An Introduction To Film : Chapter 3.
Hello and welcome to Chapter 3 of An Introduction to Film. A huge thank you is in order to those of you who have supported the column thus far, including Ashish and Widro who were both kind enough to pimp me in various forms on 411Mania without even asking me to wear my slut dress or doll myself up. You guys are the best masters a guy could ask for.
This week, we've got a huge look at one of the most disturbing movies ever made and two Halloween Mini Reviews as the countdown continues towards this coming Friday's Pagan celebration. I hope you guys are having a great week gearing up for Halloween and that you had equally tremendous weekends. How could I not have? Virginia Tech lost on Wednesday, YOUR Florida State Seminoles blew by Wake Forest, and Miami and Virginia Tech are on course to knock each other silly.
Well, enough friendly banter, let's get intimate shall we with some obligatory news followed by more Halloween madness as Jay hasn't any time to waste!
The Box Office Rundown:
OVERALL BOX OFFICE TOP TEN:
1. Scary Movie 3 - $49.7 million ($49.7 million)
2. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre - $14.7 million ($51.1 million)
3. Radio - $14 million ($14 million)
4. Runaway Jury - $8.4 million ($24 million)
5. Mystic River - $7.6 million ($24.5 million)
6. School of Rock - $6.5 million ($63.3 million)
7. Kill Bill Vol. 1 - $5.9 million ($53.6 million)
8. Good Boy! - $4.8 million ($31.8 million)
9. Intolerable Cruelty - $3.5 million ($28.1 million)
10. Under the Tuscan Sun - $2.2 million ($37.1 million)
Credit: 411Movies.
ON DIAL:
Truth be told, I am really turning into quite the couch potato and basing my life around television during the past few weeks more intensively than I have since the glory days of T.G.I.F. on ABC. This Saturday, I rolled out of bed and actually found myself watching something like five consecutive episodes of "The Restaurant" on Bravo. As far as reali-mentaries go, I found the show to be tremendous as a first time viewer who used to work in a restaurant and I would highly recommend it.
"The Joe Schmoe Show" has also turned into the breakthrough hit that SPIKEtv so badly needed and I am psyched for the series finale which airs tonight at 9:00pm. I think anyone with half of a brain can see some giant swerve coming on not only Matt, but the viewers as well. Something isn't as meets the eye, and I have a feeling an awful lot of people are going to be tuning in to see the fiery conclusion.
In somewhat surprising news, the 2003 World Series garnered the third lowest average ratings in the history of the event. This should probably serve as a wake up call to those proclaiming that "Baseball in back!". The storyline of the Cubs and Red Sox curses and the human desire to cheer for the underdog are what led to ungodly ratings for the ALCS and NLCS, and the fact that 3 of the 4 teams involved represented major, major markets didn't hurt either. In a few months when baseball restarts, it will face exactly the same problems that it faced in the beginning of this season. Nothing has changed. Baseball has a tragic flaw that's doomed to drag it down forever. The season is just too long. At 162 games on top of THIRTY spring training games, saying that "every game counts" is a flat out lie. Teams are playing 1.1 games per 2 days for an entire year. Football, college football and even the NBA are so dramatic because every game literally does mean something. What is my incentive to watch a midseason baseball game between two .500 teams? So why not just shorten the season to 80-100 games and shorten the dreadful 4 game series schedule that all but the grouchiest of baseball purists find mind numbingly boring? It's easy, because baseball has become such a stats-obsessed sport that taking even one single game off of the season would be like erasing a hundred years of records. So in essence, you can't make every game mean something without destroying tradition and the record books, two of baseballs biggest drawing points. And if you stick with tradition, each games mean so little that mainstream America just doesn't care. Good luck finding an escape route there.
So You Want to be a Screenwriter?:
Once again, please allow me to say how thrilled I am that so many of you have expressed your eagerness to participate in this little experiment. I assure you that I have been burning the midnight oil reading up on all things screenwriting, spending long afternoons in my local coffee shop jotting down notes and ideas whenever I can salvage the time, and corresponding with a couple of friends in the business to bring you the most accurate and important things that you need to do to dream up a story, put it to paper, bring it to life and hopefully some day earn respect, happiness and thousands of dollars for your work.
