a very rambling review containing spoilers

Rating: Null/10 (28 September 2000)

Acclaimed (and, in my humble opinion, overrated) critic Roger Ebert once said that people regularly come up to him to ask what kind of movies he finds more difficult to review: the ones he likes, or the ones he dislikes. I tried to answer that question for myself and found myself heaving with relief that reviewing films isn't my day-time job. I LOVE films, I'm passionate about film (like Homer Simpson once said: "Mother. Teacher. Secret Lover"). I love to sit down and watch a film of my choice at my convenience, and I guess there's not much fun in being made to go see a particular movie (one you didn't necessarily wanted to see) at a particular moment and having to write a witty article about it. ("You're not in the mood?! Well, you better GET IN THE MOOD!", to quote a certain outraged George 'Can't stand ya').
I don't (pretend to) have something interesting to say about every movie I see. Let me rephrase that: not every movie I see makes me want to get things off my chest, or out of my system. And that basically answers the initial question: the movies I write about are mostly the ones I disliked, or am disappointed in. I live in a society were we like to complain a lot and I, too, am better in prosecuting than in defending or praising. Usually, I have no trouble putting in words what I think is wrong with a particular movie (it's pretty easy to sum up the sometimes obvious mistakes and/or flaws), but ask me about some of my favorite films ("Blue Velvet"; "Dawn Of The Dead"; "Pulp Fiction"; "A Clockwork Orange"; "Ordinary people"; "Koyaanisqatsi"; "Rear Window") and I'll probably go mute on you. And that's the reason why I didn't (try to) review any of the above titles on this site. These films make me very happy. I just like them a lot. Everything just seems right. They keep me glued to the screen. They succeed in sucking me in. I never analyzed any of them to discover why I liked them (let alone analyzing them to discover IF I liked them). I just did. (Maybe another reason I don't review my favorite movies is that everything that can be said about those films, as most of them are considered to be 'important masterpieces', has already been said... and said and said and said -- although this is not necessarily true because I reviewed the fairly unknown "Shivers", which I hated, a few weeks ago on this site and was bemused to find out that I had used almost the exact same words as someone else on the same page). And I almost hate the question 'why' in these matters, as every answer is almost always followed immediately by yet another 'why'? (remember that brief scene with the late John Candy and Macaulay Culkin in "Uncle Buck"?).
I'm not saying that there isn't an explanation for why I liked a certain film (or book, or painting, or piece of music), but if there is, I certainly won't spend my (insert coughing-sound here) Valuable Time on trying to find it. I don't want to sound pretentious (especially not for a merely 23 year old guy who has still a lot to learn about the English language, amongst other things), but I guess I'm not only speaking for myself here, but also for a lot of artists (filmmakers, writers, painters) out there.
While I was writing the above paragraphs, I suddenly thought back of something I saw on television a couple of weeks ago. I can't remember the exacts, but a woman had just shown beautiful drawings and paintings which she had used to express her feelings. The interviewer said: `Yes, very nice. But now we need you to put it in words'. O, my God, I thought when the guy said it. That must be one of the fundamental flaws of humanity: the necessity to put it in words. We need to be able to put things in words. We need it in writing. Feelings, sensations, sentiments are way too abstract. We need to capture it somehow, put it in a jar and label it. Thereby limiting the meaning of something. The spoken word and the written word -- those are boundaries we created ourselves. Created by ourselves because we need to be in control of things.
I just read Pauline Kael's review of Kubrick's The Shining, and I found myself repeatedly exclaiming the words `Yes!', and `of course'. When I read Kael's review of The Shining, I had the idea that I was now actually able to explain (and put in words -- sigh!) why I think "The Evil Dead", also one of my personal favorites, is so much better than many other horror-films. In my review of The Shining, I stated that I thought the visual beauty distracted the viewer from the fact that its psychological premise was going nowhere. I agree with Ms. Kael that the visual beauty also distracts from the horror. Kubrick probably used the novel of Stephen King as an alibi to explore some visual ideas ("A hotel with long corridors! Did somebody say 'Steadicam?'"). Wasn't it Orson Welles who considered the camera as the greatest toy? Well, I guess Kubrick thought the same thing. The only difference was that Kubrick took the game just too damn serious. Visual Perfection was the goal. Not emotions. Not fun. With, more often than not, rather contrived, hollow results. The same thing goes for John carpenter's Halloween. His movie is technically pretty much flawless. Neat. No rawness. Even his killer doesn't display any raunchiness. He walks neatly. Wears a spotless white mask and blue overall. Kills neatly, too. In the sleeves of the soundtrack, Carpenter reminisces that, during editing, the executive of production said to him 'It ain't scary. Save it with the music'. It's true. The movie is just too darn neat too really scare us, and heavily relies on its successful, but also a bit too neat and one-tone, music score. I'm not saying that every horror-film should be as raw as `The Blair Witch Project' (I can't wait for Myrick and Sanchez to shoot a mockumentary that takes place at sea!), but I guess that, when things get too polished, it'll kill the horror.
`The Evil Dead' works on several levels whereas most horror- movies only try to aim for one of the following goals: 1. Over the top comedy (like `Braindead') 2. Physical violence; blood and guts. 3. Psychological suspense. This movie has it all. But, even more, it even succeeds in maintaining a raw look (logically, as the movie was made on a shoestring budget) and still manages to be a minor triumph of cinematography, editing, and direction.
Raimi takes your basic campfire story (a bunch of teens in a remote cabin fall victim to an ancient demonic force) and uses it to show off a bunch of great visual ideas. Using visual ideas to scare you. He picks the best and scariest places to put the camera. Who said art had to be in great taste? If there's one genre you can show off in (on a low budget), it must be horror.
There are numerous unforgettable moments in this feature. The arrival of the youngsters at the cabin, for example, which is, in my book, one of the most stunning scenes in the history of cinema. The camera follows the oldsmobile as it slowly drives through the woody area. The teens get out, but only one of them actually starts heading toward the cabin. There's no dialogue and the only sound we hear is the rhythmic banging of a rocking-chair against the wall of the cabin. A great scene, preparing us for things to come. Breathtakingly photographed and smartly edited. Or what about the scene were Cheryl wanders off in the woods by herself at night, winding up being raped by a possessed tree? Or the scene filmed from a the point of view of a possessed zombie who is locked up in the basement and snarling and laughing watches its potential victims (`For God's sake, what happened to her eyes!?'). And, of course, that wonderful closing shot in which we move rapidly through the woods, work our way through a barricaded cabin and attack a surprised Bruce Campbell, the sole survivor who was just about to count his blessings.
This is the only film in Raimi's oeuvre where he uses beautiful images and great editing to support a story, instead of just occasionally throwing in a weird angle. I'm not a big fan of his subsequent work (including `Evil Dead 2' and `Army Of Darkness').
Geez, I really went off on a tear, now didn't I? Didn't I use the sentence "Getting things out of my system" about a hundred or so lines ago? Well, I guess I can go to bed now.
**** out of ****