Honey, I Shrunk the Psychopaths

Serial killers seem poised to usurp the vampire and – to lesser extent – the zombie in television popularity, at least according to your local television listings. While the lumbering undead of AMC’s THE WALKING DEAD continue to shuffle across the countryside in search of human flesh and the sexy, soap opera-esque bloodsuckers of HBO’s TRUE BLOOD continue to thirst for plasma, it’s the well-mannered, maniacal psychopath who’s emerging as the new villain du jour in pop culture right now.

Three new shows featuring serial killers debuted in the second half of the TV season – two bringing iconic movie killers to the small screen, the third an original creation inspired by a classic literary figure. THE FOLLOWING, HANNIBAL, and BATES MOTEL are the latest in a series of high-brow, thrill-a-minute serial killer/crime procedural dramas competing for your bloodlust, each vying to fill the future void that will be left by Showtime’s departing DEXTER this summer. But are all serial killers created equal? And how do icons of murder and mayhem stack up when shrunk down for the small screen? Let’s examine the evidence.

THE FOLLOWING, which introduces the only original serial killer of the trio, is also the most ambitious of the three dramas. Penned by Kevin Williamson, the heavily pedigreed genre writer of SCREAM, I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER, and TV’s THE VAMPIRE DIARIES among other dark fare, THE FOLLOWING isn’t content to give us a serial killer – it gives us an entire cult of serial killers. Kevin Bacon toplines as former FBI agent Ryan Hardy, in pursuit of one Dr. Joe Carroll (James Purefoy), a professor of English literature and failed novelist whose penchant for Edgar Allan Poe and the “insanity of art” leads to the evisceration of fourteen female college coeds. Imprisoned at the hands of Hardy, Carroll uses both his charisma and a computer to build a cult-like network of copycat killers who methodically slaughter, kidnap, and even throw themselves on their own proverbial swords if need be in order to help Carroll escape prison, reclaim his ex-wife and son,  and exact a master plan of revenge against Hardy.

HANNIBAL, which uses Thomas Harris’ RED DRAGON novel as source material, brings the iconic Dr. Hannibal Lecter to television and explores his budding relationship with FBI special investigator Will Graham. For the uninitiated (aka those living under a rock), Lecter is perhaps best known to American audiences in the form of Sir Anthony Hopkins, whose articulate, über- elegant forensic psychiatrist with a culinary predilection for human body parts tangles with Jodie Foster’s Clarice Starling in the 1991 blockbuster THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (before less memorably tangling with Julianne Moore in the Starling role in 2001’s sequel, the eponymous HANNIBAL). In this small screen prequel to the events of the ’91 film (which was also tackled with mixed results on the big screen in 2002’s RED DRAGON, again with Hopkins as Lecter and Edward Norton as Graham), it’s a slowly escalating game of cat-and-mouse between Graham (Brit Hugh Dancy) – whose ability to empathize with serial killers and mentally re-create their crimes with garish detail haunts him with nightmares and night sweats – and Lecter (Danish actor Mads Mikkelsen), who is coolly and casually insinuating his way into Graham’s head and becoming his most cunning adversary.

BATES MOTEL also takes on an iconic cinematic villain as its central focus – the stammering, socially-awkward Norman Bates – and subverts the audience’s knowledge of the character by focusing on his mentally unstable mother as its villain. As perhaps film’s most lurid example of an Oedipus Complex come to life, Bates – as once famously portrayed by the late Anthony Perkins– is best known for donning women’s clothes and stabbing Janet Leigh’s ill-fated Marion Crane to death in the shower in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 shocker PSYCHO, before going after Meg Tilly, Diana Scarwid, and Olivia Hussey in a trio of ill-conceived sequels and prequels. This isn’t even the first time a show called BATES MOTEL has been up to bat; NBC aired a 1987 television movie spin-off of the same name that was originally produced as a pilot for a weekly TV anthology series based around the titular lodging. Aired over the 4^th of July weekend, it tanked in both ratings and reviews, and the network abandoned the idea. Fortunately, this latest incarnation of BATES MOTEL looks to fare significantly better – drawing record ratings for A&E, strong reviews, and an early second-season renewal after airing only three episodes.

