Growing up, my house tended to be the spot where most of my friends hung out. We had video games, a pantry stacked with snacks, parents that didn’t interfere… you know, the usual. but outside of all the junk food and N64 games, there was still one more perk that made my house unique amongst my group of cohorts: screeners.
At the time one of my extended family members worked for a distribution company and often dropped off excess copies of VHS screeners that they thought my brother and I might like. Sure, these movies had little blocks of text that would scroll across the frame from time to time, warning us not to copy, reproduce or distribute the things, but they were free and, in many cases, not even released yet.
So it was that I first encountered Mimic (1997). It sat amongst a fresh pile of black tapes, awaiting me on my living room table as I walked in having finished another slog of a day at school. The cover depicting a group of people staring seriously forward against a backdrop of glowing green suggested more science-fiction than scary and, frankly, a fun sci-fi flick seemed like the perfect pallet cleanser after a long day of “learning”.
After sitting through the usual commercial for the VHS tape I already had (a screener standard), boasting about its box office returns and its Pay-Per-View timeline, the movie began. The eerie credit sequence played and slowly but surely my friends started to file in. Rambunctious at first, they settled as their eyes turned to the screen, almost immediately engrossed in the rich, macabre storytelling— despite the scrolling text at the bottom, “this film is not for sale or rental…”.
There we sat, in our filled to capacity TV room, four or five of us crammed on a couch and one more sprawled on the ground before the console 4X3 television, utterly engrossed. When my mom came downstairs and walked in some time later, she jumped, startled.
“Oh, I didn’t know any of you were here, I was beginning to worry.”
Quiet was not something we were known for.
When it was over, the discussion centered around favorite parts, scariest moments and, of course, coolest stuff. The VHS was put in a great deal more times that month, year and so on, eventually worn to the point of what we described as suffering from “permanent tracking” — that is, eternally afflicted with fuzzy lines which would flicker across the video.
It wasn’t until years later, sometime after I had discovered my love of horror, that I even connected Guillermo del Toro to Mimic or discovered its sordid production. As a kid, I didn’t care about any of that. To me, it was a fun, exciting and scary movie that tapped into something carnal.
Insects. Small creatures that are capable of surviving in impossible situations, designed to thrive and procreate… and infinitely more capable of doing so than humanity, if you really stop and think about it. Then, consider the city. The culmination of infrastructure, a place constructed for people, but something so big that the thing itself has become uncontrollable. Unable to be completely monitored. It’s in the vastness of our intelligent design that lie the gaps, and it’s in the gaps that small things proliferate unnoticed.
These themes resonated with me and my friends, whether we could put words to it or not. Later, when I revisited the movie and finally watched Guillermo del Toro’s preferred cut (in wide screen, without the threatening type moving fluidly across the bottom of the frame), it occurred to me that what made the movie work, was not only the story and impressive visual style but also the physicality of the creatures.
Even on that cropped, worn out VHS, when the thing was lurking in the distance, shrouded in darkness, human-like but somehow not human at all, there was a realness to it that sent shivers down my spine. When I finally read the script, that sensibility was ever present, showcasing an effort to bring the creatures to exquisite life on the page. The description was succinct, but impactful, driving each moment with the characters’ motivations always at the center.
There are many sequences that show off the practicality, emotionality and the kind of entertaining force-of-nature this film can often be. Still, one moment I’ll never forget, is that in the subway car, deep underground when one of the creatures gets trapped in the door. Half-in, half-out the thing is on full display and the people inside the car have to come face to face with what they’ve created… and what they’ll soon have to destroy.
Matthew Robbins’ and Guillermo del Toro’s script reflects the quick, almost chaotic intensity of the screen, which blends both CGI and practical effects to create a horrifying, realistic threat, while forcing the characters to digest the reality of the situation in a way they’ve been avoiding for the duration of the runtime.
It’s a scene that came up a few times in our discussion on that very first night, being listed under all 3 categories: favorite, scariest and even coolest. All of these years later, I can’t disagree with the facts— even when viewed through the rough tracking lines on a worn screener, it qualifies for all three.
(Note: This scene is not available on Youtube and stills of the scene are almost nonexistent, so photos are purely for show this week).
