Showing posts with label dee wallace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dee wallace. Show all posts

Thursday, October 24, 2013

god hates 'the lords of salem' by justin lockwood

I’ve always been a champion of Rob Zombie, despite his movies garnering mixed reviews from critics and fans, to say the least.  I dig his bold visual style and enjoy his trashy dialogue and characters.  His movies are idiosyncratic and wholly his own.  Even if they’re not scary, and sometimes they aren’t, they’re always interesting.

His latest film, The Lords of Salem, gained a lot from a second viewing.  It’s not as gory or profane as any of his previous movies, but in some ways it’s less accessible to mainstream audiences.  It’s all about mood and slow building creepiness, and requires maybe a little too much patience for most people.  But with each movie Zombie grows more visually accomplished, and this one’s no exception.  The swinging light bulbs in a blue-gray hallway; the grey expanse of a leaf strewn cemetery; the blinding red light of a crucifix appearing inexplicably in a vacant apartment—all are rendered simply and strikingly.

The fact that Sheri Moon Zombie, the director’s wife, appears in all of his movies and is the lead of this one is a particular bone of contention for a lot of people.  She’s not a great actress, and many insist her continued presence is bald nepotism with no redeeming value.  I disagree.  For one, Zombie is the auteur here, and it’s his right to cast whoever the hell he wants, including his wife.  For another, one of his major focuses, especially as his movies have gotten more polished, is visuals.  Sheri is a stunning looking woman, and Zombie puts her beauty to good use.  In one of her first scenes, she’s shown prone on her stomach, naked, as the alarm jars her from sleep.  Simply put, she’s got a great body, and it makes for a lovely image.  Zombie also gave her a mane of dreadlocked hair in The Lords of Salem, a bold choice that seems to serve two purposes: to quickly establish character—her Heidi LaRoc is a radio DJ and recovering drug addict—and to allow him to filter light through the long withering locks of her hair.  Zombie seems to understand her limitations as an actress and to make the most of her attributes and appeal.


He also surrounds her with a cast of capable and interesting actors.  Meg Foster is terrifying as the maniacal witch, Margret Moran; Judy Geeson, Patricia Quinn, and Dee Wallace are all terrific as the trio of women whose friendliness towards Heidi masks nefarious intentions; and Bruce Davison is grounded and real as a historian and would-be savior.  Of the modern day coven, Geeson in particular gives her character an authentic, lived-in quality that pays off as she transitions from maternal to threatening, and Wallace, a genre favorite, imbues her ironically named “Sunny” with considerable ass kicking intensity.  Jeff Daniel Phillips is an impassioned, if typically shaggy and shlubby looking, Zombie dude in love with Heidi; Zombie regular Ken Foree, though, is pretty much wasted as a fellow DJ with an unfortunate toupee.

Character is secondary to the mood and look of the movie, which the director describes as “if Ken Russell directed The Shining”; it’s filled with long, sustained shots and ghoulish, sudden visions of spectrous witches and hovering, troll like demonoids.  Unlike the eclectic rock soundtracks that filled his previous movies, Zombie here mostly uses John 5 and Griffin Boice’s effective instrumentals and some classical music pieces, which give the film a quieter, subtler quality.  Even his source music, notably two well-chosen Velvet Underground tracks, tends to provide accompaniment to restrained or wordless sequences.  The “Lords theme” that Heidi receives on a mysterious record perhaps captures the essence of what Zombie is trying to do here, with weird, disjointed sounds creating an unnerving tonality without being in-your-face.



Filming on location in Salem was a smart move.  It gives the movie a realism to contrast with the surreal and dreamy imagery, and provides evocative tableaus for Zombie to work with.  It also lends credence to a movie that plays fast and loose with actual history, at one point acknowledging the non-supernatural real life hysteria before launching into its own invented backstory.  (A cameo by the town’s Bewitched statue early on slyly winks at the confluence of Puritan grimness and pop culture Halloween overkill that has transformed this small town over the decades.)

