CAPE FEAR

Analysis / review

by Rob Ager © 2007

 

Please scroll down for a text version of the review.

PART ONE

 

PART TWO

 

Critical reviews of Scorsese’s Cape Fear remake have varied since its release. Some consider it vastly inferior to the black and white original. Some consider it a well-crafted homage to both the original and to classic Hitchcock films of the same era. Some consider it an over-the-top exploitation film that uses stylized violence and over-acting for commercial ends.

Whether the film is superior to the original is a fruitless argument as the two films are vastly different both technically and conceptually. In fact many critics hit the nail on the head when they said that Scorsese’s Cape Fear does not qualify as a direct remake and should be viewed as an entirely different film.

The technical excellence of the film is without question, but it has nevertheless come to be regarded as one of Scorcese’s less impressive and least important works. In this reviewers opinion however, it is actually one of his most personal and deeply layered films.

Cape Fear’s fast and entertaining pace was the catalyst for its huge box office success, but also served as a convincing mask for its deeper meanings. Even the majority of critics were fooled by the films undeniable commercial qualities.

The original Cape fear was black and white both visually and in terms of its characters. Audiences were given 100% certainty as to the moral purity of the family unit, while Max Cady was pure evil.

This is where the remake bears its most obvious contrast. Scorsese takes the basic premise of easily definable good and evil and turns it completely on its head. The reasons for this are seen by many critics as simply a cultural updating based upon the breakdown of modern family units, but this is only half of the story. As we shall explore shortly there is a deep spiritual meaning for this departure.

According to the laws of Sam Bowden’s own profession, Max Cady is in a position of moral superiority, having been framed when Bowden withheld vital evidence in court during a rape trial. Cady has thus spent fourteen years suffering the horrors of a brutal prison system and is released into society with a total conviction for revenge, or as he sees it, justice. The fact that he was actually guilty of the crime he served time for seems beyond his comprehension.

So immediately, the credibility of modern justice systems is thrown into question. It is made clear time and time again throughout this film that truth and justice are an elusive force that lie outside the technicalities of the law. Whenever Sam Bowden attempts to turn to the law for protection from this menacing predator, the law not only fails him, but in some cases puts his family even more at the predator’s mercy.

Cady is clearly stalking the family when sitting on the wall of the Bowden property, but due to technicality the law can’t help. The law is powerless to charge Cady not only for the poisoning of the family dog, but also for the brutal beating of Sam’s female colleague. Sam increasingly steps beyond the law in search of protection and justice for his family. He begins by attempting to bribe his adversary and later, along with his bumbling and inefficient private detective, begins issuing threats. They even employ three unsavoury characters to give Max a beating with two lead pipes and a bicycle chain.

Each time these illegal pursuits of justice fail, Sam finds that he and his family are not only abandoned by the law, but that he himself is increasingly branded as the criminal of the story, with his career more and more on the line. By the time we reach the climactic boathouse conflict the Bowden’s are fugitives on the run.

Max Cady, despite his own violent history, is not the direct instigator of violence in the film. Sam first strikes Cady at the parade for commenting on his wife’s attractiveness, which is ironic considering Sam’s own tendency to desire and pursue women outside his own family unit. The judges and soldiers of the parade look down upon him with shame. Up until this point Cady has not issued any direct threats or committed a violent act against the family. He merely presents himself as a reminder of Bowden’s guilt at having framed a man for imprisonment fourteen years earlier. Sam’s reactions to Cady and refusal to acknowledge having broken the law seem to enrage Cady and escalate the conflict.

In fact, for almost the entire film, we are given hints that Sam Bowden is a coward, liar and manipulator. His wife and daughter frequently taunt him to this effect. “You know how to fight dirty Sam. You do that for a living” … “Yeah Dad, you’re not allowed to stand up remember”. Repeatedly, Sam lies to people around him, including his loved ones. He lies to Cady that he tried to defend him. He lies to his family about how much danger they are in. He is clearly building up to an affair with an impressionable colleague, and as we discover later, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s played away from home. He even seems to get off on his wife talking about incest, necrophilia, bestiality and cannibalism. He almost becomes violent toward his own daughter when asking about her encounter with his nemesis Max Cady.

