Zombos’ Says: So bad it’s good.
“What the hell, Paul?” I said to Paul Holstenwall.
We had just finished his latest dreck of choice, Rawhead Rex, from 1986. I sipped my pumpkin spiced latte, seeking comfort after watching it. He studied the Blu-ray box liner, took a sip of his latte, and looked at me with all innocence and surprise.
“What? You didn’t like it?
I swallowed another sip of my latte and gave him the look of death. My perfectly fine cool October day was ruined by his biking over to the mansion with this stinker while Zombos made a run for it, knowing full well from past experience how Paul’s tastes in horror could swing like Poe’s pendulum. And yet, there he sat, looking like a thinner Quentin Tarantino, dressed in faded blue jeans and a Fright Rags hoodie. I imagined him having worked in a video store too, doling out questionable movie advice to susceptible customers, while making too many runs through the beaded curtain in the back to the schlock and X’ers. So here I sat, trapped like Andre Delambre in The Fly.
“Look, Paul, even Clive Barker said he didn’t like this movie and he wrote the script. First off, that one-piece suit for Raw Head is awful. Secondly, that fiberglass head looks like a fiberglass head, and, I’ll be honest here, Magilla Gorilla looked scarier. And thirdly, what’s with those rotating eyes flashing red?
“But that’s what makes it so 1986 don’t you think?” Paul said, really stretching for reasons to like this one.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’re just jaded now with all the CGI and advanced technology they can use for special effects today. Otherwise, you’d say this one works with what it has.”
“Um, no. Yes, the special effects are better, give or take, today, but David Cronenberg’s The Fly came out in ’86. So did Stewart Gordon’s From Beyond. You don’t see me denigrating those movies, do you? I realize Rawhead Rex gave only four weeks to come up with a monster, but the foundation design is humorous, not terrifying.
“And let’s talk about the acting and direction, two things Barker particularly pointed to. Like he said, you need a director who can give oomph to the script. Well, this one’s got no oomph. Director George Pavlou develops no pacing, no chills, and he let’s the actors zombie through their roles. Going for closeups of Rawhead Rex was a mistake, pure and simple. From the first full-head look we get I had to stifle a laugh.”
Paul took a sip of his latte. I could smell his gray cells discharging ozone. I continued before he could interrupt.
“From the verger’s (Ronan Wilmot) over and under acting, to the couple’s (David Dukes and Kelly Piper) oversexed relationship, with a vibe that mom’s parenting skills are questionable, I didn’t feel any tension. It’s a horror movie, Paul. I should feel the tension coming off of everyone. But the pedestrian pacing just moved from one kill to another with no clever buildup or suspense. Barker’s script follows his short story pretty well, but the nuances aren’t carried over as much as the director could have shown them. The only good thing is I now know what a verger is.”
“What do you mean?” asked Paul.
“What, the verger?”
“No. What you just said before your dictionary find.”
“Well, in the short story we get the thoughts of the creature. It gives us some insight into the backstory but more importantly, it gives us the creature’s appetites defined and its raison d’etre. Well, sort of. Even the short story leaves much in the dark. But the thing’s love of kid meat, its need to dominate and kill and seek revenge for being buried alive, and to procreate so it could have more kids to feed on, etcetera, you just don’t see that under the director’s hand. The movie just has Rawhead pop up from the grave, hits us with a ludicrous looking closeup of those googly eyes spinning and flashing, and then he’s off on a killing spree like Donkey Kong jumping over the barrels. The police stumble along as usual, the verger goes batshit crazy even more, though the film should have given us more reason as to why he’s so Go Rawhead!, which admittedly is a weak point in the story too, and that damn monster suit is still blindingly distracting.”
Paul was about to say something. He finished his latte instead. Then he spoke.
“All right, I agree that it is rough around the edges, and the sequel-setting ending seems like it was slapped on and ruins the story closure in a silly way, but didn’t you like it just a little bit? The gore is fun and practical.”
“Look,” I said, “I’m glad I watched it. I wouldn’t watch it again unless it was at gunpoint. But you’re right, it isn’t all bad; nothing that good acting, more sensible creature effects, and better direction couldn’t fix. The twist Barker gives to the original story for the movie is a logical progression to the Mother Goddess fertility weapon, but the optical effects are subpar for even the 1980s. So what should be a strong ending to the monster versus us battle is more silly than effectively realized.”
“I did bring Hellraiser too,” he said.
“Holding out with the good stuff were we?” I had two more pumpkin spiced lattes and a tray of pumpkin spiced cookies lying on the Noguchi coffee table before Paul had finished putting the Blu-ray into the player and we were at the opening menu.