Willard (2003)

Let’s face it, Hollywood’s no stranger to rats – and they’re not always up there on the screen. Willard, however, makes these much reviled rodents the stars, in what is a remake of 1971 flick of the same name which was based on the even earlier novel, Ratman’s Notebooks, by Stephen Gilbert.

A portrait of a perfectly well-adjusted young fellow...

A pet project of Glen Morgan and James Wong, no strangers to the creepier side of things thanks to their work on The X-Files and Final Destination (amongst other things), this take on Willard is often exceedingly disturbing, incredibly gruesome and, perhaps surprisingly, a fabulously engrossing horror flick; the creep-factor increased no end by the film’s human star, Crispin Glover as the titular Willard Stiles.

Skulking about a mansion-like abode looking after his essentially immobile and seemingly around 120 year-old mother, Willard is the archetypal quite pathetic societal misfit with that whole repressed rage thing going on. The latter isn’t exactly helped by his boss, Mr. Martin (R. Lee Ermey shouting up another wonderful storm), dealing out daily oppression and humiliation to the son of his former partner, who he’d obviously not keep around if he hadn’t made a promise to do so.

EEK!

When Willard discovers rats in his basement, initial attempts at extermination with zillions of traps and assorted poisoning products soon give way to him befriending one of the invaders. Naming this white rat Socrates, he soon becomes a bizarre sort of ‘Lord of the Rats’ as he’s joined by veritable armies of the horrid little blighters - and one seriously big mo-fo in Ben – all of which he happily feeds and encourages. The full extent of that pent-up him-against-the-world rage soon becomes evident as, with a disturbing relish, Willard trains his charges to do his bidding – from eating car tyres to things much, much more macabre. But it’s not all smooth sailing in Ratland, for as the ratty relationship between Willard and Socrates deepens, jealousies surface in Ben over the preferential treatment given his white nemesis, and it soon becomes apparent that hell hath no fury like a rodent scorned…

Moisturiser could be a desirable option..

There’s obviously a rat in the ranks at Roadshow, for once again they’ve released something with the wrong ratio reported on the case. Despite claims that Willard is delivered via a 1.85:1 transfer, it’s most definitely not, rather it appears in the 2.35:1 ratio. Naturally it’s anamorphically enhanced, and for such a dark and dingy film it comes up very well indeed.

From the creepy stop-motion animation intro to the creepy end, the majority of Willard takes place in gloomy, brown-tinged locations, yet the transfer delivers decent shadow detail and little worth noting in the way of grain, adding no end to the haunty atmosphere created. Odd forays into lighter places – the hyper-white world of a department store for instance – tend to surprise as they’re so rare, but serve as a good example that all’s on track here colour-wise. The blacks are nice and concrete, and about the only blemish worthy of note is a tendency towards slight shimmer on odd occasions.

A rat in the hand...

Here’s that word again, “creepy�. It starts with Shirley Walker’s somewhat Danny Elfmanish score – one which even manages to make accordions sound eerie (rather than just plain annoying) - and permeates throughout, from the myriad rodents sent skittering all around the room to the Hitchcock-like usage of silence and to possibly the creepiest of all; Michael Jackson’s original performance of Ben along with his brothers in the Jackson 5 (many may be surprised to know that this was penned for the original film version of Willard which came out in the early ‘70s – yes, it was a love song for a rat).

For those who need it there’s a perfunctory Dolby Digital stereo mix, however what really gets the spine-tingly factor going through the roof is the Dolby Digital 5.1EX affair. The creative use of the soundstage by those clever mixer types should please all but the deafest audio-nerds, with off-kilter bits and bobs of both subtle and not-so-subtle varieties flying about all over the place at various times, resulting in a soundtrack which adds exponentially to the oopiness inspired by the visuals.

The Roadshow rat strikes again! According to Willard’s case the extras consist of just deleted scenes and a trailer (a.k.a. a reviewer’s dream!). In actuality there’s more – lots more – secreted away within the suitably creepy (is anybody counting?) animated menus.

Anthony Perkins lives...

First up, there’s a commentary from director/writer Glen Morgan and producer/second unit director James Wong, along with acting folk Crispin Glover and R. Lee Ermey (the latter’s contributions sticky-taped into the main affair, which only has the first three recorded together.) This is a refreshing example of the medium, in that it is very open, informative, entertaining and even interesting. As innumerable titbits on the production fly by there’s lots to learn – not least of all that yes, Crispin is kind of creepy in real life too.

The best extra by far pops up next, a 73-minute making of movie entitled The Year of the Rat. Easily the most captivating movie about making a movie this particular keyboard stabber has seen as a DVD bonus, this attempt by Julie Ng to squeeze an entire year of her life involved in the making of a film into one DVD bonus is absolutely brilliant stuff. Covering basically EVERY aspect of making a film, from pre-production to post-release comedown, there are interviews with all and sundry, and a creative flair at work which most every creator of those boring old froufrou EPK things we are usually subjected to could learn volumes from.

Another documentary follows, and it’s one which makes the people portrayed in Trekkies look completely well adjusted and normal. Entitled Rat People: Friends and Foes, this 18:40, 16:9 affair combines some very fun scaremongering file footage about these little icky rodents that make bunnies look like abstainers with some even scarier interviews with and studies of those who keep rats as pets, and even enter them in the ratty equivalent of dog shows. Add in some alternative points of view from the likes of exterminators and you’ve got yourself an intriguing little presentation.

And they keep on coming… Next up is a rather curious music video, a clip for Ben as sung by Crispin Glover and directed by the very same guy. Getting back to the creepy thing for a moment, what chance two of the planet’s creepiest people would tackle the same song in one lifetime? Anyway, full of rats crawling over scantily clad, overly made-up females and with a bit of a disquieting Nazi vibe going on, this runs for less than three minutes, although Glover’s optional audio commentary manages to squeeze your average 90-minute comm into this very brief time. This feat has to be heard to be believed…

Deleted scenes follow, and there’s plenty of ‘em, almost 26 minutes’ worth to be more precise but not precisely precise. A collection of 12 deletions and extended scenes, these are all available with an optional commentary from Glen Morgan, and serve as a great example of the sort of butchery which goes on thanks to those wonderful little test audiences we simply love so much. Ahem.

We’re finally getting towards the end, with a 4:3 ratio teaser trailer (1:51) which goes the obvious route by using Smashing Pumpkins’ Bullet With Butterfly Wings as its soundtrack (“despite all my rage… etc.), plus three TV spots, all of which hover around the 30 second mark.

The rainy Dolby Digital trailer also makes an appearance. Aren’t we the lucky ones?

Taking more than the odd bit of “inspiration� from the likes of Hitchcock and Truffaut, this updated take on Willard is certainly one hell of a stylish, shudder-laden ride from whoa to go, presented in a superb package overflowing with excellent extras. As noted, Glover is at his absolute creepiest (so he just got out of bed and went straight on set then?), and coupled with swarms of rodents both real and effects-created (how many films do you see with a credit for ‘animatronic attack rats’?) the squirm-factor is reasonably high, and enough to give anybody masochistic enough to dig the odd bout of horror more than enough of a creepy fix.