Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieving Home Buyers
This entry was posted on 5/27/2009 9:13 PM and is filed under Film.
As it turns out,
Drag Me to Hell is the ultimate experience in grueling PG-13 horror. There are a few stretches where director Sam Raimi is reliving the slapstick of
Evil Dead 2 instead of the scares of
The Evil Dead, but that’s okay.
Drag Me to Hell still joins the
Friday the 13th and
My Bloody Valentine remakes as part of a stellar year in horror films.
Final Destination 4 is on the way, too.
The worst thing about
Drag Me to Hell will be the film critics hacking out clever variations on the title. As far as true stories, though, it’ll be hard to beat the hell that I was dragged through before my screening started. I was stuck behind a hardcore hipster couple who were loudly discussing some dopey theory about how great literature is a useless concept since so few people read the important novelists of China and Africa. That brought up the topic of
A Confederacy of Dunces—and the guy had to declare how much he relates to Ignatius J. Reilly. At this point, I thought that the whole conversation might be somebody’s idea of a cruel practical joke.
But the couple was just getting started, and went on to discuss their picks to win the Scripps National Spelling Bee, and how the official website has all these hilarious biographies about the competing children. One of the kids even dreams of being the first man on Mars, tee-hee-hee. And the woman had to note that one of the contestants listed George W. Bush as his personal hero, so she’s certainly not rooting for that child.
Thankfully,
Drag Me to Hell eventually began rolling to drag me from hell, and the mayhem carried on without a single dopey Leftist moment. It’s no spoiler to note that Mr. Jacks lives to carry on his family’s fine tradition of not loaning money to deadbeats. If that sentence makes no sense to you, then you’re not part of the very small audience that’s kept RightWingTrash going.
