I Spit On Your Day of the Remake

I will not begin this post on 2010’s I Spit On Your Grave with yet another disclaimer for how I wish uppity genre fans would drop the ‘all remakes suck!’ mantra with the same fervor I feel for wanting studios to stop remaking movies. It’s a conundrum. We deal with it. There are highs and lows, but we as film lovers should always maintain open minds.

But in case this is misunderstood, I do indeed wish a plague on you, It’s Alive 2009.

Moving on...

Quick Plot: Jennifer HIll is a ridiculously successful-for-her-can’t-rent-a-car-yet age novelist heading to a rented home in the boonies to work on her next book, jog, and drink case after case of red wine. Minus the jogging, it actually sounds like a dream vacation to my ears but folks don’t normally spit on the graves of happy holidayers.

During a routine fill-up at the local gas station where the only people in town hang out, Jennifer meets a few ragged townies with poor hygiene and pickup lines but an impressive ability to make the city girl feel really uncomfortable. Later, Jennifer encounters the town town idiot/plumber named Matthew whose skills under the toilet earn him a kiss and the testosterone-heavy party plans of his pals.

For the most part thus far, I Spit On Your Grave is closely following the trajectory laid down 32 years earlier, although the men are cast as would-be rapists almost immediately in contrast to the original, which first made them almost flirty. Moving on, Steven Monroe’s new film treats the abuse of Jennifer in a very different manner. Like the original, the quartet of grimy fellas show up with one thing on their collective mind, but where Meir Zarchi followed one rape with another--each a symbol of the competitive men topping one another with their violence--Monroe’s instead focuses on how the guys humiliate the richer and more successful Jennifer. We certainly understand the original’s ringleader as a man frustrated with and intimidated by Jennifer’s position for both economical and gender reasons, and unfortunately, some of that is missed here. What the men put our victim through is truly wrong, but their motives seem far less complicated (though in fairness, only the original’s Johnny seemed to have any real depth).

But look at us, examining the timely undertones of grindhouse when there are bear traps, acid baths, and men getting their eyes pecked out by crows to talk about! Consider the pretension raped out of this review.

Because really, I Spit On Your Grave is not a serious film. It starts out that way, with glossy-grainy Last House on the Left-like style carving out a tragedy and trying with solemn earnestness to make us care. Once Jennifer falls into a brown groggy lake, I Spit On Your Grave suddenly transforms into an over-the-top-torture porn pop tart bursting with gigglesome Jigsaw-like murder traps only a lifelong member of the Girl Scouts could even dream of rigging. 

I know it sounds awful. Or awesome. It’s sort of both.

See, after the rape, I Spit On Your Grave is, in an odd way, not really Jennifer’s story. We don’t see her recover or plot her revenge as Monroe instead focuses on the guilty parties slowly realizing she survived. It definitely hurts the film, as any of Jennifer’s possible depth is quashed once she becomes a near-silent, almost J-horror-esque ghostess who can’t be foiled. It’s pretty ridiculous, as are the kills. Seriously, I’m talking sticking-a-shotgun-in-our-anus ridiculous. Which...hey, sometimes has its place.

High Points

Not to say that the actual rape was, you know, good or anything, but the leadup to Jennifer’s humiliation is actually quite effective in being as mean as the original without any sugar coating

Low Points

Sarah Butler isn’t necessarily bad as Jennifer, but it’s really impossible to buy her as a successful independent novelist when she should still be getting carded to buy cigarettes.

Lessons Learned

Good whiskey is a treat generally reserved for baptisms, weddings, and funerals

Like soon-to-be rape victims, overweight rural fourth wheels may experience the unfortunate act of having lots of things stuffed inside their mouths (including, but not limited to, guns, video tapes, and rats)

A cell phone’s place is never in the bathroom. Really people, you’re in a horror movie set in the 21st century. Don’t give the Laws of Getting Rid of Phones any leeway

Rent/Bury/Buy

A lot of film folk have trashed I Spit On Your Grave as Just Another Awful Remake. I am not one of them. It’s a flawed film, a disjointed slight mess that doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. At the same time, it approaches the material with an interesting balance of faithfulness and experimentation, keeping the storyline so close to its predecessor but trying new things with how it all unfolds. Those who despise gruesome Saw-ish violence should probably stay away, but the curious might get something out of the film. It’s not actually good, but as a ‘fan’ of the original, I found the remake to be worth a tepid watch. 

