy prison. We don’t know how the struggle progressed at the Norwegian camp. We don’t know how the Norwegians found out the dog wasn’t a dog. We don’t know who at Outpost 31 is the Thing. We don’t know when or where the Thing will strike next. We don’t know whose long-johns were shredded. We don’t know who got to the blood supply. We don’t know what exactly happened to Fuchs. We don’t know how or when Blair was assimilated-duplicated. We don’t know what exactly happened to Nauls. We don’t know if all the Things were killed. We don’t who is finally victorious. … We just don’t know!

Therefore, de-humanism and agnosticism are all-pervasive in the Carpenter film. The de-humanistic, agnostic entity that is the Thing is everywhere in the movie. This is an extraordinary and brilliant achievement. There is no other horror film that so successfully integrates its monster theme throughout its plot and character development. The assertion that The Thing (1982) is a shallow, non-artistic piece simply doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Carpenter’s 1982 work is a pure stroke of creative genius. It truly ranks as the best alien horror film ever produced and is also a very strong contender for the best horror film ever made.

Next Section: Conclusion