The Stuff abruptly begins with an old miner walking in a snow-covered quarry, then stopping to stare at a puddle of pulsating white sludge erupting from the ground. Surprisingly enough, his first reflex is to grab a handful of the creamy white substance and taste it. Confounded with its incredible flavor, he digs in for more. And that's how a very popular new brand of desert comes to be. The film then fast-forwards a few months as "The Stuff" is now being marketed and sold in great volumes across the US. It seems like the perfect food: healthy, delicious and strangely addictive, the main reason being that it is actually a living organism that turns its host into a brain-washed zombie. Thanks to a clever marketing campaign masterminded by a smart, young self-seeker named Nicole (Andrea Marcovicci), this dangerous food has even become quite a fashionable item. But when it begins to outsell ice cream, the disgruntled bigwigs of dairy concerns must react quickly not to become buried in mounds of pulsating pudding. Soon, they are willing to do anything in order to find out exactly what The Stuff is made of. This means hiring the best of the best, suave industrial saboteur Mo Rutherford (Michael Moriarty), to discover the dark secret behind the living desert's otherworldly success. But this secret is well-guarded and it involves a slippery trail of hints that will carry Mo all across the US in a frenzied hunt for his paycheck, but most importantly, for the truth.
The plot also follows the trials and tribulations of poor young Jason (Scott Bloom), a kid who catches some Stuff moving around in the family refrigerator. After confronting his family with this dire fact, he soon discovers that they have all succumbed to the desert's brainwashing effects. Starting his own campaign to stop the use of the nasty product, he crosses paths with Mo as they start narrowing in on the real bad guys, the execs of the heartless distribution company responsible for marketing and selling the product. The exhilarating, effects-filled climax takes place in a quarry full of The Stuff where it is harvested industrially by a fleet of 18-wheelers. It also involves a large commando led by deliciously paranoid general Malcolm Spears (Paul Sorvino) as well as tankfuls of aggressive pudding. Truly, this climax has to be seen to be believed.
The plot also follows the trials and tribulations of poor young Jason (Scott Bloom), a kid who catches some Stuff moving around in the family refrigerator. After confronting his family with this dire fact, he soon discovers that they have all succumbed to the desert's brainwashing effects. Starting his own campaign to stop the use of the nasty product, he crosses paths with Mo as they start narrowing in on the real bad guys, the execs of the heartless distribution company responsible for marketing and selling the product. The exhilarating, effects-filled climax takes place in a quarry full of The Stuff where it is harvested industrially by a fleet of 18-wheelers. It also involves a large commando led by deliciously paranoid general Malcolm Spears (Paul Sorvino) as well as tankfuls of aggressive pudding. Truly, this climax has to be seen to be believed.
The Stuff: "So divine, it will make you lose your mind."
Hell, I should start my own marketing campaign!
As I watched this delightfully gooey horror/comedy, I couldn't help thinking that it might represent the pinnacle of Larry Cohen's career as a director. The film bears all of his trademarks: biting social satire, extravagant gore and the ever welcome presence of fetish lead Michael Moriarty in what may well be his finest performance ever. It is a fast-paced, funny and thought-provoking film despite a somewhat underdeveloped premise and relatively poor production values. Over the years, it has developed into quite a cult phenomenon, but I believe it never really got the full attention it deserves. With hilarious turns by Danny Aiello (as the health official who originally okayed The Stuff), Paul Sorvino (as a red-bashing military nutcase) and a downright addictive jingle featured in omnipresent commercials for the titular product ("Enough is never enough... of The Stuff!"), the film is bound to have you grinning years after you've seen it. Add to that large helpings of willful white pudding and you've got one of the most unique, most refreshing horror films of the 80s. I don't know if it is the absence of nudity, or the absence of sequels which has hampered it's popularity, but rarely is the film mentioned with any sort of nostalgic languor. Maybe people are too hellbent on forcing comparison with Cohen's classic It's Alive (1974) and its darker use of horrific imagery or maybe they don't dig its cheap look, I don't know. What I do know is that The Stuff is, by all accounts, a very underrated film full of relevant jabs at consumer culture and truly weird imagery that finds only rare echos elsewhere in the world of horror. Of course, The Blob (1958) immediately comes to mind, but whereas the pink space monster finds relevance only in its monstrosity, The Stuff finds its own in the ability to control its hosts, hence offering a larger range of narrative possibilities as well as a potent metaphor for the contemporary man.
