In the fetid underbelly of 1997 cinema, two creature rampages clawed their way to the screen: evolutionary horrors born from science’s reckless hubris. Which one devours the competition?
Two films from the same year, both steeped in the gritty tradition of creature features, yet poles apart in execution and lingering dread. The Relic and Mimic pit human ingenuity against monstrous mutations, transforming familiar urban spaces into nightmarish hunting grounds. This analysis dissects their plots, designs, atmospheres, and impacts to crown a victor in the sci-fi horror arena.
- A meticulous breakdown of each film’s narrative, creatures, and thematic cores reveals how both tap into body horror and technological terror.
- Directorial visions, practical effects, and performances elevate one above the other in crafting visceral terror.
- Legacy and cultural resonance declare a clear champion among these ’97 beasts.
Beasts Unleashed: Evolutionary Nightmares of 1997
Released mere months apart in 1997, The Relic, directed by Peter Hyams, and Mimic, helmed by Guillermo del Toro, arrived as twin harbingers of creature horror resurgence. Both draw from the subgenre’s rich vein of science-run-amok tales, echoing John Carpenter’s The Thing in their emphasis on mutating biology and institutional incompetence. Yet where The Relic channels the labyrinthine dread of a museum’s forgotten corners, Mimic infests the subway veins of New York with insidious mimics. Their shared premise—experiments birthing superior predators—forces a showdown: which film better harnesses cosmic insignificance and bodily violation for screen-shattering scares?
The Relic adapts Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child’s novel, transplanting its action to Chicago’s Natural History Museum. Lieutenant Vincent D’Agosta (Tom Sizemore) investigates grisly murders during a gala, bodies drained of brains and hormones. Evolutionary biologist Margo Green (Penelope Ann Miller), whose research into a South American plant’s growth hormone is central, uncovers the truth: museum specimens of Vitória-régia imperialis have spawned hybrid abominations. These lumbering, bipedal creatures, driven by insatiable hunger for brain chemicals, stalk the boiler rooms and vents. The film’s climax erupts in a siege, with flamethrowers and improvised traps turning exhibits into slaughterhouses. Production leaned on Stan Winston Studio for prosthetics, crafting hulking brutes that blend primate ferocity with insectile traits, their hides rippling under practical makeup that emphasises grotesque musculature.
Contrast this with Mimic, where del Toro’s vision pulses with organic decay. Entomologist Susan Tyler (Mira Sorvino) engineers a sterile Judas breed to eradicate a deadly cockroach strain plaguing Manhattan. The insects evolve rapidly, growing to human size, shedding exoskeletons to reveal pale, humanoid forms that mimic human behaviour and gait. Their subway lairs teem with eggs and moults, transforming tunnels into throbbing hives. Key scenes spotlight the creatures’ uncanny mimicry—a juvenile imitating a clown’s honk, adults shuffling in leather coats to lure prey. Del Toro’s practical effects, courtesy of Alec Gillis and Tom Woodruff Jr. from ADI, deliver chitinous horrors with articulated limbs and glistening membranes, evoking a profound body horror through transformation sequences.
Both narratives thrive on confined spaces amplifying isolation, a staple of space horror repurposed for terrestrial claustrophobia. The Relic‘s museum, with its shadowed dioramas and echoing halls, builds tension through spatial disorientation; characters navigate boiler mazes blindfolded by steam and darkness. Mimic counters with New York’s underbelly, rain-slicked streets funneling victims below ground where echoes distort cries. Here, technological terror manifests in Susan’s hubris—her genetic tweak unleashes Darwinian supremacy—mirroring corporate overreach in Alien. The Relic leans mythological, its creatures guardians of ancient rites corrupted by modern science, adding Lovecraftian undertones of forbidden evolution.
Creature Designs: From Brute Force to Subtle Menace
Monster aesthetics define creature features, and both films excel in practical mastery amid CGI’s nascent threats. The Relic‘s titular beast, dubbed the Kothoga, boasts a towering frame with elongated limbs, razor mandibles, and eyes glowing like embers. Winston’s team layered silicone appliances over animatronics, achieving fluid prowls that convey raw power; a standout sequence has it bursting through walls, showering debris. Yet the design risks cartoonish excess—its peacock-feather ruff and shamanistic origins feel pulpy, diluting cosmic dread into B-movie spectacle.
