- Original theatrical poster - image courtesy of Wrong Side of the Art
SPOILER ALERT IN EFFECT. Among the more overtly philosophical science fiction films of its kind, The Incredible Shrinking Man was equipped with an easy enough bill of goods to sell to an audience hungry for virtually any scenario fit for wild descriptors (Incredible! Astounding! Forbidden!), thus ensuring at least a passing classification as an eventual classic.
Yet, despite its obvious exploitative qualities, the film remains a genuinely impressive act of empathy, treating its characters with emotional and psychological inquiry and never simplifying matters for purported entertainment’s sake. I’m sure there are many who dislike the ending – probably on the grounds of “not enough closure” or some dramatically yellow interpretation of the sort – but this is a film that earns its ponderous tone, and the final moments are as fitting as they are unexpected.
The soon-to-be-shrinking man is Scott Carey (Grant Williams), on vacation with his wife Louise (Randy Stuart) when a strange mist envelops him, albeit to no immediate effect. Several months later, however, strange events commence when Scott finds his wardrobe too large, and his shorter wife suddenly at eye level with him, and so on.
Scientists struggle to find a cure, eventually stopping the shrinking process, but at only three feet, the damage has been done. Unable to work, Scott is forced to sell his story to the media to make ends meet, growing bitter at his circumstance and inadvertently taking it out on his committed spouse. Then the shrinking resumes.
Director Jack Arnold was among the more assured members of the 1950s Universal team, his well-rounded visual style lending a modicum of respect to even the more incompetent scripts he was handed (I’m looking at you, Revenge of the Creature). This film, adapted by Richard Matheson from his novel “The Shrinking Man,” benefits additionally from the strong source material and handsome production values.
Matheson tastefully streamlined his story for the screen, losing a daughter character and removing the sexual content, which included great tension between Scott and Louise as well as an affair between Scott and a tiny circus performer. The effect work is far from seamless to modern eyes, but the use of large props is both witty and convincing and the split screen work used to create the illusion of varying sizes is fairly well disguised.
The film kicks into high gear when Scott has been presumed for dead and must make do with minimal resources and his obviously limited physical capabilities; a staircase becomes an impossible mountain, the leaking of a household appliance is now a life-threatening flood, and a former pest is now a mortal enemy.
Serving as something of a template for the isolation experienced by Tom Hanks’ character in Cast Away, these sequences go beyond adventure and consider the basic essence of man’s ability to survive. From here, there’s only infinite to approach, one that the film considers with fright, inevitability, and more than a little wonder.
The Incredible Shrinking Man. Dir. Jack Arnold. Perf. Grant Williams, Randy Stuart, April Kent, Paul Langton, Billy Curtis. Universal Studios, 1957. Running Time: 81 min. 4 out of 5 stars (no halves).
