House Blend
-- and a Side of 1000 Corpses Too, Please
by Andy Morton
House of a 1000 Corpses. Dir. Rob Zombie. 2003.
For his inaugural screenwriting and directorial debut, Rob Zombie, formerly of the musical group White Zombie, put a lot of energy into his virgin project, House of 1000 Corpses. Unfortunately, he needed a little more focus along with that energy, and perhaps a bit of an original plot line as well. Personally this reviewer thought that, while sitting in his director's chair, Rob Zombie sat up and asked himself, "How many movies can I possibly get away with ripping off?"
Well rip off he did do successfully. The whole movie reeked of Texas Chain Saw Massacre. The Indiana Jones tunnel sequence was thieved. The all too familiar Blue Velvet gas mask sequence was unabashedly pilfered, along with scenes from The Terminator, Silence of the Lambs and even a few of Rob Zombie's own videos (which begs the question, is it thievery to steal from yourself, or can we just refer to that practice as "video sampling" [wink, wink...nudge, nudge]).
Yet House of 1000 Corpses did have its redeeming moments, such as the Sid Haig's portrayal of the smarmy gas station clown (yes, that's right--Gas Station Clown), who was the most amusing, and unfortunately, the most well-developed character of all. He alone carried the movie, saving it from being an Ed Wood clone, in my humble opinion. After all, like one of the nosy citified kids asks in the opening scene: Fried chicken, gas, and a horror museum all in one stop! Who could resist? Obviously not him, his traveling bud, nor their girlfriends, who are all on a Kevin Smith-like cross-country venture to discover all of the out-of-the-way freak and side shows that roadside America's highways have to offer.
But everyone knows what happens to curious kids who go where good sense would tell them not to.
Anyone in the audience?
That's right. THEY DIE!!!
Shades of Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill! Or, is that another larcenous "video sampling" act that Rob Zombie performs? It might have been a clever touch when Rob Zombie named the liquor store "Red Hot Pussy Liquor," if it wasn't for the outright shock value of seeing the word "pussy" in pulsating, glowing, red neon lights. Nonetheless, shock-shots like this did merit a chuckle and snort from most of the audience (if they were old enough to have learned to read, but more of that later).
Obviously, this movie had potential; however, it needed more character development. Even by the middle of the movie, I (and other audience members) was left wondering which girl is which: "Is that the girl who is with the guy with the glasses or is it t he other one?" That was the question we found ourselves asking. These girls morphed into each other because they had no defining characteristics except one called to check in with her father, and I won't even allude to what happened to him when he came "to the rescue".
Aside from Sid Haig's scene-stealing performance, there were some decent characterizations. Sheri Moon (that cannot be her real name; it but must be her "dance moniker") as Baby Firefly, seemed to be ripping off her character's initial "look" by trying a little too hard to look like Madonna in the cowboy hat. But her acting was a little over the top as was required by this particular role. Karen Black, as Mother Firefly, was equally twisted in her depiction of the "Goddess of Gag Me." But Ms. Black looked very luscious and lustful in her initial scene--not bad, in fact, for an actress that must be near my own mother's age (egad...that's an Oedipal/Electra thought!). The character Tiny, was another stolen cliche'. His misshapen monster-man, hidden-behind-a- mask type can be seen in more horror movies than I (or you, I would wager) could possibly remember.
The music was less than what was hoped for, seeing that it was a product of a successful veteran rocker. The saving grace for this particular graying punk was the Ramone's "Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue." Ah, the 70's...glue and blood and good punk rock. That's what the world needs now, blood sweet blood. That and movies that are worth the 8 bucks you pay.
One of this movie's taglines was "The movie some never wanted you to see." That is a truism. Some people, mostly of the right wing, so-called Moral Majority, would never want you or me to see this movie. For starters, there is a minor theme that suggests that God is dead. In fact, what might have worked better in this movie (yeah movie, not film) is if Zombie had explored that theme in greater detail.
Maybe that would explain why the members of The Firefly Family (imagine the Addams Family on crystal meth) are who they are. Something, outside of the theories discussed in a barely remembered abnormal psych class, needs to explain these characters' motivation for maiming, torturing, killing, folding, stapling, and mutilating their victims.
Don't get me wrong, this movie was worth seeing on the big screen; in fact, I might even subject myself to another viewing, but definitely at night
...at the drive-in
...with inebriating substances.
Seeing House of 1000 Corpses during the afternoon at a suburban mega-giga-plex with 5-year-old children running rampant in the aisle detracted from the pleasure I could have taken in it. But far be it from me to rant about lazy parenting and the reason for the movie rating system.
In trying to look at the glass as being half full (or in this case, the corpse as being half-alive), I'd have to say the film was unique. Especially in it's use, and overuse, of camera and editing techniques. But the constant flip-flopping, dying fish from the Faith No More video, schizophrenic style of splicing real footage with camcorder style special effects with print media grew tiresome, and the cinematography eventually ending up giving me a headache.
In the end, Rob Zombie's House of 1000 Corpses served as a reminder that the entrance into the world of movie making is not easy and does indeed require a little experience and forethought. This freshman attempt is proof that if he sharpens his craft (a little sharper than the on screen tools, I hope) maybe Zombie's sophomore effort will be of a more substantial and refined nature. Until then, watch out for greasy clowns and even greasier fried chicken stands.
And whatever you do, do not go looking for Dr. Satan, because you might find what you search for.