Mimic‘s Judas bugs evolve from skittering pests to elongated terrors, their final forms evoking desiccated saints with elongated fingers and bulbous heads. Del Toro insisted on full-scale puppets and suits, filming in Toronto’s disused subways for authenticity. The mimicry element elevates them: creatures perch motionless, blending with shadows until lunging with scything limbs. Moulting scenes, viscous fluids sloughing off carapaces, induce visceral revulsion, body horror at its peak as insects usurp human form. This subtlety—predators indistinguishable from commuters—infuses everyday paranoia, outpacing The Relic‘s more overt rampager.
Effects-wise, both shunned early digital overkill. The Relic integrated miniatures for destruction, while Mimic‘s hive sets, built with pulsating latex veins, immersed actors in tangible peril. Sorvino’s encounters feel improvised, heightening authenticity. The Relic suffers from uneven pacing, exposition dumps via audiotapes, whereas Mimic‘s visual language—extreme close-ups on twitching antennae—communicates dread silently.
Atmospheric Mastery: Shadows and Subways
Directorial command over mise-en-scène separates the pack. Hyams, known for action thrillers like 2010, floods The Relic with chiaroscuro lighting, vents belching steam to obscure the Kothoga’s silhouette. Gala sequences contrast opulence with encroaching savagery, guests devoured amid caviar. Yet the tone wavers, veering into shoot-’em-up as Sizemore’s cop rallies survivors.
Del Toro, fresh from Cronus, infuses Mimic with gothic fairy-tale rot. Subway fluorescents flicker over chitinous husks, rain sheets exteriors in perpetual gloom. Catholic iconography peppers frames—crosses shattered by bugs—amplifying themes of plague and judgement. Sound design, with skittering legs and muffled roars, builds subliminal unease, rivaling The Descent‘s crawlers.
Performances anchor these worlds. Miller’s Margo evolves from lab nerd to survivor, wielding a hormone grenade in cathartic payback. Sizemore chews scenery effectively. Sorvino’s Susan grapples moral fallout, her arc laced with regret; Josh Brolin’s eccentric CDC agent adds levity without undermining terror. Charles S. Dutton’s subway worker grounds the frenzy in blue-collar grit.
Thematic Depths: Hubris and the Human Husk
Core to both is science’s Promethean folly. The Relic indicts museum elitism, curators blind to indigenous lore as plants mutate exhibits into cannibals. Corporate greed lurks in funding cuts, echoing Alien‘s Weyland-Yutani. Isolation fractures alliances, characters reduced to primal instincts amid the siege.
Mimic probes deeper, Susan’s sterile insects breeding fertile apocalypse, a metaphor for unintended consequences in genetic tampering. Body autonomy shatters as bugs infiltrate homes, mimicking children to devour families. Cosmic terror emerges in evolution’s indifference—humans mere vessels for superior forms—resonating with The Thing‘s assimilation paranoia.
Legacy diverges sharply. The Relic, a box-office bomb despite $33 million budget, faded into cult curiosity, praised for effects but critiqued for script bloat. Mimic, recut by del Toro post-studio interference, gained acclaim via DVD, influencing A Quiet Place‘s sound-hunting and The Strain‘s vampiric plagues. Its Manhattan infestation prefigures urban horror like Train to Busan.
Production tales enrich appreciation. The Relic battled novel rights, filming amid Chicago’s brutal winter. Mimic‘s Miramax clashes led to del Toro’s exit, yet his director’s cut restores baroque flourishes, cementing its status.
Verdict: Mimic Claims the Crown
While The Relic delivers visceral thrills and impressive beasts, Mimic transcends with nuanced horror, superior mimicry mechanics, and del Toro’s alchemical touch. Its creatures embody existential slippage—humanity aped into obsolescence—outshining the Kothoga’s brute rampage. In the pantheon of ’90s creature features, Mimic endures as the sharper claw.
