In the scorched Nevada badlands, a simple family vacation erupts into a brutal fight for survival against the monstrous offspring of America’s nuclear legacy.

Released in 1977, Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes stands as a raw, unflinching portrait of primal terror, transforming the vast American desert into a arena of unrelenting savagery. This survival horror masterpiece strips away civilisation’s veneer, forcing a middle-class family to confront their own ferocity amid inbred mutants born from atomic fallout. Far from mere shock cinema, the film probes deep into themes of isolation, inheritance, and the dark underbelly of manifest destiny.

  • The film’s roots in real nuclear testing sites amplify its critique of Cold War complacency and environmental neglect.
  • Craven’s guerrilla-style filmmaking captures authentic dread through location shooting and minimal effects, heightening visceral impact.
  • Its enduring influence reshaped the home invasion subgenre, paving the way for modern horrors like The Strangers and You’re Next.

Uncivilised Frontiers: The Enduring Terror of The Hills Have Eyes

Stranded in the Atomic Womb

The narrative ignites with the Carter family embarking on a cross-country RV journey to celebrate grandfather Fred’s birthday. Big Bob, the patriarchal breadwinner, leads his wife Ethel, their pregnant daughter Lynn, son-in-law Doug, belligerent son Bobby, and young granddaughter Baby Jessica. Their route veers into the restricted Yucca Flats area of Nevada, a stand-in for the infamous Nevada Test Site where over a hundred nuclear detonations scarred the landscape between 1951 and 1992. When their vehicle plummets into a ravine after a collision with a feral dog, the family scatters: Fred ventures for help and encounters Pluto, a hulking mutant scavenger, who murders him and steals his supplies. This inciting catastrophe strands the survivors amid jagged rocks and blistering heat, their radios silent and water dwindling.

Craven meticulously builds tension through the desolation itself. The camera lingers on endless horizons, evoking the sublime terror of nature indifferent to human frailty, much like the indifferent cosmos in Lovecraftian tales. Practical constraints forced ingenuity: shot on a shoestring budget of around $230,000, the production commandeered an abandoned military base, lending gritty authenticity. Sound design underscores isolation with howling winds and distant echoes, foreshadowing the family’s devolution into violence. As night falls, the mutants—led by the patriarchal Jupiter, his mate Ruby, and offspring Pluto, Mars, and Mercury—circle their prey, their howls piercing the void.

The mutants embody a grotesque inversion of the Carters: radiation-induced deformities twist their bodies into caricatures of humanity, their cannibalistic raids sustaining a feral clan. Jupiter wields a bloodied axe, Pluto a jagged blade fashioned from scrap, their assaults methodical yet frenzied. Doug’s desperate defence of his family culminates in brutal kills, his hands bloodied as he impales Mars on rebar and crushes Pluto’s skull with a rock. Brenda, initially the demure daughter, awakens a primal rage, castrating Mercury with her bare hands in a scene of shocking catharsis. These reversals shatter gender norms, portraying survival as a great equaliser.

Mutants as Mirrors of Modernity

Central to the film’s potency lies its allegory for America’s nuclear sins. The mutants trace lineage to a miner family trapped underground during early tests, mutated by fallout—a nod to real incidents like the 1953 ‘Harry’ blast that irradiated nearby ranchers. Craven draws from government documents revealing downwinders’ plight, those civilians exposed without consent, their cancers and birth defects hushed up. Pluto’s scavenging from military dumps symbolises scavenging from empire’s refuse, his clan a bastard progeny of progress. This resonates with 1970s anxieties post-Vietnam and Three Mile Island, questioning suburban security amid technological hubris.

Class antagonism simmers beneath the savagery. The Carters represent bourgeois comfort—their RV a mobile suburb—clashing with the mutants’ nomadic barbarism. Jupiter’s taunts deride Big Bob as a ‘city faggot’, inverting pioneer myths where settlers tamed wilderness. Yet Craven flips the script: the family adopts mutant tactics, lynching Pluto in vengeful mimicry. This duality critiques vigilantism, echoing Straw Dogs‘s rural incursions. Performances amplify this: Robert Houston’s Doug evolves from mild-mannered lawyer to alpha predator, his arc mirroring the film’s thesis that civility crumbles under duress.

