“Half an hour. One bag and the guns. I’ll make pancakes.” Sarah Connor

By Brian Thompson

I. The Setup 

Several years ago, I experienced something I can only describe as terrifying.  It was a rainy Saturday, and I had nothing to do.  Obviously, these were the days before broadband Internet and Grand Theft Auto IV.  So I schlepped to the local multiplex and bought a ticket to the earliest show.  It was a movie called Kung Pow, which starred the gentleman who wrote Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.  No, this wasn’t the horrifying part.  It was more bemusing, really, since I couldn’t understand how this thing made it through the gauntlet of script writing, budget gathering, or actual filming before someone realized that this was a movie starring the gentleman who wrote Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.  Maybe he was coasting on the success of his direct-to-video Star Wars parody, Thumb Wars, which starred his thumbs.  Anyway, watching the thing made me feel that same mixture of admiration, pity, and annoyance I get whenever the mentally handicapped kid at Burger King screws up my order. 

So, the terrifying part.  After Kung Pow finished (there were credits and everything–people actually worked on this movie), I snuck into the theater next door.  Look, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.  What kind of name is “The Mothman Prophecies” anyway?  I’m not interested in moths, men, or precognition, though I’m sure there’s a market for all of those things.  But assuming I didn’t stumble into the movie by accident, the goofy title still wouldn’t have kept me away.  No, the Richard Gere connection would have been more than enough for that.  Also, the presence of the woman from that grotesque minstrel show known as Will & Grace. 

I honestly gasped when I saw the man.  Those beady eyes, that prematurely gray coif.  He can’t be human.  How could anyone other than Josh Hartnett radiate so much anti-charisma?  Richard Gere isn’t so much an actor as he is a vague idea.  Even Kevin Costner can occasionally break up the rhythm of his monotone.  Strap Gere to a steel bridge, and his incessant drone will eventually match its harmonic frequency and bring the thing crumbling down Tesla-style.  (And before you tell me they already covered this on Mythbusters, I’ll remind you that they didn’t use the Gere method.  Also, Kari Byron is the co-star of most of my dreams.)   

Speaking of bridges, the movie ended with some kind of horrible bridge collapse that someone maybe had a vision about or something.  Honestly, I don’t remember too much about the plot.  I was too busy wondering where the hell the Mothman was.  At the very least, this thing could have been a C-list superhero movie.  My aversion to seeing Richard Gere in a pair of tights aside (and, really, I’m not that averse to it), at the very least I would have liked to see him eating sweaters or something.  No such luck. 

So imagine my surprise when I later learned that the movie was actually based on a book.  A non-fiction book!  And unlike the flick, the book really did deal with a Mothman.  But did the real Mothman look anything like Richard Gere? 

II. The Findings 

The short answer is no.  But I assume you’re reading this to learn a little bit about the Mothman story, so I’ll indulge you.  I’ll warn you right now, though, that just like Richard Gere’s The Mothman Prophecies, this story has a disappointing ending. 

On November 15, 1966, two couples were driving near an abandoned TNT factory in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, which doesn’t really sound very pleasant considering there’s nothing better to do there than drive by the abandoned TNT factory.  (However, it is quite entertaining to visit a dark corner of Sunset Blvd. and read the cardboard “will dance for food” signs of an abandoned C&C Music Factory, but that’s neither here nor there.)  

Before the couples could begin whatever kinky orgy they were planning in the back seat, one of them spotted a pair of red eyes glowing in the dark.  Soon, those eyes rose as a large creature stood and spread its…wings!  The couples zipped up their pants and hauled ass, later claiming they sped away at 100 miles an hour as the creature chased them.  They later reported the incident to police–even detailing a spot on the side of the road where they saw a dead dog.  How they managed to remember exactly where the dead dog lay while driving at 100 miles an hour with a giant, red-eyed bird creature chasing them is anyone’s guess.  But if it was my guess, I’d call shenanigans.  Still, the officer to whom they reported the incident took them at their word, since he knew both couples and considered them credible witnesses.  This is despite the fact that no one is a credible witness in the dead of night at 100 miles an hour.   

But the story made it into the local paper, and the rest of 1966 and 1967 saw the reports of several other red-eyed bird creature sightings.  Of course, this in no way lends any credence to the story.  It may seem counter-intuitive, but a rash of sightings like this immediately after the publication of a story actually indicates nothing more mysterious than mass hysteria.  After all, why didn’t anyone see this thing before the story went public?  And why did all the sightings peter out?  

But the Mothman story really starts to seem ridiculous when you learn that none of the witnesses even described it as being moth-like.  It was known only as the “Big Bird” (spooky!) until a newspaper editor in Ohio dubbed it the Mothman.  This was enough to spark the interest of paranormal investigator (runner-up for the Most Meaningless Title in the Universe Award–just behind “spiritual advisor”) John Keel, who went to Point Pleasant to piece the witness accounts together.  Keel published his findings in the 1975 book The Mothman Prophecies.  Unlike anyone up to that point, he didn’t come away from Point Pleasant with a bunch of rather mundane bird sightings and a bad case of crabs.  Instead, he spun an elaborate tale of psychic premonitions, alien encounters, and visits from Men in Black.  Of course, he offered no evidence for any of these things.  But that didn’t stop him from speculating that the alien/monster/extra-dimensional being Mothman was responsible for the 1967 collapse of Point Pleasant’s Silver Bridge.  Non-paranormal investigation tells us the bridge collapsed due to a manufacturing flaw, but Keel knows better. 

However, Keel didn’t know better than to consider that there might have been a far more mundane explanation for the Mothman than visitors from another planet who happen to look like moth/human hybrids.  No, there is another animal that stalks the West Virginia night.  It has large, creepy eyes that can glow red in the moonlight.  Its face looks more man than bird, and its markings resemble the gray splotches of a moth.  Its legs are thick and muscular, giving it an impressive standing height, and its wingspan can strike terror in the hearts of all who see it.  

Its name is Elizabeth Taylor.   

Just kidding.  It’s a barn owl. 

III. The Conclusion 

So what went wrong here?  It wasn’t just the casting of Richard Gere.  Even the black hole of talent known as Keanu Reeves couldn’t ruin The Matrix (no, it was George Lucas-caliber dialog that did that).  And I like the movie’s director, Mark Pellington.  He made Arlington Road, which was a decent little suburban horror thriller.  And he also directed Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” video, the single greatest three or so minute portrayal of a school shooting and/or classroom suicide (it’s all in how you look at it, man). 

No, what finally torpedoed the whole concept of The Mothman Prophecies as a motion picture was its insistence on being as muddled, ridiculous, and pointless as its inspiration.  Still, the whole debacle gave the town of Point Pleasant an excellent excuse to erect their very own Mothman statue, which, at the very least, will give their youngsters something besides the abandoned TNT factory to vandalize. 

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About The Amateur Scientist: Brian Thompson is a professor of amateur science at a major imaginary university. He has been able to read and write for over seventeen years.

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