Vagrinders

Were I still in college, I imagine I’d write what would seem to be a Really Important Research Paper on the thematic depths of Teeth. True feminist horror! A woman scorning before she can be scorned! The perfect slumber party feature! Fun for the whole blended family!

At the crochety age of 28, Teeth is probably *slightly* less mind blowing and charming than it would have been were I younger or less versed in self-aware cinema. Still, this 2007 film is absolutely good-humored, refreshingly smart, and giddily disgusting.

Quick Plot: “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours” ends as I imagine may often be the case, in a little prick o’ blood (my punning is Crypt Keepertastic!). The bloody index finger belongs to a bratty young Brad, a hellion of sorts who grows up harnessing an icky crush on his kid stepsister Dawn (Jess Weixler).

Flashing forward 15 years, Dawn now spends some afternoons giving perky pep talks to a promise ring-wearing club of creepily young children, all vowing together to save their most special gift (psst: the one between their legs) for marriage. Fresh-faced with a constant smile, Dawn makes Marcia Brady look like a harlot but things begin to change when she meets puppy eyed born again virgin Tobey.

Apparently, G-rated dating is really difficult (possibly because activities are restricted to G-rated movies involving talking animals) and before long, Tobey is on top of the protesting Dawn, their plastic chastity rings entwined in pain.

Two very different types of pain, as we soon learn. As Dawn resists, Tobey lets out a Fay Wrayish scream. Turns out Dawn has more than well-toned Kegel muscles in her special place, and this unseen force is sharp, hungry, and very in tune with women’s rights.

Although anyone who’s read a word about Mitchell Lichtenstein’s Teeth knows its premise, the film takes a surprising amount of time to reveal what’s underneath Dawn’s always zipped jeans. While parts of the buildup feel a little slow, this works well to develop Dawn as a young woman more complicated than the squeaky clean caricature she’s in danger of being.  Her gift/curse is all the more interesting in light of her frustrated sexuality, something actress Jess Weixler brings out with a fantastic balance of humor and weight.

If Teeth has a biting issue (get it? pun), it’s the not-entirely-taut second act details. There’s one possibly dead body floating around an eden-like forest and a dying mother whose presence is shaking up an already fragile family dynamic, but it’s a little hard to fully latch onto Dawn’s dilemma when we’re not sure precisely what direction it’s meant to head.

That being said, it’s easy to like Teeth and on an eventual second viewing, even adore. Both men and women will occasionally be crossing their legs with the same speed sparked by certain scenes in Antichrist.  This time, however, we can do with with a smile. 

And nervous chuckle.

High Points

I didn’t realize how much I was enjoying Teeth until, oddly enough, I reached the gynecologist scene, which is pitch perfect in both humor and horror. The way it begins in  a comfortable and kind place before slowly slipping into Hand That Rocks the Cradle territory is staged with such a careful touch that makes the audience relax, squirm, then cheer

Lead Weixler is in just about every scene and she does a damn fine job of balancing cavity inducing sweetness with a surprisingly grounded sense of growing up

Low Points

While I thoroughly enjoyed the development of Dawn’s character, a lot of viewers may be less thrilled with a nearly 45 minute first act more in line with Saved! than Saw

Lessons Learned

There’s way too much petting in PG13 rated films

In case of virgin seduction, always keep an economy sized pack of votive candles on hand

Be honest with your gynecologist. Really honest.

Rent/Bury/Buy

This is the kind of modern dark comedy that makes genre fans smile from beginning to end. At times, its tongue-in-cheek humor feels a tad too cute, but three severed penises, a solid and appealing star, and a snappy script make Teeth a film well worth checking out. Fans of Ginger Snaps will see perfect double feature potential, a sort of sexual empowerment of teenage girldom with more genital blood (a different KIND, of course). Currently on Instant Watch, the DVD is quite extra heavy, with a featurette, deleted scenes, and director commentary, all making a purchase more than endorsed by me. 

