The Blob

The Blob is a slow-burn horror film with a sweetness that doesn't come entirely from nostalgia. The cops are caring and careful, as seen by the opening shot at the police station where the chief walks the stapler from desk to desk, trying to figure out to whom it belongs. This small act indicates that his reluctance to believe in Steve's monster comes from caution and not malice. There are other such vignettes--funny and charming moments that humanize the townspeople. Mrs. Porter, in her red polka-dot bathrobe, pleads with the police for permission to dust around the fingerprints. An old man hears the air raid drill and scrambles to put on his civil defense helmet, then hurriedly changes into a fireman's helmet when that siren sounds. A doomed mechanic chats with his coworker about his plans to get drunk and go hunting. The abundance of small-town, quirky types foreshadows the writing of Stephen King.

Films like Jaws and Tremors owe a lot to The Blob. Jaws has a similar story structure--a lone hero sees the danger, but city officials refuse to believe him, leading to unnecessary deaths. The powers-that-be in Jaws are not as innocent as those in The Blob, though, since their reluctance to close the beach is motivated by profit. Tremors presents a slew of eccentric and lovable characters the way The Blob does, with Kevin Bacon's hero assuming an out-of-the-blue leadership role similar to Steve's. 

 One exception to the characters' lovability is Jane's little brother. He is presented as cute, but I found him gratingly irritating. If I were that dog, I would run away too.

Steve McQueen was supposedly 28 when he made the film, but he looks about ten years older. I am amazed that his character is only 17—McQueen is manly and no boy. The police officers continually refer to him as a "kid," but they look the same age. 

 Steve is the designated problem solver. That he is the only person who can think up solutions comes across as contrived. This might not be the case if the film presented the police in a more negative light—we need a reason for them to act as little more than Steve’s foils and/or assistants.

The women, on the other hand, don’t play any role in defeating the blob. They only react, and are told multiple times to "calm down." Twice, when one of them becomes visibly upset, she is forcibly grabbed by her male partner, who turns her face around so she doesn't have to see the horror. Jane's role is to provide quiet support to Steve. She seems saintly as she gazes at him, an ideal future wife of the 1950s. The "woman behind the man." I am glad that these moments stand out to me. It proves how far we have come in depicting women in film.

 I laughed when Steve and the cops are looking for the doctor, and the police chief says, "this gun has been fired. But I don't see any shot marks around here." Shot marks?

A nod to the gorgeous cars in the film. The police cars are magnificent, as is Steve's blue Plymouth Cranbrook. Information about the vehicles can be found on the Internet Movie Cars Database.

The poster in the lobby of the movie theater of The Vampire and the Robot is actually the illustration from the Forbidden Planet poster featuring Robbie the Robot.

I enjoyed the quaintness in the storytelling of The Blob, but I am saddened that I no longer find it scary like I did years ago. In fact, the blob material looks tasty, like candy. I love the way it starts out blue, then becomes clear, and finally, red. Its ability to squeeze through small spaces is captivating—I want to play with it the way kids play with slime. In the case of The Blob, the maxim "less is more" doesn't apply. My 21st-century sensibilities need a more visceral experience when the blob eats people. I would have loved a more extended look at Dr. Hallen being consumed by the goo, for instance. But the movie comes from a more innocent age than ours.