Sprout and the Bean: How ‘The Strangers’ Uses Music To Create Its Disturbing Atmosphere [Spins and Needles]
Bryan Bertino’s The Strangers is a nuts-and-bolts throwback slasher that holds its own between two reboots of huge franchises. Though Rob Zombie’s Halloween and Platinum Dunes’ Friday the 13th are interesting entries in their respective series, Bertino’s 2008 film throws his audience off the deep end without the cushion of established lore. Its confined setting and sparse plot better facilitate the theme of a corrupted home environment, from which not even white people are impervious. Threats to rustic American idealism have served as a feeding ground for horror as a whole; they characterize the works of slasher film progenitors in the 1970s, after all. In Bertino’s world, evil cannot be called out by name. And the sinister machinations therein are true to the spirit of the subgenre’s beginnings.
What makes The Strangers effective is its attention to detail. It places the audience in an uncomfortable dynamic between two people who are dealing with the fallout of undiagnosed relationship issues in real-time. En route from a friend’s wedding, following a failed proposal, James (Scott Speedman) and Kristen (Liv Tyler) sit in deafening silence as they make their way to the former’s remote childhood home for what was supposed to be a romantic getaway. James is hesitant to enter the home but resigns to it once he reaches the front door. With little dialogue and only solemn looks between the two characters, Bertino heartbreakingly constructs each beat thereafter. He uses Richard Buckner’s “Ariel Ramirez” to accentuate the fractured relationship. Depending on the context, its haunting lyrics can be read as an affirmation of love or the dread of its ending. Here, both are inescapable.
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Bertino’s curation of songs represents a brief history of movements within the roots of American music. From folk to country—and its alt derivatives—the soundtrack provides the film with a wistful atmosphere that is necessary to maintain the believability of the story. The Strangers is still a refreshing watch in this current moment of slasher films that are overly reliant on needle drops, yet fail to harness specific moods and zeitgeist.
Part of why the film’s soundtrack is effective is owed to how diegetic music works in tandem with the score. Composed by the vastly underrated Tomandandy, the duo’s ambient frequencies blend seamlessly with songs from Joanna Newsom and Gillian Welch. Their music is deeply tied to Kristen. Without narrowing her personality to music choices, Bertino harnesses the intimate act of throwing on a record to soothe the soul. Newsom’s “Sprout And The Bean” functions as a balm for the strenuous evening. The song’s lyrics gently probe Kristen’s reluctant interior and her pain is entirely relatable. But the interruption of this peace is a form of violence that the filmmaker engages in to remind us that things are about to get much worse.
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For his directorial debut, Bertino successfully balances genre conventions with realism. Every decision, no matter how asinine, is based on character and understandable in the moment. The record skipping on Welch’s “My First Lover” during the first chase scene is incredibly jarring. After Kristen is left alone to fend off the attackers, music is a weapon and Tomandandy’s score creeps alongside it to amplify the tension. Kristen’s survival instincts kick in on the beat, though they run in complete contrast with James’ frustrating laissez-faire attitude. Reacting to the killer taunting them in his backyard, James’ line “people don’t just stand there like that” is both hilarious and tragic. When a character gestures foolishly at the void in a slasher film, yelling at the screen is mandatory.
This is especially true about James’ attempt at taking control without including Kristen, which proves to be the source of devastating losses suffered by the couple later on. It’s revealing to the extent that Kristen’s rejection is wholly justified. Macho posturing does not save the day. And really, there are no heroes in this film. There is no sudden shift that turns the couple into Laurie Strode or Tommy Jarvis. Viewers are right to latch on to the people who save the day in the face of inhuman terror. Though to be honest, how many of us more closely resemble the downtrodden adult eating a whole thing of ice cream while Billy Bragg and Wilco’s cover of “At My Window Sad And Lonely” plays drearily in the background? Hate him or not, James knows how to wind down.
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Bertino’s film wears its cinematic influences clearly. But, the inspiration for the story also stems from major true crime events like the Manson murders and the director’s own childhood experience living in a neighborhood that saw multiple home invasions. His meticulous schematics of James’ family home reflect a lived-in quality that heightens the emotional drama as the couple finds themselves withstanding a siege from the three killers.
The film’s nostalgic relationship with technology also creates a sense of dependency that is cruelly ripped away. Most things are analog, from the record player to the radio. But the momentary comfort of these artifacts is destroyed each time they are implemented. Symbolically, this speaks to the pitfalls of romanticizing the past and isolated living in general. James’ own fabrication of his past catches up to him when it comes time to do the one thing that makes the most sense: grab a gun.
But his failure to defend his home with it isn’t a simple case of alphas and betas. The man in the mask is himself a parody of the straight-laced American male, exposing the barbarism beneath the clean suit and tie. His cohorts are even in on the joke, right down to their names (Dollface and Pin-Up Girl). Their domination is based on pure malice rather than any coherent belief system. The absurdity of Bertino’s script coalesces around this factor. On rewatch, moments when we can see the attackers lurking resonate louder than any of its jumpscares.
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As the film draws to a close, chances of survival turn bleak without respite. It is clear from how the film evolves that the couple is nothing but a game to the killers. This realization takes a while to settle in and Bertino provides multiple buffers. However, there is only so much room to fight back when you’re cornered by a group of predators essentially toying with their food.
During the film’s tensest moment, Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried” (coincidentally performed with his band, The Strangers) is played. Like everything else, the song is fitting and ironic. Haggard’s song brings together the familiar sounds of growing up on your parents’ music with the anxiety of defending their domain. Detailing Haggard’s own experiences which led to his imprisonment, the lyrics are an attempt at redeeming the actions of a young man after multiple run-ins with the law. Criminal exploits and expressing regret for said crimes form part of the backbone of country music. Bertino’s intentions are not nearly as sorrowful.
It’s implied that one of the killers plays the record, and it precedes the brutal execution of one of James’ friends by his own hand. Mike (Glenn Howerton) gets his head blown open unceremoniously as the song ends. We’ll never know if his presence would have helped or hindered the couple in their struggle against the killers. But we can solidly confirm that the “D” in “D.E.N.N.I.S. System” does not stand for “duck.”
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After the couple is bound and gored, Bertino closes the circuit on his film with one final gesture of cosmic indifference. Two young missionaries are left to sift through the carnage; the same ones we hear call the authorities in a panic at the very beginning. The reason for all of this? Because the couple was home.
Despite the “based on a true story” gimmick, The Strangers commits to its ambiguity. For a pop-horror film, it comprises down-notes that few of its American contemporaries, and even the film’s sequel (itself a pastiche of overblown ‘80s slashers), dared to play. We are denied a final girl, as it is unclear whether Kristen survives. The viewer is free to associate whatever legend or supernatural ability with the killers, given that any potential closure from their unmasking is obscured by the editing. The sense of danger that permeates the film lingers after it’s over mainly because it is designed to be inevitable.
Perhaps lacking in the type of shocking violence that landed its forebears in hot water with censors, The Strangers still benefits from having a total madman at the helm. And we as genre devotees urge Bertino to keep doing the Devil’s work.
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