A Blood-Splattered Mess: The Enticing Failure of 1983’s The Hunger

Any film that opens with an extended nightclub scene set to “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” is ripe for examination. 1983’s The Hunger, directed by Tony Scott, is often criticized for an overemphasis on flash at the expense of narrative. The rumors are true, there are a lot of problems with this story. The ending was changed by the studio, hoping for sequels, and Scott’s direction is far too involved in the look, rather than the lives, of the lead characters. But decades later, we’re still discussing it.

Influence from goth culture in the costumes and set design defines The Hunger, along with its two inimitable leads, David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve. Practically any film Bowie appeared in was destined for cult status, but this one gives him a truly unique arc.

He and Deneuve play centuries-old vampires, John and Miriam Blaylock, and the film begins with John (Bowie) noticing irregularities in his appearance. Clumps of hair come out in his hands, and wrinkles encircle his eyes. He’s meant to look 30, but at 15 minutes into the film, John could be 50. Miriam (Deneuve) is his stone-faced partner, with her eye set on Sarah Roberts (Susan Sarandon), an attractive doctor studying the possibility of elongated human life. 

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There are enough pieces in play for The Hunger to be a fine erotic thriller. The cast is strong, the set-up enticing, but the filmmakers seem disinterested in following through with any of their set-ups.

For example: an extended sequence at the beginning of the film shows John and Miriam stalking a nightclub, John in a wig and Miriam in sunglasses. Bauhaus’ gothic tribute to Bela Lugosi plays diegetically, cutting to singer Peter Murphy repeatedly as the song escalates and tension mounts. John and Miriam select their victims, and quick edits take us to their home where they seduce and eventually feast on their prey. Stylish, goth, sexy.

For all the excessive cross-cutting, the sequence is an effective tone-setter, suggesting a story of devotion and necessity, using a vampire’s need to kill as a foil for romance. The following scenes, however, promise a very different film.

John visits Sarah, asking for treatment for his rapidly decaying body, but she’s busy and sends him to a waiting room. He waits, and his body continues to decompose in real-time, oily and ragged where it was lean and composed. There is no internal monologue from John, and nobody around him notices the changes.

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The effect is isolating, as if we are the only ones aware of John’s existential – and quite horrifying – problem, with the added weight that this is Ziggy Stardust we’re watching wither away. Time takes its course, and John returns home to see Miriam one last time before he dies, beginning to resemble one of Peter Jackson’s orcs. So little is known about John Blaylock, but the casting of an icon like Bowie sends an effective, if simple, message: death is coming, and it shows no mercy. 

That’s quite a theme to raise after introducing the film as an erotic masquerade, led by two of the hottest stars this side of Interview with the Vampire. Aside from their looks and cold personalities, there’s not much to say for John and Miriam.

Scott was taking cues from The Man Who Fell to Earth, looking to capitalize on Bowie’s otherworldly looks rather than create a character. And Deneuve is too busy staring daggers at the supporting cast to aid the anchorless narrative. It’s not until she sets her sights on Sarah Roberts that the void of character is filled, and even then, most of Sarah’s significance comes from others. She visits Miriam in an attempt to locate John, long dead and incinerated by Miriam, and the two women are magnetized. Sarah continues visiting, though she can’t say why, and soon they’re in bed together.

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The “erotic” label given to The Hunger is largely absent before the centerpiece sex scene, but it’s yet another mesh of incompatible ideas. Sarah is overwhelmed with desire for Miriam, and the two do a lot of kissing and cupping, sharing nearly every frame with a billowing curtain or starkly lit wall.

Scott’s direction leans into editing and cinematography, chopping the scene into chronological bits, quite the unsatisfying method of depicting sex. If the goal was to fragment both women’s perspectives, the effect is undercut by careful establishing shots, showing the two getting into bed, inching closer, touching, etc. There are too many cuts that obscure, and not enough that enhance, or communicate a feeling to the viewer. Passion is lost in the art.

In the chaos, Miriam bites Sarah, beginning the doctor’s transformation into something more than human. Miriam needs to replace John, and Sarah is her choice. Yet, in a final twist, Sarah kills herself, refusing eternal life with Miriam. Ancient corpses, including a vomit-inducing John, appear from thin air to accost Miriam, as she herself decomposes in a matter of seconds.

If there’s anything resembling payoff in The Hunger, it’s this moment. Miriam gets punished for… being a vampire, I guess? Morality is difficult to pin down in this film, but there’s no use focusing on it. Anyway, that’s not really the end.

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Surprise, Sarah’s not dead, but living in a high-rise apartment with what appears to be other vampires. She stares into the wind, curtains billowing, and credits roll. Sarah’s resurrection was a studio decision, and it couldn’t feel more pointless. Two unlikable leads are dead, leaving a third to start a franchise with zero character development and a shaky set of rules.

Why does Miriam age so quickly? Why does John die first? If this is a story of comeuppance, Sarah’s refusal to help John should be grounds for punishment. Not to mention an unnecessary side character who learns music from John and Miriam, and a detective who periodically appears to nudge the plot forward.

And then there’s Sarah. Everything about de-aging, the monkeys she keeps in a lab for tests, it’s all window dressing. She has a husband who’s one trait seems to be impotence, but he’s out of the picture just as things get serious between her and Miriam.

Basically every idea The Hunger has is thrown out within 20 minutes. So why do people keep giving it a chance? Well, try imagining the Rocky Horror Picture Show without any music. It’d be far less entertaining, disorienting, in fact. But it’s not often you see a film swing for the fences in ten different directions. Failure is enticing, but failure with the promise of greatness, that’s watchable.