TV RECAP: “American Horror Story: 1984” Episode 3 Autopsy
Ryan Vandergriff
Thursday, October 3, 2019
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I grew up and came of age in the 1970s and 80s and this put me in the unique spot of being in on the ground floor of the so-called slasher genre of films. The mainstream popularity of the slasher flick came in 1978 with John Carpenter’s superlative and eerie cautionary tale, Halloween. With the success of this independent film – and faster than you could utter the deathless words, “I’ll be right back” – came a raft of pretender’s to the throne, all intent on outdoing whichever gore fest preceded it. Some of these were pretty good and a whole passel of ‘em were just plain awful: Prom Night, When a Stranger Calls, Friday the 13th, The Driller Killer, Final Exam and A Nightmare On Elm Street were but a small handful of tawdry gems from the Golden Age of the slasher film, a genre that had been around in one form or another since the early 1960s when Norman Bates came out against showers.
Which is all buildup to my review for last night’s third episode of the popular season long anthology show, American Horror Story which, in its ninth season, shows no signs of fatigue as it sets about homaging and deconstructing the aforementioned slasher genre with its usual bromide of lots of blood, gore and sex. I can just imagine the doctor’s pad all blood splattered and adorned with hockey masks, machetes and the Kevin Williamson penned rules for surviving a horror/slasher movie (as intoned with wonderful geek authority by Jamie Kennedy): 1.) No sex must be had by horny adolescent teens. Sex equals death, kids! 2.) You can’t drink or do drugs which means an entire nation of would be stoners are at risk of sudden and violent impalement. And, most importantly, never-ever say the words, ‘I’ll be right back.’ These words, usually uttered by a hapless overweight virgin or the comic relief in 80s horror films (sometimes these characters were one and the same; see Friday the 13th Part 3) was an iron-clad guarantee that said individuals would not be signing on the dotted line for a sequel.
Series writers and creators Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk know these rules well and, in fact, know and love the horror/slasher genre inside and out, and their affection for Jason Voorhees, Michael Meyers and Fred Krueger comes shining through every blood drenched film frame of American Horror Story: 1984 (or, for the verbally challenged among you, AHS:1984).
The setup for the new season is pretty straightforward and follows most of the tropes of the slasher film: Its 1984 and a young woman who survives an attack by the infamous Night Stalker decides it might be prudent to take some time away from this particular nightmare. Faster than you can say, ‘You’re all doomed,’ the woman – Brooke Thompson – and a group of friends head out into the wilderness to serve as camp counsellors. They promptly learn the legend of a massacre that occurred at Camp Redwood years previously in 1970. This orgy of blood and terror was undertaken by the groundskeeper of the camp, Benjamin Richter (AKA Mr. Jingles). The owner of the camp discloses to her young counsellors that she was the sole survivor of this bloodbath. Along the way, an injured hiker is picked up by Brooke and her friends and cared for by Rita, the nurse of the camp. The hiker all but has gratuitous victim stamped on his forehead as Brooke finds him by the end of the first episode apparently the latest victim of Mr. Jingles who has just escaped from a mental institution. Key word here is apparently as the mysterious hiker has a big role to play in this season of American Horror Story.
Like most slasher films, American Horror Story: 1984 presents a list of viable contenders for the role of deranged serial killer, never explicitly hanging the mantle on Mr. Jingles. There’s a sly bit of fun being had here by Murphy and Falchuk: They both know that part of the fun of these sorts of flicks is to guess just who the real killer might be and who among the cast are simple red herrings.
Last night’s third episode – Slashdance – was a tour de force of false leads and mistaken identities that ended with the revelation that Montana, one of Brooke’s trusted friends, and the Night Stalker were working in cahoots together all along. Want a chaser for that particular shock? Rita, the camp nurse was revealed to be a psychologist who was responsible for breaking Mr. Jingles out of the institution he had been housed to. Oh, and appropriately enough for a show that tips its hat to slasher movies of the 80s, the body count for this episode is huge. How huge? To quote Barnard Hughes from the classic vampire film The Lost Boys: ‘If all the corpses buried around here were to stand up all at once, we’d have one hell of a population problem.”
The ninth season of American Horror Story is like a more grown up version of Stranger Things, except that the characters aren’t as cuddly and as likeable. Instead, we’re presented with a cast that all have flaws in typical Horror Story fashion and you have to decide who is at least a little less depraved than the others and then put your money on their survival. It’s the usual standout cast and, among a few new faces, many alumni of past seasons play a role in this one: Veterans Emma Roberts, Sarah Paulson and John Carroll Lynch join newcomers Matthew Morrison, Zach Villa and Angelica Ross in the new outing. The show in its newest incarnation is so good that I almost do not miss the talented Evan Peters. Almost.
If I can level one complaint against the show it would be that there’s just a little too much of 2019 seeping into the cracks and pores of 1984. While the original slasher films of the late 70s and early to mid-80s were oftentimes used as cautionary tales against premarital sex and drug use, reflecting some of the views of our elders who would have preferred we caught a showing of Yentl instead of Slumber Party Massacre, as teenagers and young adults watching these back in the day one never got the sense of political and social pandering which has slightly wormed its way into this new season. It’s a small point, but an important one.
Just three episodes in, American Horror Story: 1984 promises to be a rousing and nerve-wrangling experience for longtime fans of the show and a true revelation for latecomers who are just now catching the Ryan Murphy bus. Enjoy it and remember that “a five keeps the neighborhood alive.”
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