Hailed as a “contemporary prequel” to Hitchcock’s PSYCHO, which was loosely based on characters from Robert Bloch’s 1959 novel of the same name, BATES MOTEL (version 2.0) explores the early life of Norman Bates (Freddie Highmore), here depicted with his overbearing, considerably left-of-center mother, Norma (Vera Farmiga). Significant liberty is taken with the source material, most notably relocating the iconic Bates house and motel from Fairvale, California, to coastal White Pine Bay, Oregon, and giving the story a modern-day 21st-century backdrop.

At the heart of all three shows is a focal relationship between two central characters, and the strength – or lack thereof – of each show largely depends on both the execution and believability of that relationship. In THE FOLLOWING, the build-up to the adversarial relationship between Hardy and Carroll is seen through flashbacks and is largely based on Ryan’s own guilt over failing to pinpoint Carroll as a suspect after their first meeting, resulting in the deaths of five additional victims. Carroll baits, Hardy pursues in almost Pavlovian response. There is a life-or-death urgency to the Ryan-Carroll rivalry, with lives hanging in the balance and a clock that’s ticking down quickly. The relationship between Lecter and Graham in HANNIBAL is less urgent, more a slow waltz of wits. It’s largely a doctor-patient relationship at the show’s onset, with a gradual reveal of Lecter’s true nature. Lecter’s duplicity – although obvious to the audience because of both its familiarity with the source material and Mikkelsen’s robotic creepiness – is easy for him to conceal amongst Graham’s twitchy neuroses and the gory distractions of other cases.  In BATES MOTEL, it’s straightforward mother-son, nature versus nurture dynamics that drive (and increasingly unravel) the relationship between Norman and Norma. Norma largely employs motherly guilt, shame, and even self-deprecation to manipulate Norman who, after the death of his father under suspicious circumstances, totters on the edge of manhood, with everything from being cast into the “man of the house” role to raging teenage hormones likely playing into his impending unbalance and burgeoning psychosis.

In all three shows, these central relationships and resulting conflicts are the product of egregious breaches in trust. The villains – Carroll, Lecter, and Norma Bates – are all initially placed in positions of trust to the respective protagonist in each show. Carroll, as trusted academic and consultant, betrays Ryan and shakes his confidence to the point of vulnerability. Lecter, as trusted psychiatrist, is permitted access by Graham to his private thoughts and feelings. He’s using those – and his access to FBI case files – to undermine Graham’s work and stay steps ahead of the authorities. Norma, as trusted parent, uses subterfuge to hold onto Norman’s innocence, in the process screwing with his psychosocial and psychosexual development to the point of creating a second generation monster.

Of the three shows, BATES MOTEL holds the most promise. In addition to award-worthy acting by Highmore and Farmiga, the show’s writers have been careful not to box themselves into the well-known trajectory of the Norman Bates mythos. While the mother-son interplay of Norma and Norman remains rightfully at the heart of the show, the change of locale from the original colorless California landscape of the films to the more visually appealing coastal Oregon location gives the show some geographical texture. The writers have wisely imbued the show’s backdrop with a Twin Peaks vibe, a menacing undercurrent of small town secrets and conspiracy that calls to mind Stephen King. How Norma and Norman – along with newly introduced older rebellious brother, Dylan – will interact with their surroundings is half the appealing mystique of BATES MOTEL.

Up until a week or two ago, I would have called a tie between BATES MOTEL and THE FOLLOWING. The latter came crashing out of the gate hard – relentless in its pacing, audacious in its storytelling, and top-notch in its acting. And while the acting – particularly from the two male leads and actress Natalie Zea as Carroll’s ex-wife and Bacon’s current love interest – has remained on point and the pacing brisk, the storytelling is already showing some signs of fatigue and over-ambition. There is an increasing reliance on otherwise intelligent characters doing stupid things to move the plot forward, which is downright wearying at times. Disconcerting lapses in logic, particularly where the FBI's continued naiveté when it comes to dealing with strangers is concerned, are becoming the weekly norm. By this point, anyone from outside their vetted circle with whom they come in contact should be fully investigated and physically searched. How many times do they allow themselves to be violently ambushed before they become (rightfully) paranoid in dealing with outsiders? It defies logic and is a potentially fatal flaw in the writing that, if left unchecked, will distract viewers and pull them farther and farther out of the story.

