45 Years Later: John Carpenter's The Fog

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. — Edgar Allan Poe

Growing up, I always enjoyed John Carpenter’s The Fog, but it wasn’t until I was much older that I realized that the film is in my Top 5 list for the acclaimed Master of Horror. So much so that when I decided to bring my film festival back in 2014 with a focus on classic indie horror, I knew that The Fog had to be a part of that year’s line-up. And I was fortunate enough that Carpenter himself came out that night to talk about the film with an exclusive group of passionate film fans.

I’ve come to realize that what I adore the most about The Fog is that, similar to what he achieved on Halloween, is that Carpenter was able to subtly ratchet up the tension in the film by establishing a palpable set of atmosphere before unleashing pure horror on viewers in The Fog’s latter half. Carpenter confidently establishes a sense of unease early on in The Fog, and from there, he lets the story unfold gradually, giving the audience time to feel the weight of isolation that is a central theme in the film.

And it is cinematographer Dean Cundey who then uses shadows and limited visibility to keep viewers on edge throughout The Fog, where the namesake entity obscures more than just geography—it hides threats. Characters in the film often stare into the thick clouds of fog, unsure if something is actually there or not, which puts us right in their shoes, as we see just enough to imagine what might be lurking beyond these plumes of murkiness. The atmosphere that both Carpenter and Cundey are able to conjure up together in The Fog becomes the driving force of the film as a whole.

While The Fog was viewed as a departure for Carpenter when it was released at the time, the film now feels perfectly in line with the wide array of subject matters and approaches that the filmmaker would explore throughout his decades-spanning career. In the supernatural shocker, Carpenter leaves behind the horrors of suburbia in Halloween for an idyllic resort town whose founding fathers hatch a dastardly plot where they promise a group of lepers sanctuary near their community, only to devise a way to kill the afflicted and steal their gold as a means of funding and further establishing the coastal burg.

Now, 100 years later, the unsuspecting residents of Antonio Bay, California, are set to celebrate their township’s centennial, unaware that a deep, dark, murderous conspiracy is the foundation of the continued success of their seaside town.

A catalyst in many different ghost stories throughout the ages is the need for revenge, but The Fog isn’t your typical ghost story. Hill and Carpenter infused their script with inspiration from EC Comics, a trip to Stonehenge, and a real-life 19th-century shipwreck that happened in Goleta, California, to create multi-layered stories that ambitiously interconnect with the film’s other plots and subplots. While most ghost stories are centered around a singular intimate locale like a house, The Fog follows the ghosts—and the story—around an entire village to wander, explore, and terrorize.

And instead of just focusing specifically on a few central characters like most other cinematic ghost stories, Blake and his crew make their rounds haunting an array ofAntonio Bay residents in The Fog, making their appearance in the small town feel that much more omnipresent because they could be ready to attack anyone, anywhere, at any time.

Beyond that, some of the victims of this fateful night in The Fog don’t just simply die. As we witness in one chilling scene, a mortal death is merely an interlude for those who have the misfortune of crossing paths with the vengeful Blake (portrayed by FX legend Rob Bottin who also did the makeup for the movie), and the circumstances surrounding their demise are steeped in an unnaturalness that defies science. This happens with the corpse of local fisherman Dick Baxter (a name horror fans might remember from Halloween), whose lifeless and mangled body is found aboard the Sea Grass.

Not only does Dick’s body show signs of being submerged for more than a month, but somehow he inexplicably reanimates in the town’s morgue, with his body eventually collapsing on the floor before it could do any further damage. And his boatmates? They are nowhere to be found.

I also love how the titular force in The Fog is personified, much like a killer stalking its prey in a slasher film (why yes, it acts very much like Michael Myers does in Halloween). Not only does the namesake natural occurrence move with intent, but it also defies meteorological logic, like moving against the wind or targeting specific locations and people as if it's hunting like a sentient being. We also see the fog cut both the phone lines and the power throughout Antonio Bay during the third act, and when people are left isolated and separated in The Fog, Blake and his fellow ghosts can claim more victims.

“We’re honoring murderers.”

The Fog also encapsulates a longstanding tradition of treachery tied to some of our country’s not-so-great history that simultaneously addresses the insulating nature of tourism towns and the horrors of American colonialism. In Antonio Bay, everyone seems to know everybody else… and their business. But how did the truth behind what happened to Blake and his crew on the Elizabeth Dane remain such a well-guarded secret for 100 years? That information remained hidden away in a secret diary that belonged to the grandfather of Father Malone (Hal Holbrook), and it is only brought to light once things go haywire on this momentous anniversary.

While the general details surrounding the untimely death of Blake and his fellow crew members aboard the Elizabeth Dane are seemingly well-known to the residents of Antonio Bay, it’s Father Malone who first discovers the actual truth behind the horrifying legacy of this quaint community that he serves in The Fog. When Holbrook’s character discovers his grandfather’s aforementioned journal hidden away in the church’s walls, it gives him insight into how the six founders of Antonio Bay set out to sink the Elizabeth Dane as a means of killing Blake and everyone else aboard, and stealing the passengers’ gold simply because they didn’t want lepers to settle anywhere near them.