THE SCENE
The group runs while the Mimic pursues, flying after them. They get into an old subway car and attempt to close the door. As they do so, the Mimic collides with it, getting stuck half in and half out. The creature thrashes, breaking glass as Leonard and Peter force the door shut. The Mimic tares in half. The wings flap and the abdomen thrusts around chaotically. Those inside watch with disgust and horror. Finally it stops and Leonard approaches the creature, shouting for an explanation. The thing reanimates and it bites into Leonard’s leg. Leonard screams and fires his gun, killing the beast.
THE SCRIPT
THE SCREEN
INT. ABANDONED PLATFORM
The four humans run down the empty platform.
The scene opens as a continuation of the scene prior, a wide shot depicting the four protagonists yelling and running down the dark, wet tunnel. There are a lot of cuts here, showing multiple angles of the group in various degrees of closeness, the low light making details difficult to discern in the murky location. All the while, an incessant buzzing hum fills the space, alluding to the grotesque thing that’s following in their wake.
The script is sparse in its description, most of the atmosphere of the moment being built by the location, the frenetic nature of the edit and the audible presence of the beast. The screenplay continues, expediting the intensity:
THE MIMIC HAS SPREAD ITS WINGS AND IS FLYING AFTER THEM!!
The capitol letters and multiple exclamation marks express the intended fervor of the moment in an unmistakably obvious way that the script continues to utilize throughout. While this does translate to the screen, it’s the cut to the flying insect, silhouetted while filling the frame as it flies forward, which truly lands the above sentence. The creature is computer generated, but the low light, angle and fast paced editing allow it to be less distracting than it otherwise might have been.
The editing continues to be incredibly fast paced as the scene progresses, serving to heighten the tension as well as the seamlessness of the effects. The script is very pragmatic, economical in its description: They sprint for the car, get to the door. The camera work fills in the blanks of the characters’ emotional states on the screen, starting wide in the car and growing increasingly closer to those trapped inside, highlighting the claustrophobia inherent in the small space.
In the film, the viewer sees Leonard draw his gun and fire three times, cutting back to a POV shot from the Mimic’s perspective as it quickly approaches. Then, Peter slams the door. Due to the speed and rhythm of the edit, this small insertion adds almost no fat to the story and, if anything, further ratchets the intensity.
SPLACK! The Mimic crashes into [the door]!
The film offers no less than five different angles of the creature colliding with the door in a matter of seconds. In the moment, it’s near impossible to take in too much information, rather the viewer is left with angle after angle of a giant insect as it flails and convulses. Still, the editing choices make the monster feel more real, the moment more visceral. If the camera hung on the creature for too long, the strings might show and the audience would therefore be removed from the viability of the story’s internal reality.
The image cuts to Peter struggling while Leonard again opens fire on the thing and stares wide eyed in disbelief. The moment is chaotic, but oddly controlled.
KLANGGG! The door bulges out from the impact, almost tearing itself off the hinges.
The script is direct and the film follows it closely. The embellishments are largely visual representations of the emotions on display, something the script continues to opt to leave for interpretation.
The creature is caught, half in, half out, antennae and forelegs waving wildly!
The abdomen CRASHES through a plate of glass.
The viewer sees the creature more up close now, the practical effects on full display but still in relatively speedy snippets. In one shot, its legs desperately scrape against the windows. The thing lets out a harsh, wailing screech. In another close up, the creature grips onto the subway handrails.
THE UPPER HALF OF THE MIMIC TEARS ITSELF LOOSE.
The screeching climaxes with the giant insect ripping the top portion of itself from the rest of its body. The script reads, WHITE BLOOD splatters everywhere. The Mimic is now CUT IN HALF! The page is vehement in landing the audacity of this move, it repeats itself one line down, ensuring that there’s no way the reader could miss exactly how it was that the Mimic had just mutilated itself. The instinct to survive is so strong in these creatures, that they will literally tear themselves apart to achieve mere seconds of additional consciousness.
White blood does indeed “splatter” from the bug, erupting from the torso and covering everything in the car. The top half of the creature lands unceremoniously on the floor in a medium close up and scurries under the old seats, uprooting old boxes and supplies that had been stored there. It’s computer generated, but, again, quick and in low light. The moment is reminiscent of the Alien (1979) “face hugger” scene, evoking the fear and paranoia associated with a small, unknown creature on the loose under the characters’ very feet.
