Top Ten countdown – #8 The most terrifying film there is. Carpenter reduces all elements—save for the violence—to the basics: an empty hellscape, simple characterizations, minimalist soundtrack, an exactitude and precision in shots that's unrivaled. We're the thing(s) and all its/our terrors, evil has always been here and we're the mask that covers it. No morality or hope is left, only a pit, and inside it our end.
Crisp+crimson+succulent flesh, yielded by free range critters brought up in low pollution areas. Ethical omnivores, unite! Seeing how fast that thing explodes from the hosting body, I'd add a gunky slogan to the niche farming products I'd scheme to dish out to the strictly connoisseur: forget the balut eggs and controversial fetal soups, here're fresh viviparian delights to take you smack into lymph-dripping Arcadia!
No one trusts anyone, evil lurks everywhere and there is no escape. A science fiction story that is at the same time, a parable about human relations in conditions of risk. A classic Carpenter achievement that surpassed the decades and remains brilliant and scary.
I saw The Thing fifty times. The vast desolate bleak white landscape surrounded in a fog of a cold lethal menacing claustrophobic doom of fear for the Unknown and the external hazerdeous threat of a shapeshifting alien force out to invade the bodies of unsuspecting paranoid masculin men who are ready to devour one and other for self preservation. And there's a monster lurking.
Truly the darkest, hopeless picture ever created. Carpenter's obsession with showing the creature comes from his necessity of proving its existence. There are no more shadows ("Halloween") or fog ("The Fog") to conceal the horror: in "The Thing", Evil is real and it assumes human forms. There's only one smile in the whole picture, given by McReady and Childs in the final sequence, both knowing they will die.