Director in the Spotlight
Guillermo del Toro, born October 9, 1964, in Guadalajara, Mexico, emerged from a Catholic upbringing steeped in fairy tales and horror comics, shaping his fascination with the monstrous sublime. His father, an entrepreneur, and mother, a nun, instilled discipline amid economic flux; young Guillermo devoured Universal monsters and Ray Harryhausen stop-motion, sketching creatures obsessively. After studying film at the University of Guadalajara, he founded the Guadalajara International Film Festival and debuted with the macabre short Geometría (1985).
His feature breakthrough, Cronus (1993), blended Greek myth with body horror, winning Ariel Awards and launching international notice. Mimic (1997) followed, though studio edits tested his resolve, birthing a director’s cut lauded for gothic depth. Hollywood beckoned with Blade II (2002), where his vampire designs dazzled, cementing action-horror prowess. Hellboy (2004) and Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008) fused whimsy with darkness, earning cult devotion.
The Oscar-winning Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) marked pinnacle, its Franco-era fable grossing $83 million worldwide, blending live-action with practical marvels. Pacific Rim (2013) scaled kaiju epics, while The Shape of Water (2017) netted Best Picture, Director, and Score Oscars for its amphibian romance. The Strain TV series (2013-2017) adapted his novels into vampiric saga. Recent triumphs include Pinocchio (2022), a stop-motion meditation on fatherhood, and producing Cabin in the Woods (2012), Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019), and Nightmare Alley (2021).
Influenced by Goya, Bosch, and Lovecraft, del Toro collects Victorian oddities in his Bleak House, a labyrinthine archive. His oeuvre champions outcasts, gothic romance, and practical effects, rejecting CGI dominance. Upcoming: Frankenstein adaptation and Incal, affirming his reign in fantasy-horror.
Actor in the Spotlight
Mira Sorvino, born September 28, 1967, in Tenafly, New Jersey, grew up in a showbiz-adjacent family; father Paul Sorvino was a noted character actor, mother Jeanne a playwright. Bilingual from childhood (Italian fluency), she attended Harvard, majoring in Chinese with East Asian studies, interning at JFK’s archives. Post-graduation, she hustled in New York theatre, landing TV gigs before Amongst Friends (1993).
Breakthrough arrived with Mighty Aphrodite (1995), earning Woody Allen’s Golden Globe-winning muse an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress as a dim-witted call girl. Mimic (1997) showcased horror chops, Susan Tyler’s arc blending intellect with vulnerability. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion (1997) cemented comedic flair alongside Lisa Kudrow.
The 2000s brought Human Trafficking (2005 miniseries, Golden Globe), Reservation Road (2007), and Multiple Sarcasms (2010). Advocacy surged post-1995 UN work against trafficking; she serves as Goodwill Ambassador. Filmography spans The Replacement Killers (1998) with Chow Yun-fat, Implicated (1999), WiseGirls (2002), Gods and Generals (2003 Civil War epic), Perfume (2001), Between Strangers (2002), Lulu on the Bridge (1998), and The Grey Zone (2001 Holocaust drama).
Recent roles: Sound of Freedom (2023), Half-Sisters (2023), TV’s Shining Vale (2022-), Star Wars: Visions (2021 voice), Impeachment: American Crime Story (2021 Emmy nom). Married to Christopher Backus since 2005, mother of four, Sorvino champions anti-trafficking via sorvinoheart.com, blending activism with eclectic career.
Bibliography
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Del Toro, G. and Kraus, C. (2018) Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities. Dark Horse Books.
Jones, A. (2007) Guillermo del Toro: At Home with the Monsters. Titan Books.
Newman, J. (2011) Creature Features: 25 Years of the Fangoria Hall of Fame. Three Rivers Press.
Schow, D. J. (2010) Stan Winston: The Art of Film. Insight Editions.
Skal, D. J. (2016) Monster in the Closet: A History of American Horror Film. Revised edn. Hanover House.
Wooley, J. (2000) The Big Book of Movie Monsters. McFarland & Company.