By: Zach Castedo
Rich with gothic atmosphere and ambiguity, 1971’s Let’s Scare Jessica to Death is
essential viewing for fans of eerie slow-burn horror. The film is a dread-soaked
study of subjective reality through the eyes of an emotionally damaged woman. We
are introduced to Jessica (Zohra Lampert) who has just finished a six-month
stay at a psychiatric hospital. Lampert
creates one of the most sympathetic and fragile protagonists in horror cinema.
Haunted, hunched, and barely clinging to her sanity, Jessica hopes to find
peace and healing at her new home in the countryside.
Jessica, her husband Duncan and their mellow pal Woody arrive
at their own private Eden: a lush apple orchard surrounding a gothic farmhouse
shrouded in fog. From the opening scenes
director John D. Hancock populates the film with powerful symbols of death: the
black hearse the trio cruise into town in, Jessica’s morbid gravestone
rubbings, and Duncan’s giant coffin-like black case. The film ties together the
inevitability of death and the seeming inevitability of Jessica’s return to madness.
Lampert plays Jessica with such hopeful, but vulnerable optimism.
She is child-like and is often wearing a desperate smile as she struggles to
maintain a persona of normalcy. The first fissure in her idyllic new life
arrives in the form of the wandering hippie girl Emily. With her cold pale
skin, eerie eyes, and red hair, Emily becomes a sort of unearthly shadow
version of Jessica. She is easy going, confident, and seductive while Jessica
feels inferior and is plagued with self-doubt. Emily is the lovely snake that
infects their newfound paradise with poison.
As the film unfolds we are given strange threads of story
that combine with Jessica’s increased paranoia and hallucinatory state of mind.
Is their old farmhouse home to dark spirits? Is their guest Emily some kind of
sinister undead being? The nearby town appears to be populated solely by
ghoulish, leering old men with weird wounds on their flesh. Are they simply small town folk who like to
give hippies a hard time, or are they a horde of soul-hungry ghouls--possibly
slaves to the queen demon Emily? As an audience, we know that Jessica has
already suffered a horrific mental breakdown in the recent past, which adds an
intriguing layer of ambiguity and doubt to all that she experiences. The
ensuing ghostly events may be the beginnings of another spiral downward into
psychosis.
This is a film of rich visuals with vibrant costume colors
contrasting against the aging neutrals of the interiors and the lush greens of
the countryside. The actors look like real people: natural, imperfect,
human--often with a sheen of sweat on their faces. Many striking compositions punctuate the film,
such as the opening shot of a silhouetted Jessica adrift in the rowboat in a
pond of blazing orange and pink, or the carefully framed slow zoom shot of Mr.
Dorker as he fishes. Jessica wears, and is often surrounded by, cool colors of
purple and blue: her shirt, skirt, robe, and the memorable patterns of her
bedroom pillows. Emily wears a bright red shirt throughout the film creating a
visual link between her, the red apples, and the bright red tractor, which
spreads poison around the farm. Emily, the seducing serpent, bewitches both
Duncan and Woody while also creating scenes of sexual tension between her and
Jessica.
Much of the film is about desperate and failed attempts at
human connection. It’s painful to watch Jessica’s relationship with Duncan
become further strained as the movie progresses. Woody is left cold by his
initial attempts at wooing Emily. Lampert is raw and deeply human in a scene
where Jessica and Duncan lie in bed, their efforts to connect disintegrate
horribly, leaving Jessica wailing in anguish. Brief moments of happiness seem
denied to Jessica: she tries to eat an apple from one of her trees, but Duncan yells
and stops her: “What are you doing? That’s poison!” At one point Emily seduces
Woody when he comes back from a pesticide run. “I really should wash this stuff
off” he says. Emily takes his hand and seems to suck the poison off of his
skin, savoring it, before burying her teeth into his neck.
Further crafting the unique texture of the film is the
masterful use of sound. The music alternates between gentle, wandering guitar
riffs and the pulsing menace of monstrous synths. Jessica seems to be followed
by a bleak howl of wind whenever she wanders alone. Perhaps more than any film
I have experienced, the use of voice over is a key part of the uncanny spell
this film casts. Flashes of Jessica’s internal monologue become the strange
poetry of her descent into self-doubt, suspicion, and terror. An otherworldly female
voice invades her mind, ensuring her that there is no escape. Jessica holds a
plate of meat oozing with red juices and the voice flashes through her mind:
“It’s blood Jessica…”
The film is peppered with strange and memorable moments,
which you won’t typically see in 21st century horror. The foursome
bathe in the lake, soaping and massaging each other, seeming to be free and
happy, but darkness and tension looms beneath the surface. Emily tells a tale
about a giant, monstrous cake that oozes into people’s windows and devours them
like The Blob. Jessica spends a lingering moment gazing at a colorful antique
lamp which the shop owner informs her is called ‘Flowers of Evil’. “How can
something so beautiful be evil?” Jessica asks. This same question could refer
to Emily, or her new home. The unearthly voice torments her: “I won’t go away
Jessica…I’m in your blood”.
This is an abstract film of hazy, poetic logic. Nothing is
spelled out, only suggested. How does Jessica—or, we, the audience--separate
the supernatural from the machinations of the human mind? The film shows us
that our minds are the source of all the phenomena we experience. Jessica’s unraveling
psyche could make any evil possible. She ends the film broken, hopeless…adrift
in a small rowboat…adrift in her mind. Maybe she is going insane; maybe she is
the victim of dark supernatural forces.
Is there any difference?