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John Carpenter’s Three Faces of Kurt

The Man as caricature, straight presentation, and parody.

John Carpenter had three notable collaborations with actor Kurt Russell: Escape From New York, The Thing, and Big Trouble in Little China*. All three movies are masterpieces and all three movies are very different takes on John Carpenter’s central vision of masculinity. The central aspect of Carpenter’s worldview is The Work; this is nothing particularly interesting in itself in the world of cinema, putting him alongside, say, Michael Mann and as an ancestor to Carpenter’s hero Howard Hawks. What separates him from practically everyone else is his exasperation at being defined by work.

(*Neither Elvis nor Escape From LA are masterpieces, and Elvis is not notable.)

All three of the main men of these movies – Snake Plissken in EFNY, RJ Macready in The Thing, and Jack Burton of BTILC – are in their respective movies because of the work they do, and none of them particularly care about said work. Their jobs are things they all clock in and out of to make a living. The fun of comparing the movies is that EFNY is caricature, The Thing is realism, and BTILC is parody. With Carpenter’s vision, this becomes present in the movies from the bottom up; in script, in set design, in costume, and most of all, in Russell’s magnificent performances.

Snake Plissken is a comic book character come to life. His existence and world are exaggerated parodies of personal fears and anxieties; the New York of the film is right in line with Frank Miller’s vision of Gotham five years later in The Dark Knight Returns, and indeed one can imagine a conflicting, chaos-inducing media in the world outside the prison city. Snake himself is a few larger-than-life visual choices tied together; urban camouflage pants to indicate he was a soldier, a black tank top to downplay that and show he’s not actually in the military anymore, and most of all, an eyepatch to show he’s had some shit happen.

Russell plays Snake as a twelve-year-old boy’s idea of cool; distant, detached, and with a growly voice (this would go on to influence my beloved Metal Gear Solid). Snake is a deeply internal man, watching what happens around him and calculating. Russell and Carpenter agreed that, when others go rushing in, Snake generally hangs back to figure out what’s going on before running. Snake is an unabashed fantasy of being slightly selfish and operating in a world that will allow that. 

His ‘job’ is, oddly enough, the only one that not only affects the plot but drives it – land in New York and rescue the president. He’s actively coerced into it, naturally; when I say he’s making a living doing this, I mean that he’ll literally be killed if he fails. Still, he attempts to get out of it multiple times, and naturally, he makes the whole thing pointless the moment he gets his freedom. Although that may also be part of the one nuance of the story – Snake is also a little outraged by the fact that cool, funny people he’s met over the film have had their lives callously thrown away, and his act is a bit of revenge for them as much as it an act of personal spite.

Macready, on the other hand, is a real person. He has no backstory – though he is implied to be a Vietnam veteran – but we can see how much he hates having to work and hates having to work here, in the snow, of all places; his first goal after finishing up is getting to his room and having a drink. He’s also just as calculating and internal as Snake – he amuses himself by playing chess, the most Normal symbol of particularly intellectual stimulation – an active need to plan and strategise, as opposed to the relative passivity of books.

Mac also lacks the superheroism of Snake; his action throughout the film is a mixture of gut instinct and fast thinking as opposed to both giving and receiving silly amounts of violence. When seeing the Thing for the first time, his first move is to tell someone to get the flamethrower, which is both fucking cool and also much more within the realm of real-world plausibility. This is also reflected in the costume; the only way you can dress as Mac for Halloween is if you have something like the flamethrower, or at least that big hat.

Jack is a much sillier, broader take on these same ideas, down to Russell using a silly John Wayne impression. The basis of most comedy is just doing the wrong thing, and Jack is, unlike the other two, a loud blowhard trying too hard to impress you with his knowledge. Famously, the basic joke of the movie is that Jack thinks he’s the hero when he’s actually the comedy sidekick; at his core, though, is a very traditional Carpenter hero; a blue collar truck driver who stumbles upon a larger conspiracy.

You see all these ideas in different forms across almost all his movies; I love looking at Halloween from this perspective because Laurie Strode brings that blue collar well-I-need-money-to-live attitude to being a babysitter, and They Live takes these ideas to an explicitly political territory as he asks who is making us work, why they’re making us work, and what consequences there are for it. These three films are particularly potent, expressing these ideas in particularly vivid ways.