Gremlins (dir. Joe Dante, 1984)
For some reason, as a child, it only ever seemed like we had the sequels to movies on VHS. I would catch the first films in series on television, sure, but the second or third ones in the franchise always got cycled in and out of the VCR. Raiders of the Lost Ark is great, but I’ve seen Temple of Doom and The Last Crusade so many more times than it. I have watched Aliens and Terminator 2 much more often than Alien and Terminator. Star Wars was about the only exception to this trend.
And then there’s Gremlins 2: The New Batch. I watched that movie so much in my childhood. It was formative in a way. Slapstick violence, parodies of famous films, Looney Tunes, the insane cast of character actors: it’s like a tapestry of future obsessions.
As for the original film? I only saw that as an adult. Why was this case? Apparently one of my sisters was so scarred by Gremlins that there was a de facto ban on it in the household. I couldn’t tell you why exactly it’s sequel was freely watched—what with Roberto Picardo making out with that female gremlin—but that’s how it was.
This is only the third time that I have sat down and watched Gremlins. It remains an odd experience. I have my childhood expectations of what these characters should be doing. Why aren’t Zach Galligan and Phoebe Cates not in New York City working for a somewhat more palatable version of Donald Trump played by John Glover? Why is Zach Galligan both hanging out in bars with Judge Reinhold and maintaining a weirdass friendship with a ten year old Corey Feldman? What’s with this whole Christmas setting?
The beginning of the film is particularly perplexing. It’s not that I, as a viewer, am unfamiliar with Gizmo the Mogwai being purchased from a Chinatown shopkeep that must have made Edward Said want to slap Joe Dante, and rightfully so. He’s in the sequel and I saw that Treehouse of Horror episode where Homer buys an evil Krusty doll and learns about the dangers of potassium benzoate. But even now I am unprepared for just how long and cringingly orientalist the whole scene of Randall Pelzer (Hoyt Axton) haggling with Mr. Wing (Keye Luke) over a sentient creature with some specific dietary needs.
Everyone is also incredibly nonchalant about Gizmo, too. He speaks English! Surely we can recognize how unusual that is. Everyone but Noam Chomsky was all excited by Koko the Gorilla, but this completely unknown species purchased from some Chinese enclave by an incompetent inventor doesn’t raise any eyebrows? You didn’t ask any questions when you learned that it cannot tolerate water? Name anything alive on this planet that can’t have water. Even the middle school science teacher that should provide some exposition doesn’t bring that up. And the asexual budding off producing more of them that are genetically distinct and not clones?
Come on, Kingston Falls, someone please have some curiosity about these things before they become a threat to the entire community!
My debilitating pedantry about a thirty five year old film aside, there’s a lot to like about Gremlins. I’m all about wholesome Americana being upended by chaos and murder puppets. Admittedly I think that the formula is perfected in the sequel, but Dante and company were onto something here. The ambiguity about Billy’s age and psychosexual development is funny and terrifying. The monologue about Christmas that Phoebe Cates performs is amazing, and I have no idea how or why Steven Spielberg thought otherwise. Add in an elderly woman being catapulted out of her second story window on an accelerated chair lift and some death by kitchen appliances, and you’ll have a great time.
oliveresque 