Welcome back, goblins and ghouls, to the fourth annual installment of SpookyJawn! Each October, our love of horror fully rises from its slumber and takes over the MovieJawn website for all things spooky! This year, we are looking at ghosts, goblins, ghouls, goths, and grotesqueries, week by week they will march over the falling leaves to leave you with chills, frights, and spooky delights! Read all of the articles here!

by Allie Lembo, Staff Writer

We eat for all kinds of reasons. Culture. Diet. Health. Comfort. In the moment, fork to the lips, there’s just one factor above all else: Taste. The hardest thing to sell.

Larry Cohen’s 1985 horror film, The Stuff, imagines a sweet, white, custardy goo pulsing out of the ground, packaged as a dessert and aggressively marketed to the masses through a dazzling commercial campaign with a catchy jingle that intercuts with much of the action. 

In one of the wildest movie openings of all time, a quarry worker boldly sticks his finger into that mysterious sputtering substance and declares it to be “tasty” and “sweet.” Over the course of the story, as so many Americans and their families and dogs get addicted to The Stuff, clearing out all other food for it, chasing down the dissenters to take a bite, no one else ever bothers to describe it. Not even a “it’s so good!” 

It’s sold as an alternative to ice cream, but how is it different? It’s at one point mistaken for shaving cream in visuals, so is it more marshmallow-y? Is it vanilla-y? Is it supposed to be cold or warm?

The official slogan for the brand is not about the yumminess. It’s “Enough is never enough.” Of course, that ends up being true because it’s an extraterrestrial parasite that turns your organs into “The Stuff” before exiting your mouth, turning you into an empty, lifeless husk. It’s an apt satire of the conservative capitalist push of the Reagan ‘80s that’s still echoing in the 2020s. Though the advertising is a bit different now.

In another lifetime, I wrote for food brands. I wrote for meal delivery kits, weight loss snacks, healthy smoothies, dog kibble, bougie supplements; anything that could be delivered to your door. Just like the C-suite of The Stuff and the director of the commercials, I hadn’t always tried the products. Legally, no one could follow up if I’d tried every single one of ______’s ______s, plus you’re not even selling flavor, you’re selling something else. 

In the first commercial for “The Stuff,” an older woman proclaims that now that she’s an adult, she doesn’t want ice cream, she wants The Stuff. There’s another other one of dancers in an urban, graffitied alley playing basketball and dancing together, as the jingle plays. In a behind-the-scenes shoot, the director tells her gorgeous, bathing suit and fur-clad models to “take a bite, let me see how much you LOVE IT!” as they catwalk. In another one, an elderly couple patronizes an exclusive restaurant before the woman yells out, “Where’s The Stuff?” 

Sure, the advertising brains behind the campaign were likely infected by the extraterrestrial milky sludge, but even if they hadn’t, they still decided to sell FOMO; the fear of missing out on the amazing time that everyone else is having without you.

They, like me, tried to identify the aches and pains of life under capitalism that this product would alleviate. Hey, no need to cook if you buy The Stuff since it’s disposable and high in nutrition. Hey, no need to bemoan your lack of time and community that would help you be able to cook since we’ve got you covered. 

I used to write so many first-person narratives; articles with titles like “I Tried ______. Here’s What Happened.” where the ‘what’ was that life got so much better. I would never outright declare that a product changed my life; that sets off ‘snake oil’ alarm bells these days. So I let slip how silly it was to say a product could change my life. I’d always admit it wasn’t perfect, but my golly did ______ take off some of the edge of being a person. Then, amid a cloud of hedging language, I’d admit it did change my life. Our little secret, a little pact that created trust. Trust to ‘add to cart.’

Maybe the product tasted like garbage. Sometimes I wouldn’t even know. But I always had the same sort of refrain: ‘you gotta try this.’ 

When the film’s protagonist and his gang of skeptics uncover the sinister underbelly of The Stuff’s manufacturing plant, they’re able to get the message out that yes, it’s tasty and low-calorie with no artificial ingredients, but it’s turning humans into muck. Everyone burns the stuff in droves, save for a small black market that could facilitate a sequel that never appeared.

For a movie where a kid loses his entire family, it has a hopeful outlook on the future. Once we know something’s bad for us, wouldn’t it be nice if that was enough for us to kick it? According to Larry Cohen, The Stuff is irresistible until you know the truth. 

The link between cigarettes and an increased risk of lung cancer and diseases was first alerted to the public in the 1950’s, but did not cause a significant decline in sales. It’s been a slow steady decline, although the use of e-cigarettes increased since 2019 and is popular in teens and young adults; a new generation of smokers. On a quicker timeline, I was in college for the rise of the alcohol- and caffeine-fueled Four Loko and the original formula’s sudden pull from shelves (after several publicized hospitalizations). People stockpiled them, rationing them for Four Loko occasions, displaying the original camo cans proudly in their dorm rooms, their under-21 status be damned. I wonder if there’s still an original Coca-Cola, stashed under the floorboards somewhere.

Products can be irresistible even if you know the truth. We’re too starved for what they can promise. Supplements aren’t regulated by the F.D.A. for effectiveness. There are rarely longitudinal studies on weight loss products. Fresh food delivery, even on ice, is sometimes dancing with the 4-hour rule of food safety. 

Like The Stuff was ‘taking on the dessert industry,’ we’re living in an era of capitalism where every new product claims to be a disruptor; something better than the crap you deigned to use before. Sometimes better means better. It usually means better, at a cost. At least that cost isn’t your insides turning to mush. Yet.

So, what does The Stuff taste like? 

I don’t want to say it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted because that’s ridiculous. It comes in a carton, you know? And you don’t even get to chew it. But, honestly? Seriously, I am such a dessert purist and the hype was annoying me, but I don’t know, I just picked it up at the grocery store for some reason, and I tried it and wow, it is so good. Truly was not expecting that. It’s not my grandma’s chocolate cake, but honestly, that might just be the nostalgia talking, I haven’t had that in so many years, I don’t even think I like chocolate as much as I think I do. But I know I loved The Stuff. Okay, like, now that I’m thinking about it, it is literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. You’ve gotta try it.