Madness has always been a concept that has fascinated writers and artists from every medium – from the philosophers that defined the antiquity to contemporary storytellers that examine human behaviour and our relationship with both our own minds and surroundings, we’ve become obsessed with the idea of sanity, particularly in distinguishing the exact boundaries that separate normality from insanity. In terms of artistic representation, very few genres have been more integral to the subject than horror, in which many fantastic filmmakers have set out to explore the roots of madness. How someone can descend into a state of rabid psychosis as a result of certain incidents, some of which can be explained, others attributed purely to the supernatural. John Carpenter has always been considered amongst the most important and daring horror filmmakers of his generation, and most of his films (if not all) factor in conversation surrounding the sanity of core characters, even if only marginally. Perhaps his most intriguing statement on the matter – or at least the one that is most direct about its intentions – is In the Mouth of Madness, in which we follow an insurance inspector who is sent to investigate the disappearance of a reclusive horror writer, who was last seen in a small hamlet in New Hampshire. Upon arriving in the quaint town of Hobb’s End, the protagonist immediately starts to suspect something is amiss – the residents seem vaguely uncanny. There are an increasing number of events that seem to lack any coherent explanation, leading to a shocking realisation once he finally tracks down the man he has been sent to find, who reveals the truth. An offbeat, darkly comedic blend of psychological thriller and supernatural horror, In the Mouth of Madness is a deeply unconventional and provocative film that continuously offers us something we have not seen before, while still playing within the general vicinity of the horror works that inspired Carpenter and screenwriter Michael De Luca to put this film together.

There are two names that we need to mention about In the Mouth of Madness, despite their lack of participation – H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King, two authors who essentially defined horror literature in their respective eras, and who linger heavily as influences, to the point where the film even mentions them, either by name or through very clear allusions to their work (the title evokes Lovecraft’s The Shadow over Innsmouth, which cannot be a coincidence), leading us to see the extent to which either of them were part of the construction of this film. However, neither of them had any direct role in the creation of this story, which is purely Carpenter and De Luca setting out to create a new kind of terror, namely that of the literary horror, a genre that we have not seen become particularly prominent, but is still quite fascinating. The core of this story is the examination of a small town – there’s the famous quote by David Lynch that has often been mentioned around these parts (and which we don’t need to repeat), but which indicates that it is usually those idyllic and seemingly perfect little hamlets that have the darkest and most sinister secrets. Where this film deviates quite prominently is in the actual intentions – this is not solely an attempt to demonstrate that small towns are just as morally corrupt as their larger counterparts (and the tug-of-war between rural and urban life has been stretched beyond the point of exhaustion by this point), but also in the boundaries between fiction and reality, which has always been a very important component of the director’s work, and one of the several reasons his films have been so celebrated, since they attempt to cut to the root of what it is that terrifies audiences, becoming intense and enthralling documents about society and the insidious secrets that lurk beneath the seemingly orderly and logical surface, which is nothing if not outrageously misleading.

At the very heart of In the Mouth of Madness is the character of John Trent, a man who gradually descends into a state of madness, realising that his well-maintained sense of reality is nothing more than a fallacy designed to unsettle his understanding of his surroundings. On the surface, it seems like a role that could be played by just about any actor who has the clean-cut charm to convincingly be the victim of a sinister deconstruction of reality. However, there is so much more to the role than we realise, and as a result, Carpenter made the right decision in casting Sam Neill, who is not only one of the greatest actors of his generation, but also someone who has the uncanny ability to oscillate effortlessly between sanity and madness, making it look seamless and underlining his extraordinary versatility and command of character. The foundation of In the Mouth of Madness is built around his interactions with other characters, who appear to be massively eccentric, only for his perception to begin to warp, allowing us to see that Trent himself is the one who is struggling to maintain his grasp on reality. The supporting cast is understandably eclipsed by Neill’s performance, which isn’t a criticism of their performances, but rather the structure of the film, which refuses to give us too much information on these people or what they represent, but rather draws on their inherent ambiguities. Jürgen Prochnow, Julie Camen and John Glover are standouts (and play an important role in the progression of the plot), while veterans David Warner and Charlton Heston have smaller roles, but still leave an indelible impression. In the Mouth of Madness is not particularly character-driven beyond Neill’s performance, but the ensemble nature of the narrative is a tremendous surprise and gives some fascinating context to the film as a whole.

What we often find most intriguing about Carpenter’s work as a director is that it isn’t only memorable as a result of the concepts, but also the manner in which he brings these stories to life. He is a terrific storyteller, but he thrives on simpler narratives that are supported by more challenging, unconventional techniques, extending to both the visual and tonal elements. In the Mouth of Madness has developed a cult following as a result of its slightly more unorthodox methods, which we find gradually and methodically develop into a more disconcerting and uncomfortable work, a decision that yields exceptional results. This is perhaps the director’s funniest film – it may not be a comedy in the traditional sense, but it is shrouded in layers of dark humour that are quite difficult to overlook, and which offer an unexpected complement to the more terrifying elements that linger beneath the surface. The film is very much driven by its atmosphere – the plot itself is labyrinthine and doesn’t always make much sense, but even if we aren’t able to follow every development, the mood that surrounds the story is worth our time. We are invited to step into this nightmarish version of reality, which Carpenter carefully curates through a blend of unforgettable images and both a traditional score (heavily inspired by a very particular kind of music) and a soundscape that consistently puts us on edge, creating a truly disconcerting and often wickedly funny satire. It could also be amongst his most visually-striking works – the design of the fictional town in which much of the film takes place is very unique (and differs from the usual “small town with dark secrets” trope we often find), and the film makes it clear that there are many elements that we are invited to explore, with every frame being filled to the brim with details that require multiple viewings to fully appreciate.

While it may not be considered amongst  Carpenter’s greatest works (although considering the sheer number of masterpieces produced throughout his career, even the most well-crafted works are going to stand in the shadow of works like Halloween and The Thing), we do find that In the Mouth of Madness is still a very impressive, daring work that is as engaging as it is genuinely terrifying, having a sense of intricately-woven terror that is both unsettling and bitingly funny. The layers are certainly impenetrable to significant degree, and we are often not sure what to make of some of the elements that guide this film – but as we gradually make our way throughout, its ideas become clearer and more intriguing, a sign of a film that intends to be more challenging than it is easy to comprehend, rarely giving us the answers that we seek and instead functioning as a more atmospheric examination of ideas that prove to be oddly quite resonant. The core of In the Mouth of Madness is to be a deconstruction of society and how we perceive our surroundings, particularly in noting the fickle boundary between sanity and madness, which are not viewed as binary concepts, but are interwoven in ways that we often struggle to fathom. Bold and daring, while also truly extraordinary in how it creates such a unique tone, this film is overdue for a large critical reappraisal, since its originality and willingness to challenge the status quo is one of the many reasons it is worth celebrating and viewing as one of the director’s most enthralling experiments in terms of both form and content.