Sequels, horror or otherwise, often face uphill battles, particularly when their predecessors are Academy Award-caliber classics. It’s easy to inherently dismiss titles like Psycho II, The Exorcist III, and The Fly II, but to do so is to overlook valuable horror movies that take their precursors’ ideas and push them to challenging new places.
Everybody knows David Cronenberg’s The Fly, but Chris Walas’ sequel is either unknown or erroneously viewed as a gratuitous sequel to Cronenberg’s classic. There’s so much more that’s going on in The Fly II, which evolves into a surprisingly emotional and disturbing sequel that’s even grosser than the original in some respects.
So much of The Fly II’s success is attributed to it being Chris Walas’ directorial debut. Cronenberg may not be back in the director’s chair, but Walas is the next best thing and the most satisfying choice, rather than some of the other names that were in contention, like Mick Garris and Sam Raimi. Who better to helm the sequel to The Fly than the person responsible for creating the Brundlefly?
Walas’ make-up and creature effects on The Fly won him an Academy Award for Best Make-Up, and he pushes his capabilities to unprecedented places in the sequel. There’s some truly gruesome, disgusting material that stems from the metamorphosis of Martin Brundle (Eric Stoltz).
There’s a lot to appreciate in The Fly II, whether it’s the film’s effects, performances, or its bleak, nihilistic point of view. Leave it to an ambitious sequel that’s fascinated by disturbing questions about identity, purpose, humanity, and exploitation to also deliver one of horror’s most heartbreaking and emotionally profound dog scenes. Martin’s dog is only on screen in The Fly II for several minutes, but his presence looms over the entire movie and becomes a true testament to the unbreakable bond between man and their canine best friend. Not even a genetic mutation can get in the way of this pure, instinctual relationship.
Man’s best friend devastates in The Fly II‘s most memorable scene
The Fly II picks up only a few months after The Fly’s conclusion as Veronica Quaife (Saffron Henderson) gives birth to a larval son, Martin Brundle, before she dies. Martin is taken in by Anton Bartok (Lee Richardson), the corrupt CEO of the research lab that funded Seth Brundle’s (Jeff Goldblum) experiments from the first film. Martin spends his youth in this research laboratory, constantly under supervision and the subject of experiments, while he ages at an accelerated rate.
Martin normalizes this clinical existence, endless experiments, and an existence that’s built upon clearance codes and safety protocols. Martin is robbed of a normal life, but he briefly experiences a taste of regularity when he befriends a golden retriever — a fellow test subject — and experiences a sense of true companionship for the first time in his life. Martin’s lifeline to emotion and humanity is compromised when the dog’s teleportation experiment doesn’t go as planned, and the animal is deformed beyond recognition.
The dog’s fate is beyond horrific, but these circumstances are made worse when Bartok tries to bury this setback and claim that the dog was painlessly “put down.” In reality, this couldn’t be further from the truth, and the dog’s condition is anything but painless. All of Walas’ make-up and effects work in The Fly II is on another level.
There’s an angry, vicious quality to MartinFly’s attacks that makes the effects even more frightening. The sad state that befalls Martin’s dog isn’t angry or vicious. It’s just deeply sad. Walas goes above and beyond here, and this material is even more gutting because the dog doesn’t become aggressive or suddenly act like a monster. Its existence is beyond compromised, yet it still just acts like a cheerful golden retriever.
This dog doesn’t just recognize Martin, but he excitedly wags his tail upon seeing him. It’s a tiny detail that’s easy to miss, but something that makes this all the more heartbreaking. It strips their dynamic down to its barest essence, and he’s still just a dog who is excited to be greeted by a friend. This creature’s final days are resigned to pain and confusion, but he reunites with his companion. He’s allowed the dignity of dying in the security of his owner’s arms, just like any other pet.
For a brief, beautiful moment, this deformed dog is just a pet that’s being protected by his human companion, even if everything else about this moment is agonizing. It’s a testament to the true bond between human and dog, reiterating why they’re man’s best friend, and that something like genetic aberrations is irrelevant. Stoltz’s sadness during these sequences showcases some of his strongest work, which is all compounded by the dog’s utter anguish as it painfully screams from simply existing.
The prosthetics are so haunting, and the dog looks like some discarded Jim Henson’s Creature Shop abomination. There’s still humanity present and the semblance of a pet, which makes this so much harder than if he looked purely like a monster. Curiously, all this trauma is followed by Martin deciding to subject another housepet — this time a cat — into the same Telepod. Fortunately, the cat emerges, no worse for wear, and it’s just the golden retriever who becomes this cautionary tale for Martin.
This heartbreaking moment came late into the screenwriting process
The golden retriever sequence is a heavy scene, but it’s not just needlessly cruel. There’s still a method to its madness. The Fly II’s script went through several revisions, and the iconic dog material didn’t make it into the script until the later drafts. Ken and Jim Wheat initially rewrote the screenplay that Mick Garris had penned when he was going to direct the movie. When Walas took over the production, he specifically requested that Frank Darabont do another pass on the script. Darabont only had time to work on about half of the script, but this still managed to include the memorable material with Martin’s dog. Walas credits Darabont for this addition and how it became a major source of drama and emotional weight.
Additionally, producer Mel Brooks reinforced the idea to feature a dog in the script after he had such a difficult experience with a baboon on the set of the original Fly. This baboon became a waste of the production’s budget and time, much like Brooks had feared. On The Fly II, Brooks was adamant that a dog be used in the place of any existing animal since they’re such agreeable creatures on a film set and wouldn’t cause the same problems as a baboon.
Brooks was right in his assessment of the dog’s demeanor and set etiquette, but he also acted as vital emotional support on set between takes. His role in the film is soul-crushing, but there’s a small silver lining in the sense that the dog could at least bolster the mood of Stoltz and the rest of the cast so that they weren’t eternally immersed in the film’s darkness.
A loyal pup to the end
Later on, once Martin has experienced his own disturbing transformation and evolved into “MartinFly,” there’s an unnerving moment when the MartinFly creature encounters another dog. However, rather than kill it, the creature tenderly pets the gentle canine and lets him live. Martin remembers the golden retriever that didn’t make it and is touched by this dog’s comforting presence. He wants to help this animal instead of continuing this pointless cycle of violence.
Additionally, it’s significant that this animal, which is dispatched to locate the MartinFly, is completely calm around this monster. The dog doesn’t bark or try to attack him. He implicitly senses that there’s no danger to him here and that there’s a human heart beneath this grotesque shell. It’s a beautiful, simple scene that reflects the innocence of animals and their natural empathy and understanding, while also calling back to the bond between Martin and his dog.
The Fly II understands the impact of the golden retriever’s death, and it uses the dog’s pain as a karmic callback during its finale. Bartok is subjected to the same botched Telepod experience and is disfigured beyond recognition. He’s left with a fate that’s worse than death. It’s an extremely dark ending, albeit one that’s easier to tolerate the second time around because it comes across as justified. Bartok is a twisted doctor who receives the same fate that he subjects Martin’s dog to. It’s easy to support his suffering because he inflicted the same pain on an innocent dog without remorse. It’s such a dark way for this movie to conclude, and a fate that’s ultimately worse than the original Fly. It’s reminiscent of other traumatic horror conclusions like Freaks, The Wasp Woman, and even Tusk.
The Fly II is a sequel that’s aged exceptionally well and deserves more attention. There’s a lot of exciting and daring decisions on display in this sequel, but it’s the devastating dog material that hits the hardest and is still in a league of its own over 37 years later. This earnest bond becomes the emotional lynchpin that elevates The Fly II to unforgettable greatness.
