FILM / John Carpenter's "They Live" and the Ongoing Distortion of the American Dream / Lisa Wright
Image © Universal Pictures
1988 in America: as a country we are still immersed in the excesses of the Reagan era, living large on free enterprise and the promise of the American dream. Anything is possible, everything is for sale, and the message is get while the getting is good. Considering the time period, a movie like John Carpenter’s They Live seems both eerily appropriate and relevant, a warning message to the masses driven by greed and material consumption. However, while the film presents a world where the have and have-nots are more different than simply what is in their bank accounts, it also presents a veiled criticism of the American dream itself: the ideal that is encapsulated by the ability to achieve success in a country filled with opportunities for the hard working. Our hero, Nada, is an out of work drifter who personifies this dream, and his naiveté is exploited as the film progresses and his own American dream becomes eclipsed by the reality of the world around him where those who aren’t beholden to a world of easy success are being subliminally manipulated. Although obviously a commentary on a consumerist society, it is those of this manipulated minority that tell the true story: they are blinded by the daily grind, tempted by the promise of wealth and success, and programmed to work hard by an ideal long abandoned in the pursuit of the very thing that will ultimately destroy them.
Before we even hear him speak, we get a sense of who Nada is from the opening’s use of music and mise en scene. Heavily dominated by harmonica, the music recalls images of men down on their luck, riding the rails in search of work. Enter Nada: in a checked shirt and jeans, pack on his back, entering the city via the very train tracks from our imagination. The sound of the train blends seamlessly with the music and the weedy lot and graffiti covered walls (complete with a tag THEY LIVE) reinforcing our notion that this man is from the wrong side of the tracks. There is a sharp contrast as Nada enters the city, he seems more out of his element and quickly becomes dwarfed by the tall shiny buildings. This is accentuated by the long following shot of his back as he enters unknown territory, a lone, faceless man in a city of millions. All of these elements are cleverly combined in the opening minutes and immediately set the tone of the film.
Although he is our hero, we do not learn very much about Nada or his past. Carpenter’s decision to present his protagonist on an almost need-to-know basis somewhat contradicts his hero status; what we do learn of his story is not terribly unique or even interesting. We know he was last in Denver and worked there for ten years before “everything just seemed to dry up,” we see he wears a wedding ring although there is no mention of a wife and later we get a brief, almost random mention of his childhood in a conversation with Frank. He does not have any overly exceptional abilities outside of street smarts, a willingness to work hard and the ability to take a punch (or several). So what makes this man a hero? The answer is simple. What makes him seemingly unexceptional is the very thing that makes him relatable: he is white, male and ordinary; and, most importantly, he believes in the American dream.
This ideal is an integral part of Nada’s philosophy, told quite simply to Frank the night after their first meeting: “I deliver a hard day’s work for my money. I just want the chance, it’ll come. I believe in America. I follow the rules” (Carpenter, They Live). This is an admirable sentiment that is actually more insipid than inspiring. Why? It is not lacking in honesty and is stated with simplicity, not bravado by a man who has shown himself to be open to hard work, likable and able to adapt. However, it is also delivered by a man forced to travel from city to city in search of work with only a pack on his back, spending his nights in a veritable shantytown on the outskirts of the seemingly prosperous city. His “following of the rules” does not seem to be getting him any closer to his dreams.
Nada’s philosophy is also significant because it enforces, rather than contradicts, the messages of “truth” that are cut into the normal TV broadcasts. One of the first cut-ins that we see says, “We are focused only on our own gain…keep us asleep, keep us selfish, keep us sedated” (Carpenter, They Live). Nada, despite his earnest declaration, is exactly the type of person that this is referring to. His “following of the rules” demonstrates his sedation, and “the chance” that he wants is to succeed, and therefore to gain something. This contradictory view of our hero and his dreams is just one way that the film begins to erode the promise of the American dream.
The use of televisions as a means to broadcast these doses of reality is also highly significant. Carpenter uses televisions as an important motif throughout the film not only as a way to show how they dominate society’s consciousness, but as the main way in which the population is controlled and manipulated. Even in Justiceville, among the poor and dispossessed, there are televisions that are continuously being watched. This is why The Movement chooses them as a medium to broadcast their messages, although it is ironic that to receive the message they must be glued to the set. This contrast is demonstrated in a brilliant shot by Carpenter where he frames the neighborhood so we can see its shabbiness while at the same time its inhabitants are gathered in front of the TV broadcasting the message “More and more people are becoming poor. We are their cattle. We are being bred for slavery” (Carpenter, They Live). Their refusal to stop watching even though it is giving them headaches and making them sick shows that, like cattle, they are simply responding to the stimulus in front of them.