Although I’ve been singing the praises of BATES MOTEL and THE FOLLOWING frequently and loudly on social networking sites, I’ve been uncharacteristically quiet about HANNIBAL. Truth is, three episodes in, and I’m not at all sold on the show; in fact, I’m bordering on disliking it. Unlike BATES MOTEL, which also casts an iconic cinematic villain at its center, HANNIBAL hasn’t taken many risks with its source material and it suffers in its safety. It’s almost too familiar, and I’m left hungry for more at the end of each episode – and not in a good way. Although Bryan Fuller brings the same lavish visual panache to HANNIBAL as he did to the regrettably underrated PUSHING DAISIES, the show teeters on the edge of bringing more style than substance to the table, the television equivalent of empty calories.

The cast and acting are a disaster. For as much as Dancy overacts and chews the scenery with his over-the-top neurosis, Mikkelsen under acts. I understand and can appreciate the subtleties of an understated performance, but this is like watching an exercise in the repression of all discernible human emotion. Neither Dancy nor Mikkelsen are particularly likeable characters, leaving the viewer with no one to root for. The supporting cast doesn’t fare much better. Sulky Laurence Fishburne – here as Jack Crawford, head of the FBI’s Behavioral Sciences division and Graham's boss – is woefully miscast. Caroline Dhavernas, as consultant profiler Dr. Alana Bloom, is equally bland and ineffective in her role as Graham’s confidant. Only plucky Lara Jean Chorostecki, as Fredricka "Freddie" Lounds, a pesky tabloid blogger, shows any kind of promise. She’s fortunately blessed with a great character, who you might remember was male in the big screen adaptation of RED DRAGON and played with sleazy, gleeful abandon by Philip Seymour Hoffman.

The killer characters of all three shows prove that like vampires and zombies, serial killers come in all variations – some, like HANNIBAL’s Dr. Lecter, with a better fashion sense than others. But for all their distinctions, at the core of each one’s madness is their twisted world view colored by the world around them – and those who inhabit it. Serial killers – again, like the vampire and the zombie – aren’t born; they’re created. What ultimately sets the serial killer sub-genre apart from its contemporaries is that while there are but a few tried-and-true paths leading to vampirism or to the dead rising, there are myriad routes to the warping and unhinging of the human mind. A traumatic past, an obsession with a literary figure, even the clichéd overbearing mother are all different ingredients that can be used in the same recipe. But THE FOLLOWING, HANNIBAL, and BATES MOTEL prove that it’s how you mix those ingredients and how long you bake the characters and story that ultimately determine how good the dish will taste. Doesn’t matter how it’s plated up and served.

Favorite Albums of 2012

Featuring: Gossip * Garbage * Keane * The Killers * Alanis Morissette *
Rebecca Ferguson * Paloma Faith * The Wallflowers * Matchbox Twenty *
Pet Shop Boys * Emeli Sandé * Mumford & Sons 

12 – The Killers / Battle Born

After a brief pit stop in solo-ville, Brandon Flowers reunited with his fellow bandmates for a fourth studio album. The Killers stick to the formula that’s worked best for them in the past: bombastic retro stadium rock with catchy, sing-along choruses balanced by lyrics that often elicit a sentimental ache. BATTLE BORN easily retains the band’s quintessential sound of previous efforts. Standouts: Opener “Flesh & Bone” and the closing title track.
 
11 – The Wallflowers / Glad All Over

The Wallflowers were another reunited band that re-emerged in 2012 after an extended hiatus. Jakob Dylan and company used their time away wisely, with GLAD ALL OVER offering a livelier, celebratory vibe that doesn’t detract from the band’s unabashedly rock & roll classicist roots. While the hooks are sturdy and the musical base solid and unpretentious, it’s Dylan’s meditative – sometimes solipsistic – lyrics and husky voice that anchor the effort. Standouts: The rollicking funk of "Reboot the Mission", the political leanings of "Love Is a Country", and "The Devil's Waltz".

10 – Pet Shop Boys / Elysium

It’s hard to believe that the duo of Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe have been making music as Pet Shop Boys for over three decades now (Read: Christ, how old am I?). ELYSIUM – the duo’s eleventh studio album – is a collection of primarily mid-tempo tunes that range from elegant dance-pop to sentimental ballads. Thankfully, the trademark PSB 80’s industrial sound is intact, even if its sharper edges have been softened in spots in favor of some wistful, orchestral moments. Standouts: The gorgeously melancholic “Leaving”, the thumping disco-pop monster “A Face Like That”, and the elegiac ‘ode to Regan-era excess “Requiem in Denim and Leopardskin".

