Tags
Andy Williams, composer, cult star, David Hess, David Patrick Kelly, Elvis Presley, Horror, Last House on the Left, Pat Boone, Road Leads to Nowhere, soundtrack, Swamp Thing, Wes Craven
Growing up, the two actors that frightened me the most were both Davids.
David Hess and David Patrick Kelly, with no discernible tie between them except their penchant for characters with a twisted morality, and sometimes a total disregard for anyone’s motives but their own. They frightened me with their single-minded intensity and their unending confidence. They simply knew they were in the right, no matter how vicious or off-putting their actions were. There was an unease that emanated from someone that never entertained the notion that they were wrong. It takes great courage to push a character to the finish line like that, without letting the seams show. David Hess, for a time at least, was that kind of actor.
I never met David Hess, unfortunately, so I can only speculate on how he arrived at some of the characters he played. Of course the one he’ll always be remembered for, through notoriety and the trivia of the characters name, is Krug from “The Last House on the Left” (1972). This was his first on screen role and he dove into it as if he’d never get another chance. Looking back on the film, the choices he made with the character, how he allowed the character’s weakness to be read on his face for a split moment before dispatching the two girls and thus sealing his karmic fate, were fascinatingly honest. Most actors would play him as simply a devil, and maybe this was Wes Craven’s influence as well, but the truth of the character on screen is all Hess.
For myself, I’ll always have an unapologetic affection for “Swamp Thing” (1982). This was the film I saw before I knew of “Last House”, and Hess nailed the villainous tone as both comic book camp, and real world terror. I don’t know how he straddled those disparate camps, but from the moment Hess steps into his close-up, he owned the film. Again, his confidence was overwhelming. This was his movie. His character, Ferret (the perfect name for the weasel he was), was the perfect mercenary, loyal to a fault. He appeared as a kind of spiritual cousin to a character such as Clarence Boddicker from “Robocop”; they’re both on a leash, but it’s such a loose leash that you fear the damage they can do within that unknown reach. Between those two characters, both gifts from Wes Craven, Hess was set for cult stardom.
Hess was a real actor of the 70s. He arrived at a time when character actor looks were pinned to leading man bodies. Traditionally, he was not a handsome man, but traditional is dull. He was carved from a more interesting stock. He was charismatic. He had a draw to him that made him a natural leader on screen. He had a rugged charm, and aside from traditional, he had an originality in his manner that was unforgettable.
Being a student of film history, the one good thing, the only good thing that comes out of losing an actor who has made his mark, as David has, is to go back and revisit them. Not just the parts you remember them for but for the life they lived that you were totally unaware. For instance, David began his career as a songwriter for Shalimar Music in 1957, and his first recording was the massive hit, “All Shook Up”, made famous by Elvis Presley. He later wrote songs for the likes of Andy Williams and Pat Boone, as well as more for Elvis through the 50s and 60s.
Music, as it turns out, was his primary love and it always returned throughout his life. His cult status as an actor in “Last House” was cemented by his composition of the soundtrack, and especially the eerie, prescient title song, “The Road Leads to Nowhere”. He also won a Grammy for his rock opera, “The Naked Carmen”, in 1969, co-written with classical composer John Corigliano. He’s lived more than one lifetime in his 69 years on this earth.
Look, David Hess wasn’t really a movie star. I think he entered film as a lark, something to try, perhaps as an excuse to work on the soundtrack for “Last House” or to simply broaden ones creative base, as the 70s were often embraced for. But time and moving images are funny, unpredictable creatures. They live and breath, change form and evolve. Word of mouth continues unending, and through his vast contributions all around the world, his music, his productions, the films he directed, the many appearances he put the time into for fans, and above all his fearless nature, David has become more than a cult actor, I think. He’s even become more than that second David that frightened me as I was growing up.
I think he’s more human now, more appreciated. I look forward to getting to know him, even though he may be gone.
