Misunderstood Monsters: Smashing Pumpkinheads and the Price of Hatred
By Matt Konopka
Welcome fellow monster kids to Misunderstood Monsters. This is where I, Matt Konopka, sink my fangs into all sorts of beasts, ghouls, and creatures from above while I search for the humanity behind their frightening exteriors. From monster favorites such as The Wolf Man to obscure monsters like the whistling Shadmock, there is more to these fiends than bad hair days and gooey tentacles. Within them all is a piece of ourselves.
Keep away from Pumpkinhead,
Unless you’re tired of living,
His enemies are mostly dead,
He’s mean and unforgiving.
These are the opening lines of a poem entitled “Pumpkinhead” by Ed Justin, one that would eventually become the basis for monster maker Stan Winston’s 1988 directorial debut of the same name. Hired to adapt Justin’s words into a feature-length script, writers Mark Patrick Carducci and Gary Gerani sought inspiration from a short story Gerani had written in the 70s, “The Seven Gargoyles of Satan,” a concept that proposed a demon existed for each of man’s sins. Several title changes later — including the eyerolling “Vengeance: The Demon” — Pumpkinhead was born. A fearsome creature representing (you guessed it), vengeance, Pumpkinhead is a force driven by pure, fiery fury. Determined to create something greater than your average monster movie, the filmmakers sought to deliver a morality tale exploring the painful trappings of grief and how readily that trauma can transform into a monstrous hate.
In what you could argue is his best and most-ripped performance (you could fry an egg on those abs), genre icon Lance Henriksen plays Ed Harley, a southerner raising his son Billy (Matthew Hurley) on his own. Following a terrible accident involving a group of city kids, Ed returns to his shop to find Billy dead. Where Ed comes from, it isn’t the law that brings any kind of justice, but a terrible thing that can only be risen by an old woman named Haggis (Florence Schauffler) who lives deep in the swamp. There’s a hefty price to pay for such vengeance though, one that Ed is about to discover once he sets the legendary Pumpkinhead loose on those responsible for the death of his boy.
From the opening title devoured by flames to his dying breath, the implication of Pumpkinhead is clear; Ed Harley is a man in his own personal Hell. Shot in Topenga Canyon, California, the desert terrain scorching beneath the hot sun gives the sense that we are standing at the gateway to that fiery underworld. Hitting that point home is Production Designer Cynthia Charette’s inclusion of a “leaving Hope” sign on Ed’s store to reflect his abandonment of hope. Winston and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli also infuse the film with textured lighting alternating between a somber blue and pumpkin orange, representative of Ed’s grief and the fires of Hell encroaching on his soul, respectively. Take the scene where he first approaches the shanty home of Haggis in the swamp. He is a man sinking deeper and deeper into the murky waters of grief, with the ominous glow of the lonely shack drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Lost. Angry. Vengeful. Ed cannot see anything but that blood-orange light and the revenge he wishes to take.
Designed by Stan Winston’s team — monster makers who had worked on classic creatures such as the Predator and the Queen Alien — Pumpkinhead is, unsurprisingly, terrifying. Over seven-feet tall with limbs that seem to stretch an eternity and an unsettling hiss reminiscent of an angry rattlesnake, the imposing creature remains the fiercest visualization of vengeance that there is. You can’t stop him. You can’t control him. All you can do is get out of his way. Pumpkinhead is a monster without mercy just as hatred burns away the fabric of our humanity. The filmmakers make dirt-biker Joel (John D’Aquino) an unlikeable guy so that when he accidentally hits Billy with his bike, panics and runs, we as the audience despise him just as much as Ed…only to later hold up a mirror to our own fury and ask us whether he and his companions really deserve our animosity. Joel’s friends are innocent. His brother, Steve (Joel Hoffman), even stays behind and tries to explain to Ed that what happened was an accident. But most importantly, Joel — who is in all reality a scared kid that panicked — decides to give himself up before learning of Pumpkinhead’s presence. Jennifer Love Hewitt and friends weren’t even willing to do that in I Know What You Did Last Summer. Death does not justify more death, but hatred is a powerful force that blinds us to such a notion and tosses morality out the window.
Vicious as he is, Pumpkinhead is nevertheless a tragic creature. Here we have a monster that embodies vengeance yet is born from grief. When Ed first digs Pumpkinhead up out of his grave amongst the swamp’s pumpkin patch, he is no larger than a child. Caked in dirt and so very small in Ed’s arms, he might as well be the poor man’s deceased son. Through Ed’s grief, vengeance rises, and with it comes Pumpkinhead. By the finale, we discover that what wounds Ed wounds Pumpkinhead as well. They are one. Ed’s vengeance can only be stopped by himself, and it kills him in the end. The terror of Pumpkinhead is in how easily that fiery hatred consumes us like we consume candy on Halloween night. It takes Ed over, body and soul. He becomes a man who has lost his faith. In God, in people, in himself, and in the future. The moment Billy dies in his arms, engulfed by rays of light shining through the window like fingers of Heaven, who Ed is dies with him, his soul a hollowed out Jack-O-Lantern. So, Pumpkinhead smashes the cross he finds at the burned down church. He etches that same symbol into one victim’s flesh, making a mockery of it. And in that final moment when Haggis buries Pumpkinhead, we see that Ed is now that creature, a damned servant of Hell waiting for the next tormented soul to give his life to vengeance.
Most likely, none of this is revelatory to any of you, but I suppose I feel compelled to write about this decades-old film because of where we are right now. Anger. Hatred. Vengeance. A loss of faith in ourselves and in each other. These feelings seem to fill every crack in the sidewalks of our society, poured in by people in power who are out of their gourd. That anger towers over us the way Pumpkinhead towers over Ed. The thing about hate is that it’s much too easy to justify to ourselves, and damn near impossible to get rid of once it festers long enough. Winston’s film deals in complex emotions, but its lesson is simple: hate gets us nowhere. It destroys us and every innocent person that gets in the way. We can try to validate our hate or rationalize vengeance all we want, but the path it leads us down is inevitable…a cold spot in the ground of that lonely pumpkin patch. 🩸
About
Matt is a writer and wannabe werewolf who began his love of horror at the ripe old age of 3 with John Carpenter’s Christine. He has previously been published on Dread Central, Certified Forgotten, Daily Grindhouse and others. He has also contributed essays for releases from labels such as Arrow Video. He lives in Los Angeles, CA, with his wonderful wife and their fur baby, Storm.
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