The most damning exposure of Sam’s flaws is when he sneaks into the bedroom to have a private chat with the girl he has been grooming for an affair, only to be caught out. An interesting parallel is that if this new affair did take place, the young girl may well have ended up in love with Sam and eventually have had her heart broken. After all, merely being stood up in the afternoon by Sam drove her into a drunken encounter with a self-confessed ex-con. She is spared of the heart break, but instead her involvement with Sam brings her a broken arm and a vicious beating, for which he admittedly feels a sense of responsibility. So we’re left with mixed feelings about Sam Bowden’s character for most of the film. Only in the climactic battle does he turn to his family and acknowledge that in the trial of Max Cady he had neglected his professional codes as an act of conscience and morality. “ … because I knew that he brutally raped and beat her”. At this point, his family, the audience and even God are reassured of his goodness and his sins are forgiven.

Sam is not alone in this journey. His wife, Leigh, and daughter, Danielle, show a less obvious tendency toward immoral behaviour. Danielle asks her father why he didn’t beat up Max Cady in the cinema. “You should of punched him out … you could of kicked him in the face”. While Sam is asleep, Leigh is seen grooming herself in the bedroom mirror and possibly fantasizing of other men, at which point Cady appears outside the house, backed by a dazzling display of fireworks – a sexually charged image. After she and Sam go out to investigate she guiltily wipes the lipstick from her lips. It almost seems that her sinful thoughts provoked Cady’s presence.

Leigh’s lack of faith in the family unit is also apparent. Sam: “Do you really think we’d be safer with a loaded gun in the house?” Leigh: “We’d probably end up using it on each other”. Like Sam, she redeems herself at the end of the film when she offers herself to Max in return for sparing her daughter.

The sins and secrets within the Bowden family home are commented upon by Cady himself in a number of scenes. In the café scene while receiving a threat from Sam, he states this openly “See these people. They don’t look very happy. They’re committed to their professions and their ambitions, but they’re not committed to each other.” – an obvious reference to Sam’s own family. He also speaks to Danielle both over the phone and in the theatre of her parents sins, “They judged you … they punished you for their sins …forgive them … for they know not what they do”. On the one hand Cady seems to be grooming Danielle for a sexual encounter, but there is also a definite ring of truth to many of the things he tells her. Despite his invasive kissing of Danielle and phallic insertion of his thumb into her mouth, Cady actually gives the confused teenager what her own parents have neglected to give – understanding, emotional intimacy and above all acknowledgement of her sexual development.

Sam Bowden’s burying of a legal report that depicted a sixteen year old girl as promiscuous is strangely reflected in his denial of his own daughter’s sexuality. He is obviously uncomfortable with Danielle being half-naked in front of him, “Put some clothes on, you’re not a kid any more.” He also uses this denial of sexual maturity to dismiss his colleague’s infatuation. “She’s just a kid. She looks up to me. She’s infatuated. I can’t help that.” Leigh is also guilty of denying Danielle’s development. When discussing ideas for a company logo, there is a sexual subtext going on. Leigh: “Something that implies movement”. Danielle: “Like an arrow?” Leigh: “Yeah, like an arrow. But you also want something that implies stability, a company you can trust”. Danielle: “Ok, movement and an arrow. I’ll think of something for that.” A more obvious example occurs in the same location, but in a later scene. Danielle: “So is he a flasher or just a peeper?” Leigh: “What do you know about flashers?” Danielle: “You don’t think I’ve been flashed before?” Leigh: “Oh forgive me. I’m sure you’ve been flashed before. Look if you’re staying, stay, if you’re not then go inside.” She clearly dismisses her daughter’s attempts to discuss sexuality.

Max Cady himself displays a mixed morality. We know that he has raped before, that he killed another con in prison and we are shown with graphic violence what he is capable of. At the same time he frequently talks of his intense religious faith and of wanting to help the family. These appeals to morality are easy to ignore as the mind games of a lying psychopath, but his behaviour is also mixed. Throughout the story he has opportunities to inflict violence upon the family, but chooses to abstain. If he was able to sneak in and out of the house undetected, as his poisoning of the dog suggests, then surely he could have raped or attacked any family member he wished at almost any time. During his encounter with Danielle in the drama room he rejects an opportunity for rape and violence, which he so readily acted on when attacking Sam’s work colleague. Most of Max’s violence in the film is directed at people outside of the family unit – the dog, Sam’s work colleague, the three thugs, the private detective, the maid. We’re even given a hint of another possible crime. Cady tells his beating victim that the love of his life Loretta “is no longer with us” suggesting he may have hunted down and murdered her, perhaps he even “hacked her into fifty-two pieces”. Only in the final act does he unleash any act of violence against the family, and even then primarily at Sam himself.

