In a world with over eight billion people, some are just born to be alone, and whether solitary by choice or through circumstances, it can tell us a lot about the human condition when we set out to observe the daily lives of these individuals. In his fascinating novel Ratman’s Notebooks, Stephen Gilbert tells the story of a disturbed young man who develops a fascination with rodents, which eventually spirals into a deeply unnerving obsession that is not only questionable in terms of hygiene, but also eventually becomes extremely dangerous, with these creatures forming a fierce loyalty to their human friend, who uses them as a tool to do his bidding, getting revenge on those who wronged him in the past. The novel was adapted into a film on two occasions – we’ve discussed the 1971 version by Daniel Mann before, and now we move onto Glen Morgan’s wonderfully deceptive and bizarre version from a couple of decades ago, which is often seen as the more definitive version of Gilbert’s novel, particularly in terms of how it leans quite heavily into the macabre and disturbing details while still ensuring the tongue-in-cheek humour is not entirely absent. Made in the aftermath of his incredibly successful work as a writer and producer on The X-Files, his version of Willard is a bizarre, off-the-wall and darkly comical satire that is as strange as it is deeply unnerving, a combination that is never once taken for granted, but rather formed from a clear fascination with this material. Bringing the story to the present day, but generally maintaining the same structure in terms of plot and the underlying ideas, Willard is a tremendously entertaining film, the rare kind of horror story that causes the viewer to perceive the outside world slightly differently, stirring a passionate reaction in just about anyone willing to take the leap into exploring these ideas and how they manifest through such unorthodox but utterly brilliant means.

The boundary between humans and animals has always been a source of fascination for scientists, philosophers and laypeople in general – the precise distinction that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom is often quite flexible, and we often find that there are some unexpectedly compelling observations made when addressing these ideas. Willard is a film very much about establishing such a distinction and drawing on it as it explores two ideas at the same time – humans are much more animalistic than we expect, and vice versa. The story of a young man whose lonely life is up-ended by the arrival of a group of rodents that he befriends and eventually uses for revenge is a fascinating concept, and one that Morgan clearly found compelling enough to launch an entire production around, taking a notoriously odd novel and adapting it quite faithfully to the screen, more than the previous film (which is still wonderful in its own way), especially in terms of how it unpacks the foundational themes. The basis of this film is a subversive exploration of revenge and how it can emerge in the most unconventional but opportune ways – there’s a sense of anarchy behind this film, a kind of offbeat social candour that Morgan manages to investigate quite closely, evoking some tremendously intriguing insights. It’s not a film that should be taken seriously though – the entire purpose of Willard is to be a story about a deranged man who finds refuge within the animal kingdom, eventually becoming part of it himself, showing that there are situations where one’s humanity can erode entirely, being replaced with a barbarism that we would never assume would be possible for any functioning member of society, but which paints quite a bleak portrait of the ways in which loneliness and desperation (as well as a few well-placed vendettas) can strip someone of all of their discernibly human traits, which is a concept that many will find profoundly fascinating and deeply disturbing in equal measure.

Certain actors are simply born to play specific parts, and Crispin Glover has always taken advantage of this fact, gaining a monopoly on playing disturbed, extremely unsettling men with unnerving demeanours and an otherworldly approach to navigating life. A truly great artist who deserves much more than the status as a one-dimensional oddball that he has sadly earned over the years, Glover has proven himself to be a generational talent on several occasions, with Willard being one of his best performances. The key to his portrayal of the titular character is formed from a two-pronged approach to developing the part – much of the film relies on his unique quirks, which he seems to relish in being able to showcase (since he is clearly aware of the fact that his entire career is built from his idiosyncracies – it is the case with most actors, his just tend to be more pronounced than others), while also pushing him to not simply rest on his laurels, and instead pursue a version of this character that is engaging, entertaining and always compelling. The film would not have worked without his firm commitment to the role, and the entire project is developed from a very unique place of creating this memorable protagonist, and allowing Glover free rein to make certain bold choices, granted they were aligned with the core principles of the story. R. Lee Ermey is also excellent as Mr Martin, the titular character’s sadistic and hateful boss (and which is a fascinating parallel to his career-defining work in Full Metal Jacket), and Jackie Burroughs gloriously grotesque as Willard’s psychotic, equally deranged mother. The film is defined by Glover’s excellent work, but it does have certain qualities beyond his performance that make it a truly captivating affair, even if it isn’t always effective in developing the characters who exist on the periphery.

Morgan was open about the fact that he never intended for Willard to be seen as a remake of the previous film, and in an effort to dispel any sense of it being directly inspired by the earlier work, he makes some very clear changes that takes a more unique approach to this novel, while retaining a few interesting qualities that made Mann’s film so engaging, the two works existing in communion but not being directly connected outside of sharing the same source material. There has been criticism that this film is not effective as a horror because it isn’t scary enough – and while fear is a vital component of the genre, we cannot limit our perception based on whether we are frightened by the material, in much the same way we can’t assess the effectiveness of a satire based on how outrageously funny some of the jokes are – in a lot of cases, intent and approach are more important, and the refusal to abide to conventions should not be seen as a weakness when it was all done by design. This is not a film that intends to scare the viewer (unless someone is afraid of rodents, in which case I can imagine Willard is an absolute nightmare), but rather be a fully immersive experience in which the fear intermingles with a sense of deep repulsion and existential despair. It’s not a matter of whether or not seeing someone become fully enveloped by rats is scary, but rather the idea that the boundary between species can be so fickle, and the broad implication that there is something deeper beneath the surface that can drive seemingly innocent beings to such extreme, intentional violence. These ideas are well-executed throughout the film, with Morgan making use of various narrative and stylistic resources to tell the story – the film is a perfect blend of horror and dark comedy, which have always worked exceptionally well together, and which evokes a very raw, visceral reaction in the viewer, who will nonetheless be disturbed and delighted by the extent to which Willard is willing to go to unsettle and unnerve.

Willard is certainly not going to be a film that has widespread appeal – in fact, it can be argued that it is the definition of an acquired taste, a film that will not convert those who are not already accustomed to this kind of offbeat, grotesque style of horror, but rather will be most enjoyed by viewers who actively seek out more challenging works, especially those who have a penchant for works that don’t merely entertain, but provoke thought and discussion. Arguably, there isn’t much to say about this film in terms of philosophy, which can be essentially summarized as simply the story of a lonely man who befriends some rats and teaches them to become vicious creatures designed to his bidding – but even with this, there are avenues in which the film makes some very fascinating observations into the human condition, particularly in how it sets out to establish some kind of distinction between “us” and “them”, in terms of our relationship with animals, which is a much more complex subject than we would expect. Anchored by some career-best work from the always wonderfully engaging Glover, whose commitment to this part is the core reason the film is such a success, Willard is quite a bizarre artistic experiment, but one that nonetheless has an abundance of merit, most of which emerge unexpectedly and with more than enough impact to give the viewer very broad insights into the various subjects that constitute this offbeat, outrageous and wickedly entertaining work that may not be embraced by everyone, but rather exists as a weirdly wonderful piece of horror comedy that manages to somehow be more unnerving and disquieting than many supposedly more serious works, showing that intention and ambition overtakes conventions in every conceivable way.