This is my dream. To actually utilize my mediocre talents in attempt to some day make a life for myself doing something I actually enjoy rather than turning into the corporate whore that my major wants me to be. Chances are, I'll have to be that corporate whore, but having a pipe dream and a light at the end of the tunnel -even if it may be nearly unreachable -can mean the difference between happiness and misery for many.
Last week, I asked you to spend some time thinking up an idea for your script. Many of you emailed me your ideas and truth be told, the majority of them were tremendous and original. Many of them were concepts that I --the target demographic for most studios --would spend my hard earned money to see. For those new to the column or who simply forgot, it's certainly not too late. What you need at this point is an idea for a story with a starting point, an ending point and maybe some loose idea of what happens in the middle, but that's not necessary yet.
This week, we're going to work to add some depth to the main character of your story. A name is everything, so dwell on it seriously before just deciding on something arbitrarily. According to Steven Spielberg --whom I think we can consider a qualified source --a character must have a set of clearly defined traits and habits in order to add believability to our story and facilitate character connection with the audience. With that said, mentally envision your main character and begin formulating ideas on the following characteristics:
Physical Form, Dominant Emotional State, Source of Income, Home/Hangouts, Goals, Opinions/ Beliefs, Moral Makeup, Talents & Routines.
When you consider it, these are the things that really makes a person who they are. So consider your main character and the overriding personality traits that he will convey during the course of your script. Come up with rough descriptions for each of these characteristics during the next week and you'll be well on your way to beginning a script of your own.
Halloween Countdown!
Last House on the Left (1972)
"Keep telling yourself 'It's only a movie, it's only a movie'..." - Original Marketing Campaign
When it comes to horror films, I consider myself to be pretty strong stomached. I've sat through graphic, comical mutilations in The Toxic Avenger and endured not-so-comical depictions of messy death in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I don't particularly care for these scenes as they seem like a crutch for a weak plot, nor have I ever or will I ever watch a Faces of Death video. In fact, I find it inexcusable that Blockbuster even offers the films and if the Patriot Act somehow puts those who rent the trash under a microscope, show me where to sign away my freedom. I guess some humans have some sort of a morbid curiosity though, which would explain the success of the movie that we are going to focus on this week.
The Last House on the Left is many things to many people. To some, it's a work of art, to others is the most unnecessarily disturbing cinematic experience of it's generation. As children, my brother Ken and I would spend every Saturday afternoon at our friend Erik's house. We had a lot in common. The three of us loved wrestling and spent many adolescent afternoons adorned in nothing but briefs and tube-socks emulating our favorite wrestlers on Erik's trampoline, tumbling about like a trio of dandies while the neighborhood pedophiles undoubtedly tugged away the weekend from behind the veil of their Venetian blinds. One thing we also loved was horror films, and almost every Saturday, Erik's Dad would take us to Video Sight & Sound to rent a film. We would always end up in the "Horror" section and his Dad would always say "You can rent anything but The Last House on the Left ". We would always wonder what this forbidden film was all about before settling for something generic like The Creature with the Blue Hand.
A full ten years later, myself, Ken and Erik loaded into a car and headed over to a house party at a place our friend Ben was watching. It wasn't a crazy party, just a few dozen friends, some BBQ and some beers. When we arrived, we set foot in a house that was a nightmare in itself. With red carpet and dark wood paneling on the walls, the house was packed with more religious paraphernalia than I had ever seen under one roof. For whatever reason, houses like make me highly uncomfortable to be in. It probably goes back to a 2nd grade field trip to Mrs. Shappat's home, also decked out with religious decor. It was there that she sat the 20 members of the class around her in a circle in the living room, offered us lemonade and broke into a story about how late at night the room with often flood with green smoke and Satan himself would appear to her. Or maybe the uneasiness rooted back to the Amityville Horror episode of Leonard Nemoy's In Search Of that would always scare the living hell out of me on the A&E network while I prepared for school in the morning. Whatever it was, the house gave us all a good old-fashioned case of the willies upon arrival.
