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DIRECTED BY: Wolf Rilla
FEATURING: George Sanders, Barbara Shelley, Michael Gwynn, Martin Stephens
PLOT: All the women of child-bearing age in the Midwich become pregnant after a mysterious period of unconsciousness; their offspring have a distinctive appearance, mature rapidly, and behave in a manner quite unnatural.
COMMENTS: For two years running, I have celebrated Halloween here with a classic 1950s goofball–monster showcase. So here we are, on the cusp of the 60s, and lots of things look familiar: we’re back in black-and-white, we’re back in England, and something is once more out to get us. But it’s a little different this time. This time, the beasts aren’t strabismus-afflicted giant birds or giddily bouncing brains. They’re children, notable for their platinum hair, their glowing eyes, and their sociopathic behavior. This time, our monster feels earnestly threatening.
We don’t get to them right away, though. The film cleverly serves up its surprises and horrors at a deliberate pace. We must first work through the mystery of the lengthy period of unconsciousness, which the authorities investigate seriously and thoroughly, diligently working through experiments that culminate in a terrible sacrifice. We never get a full explanation for that occurrence, though, because we’re quickly on to the conundrum of the many immaculate conceptions and the havoc they wreak among the populace. In fact, we’re well into Act 2 before we get our first encounter with the enigma of the curious children themselves, who can solve puzzle boxes as toddlers and who get revenge upon their mothers when the feeding bottle is too hot. (The filmmakers were right to forego the original title of John Wyndham’s book; “The Midwich Cuckoos” would have been too much of a giveaway as to the childrens’ origin.) This sense of compounding catastrophes keeps you off-balance like the residents of Midwich, never able to relax before the next dilemma arrives.
The children are appropriately creepy. Lead child David (Stephens, unconvincingly dubbed) does most of the talking, serving up uncomfortable sociopathy by directly confronting the shopkeepers who think them an abomination, or helpfully suggesting to his father that, “If you didn’t suffer from emotions, from feelings… you could be as powerful as we are.” However, the young terrors do most of their intimidation without words. A walk through the town shows the residents in a mixed state of fear and revulsion, responding to the cliquish collection of quiet children as if they were a rowdy biker gang. Luckily, all they need to do is put on their best wish-you-to-the-cornfield look and the townspeople’s reactions do the rest. They come by their fears honestly, because we’ve seen that the children’s disapproval carries with it the threat of death. This is most evident in a chilling scene in which a man bent on revenge against the kids finds his own shotgun inexorably turned against him while bystanders watch helplessly. Even before the citizens have grabbed their torches and pitchforks to deliver justice, you can be sure of the outcome of that confrontation.
The whole thing could easily tip over into absurdity, but director Rolla manages the proceedings with a sober, almost documentarian approach. He’s aided greatly the presence of George Sanders as the children’s protector-turned-opponent. A decade after his Oscar for All About Eve, Sanders brings a gravity and nobility to what could be another stereotypical scientist placing the wonder of discovery over the recognition of danger. Sanders doesn’t get to display the hard wit he shows in other films, but instead his unexpected gentleness makes him a believable advocate for the children, and his authority is crucial when the time comes for him to stand up against the brood’s potential power.
It’s frankly impressive what the filmmakers were able to get away with when it comes to threats posed by a group of pre-adolescents. (Reportedly, the Catholic League was so uncomfortable with all the virgin births and child endangerment that they stymied efforts to make the film in the States, hence MGM’s shift to the source material’s English locale.) It’s a hard sell to get your audience to root for murdering of a group of children, but Village of the Damned is up to the task. We see, of course, the telekinetic violence they can wreak, but the film also slips in little nuggets of backstory to dial up the tension. We learn of similar incidents around the world and the unsavory outcomes that have resulted: A First Nations tribe butchered the infants immediately. The Russians nuked a whole village to stop them. You think the British are going to have better luck with gentle persuasion? No problem, let’s just see how that goes.
It all leads to an appropriately tense conclusion, in which Sanders must engage in a war of wits with a collective hive mind that he knows is significantly more powerful than he is. Unfortunately, as thick as the tension of this moment may be, the explosive denouement is also the point at which the film’s modest ambitions outpace its abilities. Sanders’ tension as he confronts the unimaginably powerful children is palpable, but the dramatization of his solution is undercut by the ineffective use of obvious miniatures. It’s an unusual misstep in a film that builds its paranoia successfully, but the special effects fizzle actually demonstrates how much horror can accomplish without gore or jump-scares. All Village of the Damned needs are children – pale and pretty, emotionally-vacant, coolly homicidal children – to deliver all the creeps and chills you need.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
(This movie was nominated for review by Mitch Peters. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)