9 – Emeli Sandé / Our Version of Events

Try this recipe: Take one cup Alicia Keys, one cup Beyonce, and two heaping tablespoons of Mariah Carey and blend together with generous helpings of mainstream pop, alternative-folk, and old-school R&B. Divide into fourteen equal tracks and let simmer in your eardrums for roughly 49 minutes. OUR VERSION OF EVENTS is an earnest, fully-realized debut album marked by a diverse musical styling yet held together by a cohesive thematic unity. It’s an impressive introduction to the arresting talent of Scottish songbird Emeli Sandé and whets the appetite for her sophomore effort. Standouts: "Heaven", the tribal rhythms of "Wonder", "Clown", and "Next To Me".

8 – Mumford & Sons / Babel

The UK’s nu-folk movement showed no signs of abatement in 2012, and its poster boys – London’s Mumford & Sons – easily avoided the dreaded sophomore slump with BABEL, their stellar follow-up to 2009’s acclaimed debut, SIGH NO MORE. Seamlessly fusing folk, bluegrass, and alternative rock into a rollicking, rootsy musical hybrid, the band wisely opts for a “more of the same” philosophy on their second album. All the usual instrumental suspects – banjo, mandolin, upright piano – are ever-present in the arrangements while the quartet of Marcus Mumford, "Country" Winston Marshall, Ben Lovett, and Ted Dwane join voices to provide the thickly-accented vocals chorus. Standouts: The rousing title track, the plaintive "Ghosts That We Knew", and Paul Simon cover "The Boxer".

7 – Matchbox Twenty / North

If there’s a prevalent theme to be found in last year’s musical landscape, it’s that much of the year played out like lost episodes of the now-defunct VH-1 show BANDS REUNITED. Case in point: Matchbox Twenty’s return with NORTH. Following a three-year hiatus that saw band frontman Rob Thomas step out with his own successful second solo album and tour, the Matchbox boys returned in fine form with this fourth studio that reinforces that no one writes smarter, purer pop songs than Thomas. The tracks here harken back to the band’s heyday, with slick muscular, radio-friendly melodies galore. Standouts: “Put Your Hands Up” and “English Town”.

6 – Alanis Morissette / havoc and bright lights

Canada’s First Lady of Anger and Angst, Alanis Morissette, made a welcome return to the music scene in 2012 with her eighth studio album, HAVOC AND BRIGHT LIGHTS; her first since 2008’s underappreciated FLAVORS OF ENTANGLEMENT. Time has been kind to Morissette who – arguably – offers up her finest collection of songs here since 1995’s juggernaut, JAGGED LITTLE PILL. Happily, Morissette hasn’t lost her angry edge but simply refined it into an even more effective musical weapon. If JAGGED LITTLE PILL was a rusty box cutter, HAVOC AND BRIGHT LIGHTS is a stainless steel razor. The blade of her words remains sharp and precise, her delivery more mature and controlled, the anger now bubbling underneath instead of unleashing in every chorus. The result: One of the most pop-accessible albums of her career. Standouts: “Edge of Evolution”, “Celebrity”, “Empathy”, and “Woman Down”.

5 – Rebecca Ferguson / Heaven

Channeling a young Aretha Franklin and Macy Gray, this enchanting soul chanteuse’s remarkable debut album magnificently melds contemporary R&B with 60s soul and Motown. With a husky voice and impressive range, Ferguson is easily the best female vocalist to swim across the pond since Adele. Who says good things don't come out of reality competition shows? Standouts: “Run Free”, “Backtrack”, and “Shoulder to Shoulder”.

4 – Garbage / Not Your Kind of People

And, yes, it’s yet another reunited band sliding into fourth place on my annual year-end “Best of…” list. This time it’s Shirley Manson and her fellow Garbage men back for a fifth spin around the turntable with their first studio album since 2005’s BLEED LIKE ME. The Scottish spitfire and her longtime cohort of cross-continental collaborators retain every bit of post-grunge authenticity that established them as one of the great alt-rock acts of the 90s. With the band’s propulsive guitar licks and Manson’s distorted vocals intact, NOT YOUR KIND OF PEOPLE offers up fifteen aggressive, psychedelic, seismic, overproduced tracks that kick, scratch, and claw their way into your consciousness, threatening to blow your eardrums out in the process. Standouts: The gut-crunching chords of “Battle in Me”, the dark sincerity of “I Hate Love”, and the seductive breathiness of “Sugar”.

