When a Stranger Calls (1979)
Every babysitter's nightmare becomes real...
Year of Release: 1979
Genre: Suspense/Thriller
Rated: R
Running Time: 97 minutes (1:37)
Director: Fred Walton
Cast:
Carol Kane ... Jill Johnson
Charles Durning ... John Clifford
Tony Beckley ... Curt Duncan
Colleen Dewhurst ... Tracy
Ron O'Neal ... Lt. Charlie Garber
Rutanya Alda ... Mrs. Mandrakis
Carmen Argenziano ... Dr. Mandrakis
Dick Warlock ... Bartender (uncredited)
Summary:
A terrified young babysitter... an incessantly ringing phone... and whispered threats set the stage for one of the most suspenseful chillers ever filmed. Carol Kane stars as the babysitter who is tormented by a series of ominous phone calls until a compulsive cop (Charles Durning) is brought on the scene to apprehend the psychotic killer.
Seven years later, however, the nightmare begins again when the madman returns to mercilessly haunt Kane, now a wife and mother. No longer a naive girl - though still terrified, but prepared - she moves boldly to thwart the maniac's attack in scenes that culminate in a nerve-shattering conclusion.
Review:
When a Stranger Calls, remindin' us that there's a certain degree of irony in the obscene phone call bein' done in by somethin' called *69.
And speakin' of things that'll bring your dating life to a dead stop, I wanna believe as much as the next guy, but if there really are space aliens flyin' around out there they really needa work on their screenin' process and quit kidnappin' the first person who challenges 'em over their unauthorized harvesting of bovine organs. You'd think that by now they'da grabbed some teenager who'd go live with it on Youtube or somethin' and get us some definitive proof, but it's always some cleftskull like Bernard McGowan who operates a psilocybin grow and has 22 priors for committing lewd acts with a fire hydrant.
I only bring it up 'cause Billy Hilliard, Cleave Furguson and myself were out deer huntin' yesterday mornin' when Bernard dropped in on us and I wouldn't be bendin' your ears about it except that he did it literally from 20' up a Ponderosa wearin' nothin' but a rotting elk hide. We coulda been tea-bagged to within an inch of our lives but thankfully he made a noise like an alligator chokin' on a milk jug when he accidentally crotched 'imself on a branch and bought us enough time to get outta the way before he rolled off and landed gracefully on a partially frozen cow pattie. After that things got weird.
"I... know you. You're not... with them... right?" Bernard gasped, tryna recover his wind and count his remainin' testicles.
"Bernard, put your hide back on and let's talk about this like civilized people," I instructed, pickin' his gooey covering off a downed log and tossin' it to him.
"They took me... three, four days ago," he mumbled, sittin' down in a patch of poison oak and wrappin' himself back up in his hide.
"Who vook you?" Billy asked, passin' Bernard a Slim Jim.
Bernard's pupils dilated to the size of Quarter Pounders as he leaned in close and whispered "aliens," before gnawin' the wrapper of his still-sealed meat snack.
"I told Skunky those clowns would just dick around with no adult supervision - there's no way they're gonna have the Sage Maze set up by Halloween. I'd call immigration on 'em if it wouldn't drop the county's collective IQ by five points," I grumbled.
"That's not what he meant, dipshit," Cleave interjected, pointin' to Bernard as he spat out a wad of nutrition information without ever takin' his eyes off the sky.
"They tagged me... but I got it out!" Bernard shouted triumphantly, presenting Cleave with a tiny piece of somethin'.
"Nuh uh, the hell with that. You take it!" Cleave squealed, passin' the object to Billy and runnin' over to the creek to wash his hands.
Billy turned it over in his palms a coupla times and chuckled.
"Ih'f birshah you chickenshih," he declared.
"Yeah? And how'd he end up with ONE pellet in 'im?" Cleave challenged, clearly rattled.
"It ain't *one* pellet you chunkhead, look," I said, raisin' Bernard's hide to reveal a dozen others embedded in his back.
