With House of 1000 Corpses, his long-awaited directorial debut, theatrical metal singer Rob Zombie fashioned a movie that he thought would wipe the grindhouse floor with the bodies of post-"Scream" teenybopper horror fare. It was to be a return to the roots of modern terror, most particularly Tobe Hooper's seminal shocker, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, with graphic carnage and an unbridled mean streak that outdid any other movie released in the last decade years before it. Unfortunately, Zombie had to fight off boatloads of controversy involving financing, distribution and, of course, submission of the final film to the dreaded MPAA. "House of 1000 Corpses" emerged as a fan's celluloid love letter to extreme cinema, but it was also an unfortunate victim of excess that delivered about as many headaches as it did tingles down the spine.

Despite the success of Zombie's independent endeavor, it sure didn't make the world less safe for the horror movies that came along. It seemed odd that only about some time after the theatrical run of "House of 1000 Corpses," along came a modern remake of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" spearheaded by music video director Marcus Nispel and producer Michael Bay. It was exploitation without all the natural terror and fear of Tobe Hooper's film, a splatter flick packaged with a nubile WB sitcom star and an annoying "Based on a true story" gimmick that obviously cribbed from "The Blair Witch Project." We also had the chance earlier in the summer to see a Paris Hilton vehicle called House of Wax. And don't even get me started on all these PG-13 ghost stories that have been cluttering multiplexes since "The Ring" hit big. If Zombie needed to prove himself and the horror genre like he hoped he would, the time would have to be now.

THE DEVIL'S REJECTS (Lion's Gate Entertainment; rated R for sadistic violence, strong sexual content, language and drug use; 109 minutes; released in theatres on July 22, 2005) is Zombie in full-on B-movie mode, although this time he has done a 180-degree spin on what "House of 1000 Corpses" ended up becoming. Gone is the gaudy funhouse nightmare and distracting editing style which characterized film no. 1, and here is something that takes you into the sweltering Southern sun, where you see exactly what happens when you wake up a bunch of serial killers during their beauty sleep. Needless to say, they become really grumpy and even more likely to start shedding blood. Ed Gein probably didn't get at least half as p*ssed off as the villains of this movie.

Based on the characters Zombie made in "House," we follow the exploits of the Firefly clan after Ruggsborough Country police officers open fire on their creepy ranch house (of 75 corpses). One family member, Tiny (Matthew McGrory in Freddy Krueger-like burn make-up), evades capture, and another, Rufus Firefly Jr. (scorer Tyler Mane), gets shot to his death. And the "Mother" of the household (Leslie Easterbrook in a role originated by Karen Black) gets taken into the custody of Sheriff John Quincy Wydell (William Forsythe). The only survivors are Otis B. Driftwood (Bill Moseley) and Baby Firefly (Sheri Moon Zombie), who hole up at Kahiki Palms Motel at the insistence of their daddy, Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig), an obese psychobilly in clown paint. The desert sands run red with gore as Otis and Baby encounter a traveling group of country singers, Banjo & Sullivan (led by Geoffrey Lewis as the titular Roy Sullivan and Priscilla Barnes as his wife Gloria), and subject them to the sort of unpleasantries that almost make the fugitive killers from Last House on the Left seem like The Monkees.

Captain Spaulding doesn't make it to the hotel as quickly as Otis and Baby hoped, mainly due to problems with his truck. But after he washes his make-up off and the trio are reunited, they seek a new hideout: Charlie's Frontier Fun Town, owned by the pimpin' Charlie Altamont (Ken Foree, from the original Dawn of the Dead), Spaulding's black brother. Unfortunately, Wydell's bent on vengeance becomes increasingly personal and more and more bloodlusting, due to the fact that his brother George (Tom Towles) died at their hands in the first film. Wydell even enlists the aid of two brawny bounty hunters, Rondo and Billy Ray (Danny Trejo and Diamond Dallas Page), whose services prove surprisingly useful (they are also the strongest characters in the film, able to actually survive in the end).

Watching Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller's Sin City, it felt like the perfect tonic to the glut of anaesthetized Hollywood fare because it was so daring and vicious, as well as brilliantly executed by all involved. It was proof that movies can still be hot and dangerous, and have you coming back for more. It also provided some newfound respect for the worn-out noir genre. With Rob Zombie's THE DEVIL'S REJECTS, a similar resurgence is delivered to the horror/exploitation flick. Zombie takes his love of milestone films from the best parts of those era, primarily the works of Hooper and Craven, but also brings to them a sun-soaked outlaw aesthetic more in line with Sam Peckinpah or Terence Malick, as well as a murderous fascination that characterized Arthur Penn's "Bonnie and Clyde" and, to a lesser extent, Oliver Stone's "Natural Born Killers."

