Only in the 1970s could a film like It’s Alive get made, let alone released in theaters with a straight face and a poster featuring a demonic baby carriage that looks like it might roll over your soul. Directed by the delightfully unhinged Larry Cohen, this is a movie about a killer newborn. Yes, a newborn. And not just a little colicky, either — this thing crawls out of the womb like it’s got unfinished business and a hit list.
In a world where horror often takes itself too seriously or not seriously enough, It’s Alive tiptoes across that gory tightrope with a manic grin and a splash of amniotic blood. The result is a B-movie that punches far above its weight — weirdly heartfelt, genuinely creepy, and shot through with just enough satirical venom to make you wonder if Cohen had a grudge against the whole concept of parenthood.
Let’s unwrap this swaddled little nightmare, shall we?
Birth of a Menace
The movie opens like a typical ‘70s domestic drama. Frank Davis (played with working-class pathos by John P. Ryan) and his wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) are expecting their second child. Things seem peachy — until they check into the hospital and Lenore gives birth to a mutant hellspawn that immediately slaughters the delivery team and escapes through the ceiling tiles. You know, the usual new baby jitters.
And just like that, Cohen delivers the setup: a baby that kills. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. This isn’t about the slow death of your social life after childbirth. No, this baby literally claws your throat open with tiny hands and vanishes into the night like a bloodthirsty diaper ninja.
It’s Alive… And Kind of Sad, Actually
What makes It’s Alive more than just a midnight-movie punchline is how Cohen grounds the absurdity in human emotion. Frank Davis isn’t a hero. He’s not even a good dad. He’s just a confused, angry man who wants his life back. Watching his slow descent from bewildered father to reluctant hunter of his own flesh and blood is where the film finds its weird, wobbly heart.
There’s an undercurrent of guilt and denial here that feels downright Shakespearean — if Shakespeare had written plays about toxic breast milk and violent toddlers. Frank waffles between wanting to kill the thing and wondering if he should just raise it on a steady diet of raw meat and hope for the best. John P. Ryan sells it all with clenched-jaw intensity, making Frank one of the most believable protagonists to ever aim a shotgun at a crib.
Meanwhile, Lenore goes full protective mama bear, even though her bundle of joy has a higher body count than most serial killers. She coos, she frets, she hides the baby in the basement — and still, somehow, you kind of get it. That’s Cohen’s twisted genius at play: he makes you feel for the monster… and the people it tears apart.
Larry Cohen’s Playground of Paranoia
Cohen shoots It’s Alive like he’s making The French Connection with a mutant baby on the loose. The cinematography is gritty, the pacing erratic, and the tension surprisingly sharp for a film that starts with an infant tearing out of a womb like a facehugger from Alien (which, for the record, came five years later — suck on that, Ridley Scott).
There’s a strong anti-establishment streak here, too. Cohen was never subtle about his contempt for authority, and It’s Alive drips with it. The doctors, the police, the corporate suits — all of them are either complicit in the birth of the monster (via shady pharmaceuticals, natch) or obsessed with covering it up. The media’s in a frenzy, everyone’s pointing fingers, and meanwhile, this scuttling murder-baby is out there somewhere, sharpening its claws.
The Baby: Seen and Not Heard (Much)
One of the smartest things Cohen does is limit our view of the creature. We get glimpses — a clawed hand here, glowing eyes there — but he keeps it hidden for most of the movie. That restraint gives the violence more punch and the tension more edge. When we finally get a good look at the thing, it’s ridiculous, of course — a Jim Henson fever dream on meth — but by then, we’re too far in to laugh it off.
Special effects legend Rick Baker (before he became Rick Baker™) designed the creature, and while the puppet wouldn’t pass muster on an Are You Afraid of the Dark? reboot, it works in the film’s surreal, grindhouse aesthetic. This isn’t a slick studio product. It’s a grindy little gem with just enough grime and guts to make you squirm.
It’s Alive, and So Is the Subtext
For a movie about a murderous baby, It’s Alive has a lot on its mind. There are jabs at environmental degradation, medical corruption, and the pharmaceutical industry — all without feeling preachy. Cohen was never the type to hammer a message home. He just tossed it into the chaos and let it fester like an untreated wound.
There’s also a potent anxiety about fatherhood, masculinity, and the fear of passing on one’s flaws — genetically, morally, spiritually. The real horror isn’t just the killer infant. It’s the realization that, deep down, every parent worries their kid might grow up to be a monster… or worse, that it’s somehow their fault.
That’s the nasty little seed Cohen plants early, and it blooms into a tree full of thorns by the final reel.
So… Is It Good?
It’s Alive isn’t for everyone. If you need your horror to be polished, logical, and devoid of rubbery baby puppets, look elsewhere. But if you appreciate a movie that swings for the fences with a blood-soaked rattle in one hand and a social commentary soapbox in the other, this one’s for you.
It’s weird. It’s wild. It’s occasionally poignant in the way only a low-budget monster movie about parental guilt can be. And it’s all held together by Cohen’s chaotic energy, a solid central performance from John P. Ryan, and the sheer gall of the premise.
You walk into It’s Alive expecting a joke. You leave feeling vaguely disturbed — and a little guilty for not being able to stop thinking about it.
Final Thoughts:
Yes, it’s a movie about a killer baby. But It’s Alive is also a film about fear — of science, of government, of family, of yourself. It’s a cautionary tale told with gore, grit, and a deeply twisted sense of humor. Like parenthood, it’s messy, unpredictable, and slightly terrifying.
Rating: 8 out of 10 defective birth control pills
Because sometimes, the scariest thing in the world is a crying baby with fangs.
