Is Jacob Singer dreaming? Is his life one giant nightmare? Is he simply hallucinating, suffering post traumatic stress syndrome form Vietnam? We don't know. But director Adrianne Lynn will show us Jacob's nightmare. He will take into the depths of one man's hell and in the process, attempt to explain poor Jacob's psychosis.
Jacob SInger (Tim Robbins) returned from Vietnam different. He is now haunted by horrid visions of demons, strange entities and people who may or may not want to hurt him. He confides in his girlfriend Jezzie (Elizabeth Pena), but she cannot fathom the horror that Jacob is experiencing. He seeks guidance from his chiropractor (Danny Aiello), an old friend who holds some all too wise wisdom. And Jacob is still broken by the death of his young son. He still mourns despite seeming to begin a new life away from his old family (he is divorced). Yet when he is on the subway, he sees a man with what appears to be a tail. When at a party, he witnesses his girlfriend dance erotically with a winged creature. And then there are the faces, faceless beings that shake rapidly. Is Jacob crazy or did something happen in Vietnam?
Jacob's Ladder is scary not because it is filled with gore. No one is eviscerated, maimed or disembowled. The true terror is psychological, touching the very core of what can disturb. We are not frightened, shielding our eyes from the screen, hiding in the shoulder of a significant other. No, we are unsettled yet mesmerized, astounded by what we are seeing. The most frightening images are the ones you can't look away from.
Take for instance the scene with Jacob on his bed, grieving over the loss of his son. We see the desolate apartment, we hear the quiet and we feel his anguish. The fact that we see a man violently vibrate his body, howling and shrieking a horrible sound is off settling. That man is not supposed to be there. Jacob knows that. We know that. Yet the director, Lynn, knows this as well. And by incorporating an image so... unusual at such an abrupt moment, it shows us the level that the film has taken. Lynn is now able to do anything, show us anything. He has become the puppeteer not only of the characters but of the audience. When a director takes away your entire sense of reality, he becomes dangerous and the audience is more alone than ever.
The ending is a matter of perspective and interpretation. One can look at it as closure. Another can look at it as a cop out: a display of cleverness. But everything that has been leading up to it has been exhilarating, a true showcase of the surreal. The fact is one cannot leave "Jacob's Ladder" normal. You just can't. The film requires too many emotions. It requires too much thought. Even for a person who admires the film, even likes it, I still cannot end the movie without feeling different: silent, perhaps cold, disturbed yet maybe even enlightened.
This film could have not been made now. There is just no way that the quality would still remain, nor the genuine terror. Today, psychology has been replaced with cliché and story has been replaced with CGI. To think of truly great horror, none have ever been made post visual effects era. The fact that this film is not ruined by quick editing, over stylized cinematography and flashy effects is a testament to the time in which it was made. The dry, washed out color, grainy, gritty appearance and subtle, ambient score are all a credit to the late 80's, early 90's: an era where the practicality of effects added to the realism not detracted. Because of this, the story, plot and characters take over, a rare occasion in today's films.
The brilliance of Jacob's Ladder arises form the film's ability to only show us the "door." The director describes it to us and only hints at what is behind. We, as the audience, are required to figure out what is truly inside and ultimately open it. The problem with modern genre movies is that the director opens the "door" for us. Why can't we choose to examine the "door" and only wonder what is behind it? Wy can't we decide if we want to open it or not? Well, in the case of the film, it is not a "door" but a "ladder." We have to decide if we want to venture up or down. For me... I ventured up.
Jacob SInger (Tim Robbins) returned from Vietnam different. He is now haunted by horrid visions of demons, strange entities and people who may or may not want to hurt him. He confides in his girlfriend Jezzie (Elizabeth Pena), but she cannot fathom the horror that Jacob is experiencing. He seeks guidance from his chiropractor (Danny Aiello), an old friend who holds some all too wise wisdom. And Jacob is still broken by the death of his young son. He still mourns despite seeming to begin a new life away from his old family (he is divorced). Yet when he is on the subway, he sees a man with what appears to be a tail. When at a party, he witnesses his girlfriend dance erotically with a winged creature. And then there are the faces, faceless beings that shake rapidly. Is Jacob crazy or did something happen in Vietnam?
Jacob's Ladder is scary not because it is filled with gore. No one is eviscerated, maimed or disembowled. The true terror is psychological, touching the very core of what can disturb. We are not frightened, shielding our eyes from the screen, hiding in the shoulder of a significant other. No, we are unsettled yet mesmerized, astounded by what we are seeing. The most frightening images are the ones you can't look away from.
Take for instance the scene with Jacob on his bed, grieving over the loss of his son. We see the desolate apartment, we hear the quiet and we feel his anguish. The fact that we see a man violently vibrate his body, howling and shrieking a horrible sound is off settling. That man is not supposed to be there. Jacob knows that. We know that. Yet the director, Lynn, knows this as well. And by incorporating an image so... unusual at such an abrupt moment, it shows us the level that the film has taken. Lynn is now able to do anything, show us anything. He has become the puppeteer not only of the characters but of the audience. When a director takes away your entire sense of reality, he becomes dangerous and the audience is more alone than ever.
The ending is a matter of perspective and interpretation. One can look at it as closure. Another can look at it as a cop out: a display of cleverness. But everything that has been leading up to it has been exhilarating, a true showcase of the surreal. The fact is one cannot leave "Jacob's Ladder" normal. You just can't. The film requires too many emotions. It requires too much thought. Even for a person who admires the film, even likes it, I still cannot end the movie without feeling different: silent, perhaps cold, disturbed yet maybe even enlightened.
This film could have not been made now. There is just no way that the quality would still remain, nor the genuine terror. Today, psychology has been replaced with cliché and story has been replaced with CGI. To think of truly great horror, none have ever been made post visual effects era. The fact that this film is not ruined by quick editing, over stylized cinematography and flashy effects is a testament to the time in which it was made. The dry, washed out color, grainy, gritty appearance and subtle, ambient score are all a credit to the late 80's, early 90's: an era where the practicality of effects added to the realism not detracted. Because of this, the story, plot and characters take over, a rare occasion in today's films.
The brilliance of Jacob's Ladder arises form the film's ability to only show us the "door." The director describes it to us and only hints at what is behind. We, as the audience, are required to figure out what is truly inside and ultimately open it. The problem with modern genre movies is that the director opens the "door" for us. Why can't we choose to examine the "door" and only wonder what is behind it? Wy can't we decide if we want to open it or not? Well, in the case of the film, it is not a "door" but a "ladder." We have to decide if we want to venture up or down. For me... I ventured up.