After a beer and a few burgers, Ken, Erik and I headed to the back room, likely to gossip like a gaggle of schoolgirls about someone in attendance. A lantern like light hung from the ceiling and flickered as Boaz and Isaiah -two enormous house hounds - frantically humped each other as they had been doing all evening. As we crashed on the sofa and kicked our feet up, we all noticed something sitting on the shelf at precisely the same time. On display in this Christian home was a copy of The Last House on the Left. Now grown up in college, we remembered those afternoons at Video Sight & Sound when we were nine years old. Perhaps Nostalgia had it's way with us, as we pulled the video off the shelf and popped it into the old, top loading VCR.
"How bad could it be?" were the last words jokingly uttered before the dusty old VHS waged war on our unsuspecting souls.
Originally released in 1972, The Last House on the Left was the brainchild of a young director by the name of Wes Craven who would go on to achieve tremendous success with A Nightmare on Elm Street 1 through 641. Craven wrote and directed this low-budget film which would not only push the envelope of decency further than ever before, but caused theatres to have to edit the film themselves in order to make it even remotely passable for audiences. With the tagline "Keep telling yourself It's just a movie...it's just a movie" spearheading promotion for the film, it opened in early 1972 to lukewarm success.
Our film begins with a buxom young peach by the name of Mari Collingwood --a woman whom you might not want to grow overly attached to -- setting off to see a band called Bloodlust with her good pal Phyllis Stone. Now normally any evening that's planned around seeing a band with the word "blood" in its name is usually destined to go sour, and this night would be no exception. Before leaving, Mari's father, a good-natured doctor, gives her a necklace with a peace symbol on it in celebration her 17th Birthday as the two young tarts set off.
Mari apparently misconstrues the meaning of the peace necklace, as rather than doing something to better humanity, she decides to hit the wrong side of the tracks in attempt to score some weed. While driving through the boondocks, the girls hear a radio brief about a duo of sex offenders who recently escaped custody. As far as Mari is concerned, if the sexual deviants don't have a dime of that sticky green, then they are jive turkeys who are out of sight and out of mind.
Unfortunately, the hook to that out of sight out of mind deal is being out of sight, and soon a deviant named Junior crosses paths with the girls. After some heavy persuasion that basically consists of "Wanna come up to my loft, I've got ha-sheeeeesh", the broads agree.
In the loft, we meet Junior's father, Senior. That was a joke, his name is actually Krug Stillo, not to be confused with God Zilla. We also meet a fellow by the name of Weasel. Now one would think that even the dimmest of people would be hesitant to trust a lad named Weasel, but just in case one didn't get the hint, Weasel carried a blade. Also a part of the malicious posse is a woman named Sadie who ay very well me the most perverse of the group.
Now the girls still have one thing in mind, landing a quarta' sack, rollin' that herb and tokin' a roach papa. However, as soon as they wrap their sinful lips around it, Johnny Dakota appears, shakes his head and confiscates the joint. But, seconds later, Dakota is seen in the men's bathroom suckin' on that reefa'. Zack walks in, stomps the roach, gives Johnny his jacket back and curses the day he ever giggled like a schoolgirl at Johnny's stories of leasing the school parking lot to the Honda dealership on the weekends. Out of nowhere Brandon Tarticof of all people pops in with the following message: "Hi, I'm Brandon Tarticof of NBC programming with a hit idea for the fall season. DON'T DO DRUGS". In unison, the gang shouts "There's no hope with dope". As the scene fades, Rod Belding is seen laughing menacingly as he tokes a fattie with a stewardess while white water rafting without Slater and the gang. FADE OUT.
Oh, wait that was Saved by the Bell. What actually happens is that we, the about-to-be-blindsided-viewer, realize that Krug and Weasel are the two escaped sex offenders being pursued by the police. Junior and Sadie are deviant's apprentices of sorts, not to be confused with The Sorcerer's Apprentice, a season one episode of Nickelodeon's Are You Afraid of the Dark - a show that we'll be going into wicked detail on next week.
Now that we have the "backstory" box marked off our checklist, it's time for the graphic rape and violence, woot-woot~!
