Article: Re-possessed by The Evil Dead

I remember at school, in English class, a pirated copy of The Evil Dead being exchanged between two schoolmates. It’s a memory that has gained more prominence in my mind because I’m still old enough to remember The Evil Dead as a forbidden fruit of cinema in Britain. Still a prohibited item of pleasure. The year the ban was removed (2001) still feels fresh. Not over two decades ago as the cold hand of time shows. Nowadays, in terms of movie consumption, it’s harder to obtain legal copies of certain romantic comedies than a horror film which was once labelled by Stephen King as "The most ferociously original horror film of the year."

Because of its status as one of the more notorious “video nasties” of Britain, it’s little surprise that The Evil Dead is a formative, gateway horror. There is a reason it got passed between blazers and bags by teenagers before their lessons started. Evil Dead was one of the movies I had a VHS recording of in the early 00s, once it was allowed back on British T.V. screens. To see it in some sort of flayed recorded form was a rite of passage because, to a lot of people, it had been contraband for so long. However, when the BBFC shifted along with societal attitudes in the new millennium, The Evil Dead was a DVD that I quickly snatched up. Said disc is the one I viewed for this write-up. That is perhaps two decades old at this point.

There’s beauty in simplicity and perhaps one of the reasons The Evil Dead has endured for as long as it has is down to how elementary it all is. Five friends travel to a cabin in the woods for a vacation. Upon arrival, they discover the Necronomicon a.k.a The Book of the Dead and some recording materials. Once the audio tape is played back, a primal evil is unleashed with the intent to possess each member of the group before the night is over. That’s it. There isn’t much more to it. Due to this, The Evil Dead is an impactful experience as there is no fat to trim. Once the chaos starts, it doesn’t let up. For its characters, they will be tortured. For the audience, they must endure the gruelling experience.  

The minuscule budget from which The Evil Dead was created is as startling as its cultural impact. The film’s budget was $375.000. Adjusted for inflation and exchanged into pounds and it’s still not even 10% of Erling Haaland’s annual salary for Manchester City Football Club. It was a budget swiftly dwarfed by other movies, in an era defined by excess. Yet still, it is cited as one of the most successful independent movies ever. The Evil Dead didn’t just launch the careers of its director Sam Rami and main star Bruce Campbell, but when you peer at the film's end credits, you spy the name of Joel Coen in the credits. As editor, it was one of Joel’s first movie jobs. What’s amusing is seeing the dynamic “shaky cam” effect, used to symbolise the rampaging titular evil in this film, being used by the Coen’s to very different effect in both Blood Simple and Raising Arizona. Techniques such as Shaky Cam are not only part of the film’s ramshackle charm but are also the secret spice that elevates Rami’s low-budget horror shenanigans, from other wannabe successful horror fare.

The budget limitations of Evil Dead are clear from the start. Shot on 16mm film stock, the film has the fuzzy vibe of many of the cheaper horror films of its ilk. We are promptly introduced to a scruffy ensemble of youths, with Scotty, acting as the de facto leader. Ash is the only other male. The three women who round up the group are Ash’s sister Cheryl, Scotty’s girlfriend Shelly, and Ash’s girlfriend Linda. Unfortunately, the lean script does little to build up the female characters, with only Cheryl’s stern tone, and Linda’s playfulness with Ash being the only real descriptors. The film’s beginnings suggest that it’s little more than what it’s always been considered: A group of friends decide to go up into the woods and make a movie. Here lies the deception. The Evil Dead is a movie that inspires people to want to make their own movies because filmmaking looks so easy. Just grab a camera and go. Fast forward a few generations to the smartphone age and The Evil Dead looks even more quaint. Just look at what we can do with our mobile phones.

Like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, however, there’s much more going on under the hood. The Evil Dead, the two films have their imitators, but rarely do they compare. Because rarely are these replicants made by filmmakers with such vision as Tobe Hooper or Evil Dead’s Sam Raimi. The Evil Dead’s ferocity perhaps stems from its creator’s single-mindedness. The Evil Dead’s shoot was notoriously troubled. Principal photography featured painfully thick contact lenses, getting lost due to the remote location, and difficulties in securing medical help for injuries. This all seemed par of the course for Raimi, who had no qualms about putting people through the wringer. This becomes more apparent in Evil Dead 2 (1987) when Slapstick and Bruce Campbell finally collide. Raimi seems to be a disciple of an adage many want to dispel: That a little suffering does the art good.