Of course, conspiring to murder a group of lepers who just want to try and create a community of their own is a horrible crime in its own right, but the theft committed by Father Malone’s grandfather and his fellow conspirators is demonstrative of the cruel dishonesty that fuels much of America’s history in general. Beyond that, The Fog also examines the hypocrisy of religion, especially since Father Malone’s ancestor even admitted in his journal, “God had no part in our actions tonight.” Adding insult to injury, Blake’s stolen gold is used to create a garish, oversized crucifix that resides within Antonio Bay’s local parish, which is reminiscent of the golden calf that was worshipped by the Hebrews in the Bible.

There’s no denying that the actions of Father Malone’s ancestor and the other founders in 1880 were against God’s will, as their greed and self-centeredness fueled their decision to murder Blake and the other lepers. And by utilizing that stolen gold to create this religious symbol, it’s almost like the foundation of that congregation in Antonio Bay is built upon a foundation of financial idolatry, and not true faith in God.

That being said, it’s probably no coincidence that the climax of The Fog takes place inside this parish, where several characters seek sanctuary inside the church, and Blake and his crew arrive looking for justice.

As the other characters scramble to survive the attack, it is Holbrook’s character who understands what’s at stake, and he’s the one who tries to make peace with these vengeful apparitions, giving them back their gold as a way of apologizing for what happened a century prior. But of course, it’s not quite that simple, and Father Malone still ends up paying the ultimate price for the sins of his (grand)father in the end, even after the stolen gold has been returned. He is related to one of the conspirators, after all, and when it comes to revenge stories, all debts must be paid even if a character’s intentions are pure.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In the end, Antonio Bay mostly manages to survive this hellish night in The Fog due to the actions of several quick-thinking women. The heart of this story is Adrienne Barbeau’s character Stevie Wayne, a single mother and widow who struggles to find the perfect work-life balance so that she can be there for her young son, Andy (Ty Mitchell), but also provide a stable life for him. The maternal aspects of Stevie are also exemplified once Barbeau’s character becomes the protector of Antonio Bay as the titular mist rolls in. Stevie’s job as a radio DJ stationed in the town’s lighthouse gives her the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the supernatural brume as it travels throughout the community in The Fog, and throughout the film’s third act, she’s constantly providing updates on this titular force of evil.

Stevie finds herself conflicted once she realizes the fog is approaching her own home, where her son is being looked after by the kindly Mrs. Kobritz (Regina Waldon). She’s torn between her motherly duty to keep Andy safe and her responsibility to watch over the residents of Antonio Bay, which is reflective of the struggles many single mothers faced back then and still do to this very day. She desperately pleads for someone to rescue her child before Blake and his ghost friends can claim him, with Jamie Lee Curtis’ character, Elizabeth Solley, and Nick Castle (Tom Atkins) stepping up to rescue him before it’s too late.

Speaking of Elizabeth, she is yet another example of The Fog’s commitment to giving us well-crafted female characters we can't help but fall in love with. When we first meet Elizabeth on the side of the road in Antonio Bay, she’s hitchhiking her way towards Vancouver and gets picked up by the self-proclaimed “weirdo” Nick. With her plucky resolve and outwardly demeanor on full display, Elizabeth is also the kind of person willing to take a drink from a total stranger, as Nick gives her a beer to enjoy early on in their travels, proving that Curtis’ character in The Fog also has a sense of fearlessness to her as well.

During a post-coital conversation shared between Nick and Elizabeth, we learn that Elizabeth is an artist with no earthly idea just what she wants to be when she “grows up,” and she reveals that she’s willing to walk away from a life of stability and financial security back in Pasadena (which is humorous since Halloween was shot in Pasadena) in search of something more out of life. After deciding to hang around Antonio Bay a while longer, Elizabeth finds herself in the thick of things with Nick, and they have to work together to survive Blake’s vengeful wrath.

When most people would make a run for it, especially as someone who is just “passing through,” Elizabeth sticks by her new beau despite enduring several horrifying instances with various corpses (re-animated and whatnot), establishing Curtis’ character as someone who is both proactive and tenacious. And it is Elizabeth who takes charge when they rescue Andy, as she takes the wheel and drives them to safety during a pulse-pounding sequence where the trio barely escape the clutches of Blake and his crew as they surround Nick’s truck.

Two other lively and memorable women from the world of Antonio Bay are Mayor Kathy Williams (Janet Leigh) and her assistant Sandy Fadel (Nancy Loomis), who are busy getting the town ready for the centennial celebration. Their quick-witted banter shows us that both Kathy and Sandy may not mince their words, but they seem to share a connection deeper than just employer-employee. After Kathy’s husband, Al (John F. Goff), is presumed dead as he was aboard the Sea Grass, instead of falling apart, Leigh’s character decides to push forward with hosting Antonio Bay’s celebration despite her grief. Sandy is right at the mayor’s side to support him throughout the entire event.

Once the centennial celebration has concluded, it’s Sandy who insists that her boss should head home and start taking care of herself, and Kathy begrudgingly agrees. But before they reach their destination, the women are alerted to the eerie mist lurking ahead of them, thanks to Stevie Wayne, and they avoid immediate disaster by heading straight to Father Malone’s church.

Strong female characters have since become a staple of Carpenter’s filmography, beginning with Curtis as Laurie Strode in Halloween, and they have been showcased throughout nearly every other film he’s directed (I know, I know — The Thing), including his last feature, The Ward, which was released theatrically in 2011. As a Master of Horror, Carpenter’s longstanding dedication to giving the genre some of the most fiercely compelling female characters is amongst his greatest triumphs, which only enhances his amazing filmmaking legacy even more.