By 1987, the slasher movie heyday was dunzo and the subgenre was on its last legs--legs that would prove weirder and often more interesting than the formulaic flicks that put the glory in the glory days. Case in point: American Gothic, a wacked-out joyride that's got a real heart of darkness beneath its gingham...uh, finery.
Cynthia (Sarah Torgov) is released from the mental hospital where she'd been treated for a breakdown caused by the accidental drowning of her baby. Her husband Jeff (Mark Erickson) is understanding and happy to have his wife back, telling her they'll have more kids and it wasn't her fault. Now look, I don't think making her feel any guiltier than she already does is the best thing for her, of course, but Cynthia left the baby unattended in the tub so it pretty much is her fault...? I am just saying.
The couple decides a little vacay is in order, so they hop in Jeff's seaplane along with two other couples. The plane soon starts a-sputterin' and a-smokin', forcing the group to land on an island that seems to be deserted. But when they go exploring, they discover that it ain't. They find a house that seems to be frozen in time, with clothing and records and decor straight outta the 1920s. The group makes themselves right at home, cranking the tunes, wearing the clothes, and Charleston-ing it up. The owners return and let me tell you, they aren't nearly as put out as I would be if I came home and found a group of strangers wearing my wigs and muumuus and listening to my Chuck Mangione records! But I guess the down-home duo of Ma (Yvonne De Carlo) and Pa (Rod Steiger) are better people than I. (Hmm, being so taken aback by their chill attitudes and Jeff's exceedingly forgiving nature, I guess I am learning a thing or two about myself. But don't worry, whatever I learn won't stick!) While Pa is a taciturn scripture-spewing buzzkill, Ma is quite genial, excited to have some new "kids" to join the Clean Plate Club at the dinner table.
Not that she doesn't have kids of her own, mind you: There's Fanny (Janet Wright), Woody (weirdo horror movie mainstay Michael J. Pollard), and Teddy (William 'Jek Porkins' Hootkins), all of whom are clearly decades older than they act or claim to be. Pa promises that help should be coming to the island soon but it's doubtful that the gang of stranded folks will survive in the company of this wackadoodle family. I mean, it's a slasher movie, after all.
In my review of this film during the inaugural SHOCKtober, I mentioned that it was a video store shelf staple but I'd never seen it and rarely heard mention of it. Twenty years later, it seems that American Gothic still has yet to find its audience, which surprises me because it's fucking weird and it's fucking fun. These religious isolationists are your classic kind of horror movie nutso family, à la the Wrong Turn gang, Leatherface's brood, the Firefly clan, and so on and so on. Those are all well and good but none of them feature Yvonne De Carlo now, do they? They do not, and it's a shame because she's having a grand ol' time here, gleefully delivering aphorisms, whipped potatoes, and a kindly menace. Rod Steiger occasionally seems to wonder what movie he's in, but delivers his Big Acting Moments with gusto (again, perhaps unaware of what movie he's in).
Director John Hough has a filmography that's a series of random peaks and valleys, ranging from the likes of The Legend of Hell House to The Watcher in the Woods to Howling IV: The Original Nightmare. While the material is often pitch black (drowning babies, mummified babies, incest, necrophilia), Hough keeps it as light as possible, leaving details and specifics off-screen and in our imaginations. I wonder if this and the general lack of explicit violence are what have kept American Gothic in the realm of the unknown and/or underseen? Hmm. Keeping the uncomfortable in the realm of implication and the killings largely off-screen aren't marks against it for me: The uncomfortable is still hella uncomfortable even if you don't see things play out, you know? And ultimately the whole thing is on the bleaker side of bonkers--exactly what I'm looking for in a late 80s slasher. Who knows, maybe other folks'll join The Clean Plate Club of Loving American Gothic some day yet!
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