Junior is all "I'm no dealer, but I'm 'bout to deal you some sexual assault with extra rape sauce woman". But first, an appetizer sampler of punches and kicks is opted for. Mari is restrained and forced to look on as her friend is raped and beaten in the first truly disturbing scene of the film. At this point, Ken, Erik and I began to understand why we weren't permitted to see the film when young, but knew we were past the bad part and headed towards the girls escaping and killing the sadists!
The next day, the convicts are all "We're going to toss you into something with a trunk, and it don't eat peanuts girlfriend! Pssshawww!". Junior and Weasel take care of the women, tossing them in the trunk of a Cadillac. Inside of the close quarters, the girls thump the trunk - not to be confused with the song that launched Chumbawumba's careers "Tubthumping".
A few miles up the road the car breaks down because, you know, the band of goons were too busy fussing with rape to bother to check their fluids.
After numerous tries, the car still won't start. But, as mom always said, if at first you don't succeed, drag your trunk prisoners into the forest and rape them again! And as situation would have it, that's precisely what happened. Looking back, about the only way to possible bear this movie is to imagine The Wet Bandits from Home Alone as the sexual deviants. You'd be surprised how much levity it will bring to such a tasteless film.
It should be noticed that the bumbling deviants actually broke down in front of Mari's home. In the middle of the woods, Krug is packing heat and he forces the women to do as he tells them at gunpoint.
Because it's been about six minutes since a good raping occurred, why the fuck not right? Krug decided to try and rape Mari just for kicks, but what the! That Slippery Phyllis darts off into the woods, escaping!
This truly is about the only uplifting moment of the film thus far. After agonizingly witnessing and experiencing stomach-turning abuse, Phyliss flags down a car, escapes to safety and lives to tell the tale.
Ha, kidding. About twenty seconds after escaping, the criminals corner the young woman. Because BRUTALLY stabbing her to death in disgustingly grotesque fashion just isn't over the top enough, Craven figures why not do it in front of a church. Oh the irony, oh the symbolism! OH!
While three of the four hooligans take a stab at murder (Get It?), Junior -badly in need of medicine- bonds with Mari. Mari, now realizing that she is close to home, consoles Junior and even gives him her necklace. She explains that her father is a doctor and in exchange for her safety, she promises to get him the medication that he needs. Junior agrees and lets Mari return to her house.
Mari makes it all of thirty steps before, you guessed it, being raped(!) when she runs into Sadie, Krug and Weasel who are unaware of the deal that she struck with Junior. This scene of rape was probably the most disturbing of the film in it's unapologetic and gruesome detail.
Oh, and they horrifically shoot and leave her for dead afterwards, while Junior wears her peace necklace. Oh the irony, oh the symbolism!
As the foursome regroup, a sense of genuine disgust over their own actions becomes evident within the group. It's getting late and the foursome are hungry and tired, so like inconspicuous criminals, they decide to post as traveling salesmen and ask Mari's family if they can stay the night. At this point, I'd almost encourage the death of the family for being as stupid as to invite the strangers to spend the night, but my soul couldn't handle another gruesome death.
Mari's family become suspicious and begin to think "Perhaps these people don't just want to sell strangers Peanut Brittle out of the the trunks of their cars...Perhaps, they are the killers". And then mentally Dr. Collingwood is all like "It was Weasel in the Billiard Room with the Lead Pipe...Bitch".
Out by the lake, Mrs. Collingswood comes across Mari's bullet-riddled body and wonder what happened and she's all like "It wasn't a cane-pole fishin' accident ya old coot". Before dying, Mari tells her parents that the group staying in their house killed her. Mari's Mom looks concerned and asks "Oh. Do you know if they like PotPie, because I was planning a nice potpie for dinner". And the Doctor is all shaking is head saying "Worst. HouseGuests.Ever".
Actually, Dr. Collingwood is filled with the kind of rage that can only come when one bludgeons your daughter to death and then takes advantage of your hospitality in the same afternoon. Playing the role of Fred, the good Doctor sets booby traps all over the house, though none involve a hammock, a washing machine or sticky tar.
