Lurking on the outermost fringes of Canada’s storied horror cinema legacy is Things (1989). Beyond its distinction as the first Canuck horror movie made for the VHS market that was shot on Super 8, Things is an unforgettable DIY mind-melter, perhaps the best to ever come out of the Great White North, or anywhere else for that matter. Things is as enigmatic as its title, even if its narrative appears fairly straightforward. The brainchild of co-writers and producers Andrew Jordan and Barry J. Gillis (Jordan handled directing duties while Gillis starred), the film begins as a prototypical riff on Evil Dead (1981), following a couple of hosers—Don (Gillis) and Fred (Bruce Roach)—as they arrive at Don’s brother Doug’s (Doug Bunston) remote abode to “party, party, partyyyyyyy!” After stumbling across an Aleister Crowley book and a tape of ominous incantations, our heroes are plunged into one long night in which they are besieged by a spawn of marauding sharp-fanged creatures (molded in charming papier-mâché fashion). “It’s just like that movie you were telling me about,” Don tells Fred, “that weird one with all the weird things…”
From here, Things quickly adopts a make-it-up-as-you-go-along attitude. Disorienting plot developments frequently occur, as in Fred’s sudden disappearance into thin air (“Spontaneous combustion,” Don coolly opines, “I’ve read about this crap”) and a just-as-sudden chainsaw-brandishing reappearance twenty minutes later. Meanwhile, the film’s post-produced soundscape is an idiosyncratic mix of tinny sound effects, amusingly melodramatic and mismatched ADR from the novice cast, and a ceaseless score of Casio-keyboard refrains from a musical outfit called STRYK-9. The one professional actor involved in Things is porn star Amber Lynn, somehow recruited to play a television reporter who provides confusing updates on the protagonists’ plight in between news items about the potential of nuclear war with the Soviet Union and George A. Romero’s copyright case over Night of the Living Dead (1968).
However inadvertently, all of this tonal weirdness contributes to the film’s dreamlike aura. But what cements Things in the top tiers of psychotronica is its stubborn preoccupation with that time-honored suburban tradition of getting together at someone’s house (in this case, on the outskirts of Toronto) to drink beers and kill time. Don, Fred, and Doug spend the bulk of Things nonchalantly puttering around, turning on lamps, flicking bottle caps, admiring a Salvador Dalí painting on the wall, playing dumb pranks on one another (there’s a fun dead-cockroach-in-a-sandwich bit), and other mind-numbing activities, all of which continue even after the deluge of horrors begins.
Largely forgotten following its initial video release, Things began to steadily accrue a rabid cult fanbase (affectionately dubbed “Things-ites”) in the mid-to-late aughts, which was followed by a stellar DVD release from Intervision. Whether the film is of the so-bad-it’s-good variety or a work of avant-garde provocation (it’s not for nothing that Nick Zedd gets a shoutout in the credits) is still up for debate. The film closes with a title card emphatically declaring: “You have just experienced Things.” What exactly that experience is will be markedly different for each viewer, but prepare yourself for something life-changing.
Things screens tonight, June 25, at Alamo Drafthouse Lower Manhattan on VHS as part of the ongoing series “Terror Tuesday.”
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