The role reversal theme is emphasised by Scorsese’s use of three actors from the original Cape Fear film. Robert Mitchum originally played Max Cady, but is now a law officer, Gregory Peck played an ethically clean Sam Bowden, but now plays a sleazy lawyer and Martin Balsam, previously playing the police chief is now a judge. Perhaps this is also why Scorsese chose to insert black and white negative shots into the story - a visual way of telling us that what occurred in the original black and white film is now reversed.

So we’re left with a confused picture of Max Cady and his motives. This is where most critics and audiences were lost as to any further understanding of the film.

To decode the film further we must examine the frequent religious references and the seemingly inhuman strength of Max Cady himself. He talks of being reborn in prison and of getting in touch with God. The contents of his cell and his tattoos show the extent of his spiritual transformation. His car bares signs on its rear bumper with one reading, “You’re a VIP on Earth. I’m a VIP in heaven”. He tells Sam to read a story in the Bible depicting a man whose faith is tested by the Lord. “God took away everything he had. Even his children.” While on the run before the film’s climax Sam talks on a payphone of Force Majeure – an unforeseeable act of God.

Max Cady’s super human ability to withstand pain is yet another religious clue. He is super-human because he is what he claims to be, a messenger from God sent to test the family. This is why he is able to fight back against the three thugs despite a beating that would render any human demobilized. As Kerseck puts it: “That son-of-a-bitch could survive a nuclear strike.” This is why he is able to have boiling water thrown in his face without flinching and is able to hold a burning flare as it drips onto his hand. This is how he has gone from an illiterate to an intellectual philosopher. It is also a clue as to how he can get in and out of the Bowden house undetected. Kerseck claims he can’t see through walls, but perhaps the supernatural Max Cady can.

Some have said that the violence in Cape Fear is often unrealistic, but it is actually a part of the films message. Cady is a violent petty criminal who has been possessed and transformed to be a messenger of God. He is both an angel and a demon. His angelic side is shown by his concern for the family and their much needed commitment to each other. His presence in the film restores their commitment at a time when they were drifting apart. His demonic side is revealed in his violent acts and visually after his face is burnt in the houseboat – he literally looks like a demon for the last few scenes.

This gives the film a whole new meaning and makes sense of plot devices that have often been perceived as flaws. As Sam is faced with having everything taken from him and Cady is about to rape and kill his family, he falls silent for a moment. Perhaps he is making the internal commitment to his family that he should have made a long time ago. Perhaps he is praying to God and thus passes the test of faith. Whatever Sam is thinking in this moment it results in an unforeseeable act of God. The waves of the river, brought on by a seemingly biblical storm, knock Cady from his feet and allow the family to escape. Sam is left alone to fight Cady one on one. Just as Cady begins firing the gun at Sam, another intervention occurs. The gun is mysteriously pulled from Cady’s grip by unseen forces. Sam is flung into the river, but the raging waters spit him back out onto the river bank. Once again he is miraculously saved.

Now we have Cady and Sam fighting with rocks, which was foreshadowed early in the film. Sam told the private detective: “Maybe 2000 years ago we would have taken this guy out and stoned him to death”. This stoning battle ends in Sam regressing to a caveman state as he tries to smash Cady’s skull with a large rock. Once again, God intervenes. Cady is pulled back into the tides of the river so that the rock just misses him. We now see Cady speaking in tongues as he is pulled under water, his spiritual mission on Earth complete. This was also hinted at as Cady and Leigh faced off in the houseboat. “Five minutes with me and you will be speaking in tongues.” And just in case the religious message hasn’t been made clear enough, Sam hallucinates crucifixion wounds in his hands - a hint that his soul has been saved

Despite the onslaught of religious subtext and symbols, the concept of Max Cady as a messenger of God has been largely neglected in public awareness of Scorsese’s Cape Fear. Perhaps this is because audiences were expecting the same underlying narrative as the original, in which Cady was merely a criminal.

Added to all this is a barrage of foreshadowing, in which Scorsese uses psychological devices to prepare us for the scenes that shock and frighten us. In true Hitchcock style we are presented with distorted images during the opening titles, including a set of teeth that prime us for the bite wound that Cady inflicts later. A phallic white post stands erect behind Leigh as she meets Cady for the first time in front of the house. In the bedroom she appears reflected in the window almost as a divine apparition. The programs on Danielle’s tv screen are both sexual and violent primers for what we will see later in the film. And there are plenty more subliminals if you look for them.

Scorsese’s version of Cape Fear, despite being tagged as a remake, is very original. It is a solid piece of commercial entertainment, yet has a religious and spiritual depth that is personal to Scorsese and which has rarely been acknowledged. In this reviewers opinion, it is one of his best.

 

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