"Guy's up in a tree, right? Some hunter prolly thought he was a turkey, and that ain't far from the truth," I concluded.
"Alright, fine. So where're his clothes, Columbo?" Cleave asked.
"They took them," Bernard nodded insistently, pointing to the sky.
"Put me in a room with a space vixen! I tried to resist, but she..." he trailed off after his eyes suddenly crossed.
"Listen, Bernard, this is important: was it like Beach Babes from Beyond or Nude on the Moon?" I inquired.
"Vuh heow'v wrong wif you?" Billy scowled in disgust.
"It was over so fast... I think they're experimenting with..." he started to say before rejoining the mother ship.
"See?! No man'd say it was 'over fast' if he wasn't tellin' the truth," Cleave concluded.
"Didn't want to... but they said they'd never let me down again, unless..." Bernard slobbered.
"Yup. He's taken a ride with his best friend, alright," I confirmed.
"You've gotta get me outta here before they come back!" Bernard shrieked, regaining what might be considered coherency if graded on a generous sliding scale.
"Don't sweat it. Tell ya what we'll do - we'll getcha that COVID shot you've been holdin' out on and the government transmitter inside'll disrupt the alien implants in your hinder, theoretically canceling each other out," I suggested.
"Scramble the competing frequencies... brilliant! Let's go, quick!" he insisted, discarding his hide and fleeing nekkid in the direction of California.
Took us twenty minutes to catch up with 'im and we only managed that after he'd tripped over a stump and face-planted onto a chunka limestone, but the strange thing was, when we finally tracked 'im down he was layin' just outside a clearing where a perfect circle of pine needles and slash had been charred to ash.
I chalked it up to a prescribed burn with an unusual pattern but Billy seemed a little unsure and I didn't get Cleave's thoughts on the matter until a few hours after he'd abandoned his rifle and took off runnin' for the Bronco. Thought for sure we were gonna be walkin' home but thankfully he was in no condition to drive when we found 'im in the backseat shakin' under a tarp.
Bernard's gonna be in observation for a few days but Dr. Hynek got all the bird shot out of 'im and he's resting comfortably after bein' given enough sedative to drop a buffalo. I'm sure there's a rational explanation, but at the same time, I really wish Bernard'd been able to answer my question about the state of the alleged alien anatomy. It's not that I believe 'im or anything, I'd just rest a little easier knowin' it was Linnea Quigley waitin' for me up there and not some Moon Doll with a buncha craters in her lunar surface, ya know?
Once Bernard was safely in the custody of medical professionals Billy and I dumped Cleave off at Roxanne's place and the two of us grabbed a sack fulla burritos from the Jiffy Mart before headin' back to the house to check out a more terrestrial invasion. Now, I know whatcher thinkin' and you can stow it, 'cause I did not select a tame, made-for-teenage-girls flick to decompress from the day's events. You can take that negative attitude and stuff it up your stink hole, 'cause *some* people have within us the capacity to appreciate things like atmosphere, storytelling, and Charles Durning playin' cat and mouse with a maniac for almost an hour. And for all you know I may've managed to say all that with a straight face.
Basically, we got Black Christmas meets Halloween meets... the desire to be considered socially acceptable, but let's not dwell on that. Besides, it's gettin' close to Halloween and you've probably got friends who paid money to see Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour that wanna partake of the holiday season, so you're gonna need somethin' like this if you wanna be inclusive. It's safe, it's considerate, and it completely lulls your guests into a false sense of security to the point that they'll be caught completely off guard when you chase it with somethin' like Day of the Dead. In any event, let's review a few unique insights from When a Stranger Calls that you can use to convince these folks of your good intentions until the time comes to sucker-punch 'em with your second feature.
