The plan is to throw together a sampling of critical response for this film tomorrow, but I can’t let my excitement go by tonight without as much as an obligatory Drag Me to Hell post. So here goes nothing.
I honestly can’t recall a more foolproof, satisfaction guaranteed film having hit theaters in recent memory than this, Sam Raimi’s long-overdue return to the slapstick scares and delirious laugh-before-you-shiver recklessness. It feels so untouchable that I’m totally able to look past the otherwise-lame similarities it shares with the awful Stephen King adaptation Thinner—no easy task. Over on Rotten Tomatoes, Drag Me to Hell currently has a diesel 100% rating (18 out of 18 glowing reviews), which is unheard of for a horror film. Doesn’t hurt that Raimi is universally respected across the genre lines.
A midnight showing this Thursday “after hours” is in the cards. There just doesn’t seem to be any better way to see this one than at the ungodly hour, in a (hopefully) packed house of true blood horror faithful. Most of whom I’d hope also love Raimi’s Evil Dead films.
The two-days-away release of Drag Me to Hell brought to mind earlier an Evil Dead-related romantic gesture that I executed a couple years ago, as only a horror loverboy such as myself could do. Admittedly, the woman on the receiving end of my sick gentleman’s touch is the true MVP, simply because she actually felt enthusiastic butterflies over an Evil Ash bobblehead, that ugly fucker that you see here to the right. Evil Ash, for those poor unaware fools, comes from the third of Raimi’s Evil Dead trilogy, Army of Darkness. The hero of the series, Ash (played by Bruce Campbell, who Eli Roth once called “Tom Cruise for horror fans”), has to do battle with a Genghis-Khan-meets-Skeletor version of himself thanks to some demonic tomfoolery.
The lovely lady I was getting to know revealed that she loved both bobbleheads and Army of Darkness, so naturally I thought that her own personal Evil Ash to play “make believe” with would be ten times more suave than any short-lived flowers. She was the type of gal who’d read Fangoria with me while Suspiria is playing on the tube, and, yes, I let her pass on by foolishly. Cue that Janis Joplin-lifting song by Janet Jackson.
Caught up with this lady recently, and she’s still heart-to-heart close with Evil bobblin’ Ash. **Pats himself on the back** I should probably take her with me to see Drag Me to Hell, then, huh? To complete the circle of romance, if you will. Pick her up holding a Bubba Hotep action figure (another Bruce Campbell flick that she’s quite fond of….the movie taste is strong in this one).
That won’t happen, though. I’ll be seated in anticipation all by my lonesome, with no scared female by my side to have grab my hand as maggots crawl out of Drag Me to Hell character’s mouth (or so I hear happens). Shit, I might as well be eating alone at a crowded restaurant on Valentine’s Day.