Benny Loves You

And Being Infantilicized

We now begin a week of horror comedies, maybe the hardest genre to nail. I’m coming from a place where there are maybe, I don’t know, TEN good horror comedies? In existence, I suppose? It’s just such a tough marriage of intentions, and the best of those horror comedies, charitably, lean harder towards comedy. Probably a cheat! I do hope I’m able to find some good ones this week, and if not, maybe you’ll disagree with what I say and enjoy what I didn’t.

I think we’re starting off with a good one in Karl Holt’s “Benny Loves You”. But first, I want to let you know where I’m coming from here. One of the legendary efforts in the horror comedy realm is Peter Jackson’s “Dead Alive”. I recognize that people love Jackson for his Middle Earth efforts, and I’m not here to knock his “Lord Of The Rings” (I have yet to complete his “Hobbit” trilogy, and I suppose I never will, and I am more than okay with this). I don’t want to be the guy who liked that band before they became popular. But I do think the absurdly-gory “Dead Alive” is maybe Jackson’s peerless contribution to the horror canon, in its gags, its stunts, its proud absurdity and in its fearless dedication to terribly dumb practical effects. This is a movie where a zombie’s entire internal organ system is torn from the body and continues to attack as a crawling mass of goopy, anthropomorphized puppetry. It probably can’t bite you, but it will stop for a smoke.

I am not saying we have another “Dead Alive” on our hands with “Benny Loves You”, don’t let me over-exaggerate the appeal. But this British import is the closest I’ve seen a movie come towards the unrelentingly silly, bloody chaos of Jackson’s film. After a brief prologue that doesn’t dally around with the idea that you’re here to watch a movie about dangerous toys, we settle in with Hall Of Fame Sad Sack Jack. Jack works at a toy company, and it’s one of those jobs where the only day-to-day activities involves brainstorming the next big fad. I’m not sure if that’s authentic, but the movie has a no-frills approach to storytelling that admirably cuts the fat. 

Jack gets no respect at work, however, his mind still stuck on the toys of his youth that worked. He’s got a badgering boss who loves his cat more than his employees, and a belligerent best buddy who is sexist and obnoxious but nonetheless is always talking about Prince, enough to wear a “Purple Rain”-style outfit to a concert. At home, Jack briefly dotes on his parents, but a freak accident kills them both and forces him to try to afford their home, not something supported by a toymaker’s salary. Story of our lives, right?

Moving out leads to Jack discarding a plush doll he loved as a child, a talking dog(-type?) toy named Benny. With struggles at work and home, Jack embraces Benny, who assures Jack he is valued with the film’s title phrase repeated over and over. What Jack doesn’t realize is that Benny is clingy. And now all the other toys from the bin that were supposed to be sold are mutilated at Benny’s paw. It leads to the first of many amusing sequences, as police are called to a “massacre” in mangled toys. No, murder hasn’t occurred as Jack tells the cops. But it would be weird to come home to all your toys gutted, drawn and even quartered. Feels like a crime, no? Sorta?

Behind Jack’s back, Benny cuts a swath through all the people close to him. I lack the vernacular to describe what this special effect is -– Benny the stuffed animal remains a practical puppet, and the movie features minimal CGI. Which means that the little guy is filmed being tugged in all directions, limbs flailing like a weightless stuffed plaything, a knife attached to his hand. Most of the effects are composite in nature, placing a puppeted Benny in the frame with his victims as he giggles and shakes in mid-air. You’d be forgiven for thinking this effect was cute, at least until victims are disemboweled, guts strewn across the room. “Benny Loves You” gets wildly gruesome.

There’s a familiar structure to this –- Benny’s support combined with his gratuitous bloodshed gives Jack a bit of confidence, and he begins to succeed at work, creating a beloved new robot toy that serves a convenient battle purpose late in the story. And his confidence gets him a new girlfriend, although this portion of the story more than anything emphasizes the limits to Jack’s charms (that is, if you don’t judge him based on his complicity with a mass-murdering puppet). During a pivotal moment, Jack prepares a meal for her and it is one of the saddest dishes you could ever imagine. Which begs the sidebar: why are so many cinematic depictions of people who don’t cook so harsh?

Of course, for Jack, Benny goes too far, and Jack rids himself of the doll, teeing up a bloody third act battle. Before that, we’re treated to the sight of Benny flopping left and right through the rain on the side of the road. Again, a modern movie would likely use CGI for this, and a lower-budgeted picture would either have more professional puppetry or they’d place an actor inside a suit. It’s clear instead that they edited out a hand jerking Benny back and forth with no regard for gravity (and in some shots, shading and shadows). This low budget bounce hits overdrive in a gruesome and exciting finale, all the while the doll keeps recycling his handful of programmed phrases. If we’re still using “Dead Alive” as a benchmark, the best moments of this film remind one of the antics of the zombie baby in Peter Jackson’s splatterfest.

Jack needs to grow up, but his endless adolescence rang true to me. In federal prison, you remain stuck in such a state. It made me wonder if it was the incarceration, or the absence of women, or a reflection of the youth surrounding everyone. You’re still in a general area, whether inside or out, so there’s not much variation. When not in your uniform, you’re wearing exercise clothes – maybe you’re an Under Armor fan, but athletic shorts are naturally infantilicizing. Many people outside are on an exercise plan, but it’s largely just games and activities, bocce ball, basketball, that sort of thing.

Inside, you’re talking books and TV, and maybe some art in the hobby shop. In my last spot, there was an art show for those who were painting and drawing and putting together craft pieces. There were some stellar pieces there, and some real talent. But it was impossible to ignore most of the art subjects were distinctively “boy-coded”: cars, explosions, pop culture heroes and buxom beauties in tiny undies. There was DVD’s that could be rented out for a couple hours at a time, but in compliance with the Zimmer Amendment, none were rated higher than PG-13, and most centered on juvenile topics in movies made for teenage audiences or younger. In my last spot, the only DVD’s were in the chapel, and the selections were limited to “religious” films, usually unchallenging family-friendly fare.

It’s said that, for many people who do a bid of regular length (i.e. ten years or less) with minimal conflict, the time treats them well. They come out largely well-preserved, in some cases younger than their years appear to be. That doesn’t just go for the body, however, but also the mind. Getting out will almost always lead to someone with an appetite for frivolity, even in small doses. They may be haunted, sure. But if you indulge their boyish interests, they will most certainly want to play video games, wrestle with one another, and avoid responsibility as much as possible. This is, I assume, the best case scenario for those that imprison us: the hope we will emerge as boys.