While most would like to be entertained without the discomfort factor, it feels safe to say that Raimi’s gleeful torture of his cast and crew mixed with Raimi’s creative flair is what makes Evil Dead stand out. Its budget may not even cover the catering of the larger blockbusters Raimi was able to helm, but few low-budget features manage to meld a visual style of EC comics and Three Stooges-like chaos as Raimi does here. Once the Necronomicon is open and the spirits are let loose, the film delivers an onslaught of demonic abject, with the viewer subjected to an array of beheadings, ankle stabbings and possessed tree rape. Over 40 years on, there’s still little that matches the combination of energy and gore. There are films which may match the frenzied approach. There’s certainly an abundance of gore-fuelled features. However, none ever seem to capture the balance that The Evil Dead has. It’s an organised chaos that one would consider lightning in a bottle if it weren’t for Raimi finessing the frenzy for the film’s sequel. But it’s a testament to the filmmaker who had his signature style dialled in so quickly.  

It shouldn’t be any wonder why the Raimi-helmed Spider-Man film series is still held in stronger regard by a film fan than the other two franchise attempts that came after it. The comic book zeal found in Raimi’s Spider-Man films could be seen in the likes of his original comic book style idea Darkman (1990). With that confidence also being seen in 2002 Spider-Man resides in The Evil Dead. Raimi’s kinetic energy overrides the lack of budget. There isn’t a feeling of merely throwing something at the wall and seeing if it sticks. The Evil Dead works because of its conviction. From the gloopy set-pieces to the jump scares, even if the filmmakers weren’t sure something would work, it doesn’t affect the on-screen outcome. The intensity and hilarity shine through.

It's amusing to look at reviews that felt more than indifference to The Evil Dead. The transgressive nature and abject weirdness injected into a typical cabin-in-the-woods story didn’t win everyone over. A 2018 retrospective in The Guardian, written by Steve Rose, compliments its filmmaking but is less fond of the film’s treatment of women. Rose states the punishment inflicted on the women of the film is unsettling, while Bruce Campbell is framed as the “final girl” who gets to “reclaim his masculinity”. Rose brings up a fair point about the underwritten nature of the women in the film. While the feral tactility of the “tree rape” scene still ensures the sequence is more than a little queasy. Yet even with this scene, one can’t say that the film focuses any explicit delight in the so-called punishment of any character, save for Campbell’s Ash who doesn’t regain his masculinity in this first film.  This changes in the Evil Dead sequel, in which the first 20 minutes of that film is a remixed rehash of its predecessor. Ash is redrawn as someone with far more defined macho characteristics, while the new character of Annie is given far more to do. Although this may still fall short by 2000s film Twitter standards.

One wonders if Rose looked back at Clive James’ view of the film. Writing in 1984 for The Guardian’s sister paper The Observer, James, delivers a savage beatdown on the film, considering it unscary for anyone but idiots. However, his dry commentary on the women in the film seems rather unfortunate:

“ When the zombie erupts from the prop leaf-mold and comes lurching through the dry ice fumes in search of the vaguely classy girl who would resemble Glenn Close if she were better looking and could keep her clothes on, we decline to be alarmed because we are too busy wondering why the silly cow agreed to stay the night, the surrounding territory being so obviously crammed with recumbent zombies.”

Reading this critique now not only feels retrograde but also glosses over some of the film’s narrative. The Evil Dead’s plotting may be threadbare, but there is detail on why the characters remain at the cabin. James’ famous sardonic brand of wit falls a little flat here. The rest of the review is very funny. Although this writer doesn’t agree with the verdict.

But The Evil Dead is a genre movie which changed the game for horror. In Street Trash (1987), the film pulls Steadicam's move which feels so directly lifted from The Evil Dead’s Shaky Cam that if Raimi sued, no one would object. Evil Dead’s influence would turn up in sitcoms like Spaced (1999), to meta-horror pieces like The Cabin in the Woods (2011). It’s a film that may look as cheap as chips, but its visceral ingenuity makes the film endlessly re-watchable. It’s not just the canted angles and mounds of gore; it’s the balance of tone throughout the chaos. It finds comedic nuggets throughout its running time. Something that many more comedy-minded horrors struggle with. While Ash and his friends aren’t the most complex individuals, they hold more innocence than many protagonists in younger features. There’s a Coen-like streak within The Evil Dead films. While the creators enjoy inflicting misery on the characters, they remain endearing to the film’s audience.

After The Evil Dead, a young Peter Jackson found infamy with his splatter period of movies, a trio of low-budget, high-gore affairs that appear to have been influenced by Raimi’s ‘Dead’ movies. Like Raimi, Jackson’s earlier features helped springboard him into making larger fare before directing The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003). Amusingly, the battle of Helms Deep has been noted for its uncanny resemblance to parts of Army of Darkness, the third Evil Dead movie. Raimi broke the bank and set the trend with his version of Spider-Man (2002). What’s becoming more bittersweet for film writers like me however is how we’re seeing the likes of Jackson and Raimi, who built themselves up via low-budget schlock-fests and found themselves being able to lace their ideocratic styles into Hollywood blockbusters with much success. From video nasties to mainstream mainstays, it’s difficult to see if things like this happen as much as they did. Getting a Blu-ray copy of The Heartbreak Kid (1972) seems easier.