Meanwhile. Mrs. Collingwood coaxes Weasel to come outside for some kinky relations. Weasel is all like "I just raped your daughter at gunpoint while her friend watched, I'm all kinked out Mom". After the Dr. fails to catch a single crook in his booby traps, Krug is all like "You couldn't even catch A COLD with those traps...and you couldn't carry a tune............................ ............................................................ IN A BUCKET!". Meanwhile, Mrs. Collingwood is now gumming some Weasel knob. Weasel is digging the fallacious fun, well at least until she castrates him. Meanwhile, Krug and the Doctor are fighting like they were Rick Martel and Tito Santana in 1989. But wait, Junior busts in and pulls a gun on Krug, his father.
Throughout the duration of the film, Junior always shows just a slight bit of conscious and the viewer believes that this is what the film is all about. Junior coming into his own and saving the family in a final episode of redemption. This romantic notion lasts all over twenty seconds before dialogue basically sounding like this occurs.
Krug: Hey Junior, maybe you should kill yourself.
Junior: Ok.
(Junior Blows his own head off)
The mee-lay isn't over yet though! Mrs. Collingwood throws Sadie into the swimming pool and since it's the deep end we know she means business. After slitting Sadie's throat, the perverse woman dies.
Now Krug is heartbroken, thinking that maybe suggesting for his son to kill himself wasn't the adult way to deal with the situation. Any 70's horror buff knows that though the movie only has two minutes left, something is still missing. Ah, a chainsaw. And wouldn't you know it, here comes the doc with a chainsaw, turning Krug into giblets.
As the film ends, the police arrive on the scene.
When the film ended, the three of us looked at each other with a look of disgust, trauma and relief that it was over. Though I may have been too whimsical to properly convey the power of some of the scenes, I assure you that the horribly realistic depictions of rape and murder took a little piece of me that evening.The Last House on the Left is the only movie that I can honestly say that I feel worse off for having seen.
The debate on this film rages on to this day. It has become a cult classic, but then again anything depicting graphic human suffering burrows it's way into the hearts of a lot of truly sick people these days. Flower of Flesh and Blood is a cult classic in many circles. The film is of Japanese descent and is simply a handheld shot, single angle video of a Samari systematically slicing a kidnapped and bound women to peices in such realistic fashion that when Charlie Sheen came across a copy, he turned it into the FBI because he thought it was real. No credits, no introduction, just a film depicting a live woman agonizingly being chopped to pieces that has become popular due to the fact that some wishful monsters think it is indeed real.
Let's take a look at it's sequel description, courtesy of IMDB: Unabridged Agony (also know simply as Guinea Pig) contains a woman being put through all sorts of humiliation and torture, ending with a hot needle being shoved in her eye, then it cuts to black without any credits.
Some defend this trite saying that it's a form of art and shouldn't be censored. Ludicras rapping about driving five miles an hour over the speed limit is a good case for defending art, but garbage like this isn't. No moral or social stance to justify this kind of thing blinds me personally. This may be an unpopular and maybe even Unamerican stance, but I don't think that under any circumstance this kind of thing should be tolerated or protected by law.
People who watch these third world psuedo-snuff films, rent Faces of Death videos or even defend movies like The Last House on the Left are a danger to society in my opinion. I'm not saying that if you've willing subjected yourself to any of these films that you should be locked up, but I see no need in society nurturing this kind of lifestyle by making these materials so readily available.
I'm not talking about Evil Dead or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but really hardcore stuff with no redeeming social value besides giving the dark-lurkers of the world another horrifically realistic death or rape scene to get their rocks off on.
To get things back on track, defenders of The Last House on the Left try to defend it by saying that it's an artistic interpretation of the coldness of murder and rape and the fact that the crimes leave nothing behind. Fine. I know the world can be a shitty place, but I don't a movie to tell me that, nor do I see the point in ever watching the movie again NOR do I understand the said defenders rushing out to buy the DVD in order to rewatch the 30 minutes of horrific rapes and murders in order to pat themselves on the back for learning a little life lesson that most sane people already know.
So, in closing, I give The Last House on the Left my overwhelming recommendation to avoid.
Any fans of the movie reading? Well drop me a line and sell me on it. I actually got more than enough insight from readers last week to make me realize that while Arnold may not be the ideal choice to govern an ant farm, he was the best choice on the ballot that had a chance of winning in the state of California as scary as that is.