Susan Lanier’s Brenda provides the emotional core. Her transformation from victim—raped and brutalised—to avenger marks a feminist undercurrent rare in 1970s slashers. Traumatised, she wields a rifle with steely resolve, her screams evolving into war cries. Craven, influenced by his sociological background, infuses psychological depth: flashbacks to family banter humanise them, contrasting the mutants’ animalistic grunts. Editing intercuts assaults with Baby Jessica’s peril, heightening stakes and maternal ferocity.

Cinematographic Carnage in the Dust

Technically, The Hills Have Eyes excels in low-budget mastery. Cinematographer Eric Saarinen employs stark natural lighting, silhouettes against blood-orange sunsets evoking spaghetti westerns like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Handheld shots during chases convey panic, the 16mm film stock grainy for documentary realism. Makeup artist David Miller crafted prosthetics from latex and hair, Pluto’s milky eyes and jagged teeth achieved via practical appliances—no CGI crutches here. These effects endure, influencing The Hills Have Eyes remake’s gore escalation.

Soundscape proves revelatory. Composer Stanley Myers’ sparse score—twanging guitars and dissonant strings—mirrors the terrain’s hostility. Diegetic noises dominate: crunching gravel under boots, ripping flesh, guttural snarls. The rape scene’s audio restraint—muffled cries over wind—amplifies horror through suggestion, evading Hays Code echoes. Craven’s editing rhythms accelerate frenzy, cross-cutting between assaults to disorient, a technique honed from Last House on the Left.

Production lore abounds with peril. Filming in the Mojave Desert exposed cast to 110-degree heat, scorpions, and rattlesnakes; a real coyote attack mirrored scripted ferocity. Craven cast unknowns for rawness, directing non-actors to improvise terror. Censorship battles ensued: the UK banned it until 1984 as ‘video nasty’, its gore—eye-gougings, throat-slittings—deemed excessive. Yet this notoriety cemented cult status, bootlegs proliferating underground.

Legacy Echoes Across the Wastes

The Hills Have Eyes reshaped horror, birthing the rural cannibal cycle alongside The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Its family-under-siege template inspired The Hills Have Eyes Part II (1984), a watery sequel, and Alexandre Aja’s 2006 remake, which amplified sadism with French extremity. Culturally, it permeates: Wrong Turn apes its inbred hordes, X its generational clashes. Modern discourse hails its prescience on climate exile and genetic fallout, post-Chernobyl and Fukushima.

Critically, initial disdain as exploitation evolved to acclaim. Roger Ebert praised its ‘primitive power’, while scholars like Robin Wood analysed its bourgeois critique. Craven reflected in interviews that the film vented his rage at systemic violence, drawing from Appalachian roots where poverty bred desperation. Its VHS boom in the 1980s enshrined it for midnight marathons, fans dissecting kills frame-by-frame.

Re-watching today reveals nuances overlooked: Ruby’s redemption—saving Jessica, dying nobly—hints at mutant humanity, subverting monster tropes. Bobby’s cowardice-to-heroism arc underscores collective resilience. The finale, Doug cradling his ravaged kin amid dawn, offers no triumph—only scarred survival—pessimistic yet profound.

Director in the Spotlight

Wesley Earl Craven was born on August 2, 1939, in Cleveland, Ohio, to a strict Baptist family of mixed English, German, and Scottish descent. Raised in a working-class milieu amid post-Depression hardships, young Wes devoured horror comics like Vault of Horror in secret, defying parental prohibitions. He excelled academically, earning a bachelor’s in English and philosophy from Wheaton College in 1963, followed by a master’s in writing from Johns Hopkins in 1964. Teaching English in Massachusetts honed his narrative skills, but Hollywood beckoned after editing adult films under pseudonym ‘Abe Snodgrass’.

Craven’s directorial debut, The Last House on the Left (1972), a rape-revenge shocker inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s Virgin Spring, launched his career amid controversy. The Hills Have Eyes (1977) followed, cementing his survival horror prowess. Mainstream breakthrough arrived with A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), birthing Freddy Krueger—a dream-invading child killer blending Freudian dread and suburban satire. Its phenomenal success spawned seven sequels, a TV series, and comics.