First, tryna execute a schizophrenic inside a Christian rescue mission is prolly gonna come up at the Pearly Gates, so if that's your speed, prepare a defense in advance. Second, bathing in the blood of young virgins may well aid in maintaining a youthful complexion, but you may find that blessing becomes a curse when you step into the communal shower of the state penitentiary. And third, chivalry ain't dead, but the same can't always be said for its victims.
The movie begins with Carol Kane babysittin' a coupla kids so their parents can go out and fight about subprime mortgage rates and the rising cost of college tuition in the relative privacy of Howard Johnson's to keep 'em from havin' to see a shrink three times a week, only when Carol starts doin' 'er Geometry homework she can't find the square of the hypotenuse 'cause some obscene helicopter caller (Duncan) keeps dialin' 'er up and askin' why she hasn't checked the children. She tries callin' the cops but they tell 'er they can't get a trace unless she can keep the guy on the phone for at least a minute, so when he calls back she engages 'im in conversation by explainin' that if anything happens to 'er Andy Kaufman and the gang from Taxi know where she is at which point the guy panics and tables the discussion even though he's pretty sure Jeff Conaway doesn't even know where he is mosta the time. The moment she hangs up the desk sergeant rings 'er back and tells 'er that either the calls're comin' from inside the house or they traced the wrong end of the connection, but when she bolts for the front door she runs smack into Charles Durning on 'er front porch and faints straight away 'cause in the scant few moments he's been there he's already chewed through so much scenery that he's bein' tailed by Langolier talent scouts. Unfortunately, by the time Chuck and his lieutenant (Charlie) get upstairs they find Duncan lookin' like Sissy Spacek on prom night not far from the mutilated bodies of the two children, and when the parents finish their clam rolls and arrive home to find the place swarmin' with cops they're so distraught that Carol decides not to ask for 'er eight bucks.
Next thing, it's seven years later and Chuck's doin' private security after runnin' a 45-minute mile on his police physical fitness exam, when outta the blue he's contacted by the father of the slain children and informed that Duncan has averted his aversion therapy and escaped the asylum after some P.O.'d Indian tossed a drinkin' fountain' through the day room window. Insane or not, Dad wants Duncan's donuts to fry, so he issues Chuck a blank gift certificate to Red Lobster and tells 'im to make it happen and the first thing Chuck does is go hassle Nurse Hatchet at the tortured soul asylum until she plays a recording of Duncan that sounds like somebody peelin' duct tape off a sasquatch so Chuck'll understand what he's up against. Meanwhile, Duncan's tryna go Around The World with some gal in a bar (Tracy) and everything's goin' great until she asks 'im to leave 'er alone at roughly 130 decibels and he ends up sharin' a room with Oscar the Grouch after the situation turns into a barroom blitz and some Chad deposits 'im in a dumpster. Duncan fancies 'himself a pretty nice guy and figures that given another two minutes she'da been putty in his hands, so he picks 'imself up, plucks the syringes outta his hinder, and invites 'imself into Tracy's apartment where his odour de squalleur begins radiatin' throughout the livin' room until she hasta tell 'im to leave before the health department shows up and writes 'er a citation for operatin' an unsanctioned landfill. Then Chuck starts beatin' the streets till they beg for mercy and ends up at Tracy's place where he explains that Duncan's wanted for crimes against sanity and asks 'er to return to the scene of the slime hopin' he'll ooze up outta the gutter. I guess Chuck musta gotten hold of a redacted copy of Duncan's original incident report or somethin', 'cause when Duncan fails to take the bait Chuck leaves Tracy alone in 'er pad without completin' a gnome inspection and the moment he's outta sight the little creep grabs 'er and forces 'er to smell his finger until she loses it and Duncan hasta flee down the fire escape with Chuck in lukewarm pursuit.