The Evil Dead is currently streaming on various platforms. However, find a bootleg VHS copy for the lolz

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Article: Looking back at Better Luck Tomorrow

Better Luck Tomorrow is a little-seen gem that if not for its presence, the Fast and Furious franchise would look very different if it would even exist. The film is the sophomore feature of director Justin Lin who would go on to direct 5 of the Fast and Furious movies, including Fast Five, considered by many as the franchise's crown jewel. The moment the series sheds the skin of whatever it was for 4 entries and becomes the corona-swigging, family heist square dance we now know it to be. Without Better Luck Tomorrow we may not have got Dwayne Johnson lumbering after sports cars inexplicably speeding away with a huge metal safe.  Without Better Luck Tomorrow, we do not get Han, the much-loved rouge who makes his fast debut in the third film but makes his first appearance in this lesser-known criminal coming-of-age caper. If Justin Lin ever returns to the Fast Franchise, every fan and his dog will inform you about it. If Better Luck Tomorrow ever gets better streaming rights or a physical release, I’ll probably be letting those same fans see that they should try this.

The late 90s/Early 00s were a boon time for a certain kind of teen movie. Films were aimed at the adolescent market, because that’s where the money was, but with more bite and sexiness than what had passed before them. Granted Tom Cruise was cavorting in his undies and getting off with hookers in Risky Business (1983). In the 1980s the slasher movie had fun connecting sex and death, while John Hughes at this point had teen teenage angst all sewn up, defining much of a generation with his influential coming-of-age movies. African American coming-of-age drams gave things a shot in the arm in the early 90s, but it was the likes of Scream (1996) and American Pie (1999) which re-defined things for Hollywood. There was a smattering of post-modernism, irony and spiciness sprinkled on a batch of teen flicks. A place where 20-year-old actors would get cast as high school seniors in films with “grown-up” plots. The style was notable, and for those in Tinseltown, the money was good.

Of course, save for the odd sprinkling of casting, these teen movies were overwhelmingly white. Two decades on, the cinematic melting pot has got a little better, but the default to whiteness still feels like a thing to many. A glance at the teenage titles coming out in the early 00s is a strong reminder of such a perspective. It’s this which makes Better Luck Tomorrow feel so striking. Not only shifting the focus of the coming-of-age movie to a group of Asian Americans but complicating the image of the reserved, nerdy Asian American stereotype. Bringing forth a murky, morally ambiguous tale centred around a group of academically sound, yet bored High Schoolers who swap A grades for cheat sheets and scams. The clique soon delves into the world of petty theft and drugs before things take a murderous turn with the introduction of a rich yet smugly disaffected interloper.

The subversiveness in Justin Lin’s take on American suburbia draws from a background which felt remarkably conventional for the time. Much like Kevin Smith and Robert Rodriguiz, Lin maxed out his credit cards and spent his life savings to fund the film. Cast and crew quit their jobs to go all in on the project, while MC Hammer became an unlikely benefactor towards the film. Funding $10,000 for the production after meeting Lin while the director worked at the Japanese American National Museum. However, Lin’s devotion to representation led to the director turning down funding from investors who wanted the film to be made with Macaulay Culkin in mind as the lead.

 

Such dedication to his vision not only made Lin and his cast stars in Hollywood, but it also created a small cultural milestone in Asian American representation in Western cinema. Lin's crime film is full of the visual tics that mark the look of coming-of-age/teen cinema at the time. The fact that MTV films have a hand in the production is obvious. The introductory quick cutting of still images, the time-lapses, the blown-out highlights and camera shots through fish tanks and on shopping trolleys are a clear hallmark. Yet the Asian representation gives everything an elemental shift. The gang don’t imitate much from Far Eastern Cinema, although the film alludes to John Woo’s 1986 Hong Kong feature. The cultural touchstones come from not only the whiter suburban features of the time but also the likes of Goodfellas (1990). This may be known unconsciously to the characters but it’s conscious to the audience. The film’s cold open is lifted directly from Scorsese’s mob epic.

The same can be said of the character of Virgil (Jason Tobin), who spends much of the film channelling the same combustible energy as Joe Pesci’s Tommy DeVito. Both characters meet similarly tragic circumstances only separated by ages, yet there’s an unexpected yet universal nature to the two counterparts. But Tobin’s Virgil stands out. He is the prototypical, primitive ego of the story. Much like Pesci’s volatile Tommy is so many ways often only separated by age, however, his race discombobulates things. His braindead horniness and overcompensating anger seem so “normal” if this were focused on the typical bored, white affluent teens usually seen in such a story. The fact that he’s Asian American raises an eyebrow and tilts the head. It’s the point. Assimilation is complete.