The script calls for the segmented Mimic to drag itself on the ceiling, then down onto the floor and under a row of shelves in a half-circle around the car till it finally comes to a halt. Then, Silence. Instead, the moment it disappears, Leonard exclaims the line he is scripted to say several paragraphs down:
“What the fuck was that?”
The shot is wide and pauses for a moment, serving as a contrast to the quick, successive cutting that the film had employed for the past minute or two. All four characters are visible, all feeling small in the shot and, again, trapped in the enclosed space. Although scripted here, most of the dialogue is repurposed. Some of it is said but at different points in the scene and several lines are gone entirely.
Peter and Leonard bicker about next steps in a series of close ups and short phrases. Finally, Leonard and Peter head to the back of the car to check on the creature. Manny and Susan stay up front, Manny looking lost and Susan the only person seemingly in control of her emotions. She neither submits to the paranoia nor condones it, rather stays in a place of calculated observation.
The shots get tighter and tighter as Leonard and Peter make their way to the back of the car, where the sound of the creature had stopped. Manny hears clicking outside, something alluded to slightly earlier in the script: The Mimic’s REAR HALF IS STILL TRYING TO PUSH THROUGH THE DOOR, its feet blindly dragging along.
Again, the capitol letters hammer home the importance and intensity of the action description, but also the information’s place in the narrative. In the film, the knowledge was held back a handful of seconds to serve the rising pressure in the scene, revealing the viability of the monster past even beyond the separation of its parts.
The image begins on the exterior window of the subway car, Manny peering out to find the source of the clicking. The camera pans down and comes to rest on the dark body of the creature, clicking and moving slowly, as if by instinct rather than desire or decision. In a close up, Manny turns back to the men at the back of the car, seemingly aware but unsure. Perhaps unable to act while stuck within the paralysis of fear.
Meanwhile, Leonard and Peter reach what’s left of the creature. They continue to snipe at one another, each vying for a sense of control, reflecting the ever-present masculine drive for domination. The viewer sees a close up of Susan, the dark light reflecting off of the sweat and grime on her face, her eyes alert. Ready for anything.
The film allows the characters to breathe here, take in the moment and externalize their feelings before moving on to the next set piece. An important beat that truly sells the horror of the situation.
Peter excavates the thing from behind boxes. The frame continues to get tighter again. Peter pokes it. In a low angle, Leonard again raises his gun. Leonard begins to command that Peter tell him what the thing is, but cannot finish his sentence. He’s interrupted by the clicking. Suddenly, the creature roars back to life and slashes deep into Leonard’s leg.
The screenplay forewent much of the action present in the film. In fact, before Leonard and Peter could go investigate, Leonard was cut off (as he was in the film) by the attacking monster: SNAP! The Mimic pounces on him, catching his leg in its front mandibles. The script concerned itself with spelling out the action point by point. The screen transposed those ideas aptly but with the added character nuances that elevate a frightening situation into something more meaningful.
Oddly, in contrast to this, in the script the attack on Leonard is elongated. As in the film, the creature bites down on Leonard’s leg like a grinder-blender and will not release. Then, Manny removes a can of shoe polish from his coat, then starts smearing the stuff onto the Mimic’s head and jaws. As Leonard complains that it’s “hitting the bone“, Manny lights a CIGARETTE LIGHTER, goes to touch the flame to the flammable stuff and lights the polish. The Mimic loosens in a strategy that Manny explains is how we make loose the ticks back home and Leonard passes out from the pain.
This entire portion of the sequence is excised in the film in lieu of a much more straight-forward conclusion. Leonard screams and fires into the Mimic’s head. Then, the image cuts to a wide exterior of the old subway car as the light flashes through the windows in unison with the distant gun shots and Leonard’s pained moans.
There’s a sense of conciseness to the sequence that, despite the additional character beats the film added, better reflects the words on the page. Removing the admittedly convoluted shoe polish anecdote feels more in line with the rapid fire motion of events and allows the sequence to conclude with a fluidity that propels the film forward. The characters are trapped, frightened, injured and, more importantly, aware of just what it is they are up against…
What those things might be capable of if their survival is on the line.
