Some horror film directors unnerve us with little ripples of tension that unexpectedly crescendo into waves of terror. Sam Raimi is not one of those horror film directors. Pauline Kael once said that Mel Brooks’ grab-you-by-the-lapels comedy wasn’t necessarily funny; it was the being grabbed by the lapels that made you laugh. So it goes with Raimi: His latest film in the genre, Drag Me to Hell, doesn’t have that much in the way of innovative shocks or surprises, but it’s always head-locking you and screaming “Boo!” in deafening Dolby Digital. “This is fucking stupid,” said the guy in back of me, at a raucous midweek showing. “But it’s kind of fun.”

The Brooks comparison is apt. Young Frankenstein (1974) is one of the very best horror comedies, not that it’s a terribly long list. Raimi doesn’t really make horror comedies, but outside of his killer debut, The Evil Dead (1983), he’s not a straight-up scaremeister, either. I remember the chill of anticipation when I went to see The Evil Dead; Stephen King loved it (back when I hung onto his every word), and it was released unrated, which in itself promised something subversive. I wasn’t disappointed. The infamous “tree rape” sequence was a bit much (his subsequent films have shied away almost entirely from sex—too grownup) but everything else was a satisfyingly scary part of a whole: The funhouse colors, the cranked soundtrack (I can still hear the creepy voices on the tape), and the basic style, a kind of retro-primitive. Plus Bruce Campbell, who came as part of the package (but is not in the new film, having gone from catch-as-catch-can cult star to a steady gig on Burn Notice.) (more…)


