Evil Dead

It almost sounds like the premise for a horror movie: 34 years ago, in the winter of ‘79, a couple of college pals ventured deep into the dark woods of Morristown, Tennessee to make a low-budget splatter-shocker called “The Evil Dead.” The result, made with $90,000 and bathed in gallons of red karo syrup, was a cult classic of its genre: though its unwavering commitment to graphic grotesquery saw it initially branded by newspaper headlines as “obscene” and labelled in the UK as a “video nasty," writer-director Sam Raimi’s outrageous feature debut went on to become a roaring global success, topping the rental charts when released on video in 1983, transforming its star Bruce Campbell into a beloved cult icon, rightly hailed as a masterpiece of modern horror and going on to spawn two worthy, and increasingly comedic, sequels (1987’s “Evil Dead II” and 1993's “Army of Darkness”).

And, to complete the ritual with which Hollywood has recently bestowed the genre, now comes the inevitable remake, which flaunts the glossy visual flair and impossibly attractive leads that have come to represent the big-budget horror recycle. Yet it would be wrong to lump Uruguayan director Fede Alvarez’s lovingly crafted modern-day revival in with the vacuous, Michael Bay-produced, 21st century updates of “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," “Friday the 13th" and “A Nightmare on Elm Street," or, god forbid, the infamously ham-handed “Wicker Man" hack-job featuring a gurning, career-torching Nicolas Cage. Given the stamp of approval by producers Raimi and Campbell, the “Evil Dead” of 2013 is an infinitely superior work to those dead-eyed imitations, springing with life and helmed by a director armed with a genuine care for the film he’s making and a heartfelt affection for the one he’s remaking.

The basic premise is unchanged: once again, a group of five doomed twentysomethings drive to a secluded cabin in the woods, and once again, demonic forces come out from the trees to ruin their vacation. There is, however, a neat twist this time round: heroin addict Mia (an excellent Jane Levy) vows upon arrival to put a stop her drug-taking, emptying her baggie of white powder into a nearby well and preparing herself for the familiar horrors of going cold turkey. This lends the group an intriguing dynamic once the evil is unleashed and Mia begins acting “strange,” but any sense of ambiguity as to her apparently fast-dwindling mental state — are these symptoms of withdrawal or signs of a possession? — is quickly thrown out the cabin window and left to die in the woods when an ominous warning from a crazed, shotgun-wielding Mia starts to be fulfilled: “You are all going to die tonight.”

Alvarez's reverence for Raimi's original is clear as he infuses his update with visual nods and winks — be it the camera gliding hurriedly through the woods in pursuit of our heroes, or the beady eyes of a “Deadite” staring out from under the chained-up cellar door — and daringly recreates iconic moments from the trilogy: the infamous tree-rape scene is given a legs-crossing, parasitic spin, while a scene of demon-ridding self-amputation evokes a similar life-saving act by trilogy hero Ash, if shown in more graphic detail and without the sly pay-off of a wickedly funny Ernest Hemingway gag. Of course, with unavoidable and nigh-unfair comparison, Raimi’s film always comes out on top, but it’s impressive how sturdily Alvarez’s version stands on its own two feet, thanks in part to his dauntless direction and the infectious verve with which he depicts the grisly carnage.

Speaking of which, the film is certainly not to be viewed by the squeamish: once that Candarian incantation from the Book of the Dead is ill-advisedly read aloud, nary a minute goes by where the screen isn’t dripping with blood and guts and piss and vomit. To say that the film is gory is to say that the Atlantic Ocean is watery: indeed, so bloody is it that at one point in the nail-biting (and hand-lopping) climax, bucket-loads of blood literally pour from the night sky, a gloriously gruesome and utterly surreal sight shockingly topped moments later with the swing of a chainsaw — never before has the decimation of a human skull wielded such lurid beauty.

However, in amongst all the gratuitous mayhem, an error is made: screenwriters Alvarez, Rodo Sayagues and Diablo Cody (“Juno”) aim for both straight-faced sentimentality and sadistic glee in the same breath, a trick Raimi’s original pulled off thanks to a (reportedly unintentional) campiness that Alvarez's version, scared of being cheesy, deliberately avoids (“We can’t bury Shelly, s-she’s a friend of ours!” shrieked Ashley J. Williams in 1981, and oh how we laughed). Plus, for a film that boldly purports in its poster to be “the most terrifying film you will ever experience,” it comes up curiously short in the frights department: the scariest it gets is in its multitude of jump scares, while its moments of pulse-pounding suspense are, save for the 10-minute finale, all too brief, faltering in comparison with the overwhelming intensity of Raimi’s original.

Still, “Evil Dead” marks a mightily impressive debut from Alvarez, whose first film is an eye-popping technical marvel that champions old-school effects and which can pride itself as one of the finest horror remakes of recent years. Leave your skepticism at the cabin door, folks: “Evil Dead” is a rollicking, blood-splattered roller-coaster ride. Oh, and make sure you sit through the credits: there’s a stinger at the end guaranteed to put a grin on any fan’s face.

7/10