Perhaps because it deals with teenagers being killed off by a monster, Stan Winston's Pumpkinhead has never gained the recognition it deserves. Despite a pair of minor weaknesses -- a musical score that offers nothing of interest, and characterizations that serve the purpose of the story in the most immediate ways without going much deeper -- the production as a whole has always impressed me, and improves every time I watch the film again.
Right from the opening sequence bathed in Mario Bava-style blues and reds, the film provides a strong visual impact. What I love especially is the transformation of Topanga Canyon into something strange. Unlike the over-blown and ugly designs of a typical Tim Burton film, the natural settings in Pumpkinhead resemble slightly-hallucinatory extensions beyond our world into the sinister zone of a fairy tale. Much of the action takes place on hillsides, in a slanted, choking wilderness of dust and forest, swamps and dry-ice fog; in such a place, the sudden appearances of a witch hut, of a cemetery pumpkin patch, seem almost inevitable. The shanty-town, as well, could almost be an actual place, if not for the slightest of stylizations.
These touches of dreamlike reality give the film a conviction that stands out. If Pumpkinhead seems fated to be nothing more than a cult film, it can at least be one that offers genuine merits of atmosphere and image.
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