POLTERGEIST

"They're he-ere,"

If you ask me, the 80s just wouldn't have been the 80s without Poltergeist, particularly if you were a kid. How many times did I use the line, "They're he-ere," to announce the arrival of anyone from my grandparents to the garbage men? How many times have I put my hands up to the TV and said it, just because I could? Like a pop song that just won't die, Poltergeist remains a reference point for an entire generation.

Made at the height of Steven Spielberg's powers, Poltergeist lures us into a world that embodies the American dream, then exposes it as a nightmare. Diane and Steve Freeling (JoBeth Williams and Craig T. Nelson) are the parents of Dana (Dominique Dunne), Robbie (Oliver Robins), and Carol Anne (Heather O'Rourke), and they've worked hard for the life they've built in a wholesome California suburb. It's the kind of place where kids play in the streets and neighbors exchange friendly insults; a place universally recognized as safe. The Freelings themselves are funny and flawed, and this is precisely what makes them so relatable. It's also what makes the events that transpire so unsettling.

Little by little, strange things begin happening at the Freeling house. A pet bird dies, furniture moves on its own... Carol Anne starts talking to the white noise in the television set. They all realize that something very unusual is going on, but at first it's not particularly scary. And then one night during a thunderstorm, the craggy old tree outside Robbie's window tries to swallow him up. Diane and Steve rush to his aid, and while they're outside, "The TV People" take Carol Anne. But where? She's not dead. She's not gone. The house has totally got her.

From here, the Freeling family pretty much comes unraveled. Dana moves in with friends, Robbie is sent to stay with relatives, and Steve, crushed by his inability to protect his family, is reduced to a shadow of his former self. Diane holds it together a bit better, but only because she's absolutely driven to get her daughter back. A team of paranormal investigators is brought in, but everyone quickly realizes they're up against something very powerful and very angry. The kids' bedroom (once an oasis of toys and Star Wars memorabilia) is now a vortex of evil and chaos. How did it all go down the drain so quickly?

The horrible truth is revealed when Mr. Teague (James Karen) pays Steve a visit. He's concerned that Steve has missed so much work, and despite Steve's sweaty pallor and the dark circles under his eyes, thinks he might be thinking of taking his awesome salesmanship elsewhere. He drags poor Steve up the hill, and shows him where his sweet new house could be. He is, after all, responsible for selling most of the homes in the development. All they have to do is move a pesky graveyard—like they did last time—and Steve can have the house of his dreams. Wait, what? Did you say graveyard? Did you say you've done this before? Well that explains a lot.

Though Carol Anne is eventually rescued with the help of a medium (Zelda Rubinstein), the trouble is far from over, and the pool scene (without needing to say more to fans, and without ruining it for the first-timers) has to be one of the most terrifyingly memorable moments in horror movie history. And then, topping it all off, Steve comes home to a mini-Armageddon, complete with caskets popping out of the ground and an army of ghosts roaming through the house. He runs into Teague in the front yard, grabs him by the lapels and screams, "You son of a bitch. You moved the cemetery, but you left the bodies, didn't you? You left the bodies and you only moved the head stones. You only moved the head stones! Why?! Why?!"

And that, right there, is almost more chilling than the ghosts themselves. You can work your whole life to succeed within the system, only to lose it all because the system is corrupt. The movie is essentially a denouncement of overdevelopment and corporate greed, but the focus never wavers from the family and the ghost story. Spielberg brilliantly juxtaposes innocence and evil throughout the film, making it all the more creepy. Carol Anne is so perfectly blond and angelic that it's almost eerie, making her sometimes seem as much like a vessel for the poltergeist as a victim. Even the sweet, childish soundtrack music is enough to make your skin crawl.

The only thing lacking in this 25th Anniversary Edition DVD is extra features. There is a two-part featurette on the scientific aspects of paranormal research. It includes interviews with real life mediums and investigators, but anyone who's seen Sylvia Browne on Montel or caught an episode of Medium has heard it all before. What Poltergeist needs is director commentary, cast interviews, making-of featurettes, and some acknowledgement of the legendary "curse". They don't even include the original trailer, and for that, I think we should all feel a little ripped off.

This is a movie you can research on the internet all day without getting bored—accidents on the set, special effect techniques, unexplained phenomena—and that's without even touching on the heart-wrenching deaths of Dominique Dunne (murdered by her boyfriend in 1982) or Heather O'Rourke. Heather's 1988 death from intestinal stenosis hit especially close to home to those of us who grew up watching her on everything from Happy Days to Webster. Shoot, she's even pictured in the little booklet that came with My First Barbie. She was only two years older than me, and I know I felt like I'd lost a classmate or a friend when she died. It would have been nice to commemorate her short life in some way, and it would have been nice to dress up this modern horror classic with the extras it deserves.