Roger Ebert hated The Hitcher. His zero-star review shows more disgust with it than a finger in French Fries. But Ebert's abhorrence is why I find The Hitcher effective. It stands within the transgressive space, which Ebert sometimes had little time for. His review shows frustration at Robert Harmon’s film for its murderous antagonist having no perspective. Believing there is something gross between the symbiotic relationship that quietly grows between Jim Halsey (C. Thomas Howell), the young motorist whose life takes a catastrophic turn when he decides to pick up John Ryder (Rutger Hauer), the titular Hitchhiker. But the unrepentant and transgressive identification with evil that the film has brings an unsettling allure to the viewer. Provoking the idea that evil is far more seductive than we may like to think, and we often do well not to succumb to it.
With certain films, I don’t feel that forces of nature need
a motive. The desire for clear-cut intention can often be cloying. A quiet need
for control amongst chaos. Something to explain away so we can all be safe when
the book closes or the credits roll. I’ve always loved how The Hitcher eschews
this. It keeps you off kilter. Installing more fear than a multitude of
slashers released around the same time. The Hitcher’s screenplay was
the brainchild of writer/director Eric Red, who had a successful run of notable
screenplays such as Near Dark (1987), Cohen and Tate (1988) and Blue Steel
(1990). His stories often have a knack for having people relate to the
seductive nature of violence. The Hitcher has this idea in perhaps its purest
form. Its story is distilled to that of a Grimm fairytale. In the Momentum
Pictures Region 2 DVD release of the movie, the extras disc features Red
talking about The Hitcher in a documentary entitled: How do these movies get
made. Red labels Ryder as a “tough and resourceful” murderer who wishes to pass
on to this impudent youth a “sense of survival”.
Red’s fascination with the allure of violence appears
throughout The Hitcher in complicated guises. It’s easy to contemplate a lesser
film with Rutger Hauer as a more simple-minded psychotic. Roaming around with
the typical bloodlust, no different from many horror movies. However, Hauer’s
Hitcher is constantly throwing strands of ambiguity, even empathy, to his
character. Huger pushes scenes of this character into areas of discomfort. Not
romanticised but almost bordering on something like understanding. He loads the
character with a myriad of unexpected expressions which fracture our
expectations of such a character. Whether it was Ryder’s impressed smirk when
first thrown out of Jim’s car, the look of distain Ryder has for Jim when he
threatens him with an empty gun, or the pained look of fear and resignation
late on, when about to kidnap Nash (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a trusting young
waitress who believes Jim’s story of the disturbed traveller stalking him like
the angel of death. Hauer’s performance is disturbing due to how Hauer quietly
manages to make his maliciousness strangely enticing. From the film’s first
moments, it’s clear that Jim doesn’t want to murder anyone. Yet this aggressive
fight for survival with Ryder slowly unlocks something primal within him.
Eerily suggesting that Jim isn’t too far removed from John. What's scary isn't
just the grisly nihilism on display, it's the unsettling idea of how well Jim,
and by extension us, start to identify with such torturous despair.
The Hitcher was a debut feature for Still photographer
Robert Harmon, who quickly moved into T.V. not long after. Hard not to see this
as unfortunate, as The Hitcher does a formidable job of showcasing Harmon as a
genuine creator of atmosphere. Shot by Oscar-winning Australian cinematographer
John Seale, The Hitcher is hideous in theme but beautiful in its visualisation.
It’s early, tightly framed car shots are suitably claustrophobic. When the film
allows the beautiful Californian vistas to enter the movie, there’s a feeling
that you might be able to breathe again, if the film weren’t so relentless. It
is as propulsive as it is repulsive. Shifting gears from existential horror to
full-blown action western with little trouble. While its set pieces, even now,
are still eye-widening. The jewel in the crown is still the grisly, often-noted
sequence involving a character bound between a truck and its trailer hitch. The
moment not only subverts the expected outcome but stages the set piece in an
almost Hitchcockian manner. Harmon mines the tension so well that people
believe they’ve seen more than they do.
The old complaint that 'we don't make them like we used to'
is tiresome. Writers like me need to refrain from saying a phrase so tedious.
But watching the remake of The Hitcher many moons ago, I sharply realised how
much secret sauce that made the original idea exhilarating seemed to have
disappeared. Movies like this work due to their weirdness. Their resistance to
playing by the rules. The otherworldliness they bring. Studios sense money like
the smell of blood to sharks. And when the reboots, remakes and sequels come
calling, that strange essence is first to go. The Hitcher feels like lightning
in a bottle. Is it a surprise that the glossy Platinum Dunes retread is little
talked about? The 1986 Hitcher draws from so much. An unbridled nature is developed
between Eric Red, Robert Harmon and Rutger Hauer in The Hitcher that other
movies cannot compete with. But most movies aren't looking to become an urban
legend cum mythical neo-western actioner, this movie is. In the eyes of Robert
Harmon, The Hitcher isn't even a horror story. He's not even interested
in the genre. Despite this, Harmon has crafted one of the films that has helped
define the genre for many. That’s some feat.
