The Ghost and the Darkness - Revisited

The first review I posted on this blog was for The Ghost and the Darkness. It was a quickie that I’d originally posted elsewhere, then copied and pasted here just to get the ball rolling. But I think a fuller more in-depth discussion about the film is in order, so I’ve expanded my original review to something a bit lengthier. Most people don’t seem to care much for the film (the critics sure hated it) or care enough about it to give anymore than a passing opinion. But for me, this is one of my favorite films. I saw it alone, in an empty theater during a late night showing back in 1996, and have been enamored with it ever since. Don’t go into this movie expecting some heavily plotted historical epic. Nor should you fuss over its blatant historical inaccuracies regarding the (allegedly) true events off which it is based. It doesn’t matter.

The Ghost and the Darkness is a ripping, turn-of-the-century African adventure – a vintage dime novel yarn where the title alone evokes the trials and passages of industrial Man into the unknown, back when the unknown was still tethered to the mysteries of nature and the superstitions lurking therein. It is a clash of two different worlds: the light of learned, imperial Man, a builder of things, and his dominion of reason verses the darkness beyond. And in the darkness there are ghosts – darkness and echoes of the past that, when encroached upon, manifest, become enraged and bloodthirsty. This is a story for men, about men, who must face fear and test their mettle. “I’m going to sort it out” is a repeating, albeit malleable, mantra throughout the film that surmises all of life into a single work-ethic philosophy. Man must think, figure, summon courage. He must step into the darkness and vanquish an old evil, left to his own counsel and his own devices.

The year is 1898 and John Patterson (Val Kilmer) is an Irish born military engineer hired by a prickly financier named Sir Robert Beaumont (Tom Wilkinson) to venture to Tsavo, Kenya and take charge of a massive railroad construction site whereupon a bridge must be completed--all to the advantage of the British Empire. Hardships abound: the workers of Tsavo are vast in number, multi-ethnic, with conflicting faiths and wholly temperamental as a result; the bridge itself does not yield easily in its construction – not as simple as envisioned, continents away. Yet Patterson embraces the challenge: “It should be difficult,” he says with fixed determination, “What better job in all the world than to build a bridge? Make things connect. Bring worlds together.” Patterson is a dreamer, an idealist, who values the progress of Man. His associates are Scotsman Angus Starling (Brian McCardie) and native African Samuel (John Kani). Also assisting the camp is an English doctor named Hawthorne (Bernard Hill), a group speaker named Abdullah (Om Puri) and local hero Mahina (Henry Cele), the project foreman who once killed a lion with his bare hands.

The job carries on well enough for some time until Tsavo comes under repeating attacks by two paired man-eaters, the likes of which hunt and kill without rhyme or reason, but with a fury never before fathomed. Patterson, a hunter by default, has faced similar problems with big cats when building in India, but none as mystifying as this, none as remotely terrifying. His methods of extermination vary, but all fail. The workers are continuingly picked-off every night, and then during mid-day. Starling and even the great Mahina become victims. Out of fear and disillusion, the workers unite and threaten to leave; Beaumont, upon visiting, dismisses Patterson as a personnel mistake and sends for the legendary American game hunter Charles Remington (Michael Douglas) to kill the menacing vermin.

The film carefully edges the supernatural without ever sinking into full-blown fantasy. The killer lions are on one hand wild beast but on the other possessed by the ever-rising metaphors of vengeful nature and nativism: for the progress of modern Man there comes a price, born from primal fears and folklore. Again, this is a campfire ghost story about the old world tearing back into the new. To be sure, however, these themes are never butchered by anti-cinematic monologues – the characters are too busy dealing with the lions to stand around dishing verbal commentaries. The movie doesn’t feel the need to “explain” itself and the ideas presented are simple enough in narrative form.

The script was penned by William Goldman, who has since disputed the changes made by Douglas, doubling as one of the film’s producers, concerning the character of Remington. Originally, Remington was simply known as Redbeard, a more mysterious character intended to show up only briefly, but Douglas decided to change the name and expand the part, much to Goldman’s chagrin. Far be it from me to second guess a screenwriter as accomplished as Goldman, yet I can’t help but side with the end results.

