Lesson learned: If you're going to hold strange things at bay, you'd damned well better have a lot of firewood.
During a drive through an unspecified American wasteland, Andy and Karen
Thorne (Eddie Albert and June Havoc) find themselves stranded in the
middle of nowhere when their car inexplicably breaks down. In short
order they find themselves menaced by apparently-living tumbleweeds,
inexplicably animated brush that surrounds them and will not let them
leave. Improvised torches only work to keep the tumbleweeds at bay for
as long as the local supply of random branches lasts, and when that runs
out the couple encounter the apparently crazy Lamont (Arthur
Hunnicutt), a farmer who fills them in on how a meteor crashed nearby
two weeks prior, after which the tumbleweeds, rocks, and trees began
moving and held him captive. As the trio takes shelter in Lamont's
house, they endure a night of abject terror as the aforementioned
inanimate objects relentlessly converge. Adding to the waking nightmare
is a barrage of a legion of large bullfrogs that dissolve into a milky
substance when they land in water. But exactly why is all of this
happening?
Aggressive tumbleweeds may seem silly, but that imagery haunted my
memory for over forty years and it still wields considerable creepy
power.
When I was very young (around age five), I lived in South San Francisco
and was addicted to reruns of old sci-fi and horror shows, with THE
OUTER LIMITS being a favorite that I love to this very day. It was in
many the successor to THE TWILIGHT ZONE, with the allegorical content
dialed down and the straight-up horror cranked up to 11, often within a
science-fiction context, and its hour-long format allowed for richer
character development and the slow building of rather intense (though
TV-acceptable) terror. While not every episode was a gem, the program's
two seasons yielded a good number of indelible cathode ray nightmares
and of all of them that I absorbed at that tender age, "Cry of Silence"
was the one that hit me hardest and stuck with me longest during the
years before the series popped up in reruns in the Tri-State area during
my high school years. The story's creepy enough from an adult
perspective, but it's especially scary to a little kid whose
understanding that one cannot reason with menacing trees, rocks,
tumbleweeds, and bullfrogs operates on the level of one who still
harbors belief in the possibility of unknowable, sinister things living
in the closet or under one's bed. Those tumbleweeds were a mute,
faceless horror that attacked for no discernible reason, and those
frogs... Oh, Christ, those frogs and the milky stuff they dissolved
into...
When I finally saw "Cry of Silence" after over a decade, and again some
three decades after that, it still held up and touched a very primal
nerve that still remained in what was left of that terrified
five-year-old deep within my psyche. Its ending even works in a very
unexpected way after all the horrific setup, and considering what the
big reveal is, that's no mean feat. If you're new to THE OUTER LIMITS
(vintage version), there are definitely stronger and more significant
episodes that you should check out first — "Nightmare" being my vote for
probably the most terrifying of the lot —but don't skip over "Cry of
Silence" when it comes up in sequence during your recommended Netflix
perusal.
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