The works of Manx author and screenwriter Nigel Kneale have long needed a critical reappraisal. The current view – one which sees him as “the grandfather of British science fiction” – is complimentary at best, totally misguided on further inspection. This majority opinion, endorsed by mainstream sci-fi writers such as Mark Gatiss or Andy Murray, ignores Kneale’s misanthropic slant and almost xenophobic dread of alternative beliefs, favouring to see him as an even cozier John Wyndham and labeling his reoccurring Quatermass character (who features in two of Kneale’s greatest achievements, Quatermass and the Pit (1958; dir. Rudolph Cartier) and Quartermass (1979; dir. Piers Haggard) as well as three other works) as a “science fiction everyman” – thereby missing the point of the character and the majority of Kneale’s oeuvre entirely. Gatiss in particular has forged a career from writing infantile stories painfully wrought from those of Kneale, but with a total lack of insight or criticism. It may be unpleasant for them to admit that their hero was a racist, bigoted Little Englander who wrote reactionary stories to ease his anxiety over modern life, but their appreciation of him is all the worse for it.
Kneale worked primarily on British television but had a brief and unhappy affair with Hollywood during the 1980s, falling in with the big-budget horror boomers of the day (which included John Carpenter, John Landis and Joe Dante), and who probably had a greater understanding of his cynicism and ability than his current apologists here in the UK. Carpenter had recently enjoyed success with a number of films and their offshoots, especially his own Halloween (1977) and Halloween II (1981; dir. Rick Rosenthal) – a franchise he was keen to continue without its unstoppable, improbable masked killer. In his own words, he wanted to initiate “an anthology out of the series, sort of along the lines of Night Gallery, or The Twilight Zone, only on a much larger scale” and it fell to Kneale to kick start that series.
The finished film is deeply flawed, in part thanks to the executive producers’ insistence that helmer Wallace rewrite the screenplay to add what Kneale called “horror for horror’s sake” – prompting him to remove his name from the credits. What remains of Kneale’s original story (and doesn’t include the Stonehenge references or the visceral body-count) is still ingenious, and shines through thanks to that very misanthropic quality of Kneale’s that his advocates are blissfully unaware of. The whole notion of a man made so bitter by the commercialism of an ancient religious festival that he is driven to an act of apocalyptic vengeance, positively reeks of the same pen that blamed all the prejudices of mankind on inherited Martian genes, or the writer who predicted that reality television would dehumanise its audience. It’s this very ‘old man raging’ aspect of Kneale’s work that makes him so interesting; his supporters fail to recognize it and interpret his work as intellectual but vacant husks that fit neatly into their morally indignant and all-too-comfortable idea of storytelling.
No matter what our personal sentiment may be regarding Kneale’s misanthropy – and his if of that particularly distasteful white, middle-class, middle-aged variety – his merits as an originator of strong, often allegorical ideas cannot be denied. The one behind Halloween III, which sees a sublime Dan O’Herlihy utilizing his empire of materialist greed to bite his patrons in the arse with a nightmare-inducing television commercial, stands as one of his finest. If only a director with greater scope, intelligence and, more importantly, aggression had been behind the camera then the film might have begun to examine the implications of that idea and the mentality of the writer behind it. As it is, we’re left with that gem of an idea and some fine lensing from Dean Cudney, who uses his widescreen frame to a degree that would terrify any modern ’shoot to protect’ cinematographer.
Television and cinema need bold ideas that aren’t afraid to offend or disturb, and voices like Kneale’s may not be politically correct but are certainly missed in today’s watered-down, focus-group-dictated world of mass media. With the recent reboot of the Halloween franchise into flashy, compassion-deficit vehicles for gore-sans-suspense - Halloween and Halloween II (2007 and 2009 respectively; both dir. Rob Zombie) - there’ll be the inevitable remake of the third entry and a chance to revisit Kneale’s original story. However, Miramax have announced that Halloween 3D is in pre-production for 2010 and it bears no similarity to this 1983 version, choosing to continue Zombie’s stalk-and-slash/rock video hybrid. Which is a missed opportunity, and a great shame because anyone looking for inspiration from an unique and edgy voice will have to turn to the past. They certainly won’t find it in those media-luvvies who would rather have a safe, emasculated grandfather than a raging, insensitive bull.
Halloween III: Season of the Witch at the IMDb
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