John Carpenter, a cinematic auteur akin to Brian De Palma, has cultivated a distinctive filmography marked by recurring themes and a personal touch, echoing the styles of classic directors like Hawks. His films often feel like variations on a core vision, achieving remarkable stylistic consistency. In this vein, 2001’s Ghosts of Mars is unmistakably Carpenter.
The film’s essence, from its plot mechanics to character archetypes and overall tone, resonates with his previous works, particularly Assault on Precinct 13, itself a modern take on Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo. Crucially, despite its futuristic Martian setting, complete with zombies, gore, and a heavy metal soundtrack amidst a crimson landscape, Ghosts of Mars fundamentally operates as a classic Western. We see familiar tropes: a transport train instead of a stagecoach, a law enforcement officer (portrayed by Natasha Henstridge) in the lead role, a band of deputies, a gang of outlaws, and a remote frontier outpost encircled by the desolate Martian terrain.
Mirroring Hawks’ ensemble narratives, characters in Ghosts of Mars function as a cohesive unit, bound by professional codes within a rugged, predominantly masculine environment. While Carpenter cleverly inverts societal norms by depicting Martian society as a matriarchy, the underlying dynamics remain consistent. The distinction between protagonist and antagonist blurs, defined primarily by their alignment with or opposition to the law, highlighting a certain interchangeability between “good” and “bad” within Carpenter’s world. Furthermore, echoing the flawed heroes of Hawksian epics, the vulnerability of the central character, Melanie Ballard, is underscored by her substance dependency, a contemporary parallel to Dean Martin’s alcoholism in Rio Bravo.
Narratively structured through a series of shifting flashbacks and employing Carpenter’s signature long dissolves, reminiscent of Vampires, Ghosts of Mars introduces novel elements. These include the spectral entities that possess hosts via auditory invasion and Desolation Williams’ ingenious drug-based method to aid Melanie. While the film isn’t without its imperfections – some narrative inconsistencies, uneven performances, and moments of stylized violence – it remains quintessential Carpenter. Unpretentious and direct, he delivers a vision of a bleak future, not through didactic pronouncements, but from the focused perspective of his director’s chair. For this unwavering commitment to his craft, and for delivering another slice of his unique cinematic world, we remain appreciative of John Carpenter’s continued efforts in genre filmmaking, especially within the context of movies like Ghosts of Mars.