Fortunately, Duncan isn't guilty of anything serious like bakin' a cake for a gay couple, so he's still welcome at the Christian outreach shelter but damned if Chuck doesn't track 'im down again and try stickin' an ice pick in his forehead before chasin' 'im all over the soup kitchen and out into the night where he again eludes capture and experiences an existential crisis under a bridge like a lunatic troll waitin' for the Uber Eats driver to deliver his cabritos. Meanwhile, Carol's gotten an annulment from Latka Gravas and settled into a suburban bedroom neighborhood with 'er husband and two kids so she can decorate 'er house with mementos, family photos, and sappy inspirational wall decor that help mask the inner resentment she carries over her wasted college degree in veterinary science till one afternoon her husband calls and tells 'er to get 'erself dolled up so he can take 'er to dinner. Over their Never Ending Pasta Bowls he breaks the good news and tells 'er he's been elevated to the role of supervising nerd in charge of market trend analysis or somethin' and that they can finally afford to buy an RV and drive around the country gettin' their pictures taken in front of exotic strip malls, only before Carol's had time to digest the news or her mozzarella sticks she gets a phone call inquiring why she hasn't checked the children and melts into mascara muck right there at the maitre d's station. Gonna go ahead and stop right here because even though you may've forgotten Carol was in this flick our man from the whacky shack hasn't, and she may well hafta pull a dine and dash if she's gonna make it home before Duncan hacks nostalgic.
Alrighty, there ya have it - probably the best version of the "Babysitter and the Man Upstairs" urban legend, and twenty of the most memorable minutes in genre history... it's just a shame that the movie runs another hour and seventeen after that. The director originally envisioned the project as a short film and shot it under the title "The Sitter" in 1977, but when Halloween brought in enough money to fill the Grand Canyon the following year the capitalist alarm bells went off and he expanded the plot into a feature-length picture that borrows pretty liberally from John Carpenter's aforementioned money spigot. Of course, it also borrows its most memorable material from Bob Clark's Black Christmas, which was also based upon the "Babysitter and the Man Upstairs" legend, albeit sans babysitter.
Structurally it's a little strange, so much so that you're actually surprised to see Carol Kane's character return for the final twenty minutes given that the movie flashes forward seven years and we don't see her again for about an hour while Charles Durning is playin' cat and mouse with the maniac as he tries to rub him out vigilante style for an under the table bounty. That hour in between is the reason I've classified the flick as a Suspense/Thriller rather than a Horror film, because although the two bookends with Kane certainly constitute horror-esque happenings, the movie is almost completely bloodless and largely lacking in violence with the exception of the offscreen murders of the children in the opening sequence. The MPAA even awarded it a PG initially before eventually sending it out with an R in the years preceding the PG-13 rating, and I think this one would have probably come and gone had it not struck a chord with the audience for its inclusion of the imperiled babysitter trope. It's a tired old cliche at this point, but in 1979 there weren't many iterations of this urban legend making the rounds and although Halloween contained similar themes, Walton's faithfulness to the original story and impeccable timing for the theatrical release (October 26th) resulted in a box office hit that resonated with audiences despite pulling a bit of a bait and switch with an opening that appealed to teenagers before transitioning to a manhunt for the bulk of the remaining run time. Basically, we're talkin' the quintessential "scary movie" for folks who only partake of this type of flick during the spooky season. But it's still a film deserving of serious consideration for its place in genre history, as well as its status as a gateway film that draws impressionable children into an unconventional lifestyle that makes their parents uncomfortable during social gatherings, and any flick that offers that possibility is okay by me.
Anyway, let's tuck this sucker in and see if it shits the bed.
The plot, as previously mentioned, is a little jarring given its origins as a short story being stretched to an acceptable theatrical running time. The whole thing feels choppy with its three distinct sections being stitched together while making no effort to keep Carol Kane's character interwoven into the story as it progresses to its conclusion. It could be argued that it's supposed to feel that way, with her character returning to the forefront late in the proceedings functioning as a surprise, but it simply doesn't mesh together smoothly and almost feels like two separate movies sutured together. Additionally, the screenplay seems unsure of its own intentions regarding the maniac, as it frequently depicts him as a wretched, pitiful mess trying to fit in and live a normal existence while his inner demons and mental illness slowly take over in a bid to elicit sympathy... after he's murdered two children and wallowed in their blood.