3 – Paloma Faith / Fall to Grace

It was inevitable that there would be a likely successor to the late Amy Winehouse, and she arrived last year on U.S. shores in the form of Paloma Faith. Possessing all of the ballsy, bluesy, retro-cool swagger of Winehouse, Faith easily slides into the musical berth prematurely vacated by her fellow countrywoman. FALL TO GRACE is the London-born songbird’s thoroughly satisfying stateside debut that is at once evocative of Winehouse’s best work and yet thoroughly original. Produced by UK soul vet Nellee Hooper (of Soul II Soul fame), FALL TO GRACE allows Faith to fully flex her unique and distinctive voice that, at times, ranges from a luxuriantly soulful croon to a full-blown dramatic wail that could rival Florence + The Machine frontwoman Florence Welch. Standouts: The disco-inflected “Blood Sweat & Tears”, the painfully-controlled emotion of “Just Be”, the uplifting “Freedom”, and her faithful INXS cover “Never Tear Us Apart”.

2 – Keane / Strangeland

The brilliance of Keane’s sublime STRANGELAND is in the complexity of its utter pop simplicity. (Chew on it a bit…it’ll make sense.) The UK quartet’s fourth studio album is awash in gorgeous melodies (of both the uplifting and melancholy varieties), theatrically arching bridges, contemplative lyrics, and lead singer Tom Chaplin’s earnest, emotive vocals.  Each song is a progression of both melody and message – some swell to anthemic proportion while others carry the listener away into poignant sentimentalism. And while naysayers complained that the band doesn’t break any new ground here with these sixteen slices of adult alt-rock for the soul, this listener would argue that the accomplishment is found in the perfection of their particular brand of polished piano balladry and the cohesiveness of the set as a satisfying whole. Standouts: "Sovereign Light Café", “Disconnected”, “Run with Me”, and “Sea Fog”.

1 – Gossip / A Joyful Noise

Not to be confused with last year’s Dolly Parton-Queen Latifah flick of the same name, veteran idie dance-punk outfit Gossip’s fifth studio set lived up to its name in every joyful way. The Beth Ditto-led trio broke new ground with confidence here, wisely pairing with veteran UK producer Brian Higgins who has worked with both veteran dance acts (Kylie Minogue, Pet Shop Boys, Bananarama) as well as current chart-toppers (Girls Aloud, The Wanted, The Saturdays). The result is Gossip’s most accomplished album to date, a collection of impeccable dance-punk that allows the band to remain true to its headier punk-rock roots. As always, it’s Ditto’s distinctive vocals that shine through on each beat-laden track. Standouts: The inspirational “Move in the Right Direction”, “Perfect World”, and slow-burner “I Won’t Play”.

What were your favorite albums of 2012? And don't forget to find out which songs made my annual list of favorite singles.

Favorite Singles of 2012

How do I characterize the year in music that was 2012? The year's release slate was happily loaded with a slew of returning favorites – Madonna, The Killers, Pet Shop Boys, Matchbox Twenty, Kylie Minoque, Garbage, No Doubt, The Cranberries, Scissor Sisters, and Aimee Mann. There were sophomore efforts from Mumford & Sons and Ellie Goulding, and a promising crop of new female artists (mostly hailing from across the pond) like Rebecca Ferguson, Emeli Sandé, Amelia Lily, and Paloma Faith. So, without further comment to allow the music to speak for itself, my annual list of favorite singles of 2012 (an even dozen in honor of the year that was):

12 – “Free” / Graffiti6

 

11 – “White Light” / George Michael

 

10 – “Your Body” / Christina Aquilera

9 – “Stronger” / Kelly Clarkson

 8 – “Chasing the Sun” / The Wanted

7 – “Anything Could Happen” / Ellie Goulding

 

6 – “Skyfall” / Adele  

5 – “You Bring Me Joy” / Amelia Lily

 

4 – “Move in the Right Direction” / Gossip

 

3 – “Backtrack” / Rebecca Ferguson

 

2 – “Leaving” / Pet Shop Boys

1 – “Timebomb” / Kylie Minogue

Tomorrow: Which albums made my cut as 2012's finest?

