Sign up to get our cinematic goodness delivered to your inbox every weekend.
Stephanie Archer is 37 year old film fanatic living in…
Welcome back to the scariest, and at times goriest, column here at Film Inquiry: Horrific Inquiry. Twice a month, I will be tackling all things horror, bringing two films back into the spotlight to terrify and frighten once more. And occasionally looking at those that could have pushed the envelope further. Join us as we dive deep into the heart of horror, but warning, there will be spoilers.
It’s corn! A big lump of knobs! And… it hides he who walks behind the rows. That’s right, for our final September Horrific Inquiry, I found inspiration not only in a current Tik Tok trend but rather in the idea of harvest as the fall equinox begins to take hold. And nothing seemed more fitting than Fritz Kiersch’s adaptation of Stephen King’s classic Children of the Corn.
The opening of Children of the Corn is a terrifying spectacle. There is peace to it, coupled with a haunting depiction of devoted loyalty. Even from the opening moments of Children of the Corn, its title is accompanied by an eerie chorus of children setting the mood early on. Transitioning from its title card to the film, the screen is filled with stalks of corn delivering the immediate sense of isolation and fear of the unseen behind the rows. As Children of the Corn slowly brings viewers into the town of Gatlin, we are first brought to the church, typically a central focus within small-town Americana. Though it is the framing of the church, seen through the stalks of corn, initially introduces a slice of the voyeuristic perspective, the film will be utilized to cement the mood. And while the message board outside of the church speaks to the drought that has plagued the region, the departing parishioners give a brief moment of peace, their salutations of hope and greetings carrying over to the community diner where many have gathered for Sunday brunch.
As Jobe (Robby Kiger) and his father enter the diner, there is a deeply driven sense of community, each patron not only acknowledging one another but inquiring about the health of those who have not made it there that morning – specifically Jobe’s sister Sarah (Anne Marie McEvoy). While Jobe waits for his Sunday treat, his father leaves to check on his sister, the peaceful mood of the diner slowly seeping away in the glances the children within share. As the unsettling feeling begins to visibly show on Jobe’s face in response to the children quietly locking the door, a young boy in a black hat appears outside the window, two of the kids inside acknowledging not only his presence but his unspoken words. As one reaches for a machete hidden alongside an arcade machine, several patrons begin to show signs of poisoning, the camera focusing on the spilled coffee before them. The horror quickly escalates as the children brutally murder the remaining adult customers, Jobe frozen in place as he watches his father’s throat slit and a hand mutilated in a meat grinder – the blood splattering across his face.
And while the brutality of the attack is terrifying, it is the behavior of the children in the aftermath that is truly horrific. With every adult in the diner murdered, the children depart. Yet, it is the zombie-like behavior of their departure that strikes at the heart of fear. It is almost as if they are possessed, finding peace in their actions though not entirely in control of what they have just done. As the film progresses into its deep look at cult-like behavior and the dogma of “he who walks behind the rows”, this opening scene and its closing moments carry heavier weight and terrifying implication of what is to come
Where the shocking brutality of the opening sequence sets the mood for the film, Children of the Corn settles into itself, slowly bringing in the intensity of its religious devotion while keeping the gore at bay. As a young boy attempts to flee Gatlin and the “Children of the Corn”, he flees into the corn stalks, hoping to reach the road and eventually help. He promises the other children of his return, disappearing into the corn. There is a frantic aspect to every movement he makes, haphazardly selecting his direction to run, the intensity of each step heightening with the desperation of his need to escape. As it becomes clear he is not alone in the corn, his murder is implied, blood spattering across his suitcase. And while the action occurs off-screen, Children of the Corn delivers its most gruesome and devastating scene of the film. As a car with Burt (Peter Horton) and Vicky (Linda Hamilton), introduced earlier in a lackluster introduction, make their way down the road, striking the young boy.
