The Serpent and The Rainbow (1988)

I can hardly believe this will be our first discussion of horror maestro Wes Craven. The man possesses one of the most recognizable names in horror and has contributed many of cinema's most iconic monsters over his prolific career. In this little-discussed entry in his canon, we find him taking on genuine folk horror: a story of voodoo zombies and the taking of souls, based not only in folklore but in real beliefs and superstitions. Its literary source is actually a "non-fiction" book from which the film derives most of its material and journalistic sense of detail. So, is this film simply underrated and underseen, or has it been forgotten for a reason?

The opening hook is familiar, but intriguing nonetheless: a pharmaceutical company hears talk of a man in Haiti who claims to have been resurrected and enslaved by an evil practitioner of black magic, and they send their best man in to investigate. You see, they don't actually believe he was resurrected, but just think about it: if these guys out in the sticks have access to an anesthetic that can put someone completely to sleep to the point where their heart stops beating, and yet bring them back unharmed a few days later, Big Pharma simply must get their hands on it and determine its medical potential.

And if anyone can get their hands on such an obscure, possibly taboo substance, it's anthropologist Dennis Alan. Once left stranded in the Amazon jungle with something that wanted him dead, he ran, walked, and climbed over 200 miles to get back home to Boston (presumably his getting on a boat is generously skipped over; that or the poor guy swam across the ocean to get back home offscreen.) Needless to say, he's a man of no small amount of willpower and strength, and he'll need it. This trip into the heart of darkness may be his last excursion if he isn't careful. Forces beyond his understanding are at work, and for a man of no supernatural faith, it's all very hard to swallow.

As I said, the film gets the thrust of its plot from a non-fiction account of a man who also claimed to have been resurrected and enslaved, but that's not its only authentic touch; rather, it's chock full of them. Firstly, it's shot (mostly) on location in Haiti, and boy do they make the most of it. It's hard at any given point to tell what is production design, and what is simply an inherent feature of wherever they decided to film. Tons of local extras crowd each shot, and the hustle and busy of the African urban sprawl is keenly felt.

We also get a lot of the local flavor, in the cultural sense. Pageantry, dance, secret ceremonies, alchemy... All that, in addition to all the nuggets of folklore and scraps of local trivia. For example, I had no idea that there were so many remnants of the French occupation of Haiti that were still around in the late '80s. And it isn't just well-researched, either; it's also quite respectful and thoughtful when considering its subject, a system of beliefs and practices that people actually believe in, and it keeps things as classy as things can be in a legitimately scary horror film. It approaches a horror icon that I have never felt much love for, deconstructs the myth, and then reconstructs it in a more interesting, rootsy mold that feels fresh in our modern pop culture zombie obsession.

Furthermore, it touches on the real-life political turmoil and tyranny of community leaders that have plagued the area for an awfully long time. This was partially inspired by circumstances encountered by the filmmakers while making the film, where they had to pack up and move to the Dominican Republic halfway through to continue shooting once they were told they could no longer be guaranteed safety. Like in Craven's minor classic The New Nightmare, which would grace the silver screen only six years later, he lets real life write the plot, so to speak, which enhances the narrative's sense of time and place. It's a great backdrop to a horror story.

But all this authenticity isn't used only to strengthen the narrative. No, it adds interest and detail to an already visually sumptuous film. There's color bursting from every seam, plenty of psychedelic imagery, and wonderful practical effects. The score may be the highlight though, as it combines folky instrumentation and percussion, which matches the setting, with the typical 80s' synth and drum machine score that most other films from this era sported. It strikes the perfect balance of contemporary and primordial. Performance-wise, while the cast isn't exactly entirely local, they aren't all handsome white people either. One of the most common complaints about the film is that it gets a little lost amongst its explosive displays of pure spectacle in the final ten minutes, but I'd say the film more than earns those ten minutes, even if I can concede that I understand why they might feel that way. It's certainly not the strongest part of the film, but it's not too much of an issue.

No, my issue with the ending is the fact that it's kind of a 'happily ever after' convenient reset sort of thing that just feels contrived to me. Our hero is put through an experience you would really think he'd be unable to come back from, but no, he's totally fine. Just a few bumps, bruises, and psychological scars, but he'll live, apparently. Cue block of text tying up the single loose end left dangling rather than taking an obvious opportunity to leave us with a 'sequel hook' so to speak. This is all stuff that happens in the final fifteen minutes or so, but the combination of this stuff with all the bombast does threaten to spoil things a bit.

But aside from those nitpicks, The Serpent and the Rainbow finds Craven in full possession of his artistic ability. And this is quite ambitious for him as well, shooting in an unfamiliar part of the world and employing all these extras and real locations. It must have been a real challenge, even at that later stage in his career. Perhaps the stress helped inform the horror of the story, which certainly exploits the fear of being swallowed up in an unfamiliar land for all that it can. And speaking of uncomfortable, there are numerous impalings that are rather hard to stomach, one in the eye, the other in the scrotum, though apparently it was only a flesh wound. Well, the first time anyway. 

And in the film's most effective scene, the contrast between our lead's modern corporate home and the place he's just returned from after so much insanity becomes clear. It feels like what I imagine coming home from war in a foreign place feels like. Giggling idiots surround our protagonist, and they just don't get it. How could they? They haven't been there, they haven't met the people, they haven't seen what goes on there. They have no idea the gravity of folk magic. As the scene continues though, an innocent bystander in proximity of our hero becomes possessed by the story's rather disquieting villain, and attempts to kill him before writhing around on the table, like putty in the hands of such a skilled black magician. It signals that our character will never be safe, and must go back, but it also illustrates that polite society is nothing in the face of such primordial evil.

So that's the gist of it. This is a film that's easy to recommend to just about everyone: fans of Wes Craven, fans of folk horror and academics of folklore in general, and anybody who enjoys intelligent horror filmmaking and storytelling. It ebbs and flows wonderfully, occasionally feeling almost like an adventure film in the vein of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom before things take a turn for the harrowing in the second act. It's one of those horror films that seeks to be somewhat well-rounded as a film while also ticking all the expected genre boxes, and understands that we need characters that we like and care about in order for the horror to work, as well as a contrast between early parts of the story and later parts, with the horror becoming more explicit as it goes on. It all leads up to a great horror set piece that's unlikely to surprise, given that it's spoiled by the original box art, the back-of-the-box description, the Blu-ray menu, and the intro to the Wikipedia article about the film. While the convenient happy ending does feel a bit forced, it does at least offer some respite in an already grim and disturbing tale.

So while it isn't perfect and almost loses itself during its grand finale, The Serpent and the Rainbow is classic Craven, striking a perfect balance between entertaining, horrifying, and illuminating. The craft with which it was made is unquestionable and is probably the reason why this film holds up far better than similar films relying on cheap digital workarounds a decade later would. I highly recommend this film to anyone who has the time and interest. You won't regret it, and you'll likely not forget it either. It's easily one of the best folk horror films I've seen.