Love the One You're With

If you’ve read anything about Deadgirl, a first time effort by co-directors Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel, you may be expecting an unwatchable piece of exploitation rich in zombie rape and I Spit On Your Grave levels of depravity. You’d be wrong on two counts, since 1) I Spit On Your Grave is a film I’ll defend for other reasons and 2) Deadgirl is actually a haunting, disturbing, and somewhat restrained little film that’s far stronger than its premise could have damned it to be.

Quick Plot: High school stoners JT (Noah Segan) and Rickie (Shiloh Fernandez) cut school one day to hang out in the local abandoned asylum (was my suburban hometown the only place in America that didn’t have of these, by the way?). Upon tossing around some rolling chairs and chugging unbranded cans of beer, the boys come upon a bolted room and a beautiful corpse chained inside. Rickie is freaked out. JT is aroused. 

The next day, Rickie returns to find JT has drawn his own conclusions about the “Deadgirl”: she’s undead and has been left all alone. Rickie remains horrified but has no idea how to pry his best friend’s um, attention, away from what seems like a gift from the gods. As children of broken homes in a small town with no future, JT and Rickie are aware that they have little else going for them. The don’t catch the attention of the ladies--not the fleshy Daisy Dukes-donning gas station pumper and certainly not Rickie’s unrequited crush of a cute redhead dating the token jockjerk. For JT and later, their even more fried friend Wheeler, life has never been better than having a gorgeous, complacent, full grown woman tied to a table for their personal pleasure. The more sensitive Rickie, on the other hand, knows it’s wrong but isn’t quite ready to alienate his best friend (and sadly, the only thing he seems to have in his life) over a corpse.

I worry my synopsis of Deadgirl is still making the film sound a tad homemade pornish, but it is a surprisingly sensitive film. I can’t downplay the subject matter and indeed, there are some extremely uncomfortable scenes that some filmgoers won’t make it through. Overall, however, Deadgirl is disturbing and thoughtful, not exploitive and gratuitous. The most horrific moments are found in JT’s increasingly distant dialogue, while the actual sex is portrayed with appropriately un-erotic staging. Think of the non-cathartic nature of the torture scenes in The Girl Next Door, as opposed to the more heavily stylized scenes that tend to rear their glossy heads in mainstream cinema.

Overall, Deadgirl has the feel of a short story in a zombie anthology mixed with an indie drama about small town youth. The performances are a tad inconsistent (perhaps there’s only so much Candice Accola can do with Charlie Brown’s Little Redheaded Girl role compared to Segan’s creepily macabre JT and Fernandez’s likable enough RIckie) but hold steady enough to sell a film that depends so much on its characters. There are some truly memorable images, such as Deadgirl’s overly makeup’d face which is, one scene later, covered with a magazine cutout that recalls Claire’s Season 4 collage work in Six Feet Under.

High Points

We’ve seen zombies as everything from choreographed two-steppers to Olympian sprinters and softball players, so it’s pretty impressive to see a film that brings something new not just to an undead-themed story, but also in its creepily haunting depiction of the “Deadgirl,” aided by Jenny Spain’s careful performance.

Abandoned asylums make everything better

It’s refreshing to see a film about teenagers that doesn’t force trendy lingo or pop culture references into their mouths. There’s nary a cell phone or high speed Internet connection to be found, and it adds a strange timeliness that make Deadgirl work for any era

Low Points

Although occasionally evocative, the score calls attention to itself far too often

First of all, is it a requirement for all high school films to feature a character named Johnny? Next, does Johnny always have to be played by an actor pushing 30?

Lessons Learned

Abduction is far more difficult than it looks, unless you’re the big man on campus and you’re throwing two stoners into your trunk in the middle of school recess

Oh, boys. Do I really have to tell you to be careful where to put your valuables?

Meat left in the open will spoil***

Winning Line

“I wish I was 15 again.”

“I’m 17.”

“Man, I wish I was 15 again.”

I actually really love this quick exchange between Rickie and his mother’s girlfriend, played by the solid character actor Michael Bowen. It captures the lack of adult influences on Rickie and his friends, but more importantly, it quietly points out that 17 is indeed a different point of life

Rent/Bury/Buy

Deadgirl is currently on Netflix’s Instant Watch, so give it a try when you’re in the mood for a serious, dark, and deep ride into a mean mean place. The production values are top notch so if you can get behind the characters and survive the idea of what you will see, then I recommend a tryout. It almost has a Jack Ketchum-y feel that’s been numbed by some IFC serum. It won't brighten your day, but it will provide a thoughtfully unsettling film experience worthy of your time.