Clocking in at 93 minutes while featuring a race for clues that stretches throughout the entire US of A, The Stuff unfolds at breakneck speed, jumping from one scene to the next using key hints to propel Mo closer and closer to the center of the spiral while wasting no time in superfluous explanations. The Stuff exists. That's it. Where it came from is never explained, nor does it need to be since the product itself is not that important. What is important is how ruthless multinationals make use of it, disregarding any health hazard it represents in order to cash in on its addictive flavor. Not knowing the nature of the product actually strengthens the plot by making it even more hazardous... and its distributors more irresponsible. Besides, this allows Cohen to use the classic Noir framework to the best of its potential by making us share the investigation carried out by private eye Rutherford. That said, Michael Moriarty is more than charismatic enough to carry the narrative on his own, and although he gets some major help from some of his co-stars, the most important of which being Paul Sorvino and Garrett Morris (as the ex-president of a chocolate chip factory), the fate of the film mostly lies in his hands. And he does pretty well, managing to come out as both a poor man's Bogart and a poor man's Bond, lacking their flair for fashion while being suave, resourceful and fast-talking enough to earn the comparison. His character prefers working alone, gathering hints through keen observation and manipulation. Yet, he seems to have infinite resources; he can mobilize jets and limousines or gather commandos in the blink of an eye. At heart, he is a throwback to the heyday of Hollywood, when heroes were tough, smart and emotionless, when both the protagonists' words and fists had the same raw power. But since the film was made in the 80s, he is also an action hero, blowing stuff up, driving 18-wheelers through barricades and generally protecting the well-being of the weak.
This dual nature finds echo in the film's structure, which contains many elements pertaining to both the influence of Golden Age cinema and that of contemporary action films. The protagonist itself, the way he begins at least, is beautifully classical. And so is the snappy dialogue. You see, by flanking Rutherford with equally voluble characters (paramount of which is Morris' Chocolate Chip Charlie), you get verbal exchanges worthy of Howard Hawks or the Marx Brothers wherein words fly and the virtuosity of acting seems to be measured only in terms of delivery. Yet, this speedy delivery also becomes a way to shoot a greater number of one-liners as the film tips more and more into the realm of action cinema. And the man to do it is Paul Sorvino, to whom all the crunchier lines have been given. The man is really a laugh riot, at once manic and stern, managing to come out as the ultimate incarnation of the paranoid military man envisioned by Left-wingers. He is the man to help Mo in his transformation, allowing him to further develop into a socially-conscious American hero. Because although the protagonist begins as somewhat of a self-centered asshole, he evolves during the course of the film, becoming more and more selfless and ultimately even spearheading a nation-wide boycott of the titular product in order to protect the well-being of Americans, trading his pay for the benefit of public health. His journey across the US is a lengthy, but worthy enterprise that will see him (as well as repentant publicist Nicole) deliver small-time folks from corporate-controlled addiction. The character's evolution from money-minded opportunist to action hero is thus paralleled by the film's evolution from the narratives of olden days, involving suave tough guys and unfathomable mysteries, into contemporary narratives where subtlety gives way to the spectacle of a whole planet being narrowly saved by one determined hero.
This dual nature finds echo in the film's structure, which contains many elements pertaining to both the influence of Golden Age cinema and that of contemporary action films. The protagonist itself, the way he begins at least, is beautifully classical. And so is the snappy dialogue. You see, by flanking Rutherford with equally voluble characters (paramount of which is Morris' Chocolate Chip Charlie), you get verbal exchanges worthy of Howard Hawks or the Marx Brothers wherein words fly and the virtuosity of acting seems to be measured only in terms of delivery. Yet, this speedy delivery also becomes a way to shoot a greater number of one-liners as the film tips more and more into the realm of action cinema. And the man to do it is Paul Sorvino, to whom all the crunchier lines have been given. The man is really a laugh riot, at once manic and stern, managing to come out as the ultimate incarnation of the paranoid military man envisioned by Left-wingers. He is the man to help Mo in his transformation, allowing him to further develop into a socially-conscious American hero. Because although the protagonist begins as somewhat of a self-centered asshole, he evolves during the course of the film, becoming more and more selfless and ultimately even spearheading a nation-wide boycott of the titular product in order to protect the well-being of Americans, trading his pay for the benefit of public health. His journey across the US is a lengthy, but worthy enterprise that will see him (as well as repentant publicist Nicole) deliver small-time folks from corporate-controlled addiction. The character's evolution from money-minded opportunist to action hero is thus paralleled by the film's evolution from the narratives of olden days, involving suave tough guys and unfathomable mysteries, into contemporary narratives where subtlety gives way to the spectacle of a whole planet being narrowly saved by one determined hero.
