The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

Artwork for Theatrical Release

My first foray into film fandom was through the prism of early slasher films.  Pictures like Halloween (1978) and Friday the 13th (1980), that admittedly, I admired more because of my infatuation with a secondary school paramour more so than because of any ingrained appreciation.  That notwithstanding, my first attempt at screenwriting was a horror film, and for years, it remained one of my favorite genres until the aftermath of Scream 2 (1997),  when horror films seemed to continue to not take themselves seriously, and then out of nowhere, too seriously.

Gone was the subtlety, the inventiveness, the creative stories, and to a certain degree the implausibility which, to me, made slasher films really enjoyable.  How far can you push a slasher before he enters that weird chasm between mythology and reality where nothing survives.

Naturally, and along with the rest of cinema, horror films moved harshly towards perceived reality, and with it, I lost the enjoyment.  The Saw franchise was too pathological, and the reinventions of those long established franchised, though enjoyable and well made, lacked the crude joi that I had come to clamor.

So it was with great trepidation that I took the advise of a friend, and High School film teacher, to sit down and give this film a chance.

Not knowing what kind of movie this would be, I sat down, and was utterly surprised.  It was quirky, and smart, and funny, and well-written, and well-shot, and ultimately very enjoyable, even if the last shot was too much, even for me.

Artwork for Theatrical Release

The film is easily a cross between a slasher film and The Hunger Games (2012), as seen through the lens of reality TV, with the added sprinkling of surrealism just for 'ships and giggles.'  The film manages to put all previous genre strict horror oeuvres in the spectrum of not just thrillers, but snuff film for what appears to be, early on, gods or monsters.

An interesting homage to the horror films that have plagued the film psyche for the last forty years, and a rebuke if not rebuff of modern gore films.  Giving each their rightful place in history, but less so a penchant than a poignant restructuring of the genre, into whatever might come.

Hopefully someone is listening.

Naturally, almost as a convention of the genre itself, some of the directing, specially at the beginning, is ill-timed or ill-planned, and it affects the acting and editing, making for a couple of cringe-worthy moments in an otherwise easily digestible film.

The mise-en-scene is pretty good, particularly the mason jars full of specimens at the gas station and some of the paintings in the cabin, which are both a warning of what's to come, and as guttural as the film gets.

The editing seems to have no economy of reason, and again here you can see either the powerlessness of the director of the superstructure of a studio.  The editing finds itself often duplicating action and stretching sequences for no apparent reason, which is perplexing, but then again maybe adds to the brilliance of the whole, because I ultimately don't mind it.

Some of the acting is really bad and forced, blame the director on this one if for no other reason than for letting it go, while some of the other acting seems so natural and brilliant enough to carry the film and the interest of this cinefile.

The tonality is great, with a phenomenal play between lights and dark, which is a note to people trying to shoot digital who forget that digital capture tends to loose the richness of those dark hues and must be substituted or manipulated in post.  Those early films were shot in film, and apart from other tendencies and idiosyncrasies, there is nothing like film when it comes to playing with dark tones and highlights, but here, digitally I might add, the film-makers were able to recover that feel, although the deep rich darkness makes it impossible to watch the night scenes during the day, even with the curtains drawn.

Film Still

All of this leaves you weirdly conflicted, wondering why you're rooting for both the protagonist (Kristen Connolly) and the people at master control; and at the same time rooting for the ancients as well.

It is not what you expect, but exactly what you need to refresh your faith on a genre that had seemed to go astray since the humorous homage of the original Scream (1996) film.  Like the later movie, Cabin is unapologetic in it's semblance of humor and horror, even if it falls more on the other end of the thriller spectrum, closer to pure horror.

The third act is as unexpected as anything I have ever seen or expected to see here, and suddenly the rousing triumphant musical score from the previous two acts seems meaningful and well thought out, even if the bad acting and bad decisions of the first act are still inexcusable.

Maybe.

The rogue gallery of monsters, archetypes, abominations, mythical creatures, and tried and true fear inducing horrors are classic and apropos, as if Resident Evil (2002) and Thir13en Ghosts (2001) had a set of babies, and those babies had chronic nightmares, and the manifestations of those dreams were but a minute spec in the universe that is this universe.

It is the right amount of psychosis, pathology, masterful homage, insightful reflection, and just sheer joy.

I did not expect to like this film, and I most certainly did not expect to be enamored, but here I am.

Buy this film, it's worth owning, otherwise rent it on Blu-ray, I fear the dark tonalities might not show up as well on DVD.