A Child at the Window
The horror moment that gripped me forever
One night, I watched a scary classic for the first time. I was both twelve and by myself. This movie left a lasting impression.
It had been a Saturday night, sometime back in 1988. I can’t remember exactly why, but I had been home alone . . . my parents most likely having gone out for the evening. My mother had been house cleaning earlier that day, so every curtain was either in the washing machine, or left to dry outside — leaving all windows exposed to the night. On that particular evening, I would wish for the comfort of blinds.
I had been channel surfing — until a very creepy house, overlaid with a score of sheer dread grabbed me on one of the two Irish tv stations we had back then. I had discovered the opening titles of Salem’s Lot. The 1979 movie adaptation of the Stephen King novel (that I had not yet read). Having recently discovered a love for anything horror, I had probably grinned and settled back . . . expecting to be in for a treat. Well, or so I had initially thought.
This was the full length, over three-hour tv version of the movie, and not the shortened version that later appeared in cinemas. It is masterfully directed by Tobe Hooper, best know beforehand as director of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. So, despite my steadily growing tiredness, I stayed watching with an equally growing, dark fascination, as the supernatural slowly filtered into the everyday world of Jerusalem’s Lot, Maine. For this is what makes the original novel work too. Stephen King introduces us to the characters and setting first, letting us into their rather humdrum, ordinary lives, before (as the great ghost story writer M.R. James once said) the ominous Thing puts out its head.
In other words, the terror that has been building slowly— via the creepy Marsten House, the even creepier Mr. Straker (played with relish by James Mason), a unnaturally moving crate in the back of a truck, and a young boy vanishing in the woods — culminates in a scene that has left its mark as pure, unforgettable nightmare fuel.
Danny Glick, the brother of the vanished boy (Ralphie Glick) lies asleep in his bedroom. It is night outside the second-storey window. This is after Ralphie has disappeared (been taken) in the woods, and a disoriented Danny has stumbled into his own back garden — with no memory of what has happened. As Danny slumbers, a fog grows outside the window. A vague face appears in the fog, and this grows into a recognisably human form. The figure is that of a pyjama-clad boy, but one that is floating in the air. Ralphie Glick has returned, but his skin is now a ghastly, corpse grey. His yellow eyes gleam, and his mouth is fixed in a hungry grin — revealing sharp canines. And worst of all, the child scratches at the window glass . . . the sound grating, yet also hypnotic. Ralphie is now a vampire.
Danny is now awake, looking scared at first, before his face softens with a smile of recognition. As if in a trance, the boy then gets up and crosses the room, before he opens the window. Danny steps back as Ralphie glides, almost swims into the bedroom, surrounded by a sea of fog. The vampire finally stops and stares at his brother . . . and the scene fades out.
It’s pretty obvious what happens next. This is later verified in a similar, if slightly less impactful scene— where Ralphie next visits Danny at the local hospital. Here we see the vampire sink its fangs into his brother’s neck.
I had enjoyed the build-up to Ralphie Glick’s first, vampiric appearance. But after it, I felt a cold dread creeping over me as the movie progressed — such was that scene’s impact and the ever-increasing tension. The scene of a turned, undead Danny Glick appearing at Mark Petrie’s window is also creepy (if again, lessened in comparison). However this time, the child inside thwarts the child outside. For young Petrie is a horror movie fan, and so knows how to drive a vampire away; in this case, by using a cross from his Aurora monster model graveyard.
By the time the movie ended, I was somewhat thrilled, if mostly chilled. I looked to the dark, exposed windows around me . . . half expecting to see a sudden, pale face with a fanged smile. I quickly retreated to my bedroom, and probably shivered beneath blanket until my parents came home.
There are other frightful moments in Salem’s Lot 1979. The scene with an undead Marjorie Glick (the Glick’s boys’ mother) rising in a morgue — a scene which made my younger brother scream as a child. The first appearances of the Nosferatu-like Mr. Barlow (at first a mere claw, and then a terrifying visage in the town jail) are chill-inducing too. But it’s the floating Ralphie Glick that has stayed with me most.
All those Glick Brothers scenes have a nightmarish power to them, even to this day. It’s well documented that both child actors (Ronnie Scribner and Brad Savage), whilst wearing their frightful makeup, were suspended on a type of crane rig that let them ‘float’, with a fog machine adding both atmosphere and hiding said rigs. Certain moments were also filmed backwards; to give an eerie, unnatural feeling to the vampires. This of course requires the performers to learn their movements in reverse, a difficult thing, but the result is haunting. This backwards technique was also used in Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), for scenes involving the undead Lucy Westenra (Sadie Frost).
Returning to Salem’s Lot, the final cherry-on-top for the Glick moments is the tension-filled, yet dreamy score by Harry Sukman (Salem’s Lot being his last score, before he sadly passed away in 1984). It is a masterpiece in steadily rising terror. But do listen and watch for yourself, as can you see that first Ralphie Glick scene here.
When it came to making my first animated short, One Winter’s Night (2012), I adapted my own poem, which had been mostly inspired by the Ralphie Glick moment. The resulting short is even more inspired by it. That moment still continues to influence my own creative output.
The same moment in the mediocre Salem’s Lot remake (2004) is clumsily done, and relies too much on CGI, a unimaginative setup and absolutely no sense of dread. I’ll be curious to see how the scene is interpreted a third, time, in the delayed, but apparently to-be-released new version of Salem’s Lot. Maybe it will give a new generation nightmares, or maybe it won’t. Either way, they can always watch the 1979 movie.
I’ve always wanted to write this article, and now the lead-up to the spooky season has finally given me a reason. Happy Halloween.
