Close Search Close

 

  • Comics
  • Theatre
  • Site News

Streaming Shuffle

Someone's Watching Me!

This deserves to be considered classic John Carpenter.

I’ve covered quite a few made-for-TV movies lately, but this is one that’s especially close to my heart.

Someone’s Watching Me! is a John Carpenter film that aired on NBC in November 1978, right on the heels of Halloween. Carpenter had done TV work before, penning the Suzanne Somers-led Zuma Beach, but this was the first he’d written and directed, and I think it’s safe to say that it’s more Carpenterian in style and tone.

Where it’s decidedly un-Carpenterian is where it’s weakest: this is one badly scored movie, with the music lumbering about like a bull in a china shop, knocking the emotional texture around willy-nilly. It’s so hands-on in its attempt to manipulate me that it alienates me instead, and on a couple of occasions, it even, much to my annoyance, takes me right out of the movie. I have this bad boy on a Scream Factory Blu-ray, but if they ever somehow talk Carpenter into composing a better score for it—or, hell, slotting in something from Lost Themes—I’ll buy it all over again.

Lauren Hutton stars as lovable oddball Leigh Michaels, a TV producer who’s just made the cross-country move to LA. She has a beautiful high-rise apartment, complete with climate control and a stunning view. After a quick trial by fire, she lands a job at a local station, and the job lands her a best friend, Adrienne Barbeau’s wry, smoky-voiced Sophie. Soon enough, she even has a philosophy professor boyfriend, Paul (David Birney).

She has the makings of a good life on the West Coast, but she also has a stalker. And over the course of the film’s 97 minutes, we watch this smart, funny1, distinctive woman unravel, flattened out and drained by a campaign of terror. Stalking is essentially rape, Sophie says, because “rape is when a man consciously keeps a woman in fear,” and Someone’s Watching Me knows that kind of fear is a living death. Lauren Hutton continues to walk across the sets, fragile and jerky and enormous-eyed, but Leigh is going and going, if not quite gone. After a while, she stops making so many jokes. She’s pinned between slides in someone else’s microscope, and he’s crushing the life out of her.

This is, strangely enough, one of the best hangout movies Carpenter has made. A lot of his masterpieces are propulsive, with immediate threats forcing action at a fairly relentless clip. But stalking, at least at first, feeds on the victim’s ordinary life, and it takes a while to completely corrupt and destabilize it. Besides, while Leigh’s life is at stake here—we know that well before she does, thanks to a bleak cold open—the more pressing concern is her sense of self. In Halloween, it’s enough to show fairly generic life—lusty, impulsive, silly—to make the audience feel the terror of it being snuffed out; we all know life. We don’t all know Leigh, so Carpenter and Hutton have to give us time with her. That’s how the agony builds and particularizes, becomes more than the opener: I don’t want this happening to anyone, sure, but also, I don’t want this happening to her.

It also gives the film space to develop in some unconventional directions. Sophie is a lesbian, a fact Leigh takes in stride, and I can probably count on one hand how many close lesbian-straight woman friendships I’ve seen on TV over the years. In bars, Leigh is more comfortable being the pursuer than the pursued; she turns down an advance, but she’s the one who makes the first move with Paul. She knows what she wants, and that extends to knowing when she wants to have it; there’s a likable frankness to how clear she is with Paul that she’s attracted to him but a little gun-shy after a bad break-up, so she’s going to say no to sex tonight, but he shouldn’t think that’s a no in general. (And it’s not: this isn’t a prudish film.) Leigh may tell flippant lies as a gag, but she’s always honest with herself and about the things that matter.

Making Leigh and Sophie not just cookie-cutter “strong female characters” but well-defined ones with particular virtues and strengths is good writing that makes the horror and suspense more effective, but it’s also a rebuke of the stalker’s flattening, misogynistic gaze. Since this is a world full of troubling men—Leigh’s pushy colleague, her bad ex, a stray voyeur, cops who say to call them when he “does something”—it’s a rebuke of them too; one of the built-in bits of creepiness here, as is common in this genre2, is that there’s no shortage of suspects. It’s like Leigh’s constantly, unwillingly microdosing on misogyny, and she’s learned to deal with that, but the now-deadly level she’s grappling with means that all of this is freshly visible and felt as too much. It’s all the straw about to break the camel’s back.

The stalker thinks he’s entitled to Leigh’s private life, but he doesn’t even care what it consists of. He’d do this to any attractive woman with a window in the right place. He really is more rapist than traditional stalker; he’s not obsessive about Leigh, he’s obsessive about making a woman subject to his whims.

Which brings us, late in the game, to the fact that this is, with a few caveats, an incredibly effective thriller. The stalker, unbeknownst to Leigh, has set up shop in the complex opposite hers; he watches her through a telescope and listens to her through a bug he’s planted in her apartment. He makes disturbing calls, often at all hours. He sends gifts.

Leigh changes her phone number and keeps it unlisted, but the stalker finds her anyway (thanks to the bug, probably). What my friend pointed out when I watched this with him is that it never seems to occur to Leigh to unplug her fucking phone, at least at night. This is the kind of detail it’s hard to unsee. You can make excuses for it—she wants to be reachable, so it subconsciously didn’t even feel like an option?—but there’s a glaring hole where even the most forced and half-hearted explanation would be. Maybe it’s tied to her reluctance to move, which would let him win. I for one would move in a heartbeat. I suspect in both cases, the real reason is, as Pitch Meeting would say, “so the movie can happen.”

That aside: damn, this works. If it takes Leigh a tad too long to realize that she’s being watched, not just pestered, the film makes up for it when her stalker calls her one morning (right after Paul’s left) and deliberately reveals the truth. The way she retreats, staggering instinctively to the bathroom—the one room with no windows—to collapse and curl up on the floor is gutting. It’s like the behavior of a wounded animal. Other standout sequences include a bit of cat-and-mouse in the basement of her apartment and a clever, stiletto-sharp homage to Rear Window. It even manages several good jump scares, though it gets the best one out of the way upfront: you’ll know it when you see it.

One of the most resonant horrors comes when Leigh, at her wit’s end from trying to convince the police that the crime they think is safely solved is still happening, goes into her bathroom and sees a message written on her mirror, stark against the foggy glass: “NO ONE BELIEVES YOU.” It doesn’t take long for the words to melt away.

No one else saw them.

Someone’s Watching Me! is streaming on Tubi.

Want to support more great writing like this? Get exclusive member benefits like access to our Discord, early access to Media Magpies content, and more by joining our Patreon!

  1. Minus one eyebrow-raising bit “ironic” racism. ↩︎
  2. Eventually, over on Anthologized, I’ll cover the Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode “The Creeper.” ↩︎