THE BLOODY CONCLUSION
“I’m very proud of this scene,” director Guillermo del Toro said in his commentary track for Mimic found on the blu-ray disc (Available here), “this is technically and narratively a scene that was shot over a few days and I’m really happy about it formally… but I’m also happy about it emotionally.”
Growing up, I watched a lot of screeners. Some were better than others, of course— that is to say, I don’t think I’ve given much thought to Shredder (2003) since I saw it, but who’s keeping track? Still, whether it was under the best circumstances or not, it’s a testament to Guillermo del Toro’s film that the practical and emotional weight of the story resonated so strongly with a handful of teenagers watching it on a screener VHS in broad daylight.
Of course, Mimic had a track record of not going exactly to plan. In the feature “A Leap in Evolution: The Creatures in Mimic” found on the blu-ray disc, Guillermo del Toro discusses the original concept for the creatures: “…they were not cockroaches, they were scarabs, beetles… and I like that much better.”
“There are descriptions of angels in very old writings,” Guillermo del Toro continued, “where they say that the angels were black as obsidian… really beautiful but sort of imposing like a sculpture.” Unfortunately, the production studio did not see eye to eye with Guillermo’s vision and the cockroach was selected as the focal point of the film. However, despite the creative setback, the team involved doubled their efforts to bring the creature to terrifying life.
“The insect world is so alien,” creature designer TyRuben Ellingson said on the same feature when discussing the creatures in the film. The process of realizing the creatures was stringent and tethered to reality, as Ellington recounts, “We follow science and nature— didn’t want to just go off on some abstract tangent and just create some jumble of stuff because it was scary.”
Creature creator Rick Lazzarini echoes this in the documentary as well, saying, “edict was to always go to nature to justify something.” Together they created what they referred to as their “Bible”, depicting every conceivable detail of the insect. All was labeled and expertly crafted and thought out. In Ellingson’s words, “fast, scary, alien… but believable.”
What hooked my buddies and I back in high school was not that Mimic was just another monster movie, but that it concerned something tangible. Amplified, certainly, in a larger-than-life manner, but a nightmare made real. Insects surround us and when looked at closely display features that could not be more threatening. They’ve survived for millennia and who knows what they are capable of… and what humanity is capable of overlooking, until it’s too late.
But it wasn’t simply the film’s adherence to scientific world-building that sold the story, it was its willingness to embrace practical effects whenever possible. Certainly there were plenty of CGI moments in the film, some which work better than others, but in the sequence in the subway car, much on display was physically present on set.
“Basically these things are big puppets,” Lazzarini said on the aforementioned feature, “and they have a lot of cables and things, controls hanging outside of them.” He went on to describe the massive effort to set up and control the various pieces of the bug, reflecting too that they “can be very cumbersome to move.”
But despite the setbacks and the changes, the immense work that Guillermo del Toro and his team put in to the picture paid off, making for an experience that managed to supersede even the concerns associated with a 90’s VHS screener. At least, for me it did.
Years later, when I learned his name and experienced his filmography, it became clear that Guillermo del Toro was a passionate artist, someone who poured their soul into their work. I saw many of his films with those same friends, then years separated from that first experience with the black tape and the scrolling text. Of course, we still had our same wrap-up conversation, still focused on our favorite, our scariest and our coolest moments. Questions we never have difficulty answering, other than having to actually choose.
And while we no longer randomly stumble upon VHS screeners on my dining room table, I’m grateful for those times that we did. Aside from teaching me not to resell tapes by way of not-so-subliminal messaging, it was a wonderful avenue of discovery, for me and for my friends.
In the end, whether it all went according to pan or not, even Guillermo del Toro can’t seem to deny the effectiveness of the creatures in the film: “If God ever plans to do a giant cockroach, he should put a call in to TyRuben.” He pauses, chuckling. “He can really figure it out.”
My advice, God? When it comes to giant cockroaches that can look like people (in the words of the screener): do NOT copy, reproduce or distribute.
Mimic (1997): Written by Matthew Robbins & Guillermo del Toro & Directed by Guillermo del Toro
 to see how the giant, man-like bugs affected his youth and were brought to life.){kind=link}