Mo Rutherford is Bond-esque in his choice of vehicles,
not in his choice of clothing
Despite its shoestring budget, the makers of this film still managed to give shape to all of their big-buget ideas. First off, they managed to set up a rather lengthy road trip undertook by Mo Rutherford as he follows the trail left by The Stuff. Seeing the protagonist work his way from New York to Virginia, then to Georgia in such a way actually makes him look like a hell of an investigator; it even allows for a blob attack scene set within a private jet. And although the scenes in Virginia were actually shot in Upstate New York, while it is New Jersey that stands in for Georgia, even if no scene was actually shot inside a flying jet (the jet is merely seen landing with superimposed voices leading you to believe that Mo and Nicole are in it), you can nonetheless appreciate the effort. And if you are willing to suspend your disbelief just a little bit, you might actually be drawn right into the implausible storyline. The same goes for the special effects : if you are willing to suspend your disbelief, which you should find necessary given the subject matter at hand, you will certainly be able to enjoy them.
Personally, I thought these special effects were quite decent as The Stuff is not only seen moving in young Jason's fridge, but also in and out of its hosts' gaping mouths, across walls and through them, clamping around people's faces, etc... It's movement is almost hypnotic at times as it willfully glides over the floor and across walls, closing in on the protagonists' heels and throwing sticky tentacles their way. But what's even more engrossing about the killer pudding is how it grotesquely forces open the mouths of its victims on the way out, thus allowing the use of some frankly disgusting prosthetics and forcing many uncomfortable bits of acting (as the actors need to 'puke' large doses of thick, white substance). For some reason, it also makes the victims easier to break, and spew bits of flesh drowned in large helpings of the killer desert. It's really, really fun stuff to watch. Very gory, but amusingly so since blood has been replaced by, well, melted vanilla ice cream. The very aggressiveness of The Stuff is very well portrayed also as it leaps toward the characters and menaces them in all sorts of ways. This all builds toward an apocalyptic showdown in the infested quarry during which many action film ideas (such as exploding mounds of rocks and bursting building walls) are carried out nicely through typically Cohen-esque efficiency. The use of miniatures and blue screens is key to making the blob out to be a willful, intelligent monster. And although it doesn't all work perfectly, you have to ask yourself this: could James Cameron have done any better? Could he have convinced you of a killer pudding's liveliness? I doubt it... I doubt he would even consider trying. You see, The Stuff has an outlandish premise that only a B film could support. And thus, the pudding couldn't even have been made to look better. As things are, you will only enjoy the film if you accept the premise as it is. And besides, if you focus on the first degree, you will miss the point of the film entirely.
Personally, I thought these special effects were quite decent as The Stuff is not only seen moving in young Jason's fridge, but also in and out of its hosts' gaping mouths, across walls and through them, clamping around people's faces, etc... It's movement is almost hypnotic at times as it willfully glides over the floor and across walls, closing in on the protagonists' heels and throwing sticky tentacles their way. But what's even more engrossing about the killer pudding is how it grotesquely forces open the mouths of its victims on the way out, thus allowing the use of some frankly disgusting prosthetics and forcing many uncomfortable bits of acting (as the actors need to 'puke' large doses of thick, white substance). For some reason, it also makes the victims easier to break, and spew bits of flesh drowned in large helpings of the killer desert. It's really, really fun stuff to watch. Very gory, but amusingly so since blood has been replaced by, well, melted vanilla ice cream. The very aggressiveness of The Stuff is very well portrayed also as it leaps toward the characters and menaces them in all sorts of ways. This all builds toward an apocalyptic showdown in the infested quarry during which many action film ideas (such as exploding mounds of rocks and bursting building walls) are carried out nicely through typically Cohen-esque efficiency. The use of miniatures and blue screens is key to making the blob out to be a willful, intelligent monster. And although it doesn't all work perfectly, you have to ask yourself this: could James Cameron have done any better? Could he have convinced you of a killer pudding's liveliness? I doubt it... I doubt he would even consider trying. You see, The Stuff has an outlandish premise that only a B film could support. And thus, the pudding couldn't even have been made to look better. As things are, you will only enjoy the film if you accept the premise as it is. And besides, if you focus on the first degree, you will miss the point of the film entirely.
