The desert is a big, dangerous, lonely place. As a young-ish filmmaker and actor based out of Phoenix, AZ, I was well aware of the terror-potential of the desert and used it. The landscape is a beautiful kind of barren, and it is vast. So vast that many people have been lost in the desert, never to be seen again. That’s part of the charm, though. It is something so big, so beautiful and so, at times, inhospitable, it could just swallow you hole… and it sometimes did. Sykes, in Terror in the Desert: Dark Cinema of the American Southwest, believes this, too, and that is exactly what makes films (and real life) under the blazing sun so horrifying: absolutely ANYTHING could be waiting for you out there… or nothing. Either way, you’re not coming home. Although presenting as a sub-genre of horror may be a misnomer, since the films already run the gamut of sub-genres, the common locale is akin to atmosphere. It is as effective as the fog-laden moors of England or the decaying castles of Romania and, for mostly American audiences, equally as foreign and dangerous… even to those of us that lived there. With that in mind, Brad Sykes has compiled not only a love letter to some of these films, many forgotten, but also provided a necessary addition to film literature in curating the movies in a manner that acknowledged their unique location.
The book is well-written, of course. This is a hallmark of McFarland (the publisher) and there is a standard that they wouldn’t compromise on. What is so enjoyable about Sykes’ tome is how accessible it is. Eschewing a stuffy critique, Sykes writes first as fan, then filmmaker and, finally, as academic. Each is important, but without that initial fascination, that initial love, the rest can fall flat. This isn’t the case and the entries, of well-known and under-the-radar films alike, are filled with subject matter expertise and, sometimes, unbridled joy. Sykes is also well aware of the sub-genre issue, evidenced by the way in which he has broken down the book including chapters featuring early films using the danger of the desert, to those creatures that live in the wasteland (a la Tremors), pesky bloodsuckers (see Near Dark), evil machines (The Car, Duel, etc.) and even full franchises (Joyride is a favorite). Sykes, an accomplished filmmaker himself, doesn’t ignore those of us who labored under lower budgets with a special section on independent films set under the blazing sun.
At over 300 pages, Sykes and McFarland don’t skimp on the content and there are many illustrations throughout. Are there films missing? Probably. I could name a few underground favorites, but there isn’t a single list out there that can be all inclusive and Terror in the Desert functions as a very good primer and survey. Much like the desert itself, absolutely anything could be waiting for you within these pages… and it is. One of our favorite psychos graces the cover of the book, a character born of the desert with the same temperament. Cracking open Terror in the Desert is like letting John Ryder from The Hitcher into your car. You can ask him to leave. Ask him as much as you want. He’ll just smile because he is in on the joke, much like the desert itself. The joke is that what you want doesn’t matter, they are in control. He’ll smile and say, “I’m going to sit here. And you’re going to drive.” And you will.
Terror in the Desert: Dark Cinema of the American Southwest is available from McFarland Publishing.
