Seldom Seen review | EYES OF FIRE

A finished film is the culmination of so many different decisions and processes and actions that it really is amazing to consider those which succeed, as the saying goes, “as a whole.” Everything has to seam together just right, or the façade won’t – often can’t – hold. Instances of complete, wholly realized filmed visions are, spades being spades, sort of rare. Those many pictures which don’t jell across the board aren’t all without worth, though, and shouldn’t be banished from discussion and evaluation – they’re often infused with as much beauty and ideological provocation as their fully-formed cousins. A perfect example of one such fabulously disarrayed film is 1983’s Eyes of Fire.

Fire, set in 1750 somewhere in the midwest, is told in flashback by a clutch of children, the only survivors from a group of settlers who followed an ostracized preacher into Indian territory. The persecuted wagon train consisted of holy man Will Smythe, his mistress Eloise and her daughters, the oldest girl’s suitor, an elderly couple, Eloise’s estranged husband Marion, and the enigmatic Leah – rescued as a child by Smythe after being branded a witch. The group took refuge in an abandoned settlement and strange events cropped up, culminating with the delivery of a “gift” to the settlement – a young Indian child. Convinced the natives were asking him to foster Christianity among their people, Smythe turned a blind eye to the growing hysteria around him and pressed forward with his notion of manifest destiny, bringing a strange and powerful fury from the land itself against the group even the preternaturally powerful Leah could not combat.

The merging of western and horror tropes reps only the tip of writer / director Avery Crounse’s creative iceberg. The film brims with gorgeous visuals and striking make-up and optical effects; strange life courses throughout its various set pieces (not unlike two other polarizing fusion westerns, El Topo and Blueberry). The entrance to a wood is covered in white feathers; a violent storm rains human bones; faces emerge from trees and out of the ground. As the settlers descend into the valley they hope to call home, color slowly drains from the frame and the picture’s palate shifts to deeper and darker hues throughout. To call Crounse visually imaginative would do the right side of the man’s brain a disservice – his mind produces moments of genuine visionary beauty. Brad Fiedel’s Irish-tinged score greatly accentuates the proceedings.

Stepping beyond the pleasing novelty of Fire’s hybrid genus, Crounse’s script offers a string of ideas worthy of exploration on-screen and discussion off-. For a man of God Smythe isn’t exactly a saint, sleeping with another man’s wife and staging a raid against his old parish to provide supplies for his flight; but he does rescue the gentle Leah from certain death. His overwhelming desire to push his religion to the very edge of the continent and beyond is misguided but not executed with an iron fist. He’s rife with dichotomies, but they seem the result of thoughtful writing, not carelessness. Arguments over the negative impact of strict adherence to religious doctrine exist within the narrative, and the concept of manifest destiny is taken to the mat by way of spirits from the bodies of those crushed in its wake wrecking all manner of vengeance.

With all the above going for it, Eyes of Fire could sound like a lost masterpiece, something the Subversives or Anchor Bays of the world have been foolish to not yet pounce on. There is truth to that notion, but despite its imposing visual bravura and a story chock full of interesting material, the picture doesn’t quite jell. Crounse’s script lacks the follow-through necessary to appropriately expound on its more engrossing points, and doesn’t offer a major character for the audience to identify with. Leah is perhaps the closest, but by the nature of her very being she’s distanced from us and little attempt is made to bridge that gap. When the film nears its end, it descends into “light show” mode and dispatches with any attempt at finding a thru-line for its players.

As the central performer, Dennis Lipscomb (a near-dead ringer for Kyle MacLachlan) as Smythe is unable to project the air of a man who could lead you into decidedly unfriendly territory with nary a complaint. The other performances aren’t much better, though the children come off well enough, all things considered. Karlene Crockett, as Leah, is the only cast member who manages to infuse some electricity into her part.

Released in a limited run in 1983, Fire reportedly suffered 16 minutes worth of cuts at the hands of distributor Imperial Pictures, footage that was not reinserted for its subsequent releases on VHS (from stalwart ‘80s homevid purveyor Vestron) and laserdisc. It has surfaced on DVD in Brazil (from Works Editora) and Thailand (via Pacific Marketing & Entertainment Group), but neither disc promises anything beyond a print sourced from previous releases and zero in the way of supplements.

Crounse operated before and after Fire as a celebrated still photographer; he continues to show his work to great acclaim today. He directed two more films, The Invisible Kid in 1988 and Cries of Silence in 1993.

Vestron’s entire home video library was acquired by Live in the mid-‘90s, which became Artisan, which was later absorbed by Lions Gate Entertainment. Historically, LGE has been cagey about releasing back-catalog materials which aren’t of the Dirty Dancing / Rambo pedigree. Here’s hoping the right enterprising group will come along and pry Fire loose from captivity, because for all its shortcomings it still treads gloriously bizarre territory and very much deserves to be seen and assessed by a new generation of cinephiles.