Office of Student Programming
University of South Florida
June 29, 1978
Dear New Line,
Thought you might be interested in the audience reaction to "THE HILLS HAVE EYES."
During the massacre scene in the trailer, a dozen people left the auditorium for the safety of the lobby. Some had to go outside for fresh air. One woman lost composure completely and sobbed in a corner. We calmed her by telling her all the actors were friends and the parakeet wasn’t real. As the film progressed, a small crowd of people gathered in the lobby. They were waiting for their friends inside and were too TERRIFIED to go back into the theatre.
Towards the end of the film, the audience was in bedlam. The soundtrack couldn’t be heard for the screaming and yelling. Some people seemed to go temporarily crazy. The last minute, men jumped from their seats shaking their fists and urging on the final violence with a BLOOD LUST that was incredible. It was frightening to witness THEIR reaction.
Saturday night three muscular types came back to see the ending they were too scared to see the previous night. We show quite a few horror and suspense films but have never seen an audience as charged up and emotionally drained as "THE HILLS HAVE EYES" left them.
Hats off to Terror,
Stan Kozma
OSP Film Programmer
Now THERE’S an endorsement no critic at the time nor random internet yokel today could or even would dare attempt to match. It’s the sort of depraved filmmaking Wes Craven both helped pioneer in the ’70s and single-handedly overturned 20 years later.
The movie: This seductive kissin’ cousin of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre — right down to the same bone slinger in Bob Burns — follows an extended suburban family of vacationers who, despite fevered warnings, wander down the wrong desert road and find themselves subject to the cannibalistic amusements of a HIGHLY inhospitable band of neo-Neanderthals whose ancestral tree don’t quite fork like it oughta. Once stranded, the city folks’ sudden and terrifying isolation rapidly devolves into abject hysterics upon the realization that, well, they’re not REALLY alone. Among the eyes in them thar hills is towering, tittering CineSchlocker idol Michael Berryman, as the pointy-noggin’d Pluto, who along with his planetary kin, revels in skillfully taunting his prey in fiendish and increasingly grisly ways. Even little BABIES and good puppy dogs ain’t safe!
Mr. Craven credits the Scottish legend of Sawney Bean‘s cave-dwelling cannibal clan as his inspiration, but it’s pretty primal stuff in any regard. Man’s innate fear of being lunch. Worse yet, having another HUMAN BEING pick your gnawed gristle from his teeth. In lockstep with this intriguing "civilized man vs. wild man" subtext, Wes seems to have the MOST fun when blurring the lines between the two and actually even reversing them. Still, most CineSchlockers, who are wired differently than most reasonable people, inevitably find themselves rooting for Papa Jupiter (James Whitworth) and his people-eatin’ posse.
That strange affinity might also explain the appeal of the motocross sequel in which Mr. Berryman makes a miraculous return. As does Beast who may well boast the only canine flashback in cinema history. Robert Houston whines his way only as far as the first reel, while Janus Blythe discovers you really CAN go home again! Those anxious to see quite a bit more of Ms. Blythe should note she worked with Saw maestro Tobe Hooper that same year in Eaten Alive as Robert Englund‘s exuberant bunk buddy. A second Hills sequel mutated into The Outpost (a.k.a. Mind Ripper) with Lance Henriksen who decides to swing by a secret desert research facility before heading on for a family vacation. Not quite Disney Land for them either.
Notables: No breasts. Seven corpses. Tarantula stomping. Pornographic dirt doodling. Multiple explosions. Gratuitous cartwheel acrobatics. One prayer circle. Diddling. Crucifixion. Ankle noshing. Trailer trashing. One rattlesnake necktie. Crowbar impalement. Disemboweled pooch. Attempted suicide. Wild driving. Human puppetry. Boozing. Canary slurping.
Quotables: Retirement is no treat for Big Bob (Russ Grieve): "Twenty five years I’m a cop in the worst goddamn precinct in Cleveland. N@##%&* shoot arrows at me. Hillbillies throw dogs off the roof at me. I’m even shot at by my own men. But none of these bastards have ever come as close to killing me as my own goddamn wife and her goddam roadmaps and her wrong turns and her goddamn hysterical screaming!!!" Even cannibal mamas like Cordy Clark make you clean your plate: "What’s the matter? You don’t like DOG anymore!?!" Lance Gordon‘s Mars licks his jagged chops: "Baby’s fat. Youuuuuuu fat. FAT ‘N’ JUICY!" At least Papa Jup has hobbies: "I fixed Grandpa Fred good. I like fixin’ people good!" and "I’ll eat the brains of your kids’ kids! I’M IN! YOU’RE OUT!!!" Pluto attempts some impromptu obedience training: "You f@#*ing devil dog! You son of a bitch! You piece of s@#$! I killed your bitch! I’ll kill you! I’ll eat your heart! … Puke eater! I’ll strangle you with your own GUTS!!!"