I Am

This past year has challenged me to rethink my approach to being...well, me. And it dawned on me, after more months of self-doubt than I care to count and trying to twist myself into an image that I thought was more palatable to others, that I am fine just the way I am. See, I realize that the problem with how others may or may not see me rests with them and not me. So today, an exercise in self-affirmation. Today I own and embrace who I am. I celebrate my good qualities (and there are a few), laugh at my quirks (and there are many), and own those things that I need to improve. Today, the highlights (in no particular order...as random as the thoughts in my head sometimes are):

• I am thoughtful, kind, and generous; but never mistake my kindness for a weakness.
• I used to weigh 270 pounds and ate my emotions; I've since lost over 100 pounds and have kept that weight off for over two years now. This stands as one of my greatest personal triumphs. I embrace my "former fatty" badge because it's part of my history and to forget is to risk repeating history.
• I trust naturally and easily, but once that trust is broken it's hard for me to come back to a place of confidence in someone.
• I have worked out religiously for just over two years now and post about it on Facebook every single time. This may annoy people, but it keeps me on track and accountable so that's all that matters.
• I love my dogs more than some people I cross paths with in life.
• I am obsessed with Jamie Lee Curtis. Not in an "Annie-Wilkes-hobbles-James-Caan-in-Misery" kinda way, but rather in a "wish-we-could-sip-tea-and-watch-Downton-Abbey-together" kinda way.
• I love cheese.
• I dance badly.
• I love character actors.
• I hate animal cruelty and bullies.
• I am organized to a fault.
• I am prone to procrastination.
• I am an unapologetic morning person.
• I love horror movies, especially 80s slasher films.
• I am open and surprisingly adaptable despite my sometimes oppressive need for structure and routine.
• When I fall in love, I'm all in. I am able to be monogamous.
• I am not 20 and am comfortable in the knowledge that my "twink" days are now firmly behind me. I am neither "bear" nor "boi" and have no desire to play either on TV.
• I am funny.
• I am talented.
• I am passive-aggressive at times.
• I am a writer.
• I am a rescuer who often tries to save people from themselves. Even if they don't want to be saved.
• I am creative and possess a strong imagination from which I create.
• I am plagued by self-doubt more often than I'd like.
• I am not always comfortable with my body.
• My left eye always appears to be lower than my right in photographs; I refer to this as my "palsy eye" with much amusement.
• I don't trust my instincts nearly enough even though they have proven to be quite reliable.
• I value loyalty above all else and give it fiercely.
• I am a natural leader and take the responsibility very seriously.
• I always root for the underdog.
• I am a recovering Catholic and inclusive humanist.
• I am a disenchanted Democrat.
• I am attracted to redheads in almost fetish-like proportion.
• I am a volunteer with The Trevor Project because I believe it's important to reach back to the generation behind you and offer a hand to help others up.
• I love to laugh.
• I am an Aries to the core.
• I am obsessed with Starbucks' Earl Grey tea. It makes me inexplicably happy.
• I don't live in the moment enough.
• I am often self-destructive.
• I sometimes struggle to love myself and often put the needs of others before my own; I then resent myself (and others) for it.
• I am analytical and will turn something over and over in my mind until it makes sense.
• I think too much sometimes.
• I am afraid of flying. And mushrooms.
• I am a gay man and hate the shallowness of much of the gay male culture, even if I fall victim to it on occasion.
• I am adopted.
• I am afraid of ending up alone.
• I have a difficult time letting go.
• I am not afraid to open my mind to new things but don't do it nearly enough.
• I am a work in progress.
• I am ok.

Spring Cleaning Needed for a Cluttered 'Cabin'

Poor horror movie fans.

We, the purveyors of ghosties and other bad things that go bump in the night and scare the bejesus out of us, are starving. Fed a barely palatable diet of uninspired remakes of Japanese horror imports and 80s slasher flicks served up with paltry sides of three-dimensional gimmicks and computer-generated imagery for the past several years, and we’re malnourished. It’s no surprise then that we’re so hungry for quality, so ravenous for something to satiate our horror taste buds that we’d pounce like a slobbering alien on the crew of the Nostromo on the first promising morsel of original horror cinema that crosses the threshold of our local multiplex.