On first viewing, The Lords of Salem seemed like a minor if unusual effort from Rob Zombie, a first chance to flex creative muscle after years toiling on the rebooted Halloween franchise.  But further inquiry reveals a rewarding, fascinating movie that both stands alone and bodes well for the director’s ability to explore new and better things as he continues to hone his craft.


-Justin Lockwood

Monday, July 26, 2010

revisiting the house of the devil



I'm joining in on Final Girl's Film Club this week for the first time with a revisit to one of my favorites, The House of the Devil. I originally reviewed the film here as "refreshingly low-key."

It's always exciting for a horror buff to discover that hidden gem. On IFC, I caught 1980's The Hearse, a drive-in ghost story about a woman (Trish Van Devere) who is terrorized by a mysterious hearse while staying at her dead aunt's house. It's not particularly good but I can appreciate its vibe. It seems to me whether or not you "enjoy" a film like The Hearse, will likely dictate your feelings on how you feel about The House of the Devil. West dubs it as a "period piece," something rarely mentioned in reviews of the film. So inspired by this particular Hearse era, West nails texture. All of the details are exactly right. The orange foam headphones, the tangled phone cord, the jokey answering machine message, paper Coke cups, the soundtrack choices (as the Greg Kihn Band's "The Breakup Song" suggests, Hollywood lamentably really doesn't write horror films like this anymore) the backpacks and denim, the moody score (by Jeff Grace) and film quality--shot on 16mm (abundant in the 1980s).

The script is also refreshingly free of too many in-jokes, which seems typical and crippling of film throwbacks, spoofs or tributes (the inclusion of Dee Wallace as "The Landlady" is such a perfectly earnest choice, not a cheesy wink). In an interview with Cinematical, West commented, "So when I set it in the '80s, a lot of people call it a homage or a throwback and I don't really see it that way. I'm not so ignorant to say there isn't a few nods in the movie, but really just wanted to make an authentic period piece; if the movie had taken place in the '50s, I'd have made it as authentically '50s as possible." And yet the way the film is done, it suggests homage. Think of how differently Far From Heaven would be perceived if not filmed in that lush, Douglas Sirk-ish style. Aside from the freeze frame opening and closing credits, here, the blandness (Jocelin Donahue is our very ordinary heroine) is part of its charm: the film seems to run in real-time fashion, building slowly to its bloody conclusion. That episodic build-up has divided critics and film goers, used to quicker, more complex plot lines. And the climax isn't necessarily as riveting as it could have been. Hollywood Reporter's Kirk Honeycutt bemoaned that "the story takes place in the late 1980s for no apparent reason other than writer-director-editor Ti West doesn't want mobile phones to gum up his feeble plot." Of course horror buffs are smarter than that and know why the 1980s are important to the intrinsic feel of the picture. And it's so obvi that this is not late-80s but early or mid (Gerwig suggests in an interview that West was adamant that it was taking place in '83).

Since much of the running time is spent on our heroine bumbling around a house, I can understand why horror fans may not really like the film. It came out in the midst of feverish underground hype (the trailer is excellent), not to mention its slick, nostalgic marketing (the retro posters and clamshell video release). West's strength is with creating a banal atmosphere not typically seen in film today (atmosphere instantly conjures flashy sci fi and prize winning novel adaptations). Even the pace of the movie itself (The Hearse is pretty slow burn, suspense-less stuff too) is part of the atmosphere as well.


Since I first saw the movie, it's been great to see the rise of Greta Gerwig who was so memorably Terri Garr-esque in Greenberg. As the quirky friend in Devil, she's both annoying and endearing and seems to be having a great time. She remarks, "I think people took to it because, in many ways, it is the antithesis of the way people think of lo-fi horror movies looking. People are hungry for good, small movies that have some style."


-Jeffery Berg



My friend Katie, a Connecticuit native, was kind enough to snap this photo of the actual house in Lime Rock. I love it!