***A personal story: When I was in high school, every health class was forced to undergo the inevitable STD slideshow which was fabulous on every level. First, the teacher (who apparently freelanced with this lesson plan all over Long Island) asked us to raise our hands if we planned on going away to college. Without any irony or exception, she pointed to the 90% of the class and claimed that each and every one of us would get crabs, because that’s what happens when you share a toilet. This was followed by magnified shots of just what crabs are and what they do, which in turn was followed by one of the school jocks--sadly not named Johnny--trotting outside and returning with a very reddened face.

See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Eat Me

Having gorged on my share of highly fattening Italian zombie cinema (I'm still picking the cheese and intestines out of my teeth), I didn't expect much from Spanish filmmaker's Amando de Ossorio's Knights of Templar series. Yes, I'm clearly an ignorant American who can't tell the difference between Europeans. Thankfully, 1971's Tombs of the Blind Dead, the first entry in this four-film set, has its own refreshing take on the undead mythos complete with a slow and spooky tone that actually left me unsettled. Yay.

Quick Plot: While on vacation in Lisbon with her swinger-ready boyfriend Roger, thirtysomething Virginia bumps into her former college roommate/tepid ex-lover Betty (you know, 'cause all female coeds "experiment"). They quickly catch up and Roger, clad in the world's most pimpin' bathrobe, invites the attractive mannequin factory owner to a couples' camping trip and train ride. Annoyed at Roger's shameless flirtation, Virginia leaps off board and decides to spend the night in an abandoned medieval town which unfortunately enough, happens to be occupied by a band of crusty, Ghost of Christmas Past-ish monsters. Our bland brunette makes a valiant effort to escape, but once the shamblers hitch up on horseback, the poor lass doesn't stand a chance.

Back in the civilized world of Portuguese society, Betty and Roger visit the world's laxest morgue to identify the body of their friend/lost third in the threesome that wasn't. Later that evening, Virginia's corpse awakens to take a bite out of the slightly sadistic coroner's assitant. Betty and Roger visit the town historian (about as quaint a film profession as a candlestick maker or milkman, but anyway) and learn that the village is haunted by the the Knights of Templar, a power-abusing group of noblemen who sacrificed virgins (well, whipped them to near death then sucked blood out of their nude bodies) to Satan in return for eternal life. Legend has it that the townspeople strung up the naughty knights and left their deaths at the hands--or beaks--of eye-pecking crows.

It's a great setup for a different breed of monster, but the real beauty of Tombs of the Blind Dead is how sparingly Ossorio uses his shuffling man-eaters. There is no real mass feasting we've become used to seeing in similarly styled films of the time, but the attacks are incredibly effective due to the careful choices made to build each scene. A creepy soundtrack cues up medieval monk chanting as these giant grim reapers gallop atop white stallions. Since the knights are blind and hunt by sound, our characters are forced to play Marco Polo rounds of life or death. The score sometimes kicks in at the wrong times, but it's refreshing to watch a film that doesn't rely on gigantically overblown sound cues to tell us danger is a'comin.


I didn't notice just how invested I was in this film until one of the final scenes. I won't spoil a film that I recommend you seek out, but let's just say that I caught myself holding my breath as our heroine attempts to crawl to safety with a horde of horse-riding dead soldiers silently in pursuit. Even though that's the kind of emotion horror films are, by definition, supposed to be riling up, it's hard to remember the last time I felt so on edge in an actual moment of action.


High Points
An early attack in a freaky mannequin workshop (no, there is no other type) is sufficiently suspenseful in an almost Hammer Horror style

The sole special feature is pretty damn amazing: an alternate prologue that explains how man once rose up against his simian oppressors by poking out their eyes and seizing control of planet earth. That's right: in order to cash in on a big little 1968 adventure, an alternate title for Tombs of the Blind Dead was Revenge From Planet Ape. The absurdity is a beautiful thing


Low Points
It's a horror cliche that I'll never accept: so you work alone late at night in a mortuary. No stereo, no traffic, or any other ambient noise of any type. How do you not hear the sound of a body dismounting from its gurney as it approaches the back of your neck for a midnight snack?



