While on trial for impiety and corruption in 399 BC, the philosopher Socrates reportedly said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” In 2003, while lamenting a miserable life in her dilapidated home with her son Willard, Henrietta Stiles proclaims, “All my life I could smell mice.” What is the correlation between ancient history and this iconic line delivery? By the end of our reexamination of writer/director Glen Morgan’s remake of the 1971 original, you’ll understand just how the Grecian sage and this dour tale meet – in a film where the enigma of existence pushes one man to the brink and the lines between human and rodent blur.
The Crispin Glover of It All
Today, it would be deemed heretical not to practice some form of introspection and examine one’s place in society (and tell everyone online about it), yet when we are introduced to the downtrodden Willard – uncannily embodied by the effortlessly creepy Crispin Glover – we find him at odds with Socrates’ teachings. Trapped in a dreary routine caring for his sickly mother and working a dead-end desk job at his late father’s company, Willard’s spirit is down bad. A peculiar fellow with pallid skin and a greasy middle part, he seems like a good guy despite appearances, but his overbearing mother and scumbag boss – who only keeps Willard around to honor his father’s dying wish – kick to the curb any growth this man approaching 40 might yet achieve. Things start looking up, however, when the failed extermination of a rodent infestation introduces Willard to an adorable white rat he names Socrates. With a new BFF and a growing hoard of long-tailed loyal subjects, man becomes mouse as he leaves civilized society behind with wild abandon toward a more vengeful path.
Morgan’s previous work on projects like The X-Files and Black Christmas (2006) comes into play here, as suspension of disbelief is critical when kicking back with Willard. It’s never explained how he attains an almost supernatural connection with his rat pals or why they seemingly make human-like choices and have rich internal lives, but much like AI, this sentience is something to be feared. If bestie Socrates symbolizes the philosopher’s moral guidance and positive influence over our antihero, the insidious rat Ben, whom Willard makes the commander of his rodent army, represents intrusive thoughts and lustful revenge. Villains like Willard’s detestable boss quickly become nuisances for his hordes to decimate, and soon Ben rises as the central antagonist in Willard’s battle for his humanity.
Crispin Glover in a Darker Willard Remake
This remake is meaner and darker than the original, and just as the film works to balance the absurdity of its premise with the psychological turmoil at its center, Glover likewise commits to the bit. It’s a testament to his abilities as an actor that he can convincingly have beef with an engorged rat and you often don’t know whether to laugh or cry during one of his multiple psyche-breaking meltdowns. You feel bad for giggling, but then Glover gets that borderline perverse look in his eyes reminiscent of his hair-sniffing assassin in the early aughts Charlie’s Angels movie, and you know it’s all good.
Grey Gardens
The film’s two central locations – Willard’s derelict family home and a barren, depressing office – immediately set the visual tone. The camera sits perched high like a rat in the rafters, causing the manor to appear quite spacious. Still, the set design gives more Resident Evil than Nancy Meyers, and likewise, his prison-like workspace serves sweatshop over white collar. Much like Willard’s inner life, his daily environment is bleak. That’s not to say there isn’t a light in all the melancholy haze, and in an unexpected twist, this comes in the form of a very familiar maternal bond.
Between the rundown palace and their parasitic relationship, Willard and his mother Henrietta (Jackie Burroughs) are warped versions of Big and Little Edie Beale of Grey Gardens infamy. Stuck in the rot of the past, it’s no wonder Willard can’t evolve, and their toxic relationship provides quite a few cringe-worthy laughs. Accusations of Willard using cooking oil as lube when, in reality, he was holed up in the bathroom to talk with Socrates and a desperate insistence on knowing the physical consistency of his #2 are just some examples of her inappropriate interference at his grown age. And speaking of Morgan’s Black Christmas, Burroughs’ performance is so similar to Karin Konoval’s equally icky turn as the killer’s alcoholic mother in the holiday horror that I initially thought the two were one and the same until IMDB proved otherwise.
Bubonic Armies and Inverted Cat-and-Mouse Thrills
And let’s not forget why we’re really here. While Socrates may provide the cute puppy vibes, Willard’s bubonic army will likely have you squirming in your seat and Googling plague symptoms by the time the credits roll. Morgan and cinematographer Robert McLachlan craft an ingenious inverse cat-and-mouse chase sequence from the perspective of an unlucky kitty, and their skill genuinely rivals some of the slasher genre’s best. Once the historic battle between Willard and Ben comes to blows, that haunted old house is finally full of life in all the wrong ways, and you have every reason to believe in the formidable power of the hoard. I’m sure Glover loved every foul minute of it.
Does It Hold Up Today?
Unfortunately, the cruelness of the world doesn’t go out of style. This dark cautionary tale about what happens when the human spirit is shattered is still relevant today, even when “human spirit” = “strange man who can commune with rats.” If not allowed to flourish, people left in the gutter might sometimes emerge as something less than human, and when we look the other way, we will enable it to happen. In this sense, perhaps we can all smell mice. And if you don’t want to think too deeply about it, Willard is still a wild late-night watch about a rat king gone mad, especially if you have a twisted sense of humor.