Roger Ebert, who championed the movie at Sundance, at the time noted that Better Luck Tomorrow is a “disturbing and skilfully told parable about growing up in today’s America.” And this writer fully agrees with him. Better Luck Tomorrow is fascinating in showing how much of a façade racial stereotypes are when so deeply entrenched within the more amoral aspects of American culture. Virgil and Tommy are the same. They’ve both been swallowed and chewed up by the dream of the United States only to succumb to the drama. The same goes for O-dog in Menace 2 Society (1993) which appears a decade before Justin Lin’s feature. So often stereotypes are used as handy scapegoats to inhibit ethnicity. They help placate people into the idea that groups of people can’t or won’t do certain things as it’s “not in their DNA”. Better Luck Tomorrow negates such thinking, having its casual amorality, born from capitalism and boredom, breed like the Covid virus. Many people won’t believe it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a thing.

Justin Lin is so assured with his storytelling, and it shows here. Better Luck Tomorrow swings from high school hi-jinks into murky darkness effortlessly. Moments of poignancy flip to humour or seriousness within scenes without the sense of whiplash that could have easily occurred. Midway through the movie, Ben, played affably by Perry Sheen, loses his virginity to a sex worker on a trip to Vegas. At first, the scene teeters from sleazy to pathos, before switching back to sordidness and dark humour and finishing with a tense violent confrontation. Never once does the pitch feel out of whack or jarring. Another moment features the four gang members driving home after an allocation with school colleagues at a house party. In one of the film's most arresting and heartbreaking scenes, the camera fixates on Virgil in a close-up. A high school senior torn between both agony and ecstasy upon him and his friends beating on some prejudiced white kids who have been hounding them for the first half of the movie. Making bigoted remarks insinuating what was mentioned in my earlier paragraph. Virgil smiles and grimaces through tears in a moment of retribution and realisation. Angry at the remarks, but joyful at not only getting the jump on the perpetrators but also being noticed. It’s a testament to Lin’s direction, as well as Tobin’s performance in how it doesn’t signpost to the viewer what to feel.  

It's amusing to watch Lin become one of the figureheads of the Fast and Furious saga. A franchise that started as a humble yet vapid Point Break rip-off, before becoming Universal Studio’s largest franchise, amassing 7 billion dollars worldwide. After the John Singleton helmed sequel 2 Fast 2 Furious, the reigns were handed over to Lin who helped maintain its board multicultural appeal. The films are still rather superficial and yet their multicultural representation is stronger than many other blockbuster franchises it contends with. This is an extension of what Lin does in Better Luck Tomorrow, which digs beneath the surface level of its straight-A, Asian students. Characters such as Daric Loo (Roger Fan) and Steve Choe (a pre-fame John Cho) are slippery in their appearance. Promoting themselves as accomplished students at first, before revealing their sociopathic and nihilistic tendencies. Han (Sung Kang) who is the canonical link to the Fast and Furious series, also reveals hidden depths, shifting from the prototypical muscle to something more sensitive. That Han becomes a well-loved member of the fast family by audiences only helps to cement this.

Roger Ebert’s passionate defence of the movie against hecklers who were vocal about the amorally of the Asian leads, touches on something that has slowly become more important in conversations on racial representation. Lin’s characters are complicated by the stereotypes expected of them and the amorality they have an allure for. Many characters of colour are never drawn well enough to be interesting. When they’re shown as sidekicks and villains, they can feel cheap and tacky. Better Luck Tomorrow is strong with building the interiors that make these characters alluring. Ben’s conflict is felt throughout the film. He desires what most high schoolers his age desire. He just never expected it to come from nefarious means. This of course is where the drama lies. Better Luck Tomorrow is a film I’ve enjoyed viewing multiple times because of how it tucks into this. It’s a film that allows its Asian characters to be complicated, even a little amoral, because it would be more offensive if it didn’t do anything like that.   

The film’s final moments end with a succulent piece of uncertainty involving the future of two of the film's characters. The two characters look at each other in a way that suggests they are both sure of something that has happened, but only one person knows. It’s a small yet ambiguous moment which feels closer to The Graduate (1967) than any of the teen fare that Better Luck Tomorrow was competing with. Despite seeing Better Luck Tomorrow more than once, this moment caught me unaware this time around. For all the progression found within the heavyweight franchise Lin become a cornerstone of, it’s doubtful that you would find anything as subtle as within Better Luck Tomorrow’s last couple of moments. 

Better Luck Tomorrow is currently streaming on Apple TV

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