You see, killer puddings are not that far from killer babies insofar as they all pertain to a global social critique by prolific cult figure Cohen, a critique of consumerism that uses over-the-top imagery to better make its point. But whereas the killer baby gimmick was meant as a real gut-punch, especially if you consider the bone-chilling birth scene, The Stuff takes it easier on the viewer, using grayer humor and more caricatural characters to convey its message. Nevertheless, the omnipresence of aggressive publicity within the film should give you a definite clue as to the author's intent, especially if you consider the fact that these ads are frankly well-crafted and only marginally cornier than actual ads from the 80s. Picture this: two babes in bathing suits wearing fur coats over their shoulders are walking on a makeshift runway, spoon-feeding each other The Stuff. From here, this might seem like something straight out of a comedic film about killer pudding, but it's actually a pretty accurate depiction of ads from that era. Even more so is the TV ad featuring a group of youths dancing in unison on a basketball court with The Stuff's logo covering the brick wall behind them. The message is simple: if babes and cool kids love The Stuff, then you need to dig in as well. These ads are not selling a product, they're selling a cool look. Because no matter how addictive a product can be in itself, it is its publicity which is often the hook. Or rather, the illusion that you need it when you actually don't need it all. This is what makes you a zombie. A pleasant taste is merely instrumental in the process. Just think about McDonald's for a second. Their burgers contain nothing remotely good for you, nothing which you need. In fact, they're not even burgers, more like 'meat-flavored sandwiches'. Still, they have this sort of inexplicably pleasant taste. And people get addicted to them. Then they are constantly maintained in their addiction not by publicity per se, but by the omnipresence of publicity, by the sight of McDonald's logos reproduced everywhere in every country and every medium. The Stuff basically works in the same way. It fills rows and rows and rows of supermarket space, being sold in the dairy products department as well as in the frozen food department. People eat it for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner. There are even specialized outlet stores selling only this very specific product. When driving past one of these stores smack in the middle of the night, Mo is surprised to see the affluence of clients. Yet today, many McDonald's are full in the middle of the night and you actually have to wait in line to grab just a tiny bit of munchies. Near the end of the film, publicist Nicole insists that she is directly responsible for the outbreak of The Stuff addiction. And although Mo objects (but only because he is enamored with her), we feel that, by naming and marketing the product, it is her who has created a monster. It is her who has convinced people that 'enough is never enough' and that one must fill himself until his entire thought process consists only in coveting more and more of the deadly product (read here McDonald's). Cohen doesn't simply include a bit of publicity in his film, he insists on it heavily. He multiplies the ads ad nauseam, thus creating a very large mosaic of pastel images meant to overwhelm the viewer and make him believe that only The Stuff is ever advertised in the diegetic world. It is not publicity which Cohen criticizes, it is the omnipresence of publicity, that which will truly make zombies out of its victims.
Beware of advertising! It creeps. And leaps. And glides.
And slides. Across the city walls.
The Stuff is fast-moving; it is funny; it is gory. It has all the characteristics of light entertainment. However, it is much deeper than many people usually consider it to be, because under its impoverished look and laid-back attitude lies a very relevant message that we don't care to see for it involves all of us in our precious individual bubbles of apathetic pseudo-happiness. The film actually warned us of something that has now become a reality. We have now all succumbed to the debilitating effects of the consumer culture. And thus, the fights for equality and justice of yesteryears have now become fights to become the best-dressed or the best-equipped of all. The zombie metaphor is not a bad one considering the current state of affairs. So, if you want to dismiss The Stuff as simply a mindless monster movie, go right ahead. But you will thus make another murder attempt against this tiny voice called conscience which screams more and more sheepishly as time goes by...
3/5 A fast, funny, gooey and political film to crown Larry Cohen's career.
