HALLOWEEN HORRORFEST 2021 Pre-Show: The Hand That Rocks The Cradle (1992)

Tomorrow begins my annual Ghoulish Gauntlet For Altruistic Purposes, as I endeavor once again to watch 31 horror movies in 31 days and write about each one.  This year, the default charity I personally will be raising money for is The Queens Community House Covid-19 Relief and Support Campaign.  If you make a donation ($10 is suggested, but any amount is good) and forward me the receipt, you will get to sponsor one of the sixteen slots still open.  There's also other ways you can get yourself into the Halloween Horrorfest spotlight--just take a look below.

But first, some unfinished business....

Last year, I came up one day short.  The last day--some would say the most important days of the festival--I failed.  The sponsor was Mike Blanchard, and the film was an entry in the small but noteworthy sub-genre of 'Yuppie Horror'...namely, Curtis Hansen's The Hand That Rocks The Cradle.

Something you're going to learn about me this year is how vividly I remember where I see so many movies.  Before the turn of the century, Manhattan was a literal cornucopia of movie theater.  Going to college at Hunter CUNY in the 80's gave me access to literally a dozen movie theaters--some of which were multiplexes--in slightly longer than walking distance.  I remember seeing this film buoyed by my appreciation for Mr. Hansen's previous film, Bad Influence, and my crushing on one of its stars, Annabella Sciorra.  This was before I learned that Rebecca DeMornay, the other female lead, was the paramour of the exceptional singer/storyteller Leonard Cohen, but if I had known, that would also have entered into the equation.  I saw it during its initial run at a theater on 59th Street just off 3rd Avenue.   I would give you the name, but there were two on that one block between 2nd and 3rd, plus two on 3rd close enough to 59th Street to count...

So this is the first time I've revisited this film and...it's not exactly subtle, is it?

Claire (Sciorra) is expecting her second child when she is molested by Dr. Mott (John DeLancie, who played a similarly sleazy character in Bad Influence...what did he do to Hansen?).  Claire reports Mott to the Seattle Medical Board, which prompts other patients to come forward and sue him.  This leads to Mott committing suicide, leaving his pregnant wife (DeMornay) to miscarry and enter a world where she is without status or money to support herself.  Six months later, Claire is looking for a nanny so she can...build a greenhouse?..and who happens to rock up but Mrs. Mott, calling herself Peyton.  She's got revenge on her mind and plans to take everything away from her--her husband, her child and her status as someone of affluence.

You see what I mean about this being 'Yuppie Horror'?  While there is violence and death in this film, it's implied by Amanda Silver's script that Mrs. Mott's greatest transgression is...trying to get Claire's newborn son Joey to imprint on her by sneaking into his room and breast feeding him.  This is not about people in jeopardy, but social class.  Mrs. Mott doesn't want to kill Claire--who seems a bit odd as a focus of her rage, as the totally irresponsible newscast that names her and shows her photo on television for Mrs. Mott to see goes out of her way to point out she wasn't suing Mott--but kick her out of the affluent nest Claire lives in so she can have All The Nice Things.  Dropping a whole crapton of glass on Julianna Moore's foul mouthed head is just gravy to what our villain really wants...status.

Watching this almost three decades later with an older man's eyes had its moment of cringey-ness.  Making the only non-white member of the cast (Ernie Hudson as Solomon) mentally disabled is fine, I guess, even though it skates towards the 'magic negro' trope that should've died a long time ago...but having DeMornay yell at him for being 'a retard' is winge-worthy to say the least, especially when DeMornay has already effectively conveyed her contempt for the character solely through facial acting.  DeLancie is a much better actor than the broadly melodramatic character he's asked to portray in one of his two scenes, resulting in a scene that is uncomfortable but not in the way the film intended it to be.  The fact that Claire's husband, played with the ultimate white-bread-blandness by Matt McCoy, is pretty much a null save for being one of the things Mrs. Mott wants to deprive Claire of, does not help make this film breathe.  I never got lost in these characters as, you know, characters, and in a genre where empathy for our heroes and victims is very important, that's death.

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle is not the worst or most hamfisted of the Yuppie Horror films--I draw your attention to Pacific Heights, made two years earlier, where Michael Keaton rents out an apartment in Melanie Griffith and Matthew Modine's building and Just. Won't. Leave.--and I think almost everything that elevates it lies in Hansen's direction.  This film seems to be determined to do everything it can to make it look as generic as possible, but Hansen finds some moments in amongst the Rustic Swank Porn to let his style come through.  And the cast is game, but it's hard for them to actually bring to life what has no life to begin with...which results in some of them, especially DeMornay and Moore deciding to force life into them by overacting.  And when an actor tries the opposite take, like Hudson, it only emphasizes how cardboard-y the character and the world is.

Sadly, this is a film that was built on a rotten foundation in Amanda Silver's script.  Silver seems to reach for the easy cliche far too often, and those cliches have aged badly.  DeMornay may be giving her role a energy it doesn't deserve, but her performance only throws how lacking in life her character is.  Admittedly, there's something fun in watching Mrs. Mott bully a ten-year old, but when she manipulates things so that Solomon is accused of child molestation, it leaves a real bad taste in my mouth.  I don't know if a better script would have lessened the awfulness I felt watching it--it's hard to feel sympathy for the protagonists in Yuppie Horror films--but as is, I'm not surprised it slipped off the radar.  I cannot recommend this.

So tomorrow begins the Horrorfest in earnest as this year's grandmaster, Director and Fire Stunt Aficionado Brian Trenchard-Smith, presents me with a horror sequel he helmed.  Join me tomorrow for Night of The Demons 2!

There are presently sixteen open slots for this year's festival, and if you'd like to be included, there are four ways to get your share of the spotlight:

1) You can become a Domicile of Dread Patreon at any level.  Patreons always get a free slot, as well as advance access to podcasts and other goodies!

2) You can buy me a coffee at Ko-Fi.  Suggested donation is $3

3) You can make a donation to Queens Community House Covid-19 Relief and Recovery Campaign.  Suggested donation is $10.  Please forward your receipt to me as proof.

4) You can choose to make a donation to the charity chosen by a sponsor on his/her/their day. Like with the third possibility, please forward me proof of donation.

It is not necessary to choose a rat-based horror film.  However, if you do, I will forward you a special Ratapalooza banner you can display on your website.