It’s a hard watch, the car hitting him, a wide shot of the car colliding with the boy coupled with the intimate shot from inside, proving not only the power of editing in this scene but raising the symbolism of the film. There is an assumption made that the boy had died in the cornfield, the blood-stained suitcase our corroborating evidence. Yet, the hope of survival and the need to make it for the others push him onto that road and in front of the car. It is hoped that keeps those willing to fight, pushing forward to their last breath. Yet, where there is hope to be read between the lines, there is also despair, as no matter how hard he tried, there was no escape and no survival.
The rest of the film fails to truly meet the intensity of these scenes, rather than capturing the intensity of the devote. As Vicky and Burt are seemingly funneled into Gatlin, fulfilling the prophecy Sarah has drawn, the film gives snippets of the followers of “he who walks behind the rows”, most established through Burt and Vicky’s interactions with the followers. Where gore filled the opening, Children of the Corn minimizes it, creating tension in extreme close-ups of the weaponry in the hands of the children and creepy visuals, such as the corn stalks in the diner, the town hall, and the car. And as much as the film places the hysteria of the children in a physical form, Children of the Corn waits until its climactic ending to prove that something truly does walk behind the rows.
There is a timeless nature to Children of the Corn that truly elevates its terror. Too often through history, religious dogma has amassed followers and brought about destruction to themselves and others. Even in today’s society, examples loom heavy. With Children of the Corn, it is terrifying to see it capture the hearts of children, a traditional sign of innocence and purity – but also naivety. Easily manipulated to follow the words of one charismatic boy named Isaac (John Franklin), many of these children were not only willing to commit mass murder, but to even give their lives when the time came. And where it began with words and a cry for action, evolved into ritualistic practices and beliefs. Beliefs that did not wane, even when Isaac and his right-hand man Malachai (Courtney Gains) had been destroyed.
As there are sequels, it further drives the ending of Children of the Corn. Even though Isaac and Malachai perish by the film’s end, seemingly brought to hell by “he who walks the rows”, one follower’s dedication to eliminating the outsiders personifies the concept that ideas and beliefs can last long after their source has gone. That the true terror is that once a belief takes root, it can never truly be eliminated. It will live on in those who still believe and are willing to follow.
Children of the Corn has a sense of redemption to it as well, specifically for Jobe. In the beginning, Jobe watched, frozen as his father was slain before him. He did nothing to warn the adults as he saw Isaac appear at the window. He said nothing when he saw the quiet exchanges between Malachai and Isaac just before the attack. And he did not warn anyone as the children slinked into the diner, quietly locking the door behind him. Whether he knew what they were going to do, he did nothing to prevent or stop it. We don’t see this weight of guilt or regret on Jobe throughout the rest of the film until the final sequence. As Burt attempts to set the field on fire to eliminate “he who walks behind the rows”, Jobe runs after him trying to aid in any way he can, helping him hook up the irrigation hose and turn it on. When Burt fails to effectively throw the Molotov cocktail to ignite the alcohol, Jobe risks his life to retrieve it, giving Burt the second chance to end it all. In these moments, Jobe finds the strength to rise above the cult and break free of its suppressing power, finding his redemption along the way.
To be honest, Children of the Corn is a film I would like to see remade. With the advancement of technology, today’s political climate, and a deeper understanding of the power of horror, a remake of Children of the Corn has the power to truly terrify from start to finish. Yet, with today’s growing political environment and in its current form, the original is a terrifying depiction of real life, a timeless film that continually retains its relevance.
Have you seen Children of the Corn? What did you think? Let us know in the comments below!
Become a Member and support film journalism. Unlock access to all of Film Inquiry`s great articles. Join a community of like-minded readers who are passionate about cinema - get access to our private members Network, give back to independent filmmakers, and more.
Stephanie Archer is 37 year old film fanatic living in Norwalk, CT, USA.
© 2022 Film Inquiry. All Rights Reserved.
Sign up to get our cinematic goodness delivered to your inbox every weekend.