GOD TOLD ME TO. One of the most original premises in horror

On March 23, 2019, we said goodbye to Larry Cohen — an American director and screenwriter who began his career back in the 1950s writing for television, but who ultimately found his true calling as the author of second-tier horror and science fiction films. Modern audiences may remember Cohen mainly as the writer and originator of the cult horror-action hybrid Maniac Cop (1988), the hit Phone Booth (2002), in which Colin Farrell is trapped in a phone booth, and another “phone-related” thriller, Cellular (2004), where Chris Evans tries to rescue Kim Basinger from her kidnapper, played by Jason Statham. Yet it’s worth looking at the directorial work of this New York filmmaker, whose 1976 God Told Me To contains one of the most original and provocative premises horror cinema could ever dream up.

The plot revolves around a series of murders committed by previously calm and fully sane people who suddenly feel an irresistible impulse to kill. In the film’s opening scene, we witness the actions of a sniper who begins shooting pedestrians without warning in the middle of the city. Detective Peter Nicholas reaches the gunman, perched atop a water tower, trying to prevent further bloodshed and uncover his motive. It turns out that the shooter is a young college student who justifies his killing spree with the film’s titular words: “God told me to.”

Moments later, he takes his own life by jumping to his death — but for the policeman who spoke with him, the case is only beginning, and it will soon take a deeply personal turn. More killers appear, all offering the same explanation for their acts of violence, family murders, and random killings. Peter, a man of faith, cannot comprehend what’s happening, pushing away even the faintest possibility of divine intervention — though it’s starting to seem increasingly likely.

So it would seem that the villain in Cohen’s film is God himself — but any potential blasphemy quickly gives way to the unmistakable feel of an exploitation movie unafraid to treat religion and faith as overtly horrific themes. That doesn’t mean the director approaches everything with irony or quotation marks, refusing to let his brilliant concept stand on its own. The choral score accompanying the opening credits is powerful and sincere, and the scenes that follow strike with unexpected gravity.

Cohen shoots on real streets, with handheld cameras, unafraid of the stares of bystanders who often don’t realize they’re part of a film — above all, he seeks realism and a near-documentary feel. That impression is enhanced by the police report read directly to the viewer about the sniper attack, and by Tony Lo Bianco’s natural, understated performance as Detective Nicholas.

The spell breaks, however, when the actors playing the sniper’s victims die in exaggerated, almost comical ways. We’re reminded instantly that we’re watching a definite B-movie — one that forgives errors which could easily have been avoided. Even the city footage I praised earlier suddenly feels like the work of a guerrilla filmmaker rather than someone with a clear vision (indeed, Cohen shot the St. Patrick’s Day parade scenes without a city permit). Narratively, too, God Told Me To straddles two extremes: some elements suggest a serious reflection on faith, while others drag it into crude, campy territory.

The film includes the biblical story of Abraham, whom God commanded to sacrifice his son Isaac as proof of his devotion to the Creator. On the surface, the reference fits the plot, but Cohen doesn’t use it as a springboard for discussing the cruel nature of the Old Testament God — because this “God” turns out to have a very human name and face: that of Richard Lynch, the quintessential villain of VHS-era cinema.

Nor is the director particularly interested in exploring the theme of faith pushed to the edge of fanaticism, since many of those who “hear God’s voice” aren’t even believers. Instead, he focuses on the perspective of a Catholic who cannot comprehend the “divine” point of view. Peter is drawn with broad strokes (he goes to church every day, refuses to divorce his wife despite having a mistress — played by the far-too-beautiful-for-this-movie Deborah Raffin), but Lo Bianco’s excellent performance makes him a man consumed by doubt and fear.

Is it really God commanding innocent people to kill? The detective dreads finding himself in the position of Abraham and those who heard “the voice of the Lord” and took up arms. If God is love, why does He demand blood sacrifice?

Cohen turns one of the most profound questions in Catholic tradition into a detective puzzle that his protagonist must solve in the manner of a police investigation. This bizarre blend of cop film and metaphysical horror unfolds with growing fascination — not only because of its increasingly outlandish plot twists but also because of the surprisingly serious tone that accompanies them.

It’s hard to take God Told Me To entirely seriously, even though until the very end the director maintains a sense of existential unease akin to what Alan Parker would achieve a decade later in Angel Heart. I would never place Larry Cohen in the same league as Parker — not even close — but Cohen’s ambition clearly exceeds what we see on screen. Still, the sense of encountering a remarkably original work is constantly undermined by the filmmaker’s visible limitations. For those satisfied with a daring concept pushed to the edge of absurdity and increasingly bizarre resolutions, however, Cohen’s film offers a truly one-of-a-kind experience.

A glance at the late director’s filmography reveals a lineup of popular — even cult — titles that are now largely forgotten. In It’s Alive (1974), a mutant newborn kills hospital staff before terrorizing the city, while its father struggles to process what’s happening. The oddball Q (1982), a monster movie about cops hunting a flying serpent in modern-day New York, frightens mostly with special effects that might have impressed twenty years earlier. Far more effective is the grotesque critique of consumerism in The Stuff (1985), a satirical horror film about a sweet, yogurt-like dessert that turns people into zombies.

Then there was The Ambulance (1991) — my favorite Cohen film — a tongue-in-cheek thriller about an old ambulance that kidnaps sick people. Teetering on the edge of parody, it features Eric Roberts as a comic book artist conducting his own investigation, with Stan Lee as his boss — a film that could easily be cult today, if only anyone remembered it.

That may be the greatest problem with Cohen’s body of work — nearly every one of his films contains a wonderfully twisted central idea, often paired with surprising insight, yet the pastiche and B-movie execution rob them of lasting recognition. In this regard, God Told Me To remains Cohen’s strongest effort, perhaps because its concept aims highest, casting its light on the Creator Himself. The filmmaker manages to ask profound questions and create an eerie, suggestive atmosphere — for a while, it’s not hard to believe in a God who commands people to kill each other. Unfortunately, when it comes to answering “why?”, Cohen seems to have run out of words.