Character was clearly an afterthought to the script. While Lone Fleming gets to dig a little deep with Betty's confused sexuality, some of the plot choices by other actors feel a little too silly to believe

Lessons Learned
When the world gets as quiet as it can possibly be, you will hear the obnoxiously deafening sound of your own heart beat. So will the zombies.


Decorators are harmless


In order to sway a criminal smuggler to accompany you on a dangerous mission into a haunted town, simply bait him with subtle hints that he may be slightly nervous. Sample approach:
Badass Criminal: I won't go.
Metrosexual: I understand. Are you afraid?
Badass Criminal: I'm coming!


Contrary to popular belief, not all women enjoy a smoke after being raped


Rent/Bury/Buy 
With its carefully drawn atmosphere and unique spin on an easy genre, Tombs of the Blind Dead was an exciting surprise for me. If the entire series maintained this level of quality, I'd suggest a buy; however, most reports I've heard seem to single out this film as head and shoulders above the other three. Having not yet seen these movies, I personally can't speak to that but I would plan a Netflix sampler before putting heavy money into this set.

Important Note: The Blue Underground DVD offers you two cuts of the film: Tombs of the Blind Dead, in dubbed English, and La Noche del Terror Ciego, in Spanish with subtitles. Being lazy and of worsening eyesight, I started with Tombs but quickly realized that something was off. If a young virgin is being stripped and torn apart in an exploitation flick, would the filmmakers really be so restrained as to not show her bosoms? Sure enough, the Spanish version is a gorily nude 14 minutes longer and apparently much more fluid than the chopped up American cut. Without question, put on your reading glasses and watch this one (even if, like me, you have your own boobs and don't necessarily require a few shots of prosthetically chewed up ones). Just don't forget to switch back to Tombs to check out the insanely wonderful attempt to ride the ape train. 

Just Keep Telling Yourself: It's Only a Remake! It's Only a Remake!

First, a disclaimer: any true horror fan needs to support original and fresh concepts made with heart and energy. Pay for Orphan. Sneak into Sorority Row.

On the other hand...

Anybody whose chief complaint about 2009‘s Last House On the Left is that it’s a sub par remake of a classic film must first acknowledge that Wes Craven’s primal 1972 film was in fact its own remake of Igmar Bergman’s The Virgin Spring. 

And next...

That being said, the problem with today’s remakes tends to be the question of purpose. Why take something like The Omen--a fairly mediocre, if occasionally chilling relic--and re-film nearly every scene (my theory is actually that this one was the first, and probably only film to be made simply to land on the best release date, 6/6/06)? On the other hand, why call something like the Prom Night remake Prom Night if it has nothing to do with the original? When it comes to remakes in the 21st century, we’ve had our ups (Dawn of the Dead, My Bloody Valentine 3D) and downs (The Hitcher, Friday the 13th Part XII) and despite my own tiredness of hearing the word, it’s nearly impossible to review Last House on the Left ’09 without acknowledging its source.

Wes Craven’s film was revolutionary and shocking, but that does not necessarily equal ‘good.’ The film is deeply hurt by a few amateur performances and, at the director’s own admission, a comedic subplot featuring bumbling cops that was simply the wrong choice. At the same time, it has a vicious energy about it and true ruthlessness that has survived over 30 years for a reason. 

Quick Plot: The Collingwoods, a pleasant, upper middle class couple quietly getting over the death of their oldest son, head to their summer lake house with their teen daughter, a pretty Olympian swimmer-in-the-making named Mari, who quickly ditches her lame folks to hang out with the ditzy convenience store clerk, Paige. The girls meet a shy young man who offers them some grade A pot in his seedy motel room. They realize the wrongness of recreational drugs and bake oatmeal cookies instead, then distribute a batch to the poor neighborhood children and celebrate with ice cold apple cider and a good natured round of Parchese.

