Collection Recommendation: The Fantastic Fly Franchise

There hasn't been a cinematic series as unsettling or thought-provoking as that inspired by George Langelaan's "The Fly". The Kafka-ish, short story debuted in Playboy (June '57) and became the bountiful basis for five, silver-screen entries. For those who appreciate horror/science-fiction crossovers, "The Fly" franchise is as good as it gets: that is, if one favors the relentless chills of weird, consequential experimentation...and who doesn't?

The first 20th Century Fox adaptation of "The Fly" premiered in July '58 and remains the most faithful to the literary source. 

Directed by Kurt "Rocketship X-M" Neumann and scripted by James "Shogun" Clavell, the movie is an intense, shot-in-lurid-color/CinemaScope sojourn, highlighting anguished Helen Delambre (Patricia Owens) who abets the suicide of her husband, Andre (David "Al" Hedison), whose teleportation mishap with a fly-along-for-the-ride rendered him more monster than man. Andre's brother, Francois (horror-movie icon, Vincent Price) comforts her through the maddening ordeal, but also comes to learn that his sister-in-law's quest of a white-headed insect holds shocking validity. 

In truth, man and fly have swapped physical and mental attributes, sharing a portion of each other's presumed personalities and memories. (Though the fly's innate drives devour Andre's sensibilities, his transplanted thoughts expand simultaneously within the wee creature, bestowing it enough recollection to utter, "Help me.") The film's focus, however, is on Andre's struggle to sustain his humanity by reversing the process, and his death remains one of the most jarring (albeit implicit) ever to consume celluloid.

Because of its strange sensations, "The Fly" became a huge hit and spawned a popular sequel, though produced on a lower, shot-in-black-and-white budget. 

Written and directed by Edward Bernds, "Return of the Fly" hit theaters a year after its predecessor. It depicts Andre's son, Phillipe (Brett Halsey) tracing his father's hapless steps, to the point of falling victim to the same, molecule-mingling circumstance. 

For the record, the mutated Phillipe sports a larger, more bulbous head than his father, making him less expressive after the traumatic switcheroo, but at least Price's articulate Francois bridges the lumbering terror.

Though nowhere as innovative or disturbing as the original, "Return" still earned a substantial profit: furthered when double-billed with "The Alligator People" and later with "Children of the Damned". As a result of its earnings, another low-budget, black-and-white sequel ensued. 

The '65, UK-based "Curse of the Fly", penned by Harry Spalding and directed by Hammer veteran, Don Sharp, alludes to the Delambres' teleportation calamities, but presents new, non-fly abnormalities, after subjects jaunt between machines. 

Like "Return" "Curse" uses stellar casting for its featured Delambres: Brian "the Quatermass Xperiment" Donlevy as Henri and George "I, Claudius" Baker as Martin. Long-legged Carole "Devils of Darkness" Gray portrays asylum-escapee Patricia Stanley, who commands the opening sequence by scampering outdoors in her lingerie. 

Despite the film's freakish fringes, it proved less successful than the others, prompting a twenty-year hiatus before Fox (via Brooksfilms) launched a remake, with monster-maestro David Cronenberg as director and co-writer. 

Cronenberg and Charles Edward Pogue's script introduces quirky Telepod inventor, Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum), who impresses statuesque reporter, Veronica/Ronnie Quaife (Gena Davis) with his radical, transport machinery. When he suspects she might be "collaborating" with her ex (John Getz), he teleports to test his mettle and in so doing, absorbs that fated fly. 

In the tradition of Michael Sarrazin's Creature in "Frankenstein: the True Story", Brundle shows signs of what he harbors inside: his physical and behavioral traits becoming evermore insectoid. 

Quaife consoles him, though her gestures prove in vain, thanks to make-up master, Chris Walas' effects, which touch the harsh pathos of cancer and AIDS' victims. This bold approach helped the '86 release become one of the most sensitive, terrifying and discussed movies of its time or any before or since. 

The film's impact left audiences screaming for more, even though Brundlefly's fate gave little room for a convenient resurrection, and yet three years later, a follow-up buzzed into theaters. 

Directed by Walas and scripted by Frank "The Blob '88" Darabont, Mick "Psycho IV" Garris and Jim and Ken Wheat, "The Fly II" rehashed "Return'"s son-of concept, but as with Cronenberg's revision, tweaked aspects to stir the familiar plot.  

This time we have young Martin Brundle (Eric Stolz), whose birth we learn caused Quaife's death, leaving the youngster under the observation of pretentious entrepreneur, Anton Bartok (Lee Richardson). The boy's remarkable physical and intellectual acceleration fascinate the honcho, who hopes the youth will expedite the company's Telepod development. 

Though Brundle II's confinement restricts his interaction with Bartok's employees, he falls for shapely Beth Logan (Daphne "Spaceballs" Zuniga). Alas, their relationship is hampered when junior begins to mutate. The question is, will his alteration progress beyond return? 

Betrayal and revenge bolster what follows, but in a nod to "Return", there's a light at the end of the grotesque tunnel, insinuating further adventures for our specialized hero, and yet...

Though "The Fly II" was profitable and a continuation proposed (in addition to Cronenberg and his remake's composer, Howard Shore producing an operatic, stage version), nothing concrete materialized. Nevertheless, since such time, promise has dangled through entertainment sources, keeping fans hopeful that a sixth installment might reach fruition. 

Such optimism goes to reason, since Langelaan's frightening vision remains relevant in our high-tech, genetic-prodding age. The tale and its variants also stay identifiable from an allegorical vantage, for who hasn't been jinxed by some little thing that grows ever consuming, like a prolonged illness, a deformity...a problem at work or home? Who hasn't reached for something beyond one's reach, hoping to seize some evident, impossible dream, regardless of the consequences? 

On the other hand, one can argue that Langelaan's fable and its resulting adaptations (in particular, the '58 and '86 versions) beseech us to evade risks. Still, whether the scientists are named Delambre or Brundle, the leads are commendable for their insatiable prowess to improve their domains. Most who absorb these tales would agree that the protagonists' tenacity, though flawed, is more heroic than foolhardy, more selfless than selfish. Perhaps that's why we empathize with these men and against our better judgment, wish them well. 

Let's face it, folks: It's easy to rest on one's laurels and never stretch the boundaries of what one is dealt. "The Fly" franchise hurls its observers beyond their comfort zones, pulling them into scenarios that demand their utmost avidity, even when the journeys appear hard and defeat inevitable. 

With this said, why not (re)mount some healthy, morbid interest in "The Fly" franchise, starting with the short story and following with its cinematic offspring? 

"The Fly (DVD) Collection", which contains the founding trilogy, is a perfect way to commence the film series. Thereafter, one can pursue the comprehensive, disc releases of the '80s installments. (FYI: "The Fly II" special-edition, disc release includes the Leonard Nimoy-narrated documentary "The Fly Papers", which details all five productions: as fine a product as any of its theatrical forerunners.)

Indeed, there's good cause why "The Fly" franchise endures: why it yet demands such ardent devotion years after the fact. Beneath the stories' poignant prose, fright masks, passionate performances and sweeping scores, there oozes meaning and depth: preeminent factors that make any story--or collection--classic.