You know what my problem is with Rob Zombie’s movies? He’s a tease.
The set up is divine. Casting is good, sets are good, ideas seem fairly new and exciting to a horror movie fan. Even the idea of HE, ROB ZOMBIE doing horror movies seems cool.
But the execution is SO disappointing. It seems like the movies get caught up in themselves. “LOOK! It’s the seventies! Girls like acting like whores! Even the good ones are slutty inside! Did I mention it was the seventies? Listen to that! It’s Three Dog Night! Look at my wife’s ass!”
None of those things, though, are as jarring as the sheer lack of…Art. In his remake of Halloween, which I was all excited about, the first 35 people are killed in vaguely the same fashion. I’m not saying I need Freddy Krueger’s inventiveness, necessarily, or Jason pummeling naked teenagers with other naked teenagers in sleeping bags. But after the third victim is repeatedly pushed into a wall until blood is everywhere, it’s just not scary anymore.
And therein lies the final problem. Whenever you see a potential victim, they will be killed. Whenever someone is stabbed, you will see a large amount of blood. There is generally a splatter.
So much of horror, even silly horror, is being scared by what might happen. When Frankenstein leaves the blind man alone, you see that he isn’t just going to casually murder every character in the film. He has pathos, and a soul.
You know, I realize I ramble on here, and this is kind of Literature 101. You wouldn’t think I had to explain it to fucking ROB ZOMBIE.
