The second entry in the Poltergeist trilogy is classic kid nightmare fuel, no matter how cheesy it may seem in retrospect
The very first Poltergeist came out in 1982 and had some serious chops: It was directed by Tobe Hooper (of Texas Chainsaw Massacre fame) and produced by Steven Spielberg himself. It was a major success, and is universally beloved as a modern take on the haunted house trope.
Needless to say, neither of these two powerhouses returned for the sequel, Poltergeist 2. Does that make it any less enjoyable? No, I proudly say, as someone who loved this movie as a kid and who continues to enjoy it today as an adult.
It does, however, lose a bit of its gravitas. It turns from a quaint, supernatural movie about the horrors of suburban capitalism into a wild, twisty, culturally appropriating spookfest. Once again, I found myself not remembering key plot points in this sequel. Instead, I honed in on specific imagery that sticks with you long after the screen goes black.
The plot
The Freelings, having escaped from their former haunted house (now conveniently disappeared into another dimension), are living at the wife's mother's house. They're far from safe, however, as the main spirit they battled, a 19th-century apocalypse cult leader, continues to target young Carol Ann's life force. A Native American shaman named Taylor comes to their rescue, teaming up with everyone's favorite medium, Tangina Barron (of "This house is clean" fame from the original) to help the Freelings fight off the bad juju. There's not much more to it than that, and the movie consists mainly of scary scenes/monsters/otherworldly forces. They triumph in the end (seemingly). There's a third movie, but only Carol Ann and Tangina return—not even Craig T. Nelson could be bothered to show up.
What scared me then
Look, kids don't always know what's hokey. Sometimes, frightening imagery is enough, as we've learned over the course of this month. The most strikingly scary image in Poltergeist 2 is the main baddie: Reverend Henry Kane, played by Julian Bond. He is truly frightening, in a scary-Flannery O'Connor-preacher sort of way. He's ragged and scary, all rotten teeth and sallow skin.
When he starts singing "God Is In His Holy Temple," you can't help but feel like he's going to crawl out of the screen and kidnap you. He's a worthy villain, and Julian Bond is perfectly cast in this role. He's like biologically created to scare young kids about the terrors of elderly people.
The next scene that scared the living daylights out of me was the son/bathroom scene. The Freelings' teenage son is upstairs alone (yes, in the haunted house that his parents know about), attempting to shave when the dark spirit starts messing with him. The son's spindly orthodontic brace wires start spouting out of his mouth out of control, threatening to consume him as they expand and hold up near the ceiling. His folks come running upstairs to help him, battling the rogue braces wires before they reach the electrical outlet. This scene left a profound impact on me as a young child, and even more so once I reached middle school and got braces myself.
Once again, as I reexamine the past via horror memories, I realize that I was almost continually microdosing body horror. Maybe that's part of growing up: Realizing the gross and almost comical limitations of our corporeal forms.
Finally, I've remembered my entire life the absurdity of tequila worms. In the film, the father (played by Craig T. Nelson), very obviously is fighting alcoholism. At one point, as he's downing a bottle of the hard stuff to battle his demons, he imbibes the dreaded worm—only this time, it's possessed by the evil Reverend Kane, and the father thus becomes possesssed himself. He acts rudely, threatens his wife, and eventually throws up the tainted worm, which then becomes a horrific, tentacled monster.
This monster is a triumph of disfigured, circus sideshow proportions, and thus extremely memorable for children. Or rather, I remembered the worm growing into something monstrous and obscene even if I couldn't recall specific details about it now. But to this day, I've harbored a bit of a fear about mezcal, too.
What scares me now
Watching this as a 43-year-old, I can't say there's very much that scares me. The magical Native American trope bothers me more than any ghostly fright. The special effects are fine, in practicality, but don't particularly evoke much fear. As a fan of haunted house films, the Poltergeist movies are interesting. There's something inherently less scary for me when said spooky domicile is a California ranch. It's just less atmospheric than a broody, sprawling, black-and-white Victorian manse.
The only thing that I can still sort of defend is the depiction of the Reverend Kane. It's unsettling and creepy, no matter one's age. Cult leaders with an interest in little girls transcend time and space, and are always monsters.
There's one other aspect that was a bit ahead of its time: the idea of a person being haunted and not just a locale. This would be echoed later in movies like Paranormal Activity, but it hardly pioneered the idea. Not being able to escape a haunting is at once harrowing and claustrophobic. Not being able to escape to the safety of a hotel or a family member's is insane. My father, a former Army Ranger and lifelong cop—and who I once thought invincible—once mentioned his greatest fear was a being he couldn't stop. That still holds true for me, I think, as the idea of an escapable spirit remains frightening.
Adults can scoff at the cheesiness of Poltergeist 2, as it's just good fun, but it's very easy to see why many scenes remain with kids who watch it.
POSTED BY: Haley Zapal, NoaF contributor and lawyer-turned-copywriter living in Atlanta, Georgia. A co-host of Hugo Award-winning podcast Hugo, Girl!, she posts on Instagram as @cestlahaley. She loves nautical fiction, growing corn and giving them pun names like Timothee Chalamaize, and thinking about fried chicken.
