Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)

"Yeeeeeeeeee-ha! Oh, the South's gonna rise again!" This movie is definitely a cult classic, but it's also amazing just how influential it is. First, and perhaps more obviously, the title of the film was the inspiration for the name of the musical group 10,000 Maniacs (the one Natalie Merchant left in order to produce one good album and then destroy everyone's career, including her own). More subtle, however, is the general storyline and theme that seeps into lots of other films. The outsiders-wander-into-a-fucked-up-town or the outsiders-wander-into-a-fucked-up-family-unit narrative arcs show up in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre series and House of 1000 Corpses. The Northerners-as-prey theme is, of course, the basic premise for Deliverance (dah-de-lee-dee-de-dee-de-dee-dum.)

That premise, however, makes for some annoying-as-hell caricatures of Southerners: characters saying "gay-raj" instead of "garage," sprinkling "reckon," "hot doggy" (or even worse "hoo-doggies"), and "Lord-ee" in every other sentence, or constantly laughing maniacally because every sentence is an inside joke. But their caricatures do serve to highlight the underlying fear that small-town Southerners are somehow operating on a different wavelength—one that you as a visitor don't get.

I can certainly identify with this even though I'm from small-town Texas. Just stop off in Hico (especially at the Koffee Kup Kafe), Jasper, or Vidor. Hang around for half an hour and see if you don't feel pretty damn uncomfortable—even if you are from Texas. It's like those people can smell any whiff of big-city or liberalism on anyone. Don't believe me? Try this true story on for size: St. Cloud, FL—where most of this movie was filmed—has (or used to) a Koffee Kup Kafe. No shortage of white sheets in that town, I'm guessing.

But back to the movie. There are, of course, some terrible scenes, as there are going to be in any cult classic or picture done on such a small budget. There's some really, really bad sound editing: at one point when Bea introduces herself to Tom, we hear a really loud echo from the re-voicing work they did after filming, and Harper’s voice completely changes right before he cuts off Bea's finger. And speaking of effects, the movie depicts what has to be the easiest rescue from quicksand ever filmed (even though Harper can’t seem to get out until the action is all over—and then he can struggle out in about ten seconds).

And the thing that has bothered me the most: location scouting. Hire a (new) location scout who knows that there should not be palm trees in a Deep South town. WHY? I know that it was filmed in St. Cloud, which I assume is in the Florida panhandle, but there’s no way the action of the movie takes place there—unless Terry and Tom were driving to Georgia from Havana.

But perhaps it's best not to ask why. Maybe we should focus on some of the scary aspects of the film. On the whole, it's a good, semi-creepy storyline—that the townspeople aren't real but are just ghosts of Civil War-era townsfolk. Very nicely done. But the scariest thing in the whole damn film is the little kids waving Confederate flags or nooses, which is scary because it's a group of cherub-faced boys who are being groomed to hate. That's scarier than the barrel roll, the idea for which is terrifically creepy in its sequencing, design, and ingenuity. You know it's not a good idea to get into that barrel, but I never saw the real danger until they started nailing in those nails; then I figured it out and cringed. So the barrel roll is a good over-arching example for the whole film. Very inventive kills, but nothing particularly scary about it. The pacing of the Ol' Teetering Rock scene is really good (as is the general idea), but the money shot isn't (Ol' TR teeters just a bit too much after it's fallen on Beverly, showing how light and fake it is). And one of the least scary kills is Johnny's. Again, there's not a single thing scary about it, but I'll be damned if I've seen someone drawn and quartered on film before or since (Braveheart doesn't count, because it's a rack). The scene wasn't very long because unfortunately Johnny didn't hold it together very long…get it? Hold it together? [Sigh.]

Hey, that joke is better than some of the humor in this movie, like the obvious, schlocky, and overplayed Southern backwoods stereotypes. But it's not all bad. There's also some really subtle stuff. When they're roasting Bea's arm on a spit, they're singing "Roll in my Sweet Baby's Arms!" If it gets better than that, I haven't seen it. Taken as a whole, I can see where some people won't dig this movie. But I saw this thing when I was a kid, and loved it even then. It's got the fake red blood that I love so much and some really original aspects—something that not a lot of people understand or place in the proper context (this was done in 1964--a decade before Texas Chainsaw Massacre!).