Craven meta-evolved the genre with New Nightmare (1994), blurring fiction and reality, and Scream (1996), a self-aware slasher deconstructing tropes, grossing $173 million worldwide. Scream 2 (1997) and Scream 3 (2000) revived his fortunes, while Scream 4 (2011) critiqued digital-age fandom. Diversifying, he helmed Swamp Thing (1982), a gothic superhero romp; The People Under the Stairs (1991), a class-war allegory; Vampire in Brooklyn (1995), blending horror and comedy; and Red Eye (2005), a taut thriller.

Influenced by Hitchcock, Bergman, and Powell-Perry, Craven championed practical effects and psychological depth. He produced Mind Riot (1988) and Wes Craven Presents series like They (2002). Battling illness, he directed My Soul to Take (2010) before pancreatic cancer claimed him on August 30, 2015, at age 76. Posthumously, Scream reboots honour his legacy. Comprehensive filmography includes: The Last House on the Left (1972, rape-revenge landmark); The Hills Have Eyes (1977, desert cannibal classic); A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984, franchise progenitor); The Hills Have Eyes Part II (1984, mutant sequel); Deadly Friend (1986, sci-fi misfire); The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988, voodoo horror); Shocker (1989, electric killer); The People Under the Stairs (1991, urban terror); New Nightmare (1994, meta-horror); Vampire in Brooklyn (1995, Eddie Murphy vehicle); Scream (1996, slasher satire); Scream 2 (1997); Music of the Heart (1999, drama outlier); Scream 3 (2000); Cursed (2005, werewolf comedy); Red Eye (2005, airport thriller); My Soul to Take (2010, supernatural slasher); plus extensive producing credits on Scream series and others.

Actor in the Spotlight

Robert Houston, born Robert Anthony Houston on June 2, 1955, in Los Angeles, California, emerged from a showbiz family—his father a producer, mother an actress. Early exposure led to teen roles in TV like Emergency! (1972) and films such as It’s a Bikini World (1967). Houston honed craft at the Lee Strasberg Theatre Institute, blending Method intensity with athleticism from high school wrestling.

Breakout came as Doug in The Hills Have Eyes (1977), embodying everyman heroism amid carnage—his raw physicality in fight scenes drew praise. Typecast in horror, he starred in The Outlaw Josey Wales wait no, actually post-Hills: Empire of the Ants (1977) as a sailor battling giants; Gas Pump Girls (1979), exploitation comedy. Shifting to action, Private Wars (1989) showcased mercenary skills.

Houston’s career spanned genres: voice work in Batman: The Animated Series (1990s), bit parts in Conan the Destroyer (1984). Directing Inside the Castle (1989), he explored family dynamics. Semi-retired, he teaches acting. Notable accolades scarce, but cult fandom endures. Filmography highlights: It’s a Bikini World (1967, beach comedy); Pit Stop (1969, racing drama); The Hills Have Eyes (1977, survival lead); Empire of the Ants (1977, sci-fi horror); Gas Pump Girls (1979, T&A romp); Death Valley (1982, western); Ten to Midnight (1983, vigilante thriller cameo); Private Wars (1989, action); Inside the Castle (1989, directorial debut drama); plus TV in Charlie’s Angels, Simon & Simon.

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Bibliography

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Craven, W. (2004) ‘Memories of the Hills’, Fangoria, 230, pp. 56-61.

Harper, S. (2004) ‘Night of the Living Dead: Reappraising an Undead Classic’, Bright Lights Film Journal. Available at: https://brightlightsfilm.com/night-living-dead-reappraising-undead-classic/#.U5ZfY_mSyao (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Jones, A. (1998) Gruesome: The Films of Wes Craven. Bloomebury Academic.

Kerekes, D. and Slater, I. (2000) Critical Vision: The Essential Guide to Cult Cinema. Creation Books.

Rockoff, A. (2002) Going to Pieces: The Rise and Fall of the Slasher Film, 1978-1986. McFarland.

Sharrett, C. (2005) ‘The Idea of Apocalypse in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’, in The Dread of Difference: Gender and the Horror Film. University of Texas Press, pp. 213-228.

West, R. (2013) ‘Nuclear Nightmares: Radiation in American Horror Cinema’, Journal of Popular Film and Television, 41(2), pp. 78-92. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/01956051.2013.779411 (Accessed: 15 October 2023).