Open Container & A Movie:
TWO BONUS HALLOWEEN REVIEWS!
Last Thursday evening, Ken Anderson and I decided that we would skip class, get a bite to eat at Atlanta Bread Co. and then mosey on over to our local theatre to take in two Halloween films on the big screen. Because it was so conveniently close to the restaurant, we decided to see the film at that theatre. You guys know what I am talking about, the once bustling theatre that has eroded to nearly nothing since the new state of the art theatre opened across town. The one that seems to be just days away from becoming one of those charming $2 theatres that is just now playing host to the premiere of Ghost Dad. Yes, we went to that theatre and honestly, I almost like it more than the newer, fancier theatres in town. It has a certain charm, far fewer obnoxious people chomping their death soaked popped corn directly behind you and most importantly of all, it's far easier to sneak booze into a new release.
You know how some people say "It IS possible to have a good time without alcohol". Those people are liars. You shouldn't listen to liars. Normally we purchase canned beer to sneak into the theatre because clanking glass is a dead giveaway. Usually, we'll each get about three or four of those tall 22oz Bud Lights that are so popular with the NASCAR crowd. Sometimes we'll wear cargo shorts and put one can in each pocket and one under our belts. Sometimes, I'll be wearing a tight pair of dungarees and have to get a little bit more creative. Probably my worst idea ever was pulling an old hooded sweatshirt out of my trunk, placing four oversized cans of beer inside of the hood and then throwing a baggy jacket over the top of it to conceal it entirely. Ken then went ahead and put the other two cans in the front of his pants. All was smooth sailing until we got to the ticket counter. Once the beers had settled, they began pulling down on the hood, which in turn pulled up on the collar and began choking me. With a face bright red and gasping for dear life, I managed to spit out the name of the movie that I wanted to see. When Ken and I walked into the lobby, the manager, a security guard the red vested teenager tearing tickets awaited us. Smoothly, I handed him my ticket and stepped aside. Then, Ken extended his ticket to the awkward adolescent. Unfortunately, butter-fingers Anderson dropped his ticket a full two feet in front of the theatre staff. With beer in his pants that would surely fall through his boxers like the goose that laid the golden egg, Ken slowly began crouching down like a catcher as the entire staff looked on suspiciously. "Sorry, he hurt his back earlier in the week" I explained, stooping over myself to get the ticket so as to not blow our cover. However, when I bent over, my hood full of beer swung down and clocked me over the head with the force of Soda Popinski upper cut. I stumbled and fell to the ground and by a small miracle, the cans of adult beverage were not discovered.
This event probably follows at a close second place to the worst alcohol related experience that we had at this movie theatre. About a year ago, Ken and I were heading over there one Sunday evening to catch a film. We didn't know what was playing or the movie times, but like DeSoto, we forged ahead bravely. While in the lobby, we met a couple of voluptuous young hussies and before long, they were inviting us to see What a Girl Wants, starring Amanda Bynes, with them. Now truth be told Ken and I had already seen the film, partially because I thought Amanda Bynes was one smokin' piece of ass until I discovered that she was 6. Reluctantly, Ken and I agreed.
That chilly evening, I had my Jacksonville Jaguars flask --which has been needed after our abysmal start this season-- with me full of Southern Comfort. I absolutely hate SoCo and have no tolerance for it, but again like DeSoto, we bravely ordered a couple of large Cokes, began mixing and sat down beside the respective woman that each of us had called. About an hour later, both Ken and I were completely gone and decided to treat our dates to some popcorn. Being the cheapskates that we are, we failed to mention that we had free large popcorns coming due to a promotion the theatre was running, so like Kings we stumbled back into the theatre with enough popped corn to stop an elephants ticker. Ken and I were really goofy from the buzz, and the girls were giggly because they too were intoxicated... by lust. Well, probably not. Flirtatiously, the fresh little tart that I was courting tossed a piece of popcorn at me. Scratching my head with a facial expression that Ken later told me looked like that of a serial killer, I smiled and dumped my entire bag of popcorn on my dates head. Ken started laughing before shrugging and dumping his large tub of popcorn on his dates head without being provoked. Within about twenty seconds Ken and I had been left by our dates and we were now sitting in roughly one ton of fresh popped corn. We wouldn't see our dates again until I accidentally stumbled into the women's bathroom and collapsed in the doorway.