Thus seems to be the curious case of THE CABIN IN THE WOODS, a hodgepodge of cinematic clichés masquerading as some would-be satirical masterpiece that seems to be polarizing the horror faithful. Like a feeding tube placed in an emaciated patient, CABIN attempts to infuse much-needed nutrients into the horror genre – but ultimately just runs out the wrong end in a steaming pile of liquid crap.

Fanboy wunderkind Joss Whedon (he of BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER and DOLLHOUSE fame) co-wrote this giant mess of slasher film-meets-Lovecraftian hocus pocus, but wisely leaves directing duties to first-timer  Drew Goddard (writer of the gimmicky CLOVERFIELD). Give Goddard some credit, though: How he gets a respectable cast (which includes Bradley Whitford and Richard Jenkins) to keep a straight face throughout the proceedings is merit-worthy in and of itself.

While many reviewers will take the position that much of the “enjoyment” of CABIN is walking in cold and not knowing too much about the plot, my theory is that this approach is merely clever marketing on the part of the film’s distributor because if people actually knew what they were paying for, the opening week box office would be far less. That aside, I’ll refrain from spoilers and simply summarize the plot in a few succinct bullet points:

·         A virgin, a jock, a slut, a brainiac, and a stoner go to the titular location, play with some antiques in the basement, and seemingly unleash an ancient Latin spell – here taking the form of a redneck zombie family;

·         Interspersed with what at first appears to be a by-the-numbers, WRONG TURN-like slasher are scenes with official-looking people running around some military-like installation flicking lots of buttons that control lighting and release pheromones while listening to REO Speedwagon songs;

·         Nothing is what it seems, while everything is what it seems. The two plots converge, recognizable horror/sci-fi star makes inexplicable and pointless stunt cameo, lots of rumbling ensues, CGI-generated rocks fall;

·         The end.

Despite an – admittedly – intriguing set-up at the film’s outset, the whole affair deteriorates into utter silliness by film’s end. Like a bad episode of HOARDERS, Whedon and company shove everything into the film’s third act, stuffing it so full that there’s not one distinguishable flavor to be tasted. Listen, I can suspend my disbelief with the best of them, but CABIN seems to play to the attention-deficit disorder generation, literally throwing everything and the proverbial kitchen sink at the movie screen and hoping something will stick.

Honestly, I’ve seen episodes of SCOOBY DOO that are scarier, and therein lies my problem with CABIN. As a horror film, it’s simply not scary. There is nothing at stake here. Every time the action shifts from the cabin to the control room, the audience is pulled away from any growing attachment it may have developed for the victims. Without fear and tension, there is no horror. Call me crazy, but I’m still looking for a horror film that scares the shit out of me – much like THE EXORCIST or HALLOWEEN or THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE or SCREAM or THE DESCENT did. I’m old-school like that.

So, if CABIN isn’t a horror film, what is it exactly? As a satire, it’s so mired in its own meta-meets-hipster irony that it plods joylessly, almost maliciously flipping a middle finger at its audience. CABIN doesn’t so much deconstruct the horror genre as it does bully it, thus – for me – the satire gets lost in its spiteful tone. The reason why a film like SCREAM worked as both a satire and a horror film is because it never lost sight of the fact that it was a horror film at its core, that it used its self-referential humor to draw attention to the horror that was unfolding rather than to draw attention to the high-brow concept of its slasher self-awareness itself. Whedon and Goddard are so fully immersed in their concept, they lose sight of this and forget to actually scare or even playfully wink at their audience along the way, opting instead to clobber us over the head with their self-satisfaction and cleverness.

In the end, ambition may be what killed CABIN for this viewer. The horror genre is wide and varying in terms of its sub-genres. Films like SCREAM and BEHIND THE MASK: THE RISE OF LESLIE VERNON (hell, even 1981’s STUDENT BODIES) work better as satire because they don’t bite off more than they can chew – the focus in these films is on the slasher sub-genre. SHAUN OF THE DEAD sticks to the zombie sub-genre. Even the decidedly more slapstick films in the SCARY MOVIE franchise had the good sense to limit what each parodied. Here, Whedon and Goddard cast their net far too wide and ultimately fail to rein in the promising first two-thirds of the film. Honestly, I kept waiting for the aforementioned stunt cameo to yell out, “Release the Kraken!” at one point toward the end.

My assessment of CABIN can be boiled down using a simple mathematical equation:

Not scary + not funny = epic fail.