House of 1,000 Corpses
Starring Sid Haig, Sheri Moon Zombie, Rainn Wilson, and Chris Hardwick.
Directed by Rob Zombie
Like a blonde with bruised knees and a backstage pass, blowing and credibility has been plaguing rock stars since its’ long-haired inception. So how is it that Rob Zombie, an unchanging figure in the fickle halls of Rock N’ Rolla, has managed to maintain his trucker cred? He started directing.
Zombie’s first feature, “House of 1,000 Corpses,” wasn’t our first glimpse of his filmmaking abilities (Zombie’s been doing music videos for years, even a little animated segment in “Beavis and Butthead Do America”), but it certainly is an indication of the cult status that would follow the film.
“Corpses” instantly introduces us to Captain Spaulding. Two seconds into his diatribe, you understand two things, (1) Spaulding’s “Chicken and Gasoline” Museum is a rest stop for easily victimized travelers, and (2) that the Captain is a guaranteed pop icon.
It’s the era of Manson, the 1970s, and Spaulding informs 4 young visitors that the legend of “Dr. Satan,” a mad scientist, who kidnapped and tortured passersby, is very real. Curious, the foursome goes off to find the urban myth. You can guess where things go from there.
“Corpses” seems to be solely comprised of some of the best nightmares: It’s sexual, disorienting, and almost violent, but not really. I say not really because a lot of the gore is masked by a palette seemingly derived from Argento. The film is colored with reds, greens, and blues. Vibrant and lurid at the same time.
Similar to Guillermo Del Toro (“Pans Labyrinth”), Zombie directs by designing. His visual specifications only add to the frantic nature of the film. Axe murderers salivate emerald, hicks eat puss-filled cereal called “Agatha Chrispies,” and the whole film is an oddly natural bedecking of 70s kitsch, necrophilia, southern penis-swingin’, and creature features.
Nevermind the fact that the film is non-linear and deteriorates into convulsions towards the end. That’s not really the point. Zombie has an eye for bizarre talent, an ear for ridiculous dialogue, and, like a rock song, he knows to play everything at loud volumes.
Starring Sid Haig, Sheri Moon Zombie, Rainn Wilson, and Chris Hardwick.
Directed by Rob Zombie
Like a blonde with bruised knees and a backstage pass, blowing and credibility has been plaguing rock stars since its’ long-haired inception. So how is it that Rob Zombie, an unchanging figure in the fickle halls of Rock N’ Rolla, has managed to maintain his trucker cred? He started directing.
Zombie’s first feature, “House of 1,000 Corpses,” wasn’t our first glimpse of his filmmaking abilities (Zombie’s been doing music videos for years, even a little animated segment in “Beavis and Butthead Do America”), but it certainly is an indication of the cult status that would follow the film.
“Corpses” instantly introduces us to Captain Spaulding. Two seconds into his diatribe, you understand two things, (1) Spaulding’s “Chicken and Gasoline” Museum is a rest stop for easily victimized travelers, and (2) that the Captain is a guaranteed pop icon.
It’s the era of Manson, the 1970s, and Spaulding informs 4 young visitors that the legend of “Dr. Satan,” a mad scientist, who kidnapped and tortured passersby, is very real. Curious, the foursome goes off to find the urban myth. You can guess where things go from there.
“Corpses” seems to be solely comprised of some of the best nightmares: It’s sexual, disorienting, and almost violent, but not really. I say not really because a lot of the gore is masked by a palette seemingly derived from Argento. The film is colored with reds, greens, and blues. Vibrant and lurid at the same time.
Similar to Guillermo Del Toro (“Pans Labyrinth”), Zombie directs by designing. His visual specifications only add to the frantic nature of the film. Axe murderers salivate emerald, hicks eat puss-filled cereal called “Agatha Chrispies,” and the whole film is an oddly natural bedecking of 70s kitsch, necrophilia, southern penis-swingin’, and creature features.
Nevermind the fact that the film is non-linear and deteriorates into convulsions towards the end. That’s not really the point. Zombie has an eye for bizarre talent, an ear for ridiculous dialogue, and, like a rock song, he knows to play everything at loud volumes.
INTERESTING: http://www.filmfortress.com/house_corpses_essay/
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