Like most evenings spent at this particular movie theatre, we again opted to sneak in some malt beverages, this week in the form of large cans of Smirnoff Ice. Like a couple of sneaky middle schoolers, we bought tickets for one movie, but friends, we stayed for two. Bad to the motherfucking bone. What follows are, as Scott Keith would say, "Quick n' Dirty" reviews of two October thrillers.
Cabin Fever (2003)
Rating *
If ever there was a movie that could simply be summed up with the word "dumb", Cabin Fever would be that film. Now keep in mind that I have no formal training or qualifications to judge a movie based on anything besides my own opinions, but this film rivaled Darkness Falls -which to this day remains the most worthless horror film that I have ever wasted 95 minutes of my life on within a theatre.
The synopsis of the movie is really quite simple. A group of unlikable college graduates set off to spend a week in a cabin in the middle of the woods. When they get there, a deadly disease strikes each of them one by one. Now I should footnote this review by saying that I have never been a fan of the disease as a horror antagonist. A disease can't be seen stalking a victim, sharpening a hatchet or lurking in the woods. Rather than popping through a window late at night like the antagonist in a typical horror film, the tensest moment in this type of film typically tends to be "Watch out, Amy's got a troublesome rash".
I won't spoil the ending as the movie is still out in theatre's, but it suffers one major fundamental flaw: Not a single character in the film has a strong enough character to warrant any kind of a reaction from the audience. When they slowly begin to die, it isn't a case of "Oh no, I liked him!" or "Thank God, he was annoying and got what he had coming", it's plain and simple indifference. No aspect of the film at all was strong enough to warrant any kind of attachment from me personally and it was one of those films where if I didn't think Ken wanted to stay until the end and he didn't think that I did, we both would have suggested leaving about an hour in.
Throw in some hate-vocabulary geared towards blacks and gays to add a little shock value, a local child who bites everyone he comes into contact with, an admittedly hot brunette who frequently shows her naked jugs to the camera and a rabid dog and you've got Cabin Fever in a nutshell.
What was even more shocking was the fact that many critics seemed to like the film. They called it a stirring satire of Evil Dead, a film which I have seen and didn't make me appreciate Cabin Fever any more. It was boring, excessive, and -ironically for a film in which everyone dies -it was lifeless.
* out of 5
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)
Rating ***
As a general rule of thumb, horror remakes suck. Do you remember the remake of Psycho? How about the remake of The Shining? How about The Brady Bunch Movie? Of course you don't. Nobody does. Why? Because they were awful. However, in most cases remakes of classics make a boatload of money so they are just something that we are going to have to deal with for the time being.
When I stepped into the theatre to experience the remake of a classic 70's film that managed to be compelling AND graphically disgusting at the same time, I expected the worst. It was playing in the largest theatre in the complex, and it was absolutely packed. I think it can be argued that seeing a film in a crowded theatre with a responsive audience can make even the worst movie seem decent and a decent movie seem great, and this evening was no exception.
This movie was actually the exact antithesis of the typical remake. It was low budget, modernized though not at the expense of the tone, well acted and unpredictable. Of course it could never live up to the original, but The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) was way better than it had any right to be and Jessica Beil carried the film with a great performance. Both the young and old alike seemed to enjoy it as the theatre emptied in a buzz as credits rolled with a surprisingly small number of people saying "The original was better". The original was better, but as far as remakes go, this film passed with flying colors and is a shallow-yet-enjoyable Halloween experience that you might just want to absorb in a crowded theatre before it hits the shelves.
*** out of 5.
Thank you once again for joining me for another chapter of An Introduction to Film. I'll be back next week with Chapter 4, featuring a post-Halloween special on a show that creeped me out as a kid like no other and has been sadly forgotten by most: Nickelodeon's Are You Afraid of the Dark. Until then, thanks for reading and I'll see you next week.
Jay Bower