Frank, although initially presented as more cynical and somewhat more realistic than Nada, also (at least initially) demonstrates a complacency that reinforces the assessment of humanity presented in the messages. When Nada discovers that something is happening at the church, he is admonished by Frank who says, “It ain’t none of my business, it ain’t none of yours. I got a job and I plan on keeping it. I don’t bother nobody and nobody bothers me” (Carpenter, They Live). In this way, Frank is representative of the individualism so prized by American culture that is almost interchangeable with achievement and success. It also shows how he, as well as Nada, is an “unwitting accomplice” to the “repressive society” created by the faceless they referred to in the broadcasts throughout the film.
After Nada finds the sunglasses, he is finally exposed to the world as it really is. The sunglasses are the most important piece of mise en scene in the film, necessary for the exposure of the hidden messages being embedded in our consciousness. The world revealed by the glasses is stark and almost stripped bare except for glaring imperatives such as “Marry and Reproduce” and “Consume.” The contrast between the “real” world and the world unrevealed by the glasses is significant and is highlighted not only because it is in black and white but by the matte presentation of the messages that accentuate their flatness. Interestingly enough, the world presented by the glasses is also somewhat old fashioned, almost like a movie from the 1950s. Ironically, the ‘50s is when the idea of the American dream began to take shape, so it is telling that the world that so dominates humanity on a subliminal level would resemble this time period. This could be seen as another somewhat veiled criticism of those values that dominated American society in the ‘50s and continue to do so in the ‘80s, through “unwitting accomplices” like our hero.
The Movement itself is also highly contradictory. Like Nada, they are supposed to be the good guys, a select few that can see the world how it truly is and portrayed as victims of the “human power elite.” However, they also are “unwitting accomplices” because they depend on the complacent reliance of the population to spread their message on television and, as is demonstrated by the arsenal at the meeting, are just as willing to use violence as a weapon as their repressors. They also advocate that their followers “Stay aware of keeping up appearances. Go to work. Punch your time clocks. Do what’s expected of you” (Carpenter, They Live). This is meant as a way to avoid suspicion by using their complacency as a weapon of sorts to stay hidden and possibly infiltrate their enemies, but it also condemns them to a continued existence of playing the very game they are pawns in. Nada, despite his naiveté, is unwilling to play the game any longer, and perhaps because of his everyman simplicity is able to grasp the necessity for immediate action, further cementing his contradictory hero persona.
While those who are meant to be the heroes of the film perpetuate the stereotypes that ultimately criticize the American dream, the supposed villains are the ones who are living it. They are wealthy, they are beautiful (at least on the outside) but they too are also being manipulated by their own version of what it means to be successful. Despite having it all, they are also only pawns subject to the whims of an alien race that sees Earth as “just another developing planet.” What differentiates the haves from the have-nots is not only a willingness to sell out but the recognition of how easy it can be, as Gilbert says, “Most of us just sell out right away. We’ll do anything to be rich” (Carpenter, They Live). This alternate route to the American dream of taking the easy way out and selling your soul for success is therefore ultimately shown as just another trap to fall into.
They Live is just as relevant today as it was at the end of the 1980s. Our idea of the American dream has changed somewhat, but as a society we still pride ourselves on our individualism and view material wealth as the ultimate form of success. Just as Nada and the rest of the movement were complicit in the continuing manipulation of society and the distortion of this dream through their complacency, we too are complicit in our continued acceptance of society’s definition of success. As the drifter from Justiceville says to Frank and Nada at the TV station, “We all sell out everyday.” Like the film They Live, this is a message full of contradictions, opening our eyes to the truth while at the same time showing that we are not simply victims but may be “unwitting accomplices” through our pursuit of success and what we see as our right to the American dream.
Lisa Wright is a freelance writer, content creator, and amateur photographer. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, baking, cooking, watching foreign crime dramas, and baseball (go Phils!) Though she’s generally a spectator rather than a participant on social media, you can sometimes find her on Twitter and IG @dolphy_jane