Fright Tomes: Mr. Tom Holland’s Opus (Not that Tom Holland)
By T.J. Tranchell
Before the world’s newest Spider-man swung into our hearts, there was another Tom Holland. And to horror fans, in both print and film, there can be only one. Our Mr. Holland penned some of the most iconic films of the 1980s, has adapted Stephen King, and has given his films the novelization treatment. What keeps his various works recognizable is the sense of wonder that comes with every piece. Even when a possessed doll is stabbing people, there is still that sense of “is this really happening?” that marks Holland’s work as something special.
He didn’t start at the top, but was given perhaps one of the most challenging jobs a new screenwriter could get: write the sequel (1983) to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). Out in the Hollywood ether exists a long list of people who turned down the job. Holland took it on and knocked it out of the park. His writing turned the classic suspense film into a VHS franchise, thrilling more audiences that for better or worse, wouldn’t touch the black and white film. Holland had already had a video store hit with Class of 1984 (1982) and afterward another childhood favorite of mine, the spy flick Cloak & Dagger (1984), starring Henry Thomas and Dabney Coleman. Like many successful screenwriters, Holland took a swing at directing.
What does any self-respecting fan of old school horror do in the middle of the slasher boom? That’s right: you make one of the best vampire movies ever and you populate it with your heroes and the kids who go to those movies. Fright Night (1985) became Holland’s sixth produced screenplay and his first directorial feature. He could have mic dropped right there and would be a horror convention staple still today. Fright Night brought vampire lore out of the shadows of Hammer and right into the 1980s, two years before The Lost Boys (1987).
Charlie Brewster and Eddie Thompson are ’80s kids, the kids who basically created fan culture as we know it now. Jerry Dandridge, played by Chris Sarandon, oozes that powerful and still ambiguous 1980s sexuality that placed him right up there with the versions of Dracula played by Bela Lugosi and Frank Langella. But Jerry isn’t Dracula and nor is Fright Night. It is something wholly new, born from something old. It’s homage before remakes took over. And yes, we get those characters who are like real people: they don’t necessarily believe what is happening to them, even as it is happening.
Holland and Sarandon would team again, but this time Sarandon played a classic ’80s cop, complete with disbelief and snub-nosed .38 handgun. Holland didn’t create Child’s Play (1988) or everyone’s favorite living doll, Chucky. He fleshed out the story Don Mancini and John Lafia had and put it on the screen. The tongue-in-cheek ridiculousness of Fright Night carried over and stayed in a place that still felt real. You can easily find Chicago on a map. It’s easier than searching for Springwood, Crysal Lake, or Haddonfield. Chucky’s barbs stand toe-to-toe with Freddy Krueger, and his body count is right up there, too. As slashers evolved and phased out, Chucky’s humor never weakened his horror, unlike what happened to Freddy.
But it wasn’t enough for Holland to stick with franchises he rejuvenated or began. In 1995 and ’96, he spent some time with King. As a “master of horror” — and yes, he directed an episode of that anthology series (2005–2007), as well as some Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) spots — it was only a matter of time before a Stephen King adaptation came to Holland. He even got two of them: the miniseries The Langoliers (1995) and the Richard Bachman project Thinner (1996).
Are either film classics in the King multimedia canon? No, not really. But while The Langoliers feels like a low-budget cash grab on the heels of The Stand miniseries from 1994, Thinner is much more like the book it adapts. Its essence is a crime thriller well before King turned his attention more fully in that area. They share that aura of disbelief. Even when Bronson Pichot sees the flying furballs in The Langoliers, he still doesn’t believe what is happening to him. As Billy Halleck, played by Robert John Burke, sheds pounds at an alarming rate, he never buys into what is happening to him. That disbelief allows us to think he doesn’t believe the pie he feeds to his wife will harm her. Thinner might be Holland’s darkest work. Watching it honors not only King and Holland, but the screenwriter and author Michael McDowell, who co-write the script with Holland before he died in 1999.
Holland, now, is part of the new wave of film novelizations and expanding universes. His screenplays for Thinner and The Langoliers have been published for a wider audience. His own novel Fright Night: Origins (2022) is out there for you to find. All of these works understand that it is difficult to believe in the horrors of the world — both real and supernatural — even when we are staring them down. It’s not unlike having someone with your name become more famous than you. Is this really happening? Yeah, it is. And we are here to bear witness. 🩸
About
T.J. Tranchell was born on Halloween and grew up in Utah. He has published has published six books, including The Blackhawk Cycle, a hardcover omnibus. In October 2020, The New York Times called Cry Down Dark the scariest book set in Utah. He holds a Master’s degree in Literature from Central Washington University and is pursuing an MFA through the UCR-Palm Desert Low Residency program. Tranchell has also published work in Fangoria. He currently lives in Washington State with his wife and son and teaches at a community college.
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