Being Film #24 for Hooptober 2023
Nightmare on Elm Street may have the dream logic and evil supernatural beings; The Serpent and the Rainbow may have actual magic in the shape of its depiction of voodoo, and yet it’s the very real (to a point) horror and journey of its lead that makes Wes Craven’s The People Under the Stairs the most fantasy-driven of the man’s work. I’m not prepared to make the case it’s Craven’s best film (that still goes to the original Elm Street for me), but underneath some of its dated jokes and mugging is a wicked satire of the 1% and the struggles of the beaten people under their boot. Plus the man still knows how to frame an indelible image: I’ll never look at an ajar cabinet door the same way again.
THE QUICK SUMMARY: Young Fool turns 13, an unlucky number for both and his tenement. He, his sick mother and street hustler sister are about to be evicted along with the rest of the impoverished neighborhood by the mysterious couple who have slowly been buying up all the land to churn into cheap office space. Fool undertakes a dangerous journey with the streetwise Leroy to rob the couple, who supposedly have a stash of gold coins worth a fortune. What seems like a simple robbery turns into something else entirely: you see, this house is far from ordinary. It’s built like a prison, and its wards are more than a little crazy. And the inmates? Well, let’s just say it’s been a while seen they’ve seen the sun. It’ll take everything Fool has to survive his 13th birthday and discover the secret of…THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS!
My biggest takeaway on this rewatch was the overt fairytale aspect: Craven very intentionally fashions this as a hero’s journey, and peppers The People Under the Stairs with little touches that reinforce that, from the lovely maiden locked in the tower to the wicked step-mother (although that gets thrown on its head during the 3rd act) to the “magical” doorways to another world, in this to the tunnels and passages that live within the walls of the house itself. Taking this approach Craven then lashes it with a scathing reprimand of Reagan-era economics and capitalist greed. It lands a little too heavy, but horror was never known for subtlety, and if anything the content and themes are more than relevant today. Hearing that (hopefully) Jordan Peele and co. are producing an update a la Candyman is exciting – this material is ripe for an update.
Craven also shows his deft touch at enthralling images: right at the beginning there’s a wonderful sequence where the young Alice loses a fork – an unforgiveable sin according to her wicked mother. This provides our first glimpse of the titular folks under the stairs, as a ghoulish hand opens up a heating vent to hand Alice a fork before she gets punished. It’s simple but tells us so much, that there is more to the house than we realize, and that maybe the people under the stairs aren’t the monsters we’re set up to think they are.
Then there’s the constant moving about through holes and cabinets throughout the house. It never fails to open my eyes in wonder as we see someone creep out of an upper kitchen cabinet, or get quickly pulled through a medicine cabinet into the world between the walls of the house. Fool, Alice, and her friend Roach have secret ways all over in order to escape the madness of the Robesons. And that’s maybe the crowning achievement of this film: the casting of Everett McGill and Wendy Robie as the Robesons, or “Daddy” and “Mommy” as they call themselves. If you’ve watched them as the married couple “Big” Ed and Nadine Hurly in Twin Peaks you already know how great they are together. Here they’re working on another level, and it is utterly manic. McGill in particular has never been better, frantic and brutal and slathered in kink as the leather-clad Daddy. Robie has the more devious role as the wicked “mother” to Alice, but she’s no less effective, and her chemistry with McGill is off the charts here.
Not everything is perfect about The People Under the Stairs. I wish the comedic moments landed better: Fool, played by Brandon Adams seems to channel McCauley Culkin a little too much, as do the one-liners. And Craven’s script, righteous as it may be in its intent, paints the characters in the projects a little too cliche in their dialog – I love Ving Rhames as much as the next guy, but he is really nothing more than a walking caricature until he’s – spoiler – gutted and killed. But those are small qualms, and don’t take away from the overall joy I had revisiting this classic Craven film.
Cinema Dual 
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