The Cold (1984)

Dir: Bill Rebane

Prod: Barbara Rebane

Scr: William Arthur, Larry Dreyfus

Cast: Tom Blair, Jim Iaquinta, Carol Perry

Although this film is better known as The Game, Mill Creek distributes it as The Cold. This isn't an entirely inaccurate title: in fact, it nicely sums up director Bill Rebane's filmography, involving scenarios in wintry Wisconsin settings. Ironically, the film with a title that represents most of Rebane's work is a change of pace from his usual milieu, and is nothing if not a mixed-bag of tone and style.

This funhouse of incident, perhaps done in the spirit of William Castle’s films 13 Frightened Girls or Let’s Kill Uncle, has a comic-thriller plot that could be called Hitchcockian, but one hesitates to use that term, so as to avoid any misconceptions that I’m attempting to equate this film to a work by The Master of Suspense. Rebane is no Hitchcock... but on the other hand, Hitchcock is no Rebane.

The premise is a labyrinth of double-crosses and put-ons, as three bored millionaires, George, Horace and Maude (Carol Perry, who played Mrs. Schultz in The Demons of Ludlow, back for another haughty character), stage their annual game of giving people chances to win a million dollars in cash if they conquer their fears. The nine contestants are put up in an abandoned hotel, and meet such obstacles as rats, spiders... and even the elements, as two people nearly freeze to death in a sauna (no doubt inspiring the alternate title, The Cold).

The characters who rise to the challenge of the game are truly an oddball lot: a blonde preppy guy; a female law student; four members of a rock band; a so-called stud with the stereotypical moustache; and a southern belle with a ridiculous accent and her friend. Now, imagine the scenes in 70’s porn where everyone has their clothes on, and you get an idea of the level of histrionics in this bunch (or so I'm told).

Imagine further the ridiculous dollar store props that are used to scare these people: from the slimy monster that pops out of a mattress, to the plastic shark fin in the pool. This skimpy art direction rather befits the whole cartoonish nature of the film. The berserk mixture of tone and shooting styles (right down to the millionaires prancing down hotel corridors in Halloween masks while tinny silent movie piano music plays), the one-dimensional characters and silly special effects all seem to work together: this seems to be a movie where everyone involved surrendered themselves to the reality that this is a cheap piece of nonsense.

It is difficult to tell if Rebane ignored the William Arthur-Larry Dreyfus screenplay and just decided to “wing it”, or that the script was so inept to begin with, that with each new scene where someone else turns the tables, the movie becomes increasingly incomprehensible, right up to the “huh?” of a climax with a ghoulish something or other looking out the window. Red herrings like a hunchbacked figure in white makeup lurking around remain unexplained, further adding to the haywire “plot”. But in truth, I liked this damn thing.

As the film progresses, the viewer receives as much of a put-on as the characters onscreen, and must surrender oneself to the game, or be left cold. Even so, there is some morsel of attempt at making this glorious mess look like something. The setting of an abandoned hotel is genuinely creepy (perhaps another theme of isolation that attracted Rebane to the project?). The millionaires’ control over even the hotel’s PA system and the television broadcasts (in one moment, we see one of the hapless characters being hanged right after the late night TV sign-off) is a novel gimmick reminiscent of Fritz Lang’s The Thousand Eyes of Dr. Mabuse. And despite that the previous ninety minutes are silly, the ending of the lone figure on the bridge at night is rather haunting. Whatever his shortcomings, Bill Rebane still knows how to set a mood, despite if the tone is still disappointingly less adult than it should be. If there is one film in his career that can be classified as a “romp”, this is it.

MMM Rating: 3/5

Located on: Chilling Classics. (No pun intended.)