The sympathetic monster can be done effectively, but there are certain acts considered so heinous that there's just no way for the audience to move past them, and the victimization of children is pretty high on that list of no-nos. This wouldn't be a debilitating problem except that Charles Durning is portrayed as a vigilante bounty hunter not looking to capture the lunatic and bring him to justice, but instead, being paid by the grieving father to find and execute him, so right outta the chute our hero isn't exactly above board and nor are the police who look the other way after Durning straight-up tells them he's going to whack the nut mafia style. It's all strangely grim and gritty despite a lack of explicit content, and it's rather unique in that regard. Some folks will have a rough time without a definitive force for good to root for while others will find the approach refreshing and true-to-life with its "things aren't always black and white" depiction of events, but either way, it just feels a little unfocused.
The acting is top-notch, with Carol Kane's increasingly manic performance in the opening sequence setting the bar to an almost unreasonable standard for the actors who follow and permanently establishing her as one of the greatest character actresses of all time in the process. Tony Beckley also turns in a phenomenal performance as the unhinged lunatic returning to form as his medications gradually lose their effect, managing to garner occasional sympathy (or at least empathy) as he wanders the streets trying to form connections without the slightest idea as to how to go about doing so. Colleen Dewhurst is also excellent as the jaded, seen-it-all Tracy who quickly comes to regret her sympathy for Beckley following his beating at the hands of a bar patron. Charles Durning is intense and does what he can as the one-dimensional "ends justify the means" cop turned hitman in one of his single-expression roles, but Carol Kane's act was such a tough one to follow that his part comes off as unusually dull given the movie's shift in tone following that memorable opening. Good performances all around even if the screenplay kinda wastes the talents of Charles Durning during the second act.
Here's who matters and why (besides Carol Kane - creepy character actress extraordinaire): Rutanya Alda (Amityville Horror II, The Dark Half, Night of the Wolf, Steel, The Stuff, Christmas Evil, Girls Nite Out, The Fury, The Terminal Man, Rosemary's Baby), Carmen Argenziano (Future World 2018, The Labyrinth, Jacob Carter on Stargate SG-1, Hellraiser: Inferno, The First Power, The Man Who Fell to Earth 1987, Naked Vengeance, Graduation Day, Grave of the Vampire, Night of the Cobra Woman, Punishment Park), William Boyett (Theodore Rex, Strays, The Hidden, Space Raiders, Bloody Birthday, Forbidden Planet), Charles Durning (Bleeding Hearts, Scavenger Killers, iMurders, When a Stranger Calls Back, Solarbabies, The Final Countdown, The Fury, Dark Night of the Scarecrow), Ron O'Neal (Puppet Master 5, Hyper Space, Death House, Brave New World 1980), Rachel Roberts (Picnic at Hanging Rock), Tony Beckley (In the Devil's Garden, The Lost Continent 1968), Colleen Dewhurst (The Exorcist III, The Dead Zone), Michael Champion (Total Recall), Joseph Reale (Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo), Ed Wright (Summer of Fear), Dennis McMullen (Close Encounters of the Third Kind, The Werewolf of Washington), Wally Taylor (Escape from New York, Night of the Creeps, Lord Shango), Steven Anderson (Halloween 5, The Stand, Bad Dreams), Lenora May (House II), Trent Dolan (Capricorn One, Dreamscape, Satan's Princess, The Swarm, Damnation Alley, Satan's Triangle), Frank DiElsi (Batman Returns, I'm Dangerous Tonight), Arell Blanton (King Cobra, Deadly Weapon, The Swarm, House of Terror, Blood Mania), DeForest Covan (Evilspeak, The Incredible Melting Man), Charles Boswell (Future Shock), Dick Warlock (The Litch, Camp Massacre, Spider-Man, The Relic, Beastmaster 2, The Abyss, Spontaneous Combustion, Pumpkinhead, Remote Control, Spaceballs, Firestarter, The Thing, Halloween II & III), Cheryl Wilson (When a Stranger Calls Back, Mania: The Intruder, Murder in Space).
