‘The Hand That Rocks the Cradle’ – Revisiting the ’90s Thriller Ahead of the Remake

I have a vivid memory of watching The Hand That Rocks the Cradle when I was no more than six or seven. I recall being absolutely enthralled—not necessarily by the story, but the imagery reeled me in. It left an indelible mark on my brain; that’s probably why I’m drawn to psychological thrillers so much.

Thirty-plus years later, I revisited the 1992 film ahead of the remake (coming to Hulu on October 22 and starring Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Maika Monroe) to see if it still holds up in the modern era. What struck me the most were the performances, led by Annabella Sciorra (as the too-nice-for-her-own-good housewife Claire Bartel) and Rebecca De Mornay (as the diabolical Peyton Flanders). Both commit so entirely to the material, particularly De Mornay, in a deliciously unhinged turn, that you begin to believe that what they’re saying is real. And their dynamic together oozes with insidious tension; it’s bubbling just below the surface, and while Claire remains totally oblivious, Peyont twists the knife oh so delicately.

The world screenwriter Amanda Silver (Jurassic World, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Avatar: The Way of Water) crafted dives deep into the complexities of human nature, the rawness of death and grief, and the intricacies of revenge. Peyton, undercover as Mrs. Mott, the wife of serial abuser Dr. Victor Mott (John de Lancie), who kills himself under the weight of his crimes, runs into Claire on the street and claims she’s a nanny looking for work. Almost immediately, Peyton stabs her hooks into the family. During the interview process, she “finds” an earring in the baby’s crib, demonstrating that she’s desperately needed for the job and perhaps more attentive than Claire.

Peyton never shows her hand too much. It’s always in methodical increments so as not to arouse suspicion. But the things she does are downright disturbing, namely, allowing the baby to breastfeed from her when she thinks no one is looking. De Mornay nails the hell out of the script, offering up a nuanced maniac with a thirst for blood. I have no doubt Maika Monroe will knock it out of the park, but she has enormous shoes to fill. From confronting handyman Solomon (Ernie Hudson), who witnessed Peyton feeding the infant, to planting seeds that Claire’s husband, Michael (Matt McCoy), could be cheating with family friend Marlene Craven (Julianne Moore), she nearly got away with her devious plan.

With Curtis Hanson (8 Mile, L.A. Confidential) in the director’s chair, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle is, without a doubt, one of the best thrillers of all time. There’s something about fear that creeps up on you in the silence, owed to Hanson’s work in letting the camera linger longer than it should or slowly panning across characters and into empty space. It’s the quiet that can really get you. The film definitely doesn’t feel like it’s nearly two hours long. The pacing is tight, but the script isn’t concerned with rushing scenes and moments. Instead, there’s a balanced rise and fall of events; you can never get too complacent before it picks up again. To enjoy the third act, you have to enjoy the buildup before it absolutely explodes. It’s worth it.

It’s the mark of a true classic that a film stands the test of time 32 years later. The Hand That Rocks the Cradle is a masterpiece and a gold standard for the psychological thriller genre. I’ll be honest: I never thought it’d get a remake. But I guess everything gets a remake these days. Much bigger IPs have been turned inside out for a quick buck, so why not this? There’s always a new perspective and story to be told, and there will always be a screenwriter and director daring enough to attempt a fresh iteration.

With a lead performance that should have gained a much wider reception (looking at Rebecca De Mornay here!), the film doesn’t falter one iota. It’s as compelling and frightening today as it was in 1992. I can fully understand now why I was so glued to the TV set that hot summer night. Several set pieces, most notably the greenhouse scene with Marlene, will forever be etched into my brain. There’s just no getting over images like that. The Hand That Rocks the Cradle has more than earned its place in the pantheon of horror/thrillers. Decades from now, we’ll still be talking about it.

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