REVIEW: Evil Dead

Evil Dead (2013): Dir. Fede Alvarez. Written by: Fede Alvarez and Rodo Sayagues. Based on The Evil Dead by Sam Raimi. Starring: Jane Levy, Shiloh Fernandez, Lou Taylor Pucci, Jessica Lucas and Elizabeth Blackmore. Rated R (Endless brutal gore). Running time: 92 minutes.

3 ½ stars (out of four)

Given the recent spate of tired horror retreads, you will be forgiven for assuming that Evil Dead, a remake of Sam Raimi’s 1981 cult classic schlockfest The Evil Dead, is another attempt to cannibalize and dismember a beloved horror franchise by taking only its name and leaving behind its heart and soul. But Evil Dead is far from an uninspired hack job. Scene by scene, from its blisteringly over-the-top opening to its certifiably insane finale, Evil Dead makes a forceful case for its own existence: A horror movie need not break new ground or reinvent the genre in order to feel fresh and new. It just needs to be bigger and badder and better than its peers.

Compare Evil Dead with last year’s The Cabin in the Woods, which was more of a genre deconstruction, pointing out its clichés as they happened. That film was undeniably clever but also kind of smug and I prefer Evil Dead’s classicist approach. Director Fede Alvarez, who co-wrote the script with Rodo Sayagues, revels in the contrivances of the plot. The story is of course familiar but rarely is it told with such zeal.

Five doomed twentysomethings meet at a dilapidated shack in the middle of the woods for a weekend retreat. The trip is actually an intervention for Mia (Jane Levy), whose heroin habit, we learn, has nearly killed her. Joining her for moral support as she tries to get clean is her estranged brother David (Shiloh Fernandez) who left her years earlier to single-handedly take care of their dying mother.

The cabin was a family vacation spot for Mia and David in happier times and it has no doubt seen better days. There never used to be, for example, dozens of dead cats hanging from the basement ceiling, not to mention the stench of burnt hair, the loaded shotgun and an ominous book sealed shut by barbed wire. Leave it to their know-it-all friend (Lou Taylor Pucci) to crack the thing open, start reading aloud and awaken an ancient evil.

There aren’t many surprises in Evil Dead, at least not in the broad strokes of the story, but what makes it so effective is its relentlessness. Once the demonic activity gets under way (and the film wastes very little time getting there), it keeps building momentum, getting wilder and crazier. And despite the presence of two attractive but thoroughly expendable beauties (Jessica Lucas and Elizabeth Blackmore), the movie is notably devoid of sex.

Evil Dead focuses its energies instead on its unrelenting gore. The violence is extreme but pitched at just the right level of ridiculousness to elicit laughter from the audience amidst the disgusted screams and shocked gasps. The various bodily mutilations in the film have the same anatomical graphicness of torture porn but Evil Dead has none of the mean-spiritedness that marks those films. Fede Alvarez comes from that school of horror that combines well-made prosthetics with gallons of fake blood all in the pursuit of a trashy good time. This is the same school Sam Raimi came from and judging by Mr. Raimi’s producer credit on this film, Mr. Alvarez’s approach must have met his approval.

Fede Alvarez and his team delight in some wonderfully nasty details that take Evil Dead up a notch in terms of pure horror craftsmanship. Take one scene, where a character vomits an unholy torrent of blood on another, and notice how chunks of god-knows-what linger in the recipient’s hair for the remainder of the scene, making for a disgustingly hilarious sight gag. Or listen on the soundtrack to the wail of what sounds like an air raid siren, used during a few select moments of terror.

Also crucial to the film’s success is a breakout performance from Jane Levy. She is a remarkably versatile actress, playing the tormented and the possessed tormentor at different points, and is the clear standout in a cast of cardboard cutouts. (A lack of depth in the other characters is not exactly the actors’ faults, though I could have used a little more charisma from Shiloh Fernandez who gets the bulk of screen time in the film’s midsection). And while Ms. Levy is hardly Bruce Campbell, the star of The Evil Dead and its two ultra-campy sequels, she does help the movie maintain that delicate balance between horror and comedy.

I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun squirming in my seat, wincing at the screen and smacking my girlfriend’s arm. I had a blast at this one.

- Steve Avigliano, 4/8/13

In Memoriam: Roger Ebert

On Sunday afternoons in my house growing up, we made a ritual of watching “Ebert & Roeper.” The show usually aired early that morning or late the previous night, so around noon my father and I would go to the VCR and rewind the tape we had recorded the show on to see which movies Roger Ebert and Richard Roeper had reviewed that week. If a movie looked good and day’s schedule was clear, we went to the newspaper, looked up showtimes and tried to catch a matinee.

In this way I saw countless movies, always on Roger Ebert’s recommendation. There is no question that I have read or watched more of his reviews than any other single critic. His genial presence on TV and the candid, conversational style of his writing gave you the sense he was a friend telling you which movies were worth your money and which you should avoid. He died Thursday of cancer and he will be missed.

During my formative movie-watching years, he helped shape my taste in movies. (The first time I was ever outraged by a movie review was in reaction to his two-star panning of Attack of the Clones. Unbelievable! Blasphemous! I thought as a twelve-year-old. Years later, looking back, I realize now he was right about that one.)

He was an immensely knowledgeable critic but always emphasized the subjective nature of film criticism. Analyzing artistry and craftsmanship was important, of course, but in the end all that really mattered to him was his personal, gut-level response to a movie. That was what interested him, what was worth writing about, what made a movie worth arguing about (first with Gene Siskel, then with Richard Roeper, on the “At the Movies” TV show). He freely shared details of his personal life if they changed how he saw a given movie and openly confessed his biases and preferences. He shamelessly gushed over his favorites and scorned the films he had no patience for.

He was also a forward-thinking man. One of the first critics to embrace the web, he reveled in the internet’s ability to foster opinion-sharing and debate. He did not believe, as many do, that the golden age of film criticism was forty years ago, when he was awarded a Pulitzer Prize – a first for a movie critic – and rose to fame. We are currently living in that golden age, he said. For as long as the thoughtful discussion and heartfelt enjoyment of movies exists, Roger Ebert’s spirit will live on.

- Steve Avigliano, 4/5/13