Horns
One of the most prolific writers of modern times, the works of Stephen King have become a film genre among themselves, his diverse styles breeding a veritable catalogue of adaptations, sequels and spinoffs. From the cinematic classics of Carrie (Brian De Palma, 1976), The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980) and Christine (John Carpenter, 1983), all based on major horror novels to the more mainstream Stand By Me (Rob Reiner, 1986) and The Shawshank Redemption (Frank Darabont, 1994), both drawn from short stories in the collection Different Seasons through to the sequels to The Lawnmower Man, Sometimes They Come Back and the unending harvest of Children of the Corn, it seems every available work has been filmed, sometimes multiple times, so why has it taken so long for the Joe Hill, King’s son, a writer of similar style and content, to reach the silver screen?
Hill’s second novel is a more dynamic work than the traditional linear revenge haunting of his debut Heart Shaped Box, but consequently the multiple perspectives and timelines of Horns are more difficult to adapt. Alexandre Aja has by necessity created a streamlined film which is ultimately surprisingly faithful to the characters, events and tone of the novel and is a far cry from the excesses of his best known works Switchblade Romance (2003), The Hills Have Eyes (2006) and Piranha 3D (2010).
With a curb on gore and a direct approach to the plot, the crucial question of casting indicates one eye is firmly on how marketable the end result is, with former Harry Potter taking the lead role of Ignatius Perrish, a canny move which paid off well for Hammer in The Woman in Black regardless of how utterly wrong he was for the part of a widowed father. Another two years have passed since his graduation from Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry, a period in which he crucially played the challenging role of Allen Ginsberg in John Krokidas’ complex Kill Your Darlings, and heading a confident cast of his peers Radcliffe is not only better suited to the role of Ig but demonstrates his own growing ability.
Opening with the briefest interlude of Ig and his girlfriend Merrin in the forest on a summer day, happier days before reality soon intrudes, it is a year since Merrin was murdered, and despite no conclusive evidence Ig remains the prime suspect as he was witnessed arguing with her just hours before she vanished. That no case has proceeded to trial is immaterial to the townsfolk of Gideon: they loved Merrin more than they loved Ig, and one way or another they hold him responsible, though just how much he is about to find out.
Waking with a hangover, Ig finds he has sprouted horns which not only lead others to confess to him their secret thoughts and desires but also allows him to let them loosen any inhibitions which may have held them back. His childhood friend Glenna tells him she wishes to binge on an entire box of doughnuts, and he grants permission; the doctor’s receptionist wishes to vent her fury on a badly behaved child, and he tells her to go ahead. With the whole town compelled to tell him the truth whether he wishes to hear it or not, can he find the confession which will lead him to Merrin’s killer?
As much as the forest is almost a different country from the town, so is the past sharply divided from what is now. As in his father‘s masterpieces Christine and It, who Hill’s characters were in childhood and what their friendships were which informs their later identities, and the too-brief flashbacks into the childhood of the Perrish brothers and their close friends sets up the basis for their fractured adult relationships; though all the younger versions are well performed, Radcliffe’s younger self is hampered by bearing little resemblance to an actor who very publicly grew up on screen, and it is Sabrina Carpenter as the self assured younger Merrin who excels, never doubting her own mind.
In the brief adult life of Merrin, what little screen time Juno Temple has indicates she has finally moved past the snippy pouting bitch of Atonement, Cracks and Kaboom who constantly behaves as if the world owes her something, her dialogue confined largely to painfully obvious foreshadowing (“Just love me for the rest of [my life],” “I don’t ever want to be the reason for any of your regrets”).
The Crazies’ Joe Anderson gives by far the best performance though possibly as big brother Terry is the most interesting character, as where there should be a genuine question over Ig’s involvement in the murder, the casting of Radcliffe rendered Ig a safe part, for even alone and seeing the worst in everyone he remains relatively good, while conversely Terry is filled with secrets, regrets and guilt.
Onscreen too briefly are Heather Graham’s scheming waitress, bringing a Twin Peaks vibe as she serves cherry pie in a diner in a logging town in the rainy state of Washington and Contact’s David Morse as Merrin’s father, unpredictable in the depth of his grief. Unfortunately it is Ig’s best friend Lee Tourneau, played by The Darkest Hour’s Max Minghella, who is shortchanged by the shortcuts of Keith Bunin‘s screenplay, leaving the narrative misshapen with his motivations apparently specious when in fact crucial backstory which has been excised elucidates the reasons for his behaviour and shows him and his actions in a very different light.
Of the supporting cast, some play the comedy too broadly where a gallows humour would be more appropriate than winking at the audience, and while Aja has demonstrated restraint it is clear subtlety it is not his forte with newspaper headlines asking “Is this the face of the devil?” beside photographs of Ig and the Treehouse of the Mind, his sanctuary with Merrin, made into a quite literal hideout in the woods where the candlelit vigil for Merrin takes place, an event which indirectly catalysed the growth of Ig’s horns.
A well paced, natural adaptation which unfolds without feeling forced, it differs substantially only in the final showdown between Ig and the true
killer and it is unfortunate that where it begins to drift from Hill’s novel is also where the film loses momentum, begging the question of why the final scenes shift so radically when the substituted finale is not sufficiently dramatic or convincing to justify the change.
Horns is now on general release
