Wolf Rilla, alongside co screenwriters Stirling Silliphant (In the Heat of the Night , Charly) and Ronald Kinnoch, adapted John Wyndham’s The Midwich Cuckoos to the screen as he attempted to present a commentary on youth culture while simultaneously issuing a criticism of period sexuality, politics, and science. However, the writers baulked during the initial stages of the production, subsequently second-guessing themselves into a creative corner as Village of the Damned didactically restricts itself of narrative interpretation. Fortunately, the Rilla presents his cultural parable with an overwhelming sense of dread which keeps his viewer at emotional ends until the film’s climax.
During an average day in the English village of Midwich, every living organism within the town’s perimeters mysteriously slips into unconsciousness. Four hours later, none the worst for apparent wear, life returns to normal. Shortly thereafter, the twelve fertile women of Midwhich discover they are pregnant (including virgins). Exactly nine months later, the females give birth simultaneously. Chaos ensues when the twelve children, all with piercing eyes and blond hair, are discovered–not only to be biologically and mentally advanced–but are of one mind. What’s more, they have a hidden agenda which the townspeople have yet to discover.
Rilla’s masterpiece is a work of dread. A large portion of the tension is due to the children’s mental superiority as they speak only when addressing someone outside their brood, otherwise they communicate amongst themselves via telepathy. The most chilling moment of the film occurs when Professor Gordon Zellaby (George Sanders, All About Eve, Rebecca) calls upon his brother-in-law, Major Alan Bernard (Michael Gwynn, Cleopatra, The Revenge of Frankenstein) to watch as the former’s one year-old son, David (Martin Stephens, The Innocents), quickly solve a puzzle box which kept Alan preoccupied for half a minute. He then takes the box to another of the collective, who quickly solves the puzzle as well. Gordon then explains that the children are of one mind, thus form an aggregated, collective consciousness. Aside from telepathy, as the children grow, they develop and hone their telekinetic abilities, which they quickly employ to rid themselves of any threat to their company, resulting in two forced suicides (one of which is fairly graphic for 1960).
The trepidation evoked during the film isn’t solely dependent upon the children. We watch as government, represented in the figures of General Leighton (John Phillips) and Sir Edgar Hargraves (Richard Vernon, Gandhi, Hard Day’s Night), clashes with science as the former reluctantly agrees to allow Gordon to house the children for a year in order for him to observe the anomaly. If the youth collective is to be viewed as a political metaphor, we are thus given a dilemma of opposing parties’ attitudes in regard to how to approach the ensuing threat of communism.
On this note, Rilla’s intent is sometimes presented rather heavy handedly. For example, the theme of communism isn’t merely implied, it is indirectly referenced when the aforementioned council report that a small village in Russia dispensed with their collective offspring by way of atomic shelling. Interestingly, given the time period, Silliphant, Rilla, and Kinnoch hold a mirror to their central metaphor as they present their youth rebellion in a highly organized, socialistic manner, which is represented in Eileen Sullivan, the clothing supervisor, dressing the children in matching formal attire. Regrettably, the screenwriters couldn’t resist opening the film with the image of a flock of sheep being followed by a shepherd, thus limiting the interpretative possibilities of their narrative crux. Next we have the cold, analytic nature of Gordon as the impetus for the children trusting him (they are subsequently devoid of emotion) even though he is not one of them as we are issued a criticism of science after the females of the populace have been seized before producing a phenomenon of cultural and scientific interest (completed by Rilla presenting science in the guise of a male character). The twelve children form a cult-like association which distances itself from, not only parents, but from society as a whole. Thus, the otherwise plausible themes of the widening generation gap or a “Us verses Them” premise (popular at the time) are therefore confined to being minor considerations. However, the condemnation of promiscuity and premarital intercourse isn’t penned in this regard and remains an interesting motif within the work.
Aside from an otherwise interpretively lucrative idea being arbitrarily restricted, this low budget production (made on only 300,000 dollars) suffers from considerable inconsistencies from the sound department. Dubbers Gordon Daniel and J. B. Smith fail to synchronize David’s voice with Stephen’s lips during set portions of the film. Though the film wasn’t granted a large budget, a house is incarnated during the course of the film as we watch a single flame waif amid the roof of an painfully obvious miniature. Furthermore, Rilla opens the film with a seeming explanation of the phenomenon in Midwhich: There is a military experiment being conducted around a section of the town. However, he never follows this lead as he presents another possibility–that the children are of extraterrestrial origin–thereby exacerbating the situation unnecessarily to the point of distraction (I would argue that the former possibility needn’t be included). Lastly, as Alan hurries to Midwich, we watch as he has an impromptu discussion with a Lieutenant (Anthony Harrison), who is assigned to locate a missing bus. We cut away as Alan drives off only to hear the screeching of his wheels moments later. We cut back to the Lieutenant, who quickly moves forward, only to have the camera reveal that Alan abruptly halted at the sight of the bus in a ditch only a few yards away (easily within clear view for the duration of their conversation).
Wolf Rilla created a minor masterpiece of horror which still resounds today largely due to its masterful implementation of dread. The image of Midwich’s children continues to resonate in the collective unconscious, not only in horror, but in present society. Unfortunately, the screenwriters feared presenting a premise that was too vague and conversely corralled may interpretative possibilities as a result. Nevertheless, the film’s popularity sustained a sequel in 1963, Anton Leader’s Children of the Damned, as well as a remake in 1995, John Carpenter’s film of the same title.
-Egregious Gurnow
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