And the big shots: Rutanya Alda (Angela in The Deer Hunter), Carmen Argenziano (Paul Rudolph in The Accused), William Boyett (Sgt. MacDonald on Adam-12), Charles Durning (Doc Hopper in The Muppet Movie, Pappy O' Daniel in O Brother Where Art Thou?, Lt. Wm Snyder in The Sting), Tony Beckley (Freddie in The Italian Job 1969), Colleen Dewhurst (Morilla Cuthbert in Anne of Green Gables, Kate in The Cowboys, Mom Hall in Annie Hall).
The special effects... don't exist. It's just not that kinda flick. There's some blood in a scene that's literally too dark to critique, and maybe a little more at the climax but if so it happened so fast that I missed it. So yeah, moving on.
The shooting locations are great and do an excellent job of capturing the existence of lower-class America in a way that's both authentic and pulls no punches. The gritty Los Angeles streets can't quite match the filth of 1970s/1980s NYC, but the DP squeezes every ounce of bleak indifference available into his lens, and with the help of keen-eyed location scouts, paints a grim picture of a place that few manage to escape. As far as the interiors, the suburban sprawl of the opening and closing sequences present an effective contrast between middle America and the slums in a way that creates unease for those who may be one medical emergency away from joining the latter - though it is the gnarlier areas of town that generate all the film's atmosphere. The rescue mission is authentic to the point that I assume they filmed at an actual homeless shelter (though the kitchen seemed a bit opulent), Torchy's bar is brimming with brooding personality, and Tracy's apartment, while modest, successfully paints her as a woman of limited means, yet sufficiently scrappy enough to keep herself afloat against all odds. Very well photographed by director of photography Donald Peterman who gives us somethin' to marvel at while Durning and Beckley play high-stakes peek-a-boo.
The film's soundtrack is more consequential than most due to the lack of visual thrills, and fortunately, Dana Kaproff's score is up to the task. Composed almost entirely of strings, its droning bass, tinkling harp, and ominous cello provide critical support to the manhunt sequences and ratchet up the tension in the opening and closing sequences to unbearable levels. It also bears mentioning that, when a movie's premise veers off in an unexpected (and perhaps, unwanted) direction the chances of the audience losing interest rises. So, consequently, whether or not the story is able to pull the viewer back depends entirely upon whether or not the film's other aspects can keep the audience in its seat until the director is able to execute whatever it is they're building toward. Kaproff's score, probably more than any other element of the film, keeps the audience on edge and just curious enough to prevent us from changing channels despite the flick losing its gumption in the early going, and that is about the highest praise you can offer a composer tasked with holding the viewer's interest after the movie takes a questionable turn. And just in case that wasn't sufficiently complimentary, it sounds to me as though little bits and pieces from the score may have inspired Harry Manfredini and Joe LoDuca when they started composing their scores for Friday the 13th and The Evil Dead. I'm only speculating, of course, but whether or not that's the case it's good company to be in.
Overall, this one's a little weak-kneed for me and only overcomes its entertainment deficiency with the combined efforts of its strong acting, superior shooting locations, and excellent soundtrack. The story starts off promising but loses altitude when it transitions into a hybrid character study/manhunt bereft of special effects or stunts, and by the time it circles back to what is functionally the Carol Kane subplot, it's too little too late. Its production values earn it enough points to offset a sagging entertainment score, but I suspect that many horror fans will find it lacking and not to their tastes. Still, it's an excellent choice for a Halloween party where your mixed company may not be prepared for something like Hellraiser or Last House on the Left, so under certain circumstances you may find that it suits your needs. Ya know, if you're comfortable associatin' with that kinda crowd.
Rating: 62%