Granted, much of the interaction between Remington and Patterson barrows heavily from the Jaws formula, but there’s a reason why they call it formula: because it works. Remington brings an appropriate dynamic to the story, key being Patterson’s rite of passage; while also simultaneously romancing and deflating the classic ‘great white hunter’ mythos. The two characters are strongly outlined and given unique personalities without being over-developed to the point that bogs down the story’s momentum. This is first-and-foremost an action film and these are men of action, but each of their reactions bear a degree of meditation, even when nothing is directly said. Paterson’s solve-all-with-planning approach succumbs to the rationale defying lions. Still, he pushes on with methods that shine Man’s gift for ingenuity. Even when his individual traps fail, his overall mentality stands firm as a direct response to the incalculable unknown.

For his part, Remington becomes Patterson’s senior man and the tactfulness in which he commandeers the lion hunt in itself becomes an unspoken mentorship. In one scene Patterson blunders a chance to shoot one of the two lions because his untested rifle misfires. And though Remington is quick to shun his ill-preparedness, he also consoles him that failure is an outcome that every man with a plan must inevitably face. During a later scene, Remington equates with their current situation by telling a story of two sibling town bullies who terrorized him as a boy. When Patterson asks how he dealt with the problem, the senior man’s sly response, “I got bigger,” gestures a broad philosophical solution to seemingly unbeatable odds – things change, grow stronger, nothing’s impossible. 

     

Never minding the barely there Irish accent, Kilmer delivers a low-key performance that is cerebral to the situations and landscape. His unaffected, naturalist acting style compliments the character of Patterson with the quiet reserve and dignity of a gentlemen-scholar. Douglas fittingly flexes is movie star muscles with his larger than life, exploit-type character. His purpose is to step in midpoint brazenly and make a lasting impression before dying by the sword; and he succeeds, even at the expense of being a little hammy here and there. The rest of the cast including Kani, Wilkinson, McCardie and Puri add considerable colour to the events.

Journeyman director Stephen Hopkins has little to offer under the ‘auteur theory’. Films like Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child, Predator 2 and Blown Away offer, if nothing else, outlandish entertainment value. Lost in Space clunkers under a lousy script but, visually, along with the other aforementioned titles, proves Hopkins is technically proficient and a good camera man, who can deliver enjoyably heightened dramatics and visual flare for action and scenes of horror. The Ghost and the Darkness is undoubtedly his best feature. Its period setting is complete with authentic costuming and production design; and, of course, benefits substantially from its far-off locations (the Songimvelo Game Reserve in South Africa doubling for Kenya).

None other than the magnificent Vilmos Zsigmond lights the film with rustic reds, browns and other accompanying Serengeti tones. The climate feels real, it is real – characters perspire amidst Tsavo’s sun-baked, gritty environs. Between Hopkins and Zsiggy a 2.35:1 panorama frames everything from mass extras to simple two-shots with classy, lateral scale. The whole of the photography is robustly old-fashioned, yet Hopkins does not shy away from a certain degree of horror movie antics, where, during moments of suspense, the focus becomes tighter and tighter and the lions themselves appear in strikingly graphic compositions that spill into nightmarish imagery.

One powerful scene in particular involves three mercs trapped inside a train cart–intended as a cage–while the lion wreaks havoc opposite a failing set of bars, before glaring at them through fire, like a demon. It’s a genuinely frightening scene that also exemplifies the film’s well deserved Academy Award win for Best Sound Editing, its one piece of recognition. The use of CGI is minimal (down to two scenes if I recall) and, considering the age of the production, blends well enough with the filmic textures. For a number of close-ups and interacting shots Stan Winston and Co. provided impressively life-like animatronic lions that only differentiate from the real ones (two reportedly docile cats from Ontario’s Bowmanville Zoo) due to simple logic rather than any lapses in illusion. One cannot praise this movie without praising its musical score by Jerry Goldsmith. Putting into a balanced emotional perspective all of the discussed elements of the story and its characters, Goldsmith’s handsome, ethnically energized score is enough the rival that of The Wind and the Lion with breadth and scope and sheer excitement.

The Ghost and the Darkness is told luridly with a pipe & brandy spirit of adventure. It romances the accomplishments of Man in exotic locales but also revels in fantastic dangers that speak deeply to masculine urges, where men must prove their worth, making it a quintessential “guy movie”. All I ask of Paramount Distribution is that the film be given a proper Blu-ray release, as its visuals, cinematography and sound deserves high definition quality. For the time being there’s only a dated DVD with a grubby, non-anamorphic picture.

For some reason I really dig this rather simple poster. There’s something very “Hemingway” about it.