Or not. See, much like the original, the motel room in question happens to be under the name of Krug, a ragtag family of psychopathic killers on the run. The characters are identical to Craven’s, with Deadwood’s Garret Dillahunt playing the raging patriarch, Riki Lindhome as his needy girlfriend Aaron Paul as the lecherous uncle, and, in the one twist, a much more innocent Spencer Treat Clark as the morally minded teenager. The girls are kidnapped. One is brutally raped. The other stabbed. As an aggressive storm begins to strike, the Krugs seek shelter in the nearest home which...drumroll sounding...happens to belong to none other than the worrisome Collingwoods.

In many ways, LHOtL ’09 does what a good remake is supposed to do: honor the source material while integrating something new. The changes here (SPOILER ALERT) help to make the second half a decidedly different film from Craven’s bleak original. As her parents tuck the Krugs into the guest house, the battered and bleeding Mari makes her way home. Like the past two films the parents quickly realize what has happened and who caused it but now, there is a certain immediacy in killing the Krugs. Father John (the always solid, and possibly fountain of youth drinking Tony Goldwyn) and mother Emma (a very good Monica Potter, an actress I’ve never really given any weight to before) fight more to protect their daughter than for vengeance and here, many devotees of the past two films may be annoyed. 

The Virgin Spring is a film about brutal instincts beating the rules of modern faith. Craven’s Last House focuses on revenge at its most primal. In some ways, this latest version has more emotion and far less complexity. The Collingwoods have to take down the Krugs, not for blind rage, but because otherwise, how can they boat Mari to safety? As viewers, we’re certainly invested; we like Mari, who seems smart and sweet enough to deserve survival. At the same time, the moral implications so rich in the first two films can’t really come to play here...until the final scene, which will leave everyone who watches this movie with sweet dreams of hot pockets.

Argh, the final shot. This is one of those instances where I curse modern movie trailers. Like most horror filmgoers, I’d seen the extended preview several times in the theater. Between the haunting cover of Sweet Child of Mine and the shot of Dillahunt’s head jammed inside the microwave, it certainly piqued my interest enough to want to see Last House, but it also revealed one of the most shocking moments in this version. The biggest problem was that, while I was completely involved in this film, the image of Krug’s nuking was in the back of my (thankfully non-nuked) head the entire time. When it finally came, it almost felt like a concession to viewers craving something truly outrageous. As much as I enjoy the ridiculous image of a man’s head exploding in a household appliance, I honestly can’t tell you whether I approved of the jarring mood switch here because I never really had the chance to see it fresh.

High Points

Most of the specific changes made from the ’72 film make the actions and characters much more believable; the clearer location, the lingering ghost of the late Collingwood son, Mari’s swimming prowess, and a few more that never really make you think--as with many horror films--that what is happening is overly silly

The biggest flaw with Craven’s original is the low quality of acting. While non of the cast is making Oscar bids, Goldwyn and Potter sell their characters, Sara Paxton’s Mari is smart and likable, and the entire Krug clan is trashily fearsome

Low Points

Time and time again, we hear the same beef with modern horror films: they’re too ‘glossy’ and clean. Last House is beautifully shot--which is more than fine--but there is some sort of sheen cast over the entire film that makes it feel a tad too neat for the brutal subject matter

Lessons Learned

Broken microwaves possess powers most of us have only dreamed of. As someone who works for an appliance company, I’m suddenly wondering if this is a new direction in marketing

The Village People aren’t the only beneficiaries of the YMCA

Always let your dishes soak

If a murderous madman wants to pee, keep the man happy and let him pee

Spinoff Pitch

Mortal Microwave: The Microwave That Blows People’s Heads Up (to be written by Patton Oswalt and directed by George Barry) 

Rent/Bury/Buy

This is definitely worthy of a view, if only so you can draw your own judgment on whether it was necessary or respectful a film. Like its predecessors, Last House is not an easy film to sit through and contains some pretty icky moments of rape. The DVD includes a quickie “behind the scenes” (which is essentially a glorified trailer) and a few wisely deleted delete scenes, so it’s not quite a buy. Give it a chance and let me know your thoughts. As I said earlier, it lacks the moral ambiguity and hazy depth of past takes, but you know what? For 90 minutes, it gives you a suspenseful and well-filmed ride. It’s not my personal apex of what a remake should be, but it’s enjoyable enough for what it is and entertains on a certain, if tamer, level.