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As a major ice storm blankets the East Coast, we are reminded once again of the peril that comes with the cold. Wind and ice lash out against those who brave the harsh environment, and the risks are real.

But ice invokes a more primal fear. Its cold stillness, by its very nature, reminds us of death. However, sometimes, not everything dies. This article will explore this fear within the context of the quintessential frozen-horror film, The Thing.

There are some spoilers for The Thing and other works that helped influence its central themes.

The Chill of Science

The idea that we are afraid of death and un-death in relation to ice can be found in a wide range of stories. Even now, the popular show Game of Thrones makes use of ice-based undead (White Walkers) as a symbol of the doom that comes in connection with the cold. However, the undead represent a humanity turned upside down, and the cold only reinforces how the dark force is anathema to mankind.

Although the White Walker’s origin story is compelling (humanity turned against itself to protect the native mystical creatures from humanity), they ultimately suggest that humanity is a victim. Certainly, the brief idea that humanity had some minor blame for their creation is teased, but the vast amount of humanity is not to blame, and even the creators have no control over their creation. They are a threat by an arbitrary universe.

Not all stories are limited in such a manner. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein begins with a quest to explore the arctic that is connected symbolically and literally to the creation of Frankenstein’s monster. Both exploration and creation of new life is a description of man’s attempt to use science to control nature. The monster, as Frankenstein learns, is only a monster because Frankenstein did not know how to properly raise and care for it. Man has the ability to seize great power but not the knowledge to put it to proper use.

Although the novel does not have the arctic expedition result in the discovery of a monster (only crossing the path of one), later stories do embrace this idea. They merged the two parts of the story to make it clear that science can go too far, especially when we dig too deep into that which is naturally set against us (the cold).

What Lies Beneath the Ice

Many television shows, especially those of the “monster of the week” variety, love the idea of scientists unleashing some ancient monster from an ice prison. Supergirl Season2, Episode 6 (“Changing”), Fringe Season 2, Episode 13 (“What Lies Below”), and X-Files Season 1, Episode 8 (“Ice”) all describe an arctic expedition that discovers an organism preserved in the ice that can take over others. The difference is the level of containment, the isolation of the characters, and type of action that leads to the creature’s destruction.

Ultimately, they, and many more, are influenced by the novella Who Goes There? Written in 1938 by incredible, but often overlooked, science fiction writer John Wood Campbell, the story describes scientists in Antarctica who discover an alien spaceship and unknowingly revive the creature in the process. It is a creature that can take over or mimic anyone.

The story works because it uses isolation and paranoia to inspire terror. There are no answers given within the story, only the need to protect humanity from whatever that thing is. We are left disoriented and confused, which heightens the fear.

The original story is not dark, though much of the plot is bleak. There is a victory to be had, and there is plenty of hope. In the final lines of the story, the characters thank the benevolence of God for allowing them to defeat the monster: “No, by the grace of God, who evidently does hear very well, even down here, and the margin of half an hour, we keep our world, and the planets of the system too.”

The film The Thing, the best adaptation of the original story, does not have a happy ending. We do not know if the creature is destroyed, nor do we know that we can destroy it. We do not know who is possessed by the creature, nor can we trust anything we see on screen. The film goes dark without any answers. God is not watching over us, which is the true horror.

Lovecraftian Isolation and Cosmic Horror

Although the plot of The Thing is derived from the general structure of Campbell’s story, the fundamental universal truths are not. In most of the television adaptions , the creature is defeated, and the heroes are able to move on. They are true to the original spirit that we can unleash horrors but, if we act properly, we can overcome them.

What if we can’t overcome the monster? What if the universe wants to harm us instead of protect us?

H. P. Lovecraft, Campbell’s contemporary, published a similar novella, At the Mountains of Madness, in 1936. It should be noted that Campbell did not take or borrow from Lovecraft’s story per se. Instead, Campbell’s work suggests an “I can do this better” approach, turning what is diffused horror into distilled horror.

In comparison to Campbell’s story, Lovecraft’s work is tame, built on the atmosphere of horror with little direct description of shocking moments. The action is distant and removed by the use of a frame narrative, told well after the fact, and the story serves as a warning in the Frankenstein sense.

Within Lovecraft’s story, an expedition is launched into Antarctica, which leads narrator William Dyer’s party to find dead “Elder Things,” monstrous plant-like aliens. Somehow, an alien revives and kills off most of the group (though out of curiosity or defense) and then return to its ancient, abandoned city.

Trying to follow its path, Dyer and the only other living human, Danforth, explore the lost city. Although it is empty, Dyer is able to piece together various ancient histories left behind from the dead civilization. He learns of alien creatures, ancient battles, and a cold universe that would destroy humanity without care. This is made most real when he comes across the monstrous “shoggoths” that the aliens created (and later rebelled and destroyed them).

There are multiple layers of symbolism at play, but they ultimately lead to Dyer and Danforth fleeing, and Danforth witnesses true, unmentionable cosmic horror in their escape. At best, humanity is a spec amongst a massive, indifferent universe. At worst, humanity is only spared from the malevolent forces in the universe because of happenstance.

Who Goes There? lacks Lovecraft’s world building but adds action, thrusting the reader into a tense situation that is not only life or death but immediately endangers the whole world. In At the Mountains of Madness, the narrator is able to warn against a party that could stumble upon the slumbering monsters, whereas Who Goes There? provides a creature that is actively malevolent and capable of destruction now..

The Thing as Cosmic and Immediate Horror

Campbell’s work is immediate horror set within a benevolent universe. Lovecraft’s work is potential horror set within a malevolent universe. In crafting The Thing, director John Carpenter removes all hope to create both immediate and universal horror.

We do not understand where the creature came from, why it wants to destroy humanity, or how to stop it. The ending leaves it ambiguous if the creature is permanently stopped or even if it can be permanently stopped. Humanity only continues to exist because of luck.

The cold, the ice, and the isolation that is so anathema to humanity is its savior. The harsh, dark parts of nature are all that prevent monsters from destroying us. It is the only warning that the universe is willing to spare.

What then can science provide? Nothing. There are dark corners of the universe that we should not poke too far into, or they will poke back.

Somewhere in the primitive parts of our brain we know this. We associate light and warmth with safety. We seek solace in our modern caves around our modern fires, bundled up against the cold. But cold is more than just weather. Space is cold and isolating, and the Alien series and others extend this Campbell/Lovecraft blend of horror outwards. Further, any sense of the “other,” that which is not human, is a risk.

Yet cold does not have to be literal; any separation from humanity, or the removal of humanity from scientific achievement, is a type of cold. Any exploration into the unknown offers great peril with little purpose. Scientific achievement is not truth. Truth is something that we already have, and it is warning us not to venture too far.

Glory is just a lie we tell ourselves as we blindly go chasing after monsters.