Darry's Dirty Undies
Jeepers Creepers starts out with something like
promise. College-aged siblings Trish (Gina Phillips)
and Darry (Justin Long) have decided to take the long
way home for spring break, so they can catch up on
each other's, and their parents', lives. Nothing is
ever really stated outright, but it is clear that
everyone in the family is having troubles of some
sort. Trish, for instance, has recently broken up with
her "Poli. Sci. guy track star" boyfriend (as Darry
constantly refers to him), who, Trish hints, has been
knocking her around. The two don't so much talk about
this, or their Mom, as they talk around it all.
Most
of their drive time is spent making a game of
deciphering vanity license plates, bickering, and
insulting each other while rolling hills and farmland
pass by their car windows.
If this sounds slightly familiar, it is. Like the
opening of Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chainsaw
Massacre, Victor Salva's rural setting establishes
that this is going to be one road trip from hell. Such
lonely roads, such isolation: things can go REALLY
wrong out here and no one would ever know. The concept
is hardly original. But then again, it seems pretty
hard to make anything resembling an "original" horror
movie these days and the films that do succeed make
use of this fact.
Anyway, this sibling camaraderie is soon interrupted
when the two are nearly run off the road by some
maniac in a pick-up truck tricked out like a tank,
super-charged and equipped with the loudest,
tooth-rattlingest horn ever made. It's like, sooo
Mad
Max. Just as Trish and Darry regain their
composure,
they pass what appears to be an abandoned farm (turns
out it's a church) and spot the same demon truck.
Worse, they see a dark-coated man unloading what look
like dead bodies wrapped up in blood-stained sheets
and dumping them down a drainpipe. Naturally, the bad
guy sees them, pointedly staring them down as they
drive by. He's quickly on their tail, and giving the
running-them-off-the-road thing a proper go this time
around. It is here that Jeepers Creepers shows
a bit
more promise: these chase scenes are pretty cool, with
an intensity that is lacking in the majority of movie
car chase scenes, and the overhead, fast-action camera
work adds a real urgency to the plight of the two
siblings.
Unfortunately, the rest of the film suffers from a
distinct lack of urgency or intensity, largely because
of the predictability of its plot. So, after the
demon truck runs them off the road and
drives away (rather than, say, stopping and killing
the nosy little brats), Darry insists they return to
the abandoned church, rather than go immediately for
help, to look down the drain pipe in case someone is
still alive.
As they peer down the drainpipe, Darry swears he hears
a muffled voice cry out in response to his hails. He
shimmies down the pipe a little, while Trish holds his
feet. Rats pop up, brother and sister scream and Darry
falls down the hole. What he finds is one barely alive
boy with his torso all mutilated and stitched back up
-- he quickly dies before he can deliver his warning.
He then finds hundreds of perfectly petrified bodies,
variously disemboweled and dismembered, staked to the
walls and ceiling of the cavern. Further, there is
some sort of ritual altar/workbench/abattoir set up,
where the monster presumably plies his unholy trade.
Here, a number of Jeepers Creepers
inconsistencies
and inexplicable plot lines become obvious. Why, for
instance, does the monster so carefully preserve the
bodies? If they are some sort of trophies, why, then,
does he so readily torch the place to throw off the
police shortly after? And why use the drainpipe when
the underground lair is directly connected to the
run-down church?
But why quibble about narrative inconsistencies when
the film seems content to ignore them and to merely
reproduce lame old horror movie cliches? Following
their escape from this hell-hole, the
siblings are relentlessly pursued by The Creeper
(Jonathan Breck), who tracks his prey by smell and has
caught their scent by sniffing, I kid you not, Darry's
dirty undies. (Like all good college boys, he has
brought his laundry home for Mom to wash.) Along the
way the pair run into all sorts of horror film
staples, including the incredulous small-town sheriff
(Brandon Smith); the local psychic (Patricia Belcher),
whom everyone regards as "crazy"; and the
gravely-voiced Cat Lady (Eileen Brennan), who lives
alone with her "babies" in the middle of nowhere.
But if these characters are tedious, what is most annoying about Jeepers Creepers is The Creeper itself. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer my slasher
flick psycho killers to be decidedly human and
produced by some sort of psychosexual trauma. Norman
Bates, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees (or Mrs. Voorhees
for that matter), Freddy Krueger come easily to mind.
The Creeper, however, is some nebulous force of pure
evil produced by, well, who knows. There's no
etiology, no mythos, no story to provide some context
for The Creeper's blood-fest. Without this, we are
left with a ridiculous demon-thing hunting down a
bothersome pair of alternately bickering and simpering
siblings. It's impossible to muster up any sympathy for or even any interest in any of them, brother, sister, or Creeper.