Zombie is a man still defined by cinematic style, be it the creepy slow-motion and tinting in the opening shots of a naked girl's corpse being dragged through the woods, or the slicing together of scenes that balance comedy and horror, and most prominently the use of stock footage and freeze frames, including photographs used in swipe motion. Zombie is, of course, the product of junk culture in a modern world, but he is always one step ahead of other more esteemed modern filmmakers because of his ability to take the viewer's sensibilities and expectations and slice them apart like Ed Gein. Those who are easily appalled by brutality and gore will most likely flee to see "The Island" or "Dark Water," but that's because Zombie's film isn't merely radically retro but also, to quote one character, "plays on a level that most will never see."

You have to remind yourself over and over that what's happening on the screen is only a movie, just like you have to remind yourself that the Firefly clan are, most obviously, demented and psychotic. In "House of 1000 Corpses," they were shown to be outright depraved, but this time out they become the movie's frontal focus, not as much so the people they end up killing. They are in many ways similar to the families in The Hills Have Eyes (also currently being remade) and "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," in that they are efficient and swift killers, but also a group dynamic boiling over with the occasional dysfunctions and power struggles (Otis and Spaulding damn near tear each other's throats out when they first meet). That being said, THE DEVIL'S REJECTS also provides more time to the attempt to bring the clan to justice, as Sheriff Wydell, convinced he is serving out a righteous punishment, begins to cross the line that separates him from a strictly by-the-book lawman to a full-fledged sadist vigilante. The conclusion is all the more intense for it, as Wydell does get his men and woman, and gets drunk on Jack Daniels trying to figure out how to best inflict pain on the Fireflys.

Like "Chainsaw," "Hills," and Last House On The Left, THE DEVIL'S REJECTS opens itself up to the "holier than thou" critical assaults that greeted each of those individual films when they opened up, eventually evaporating in the smog of increased cult acceptance and the kind passing of time. But you can't expect a movie like this to take it easily, which is something slicker, emptier and bigger-budgeted shlock throwbacks like the recent "Chainsaw" and "House of Wax" remakes do. When Otis sticks a loaded gun in a victim's panties and threatens to blow her crotch away, you know your reaction will be that of pure shock, and you will be fascinated to know what Zombie will do next. Thankfully, the movie has a certain old-fashioned method to its madness and doesn't glamorize nor revel in the cruelty (sorry, Mr. Stone).

Thus sets up the disappointing aspect for those who already expect a twisted, gory thrill ride: Zombie takes it surprisingly easy most of the time. When we see the murders of a couple male characters in the desert at the hands of Otis, its what you don't see that attempts the most power. Indeed, Tobe Hooper realized that imagination is the best way to make a viewer nauseated. However, the next two deaths that occur afterwards are incredibly gruesome. To summate the violence level, Zombie's film, unlike recent fare such as "House of Wax" and "Saw," isn't content with making a museum of atrocities in the vein of David Fincher's "Se7en," and instead uses its violence mainly to create the genuine dread that one of the Firefly brood might just get the itch to do something really nasty. Even with inevitable MPAA-approved trimmings, THE DEVIL'S REJECTS isn't merely hard-R, its RRR.

Zombie shows us facets as a director that are surprising given the somewhat amateurish job he made of his first film. The most stunning thing I noticed about him is that he has keen eyes and ears for someone whose career seems to have been built on sensory overload. In particular, I'm talking about his use of music. Like Martin Scorsese (whose most infamous "Taxi Driver" moment is referenced to in a scene involving a lonely, furious Wydell), Zombie uses a lot of good classic music to particularly memorable and appropriate moments, from the Allman Brothers Band's "Midnight Rider" playing in the opening credits (Walking Tall gets served), to both Steely Dan's "Reeling In The Years" and Joe Walsh's "Rocky Mountain Way" in moments of laidback reverie, to the surprisingly strong opening bass of David Essex's "Rock On" in the moment we see the Fireflys visit Charlie, and to the concluding use of the most beloved Skynyrd song that isn't "Sweet Home Alabama." This concluding segment is a blood-soaked moment of brilliance that may cause you uncomfortable memories the next time you hear it on your classic rock station. In fact, Zombie basically takes every beloved song you've ever enjoyed with your FM radio (along with a few blues chestnuts) and a bottle of brand-name beer and traumatizes them to the point of whimpering "Uncle."

Also, I credit Zombie for sticking so close to the period pieces this film apes that you feel Zombie just simply found this movie by accident on a shelf. The movie has a grainy quality to it that dates back to the independent days of the 16mm camera, with shaky but not manic handheld camera movements, lovingly maladroit attempts at dissolves and zooms, and lighting that veers from sun-baked to very darkly lit. If anything has to be convincingly modern-looking, it's the set design for Charlie's Frontier Town, which reminded me somewhat of the Freek Land I saw in the recently-reviewed Freaked. A cross between a shiny carnival and a Wild West saloon, it provides the gaudiest set design when compared to the Firefly's den, a desolate wasteland of skeletons and pickled human organs.

The one thing that keeps Zombie's film from feeling truly like a fossil is Zombie's penchant for pop culture references and winking humor. One character is seen wearing a Cheap Trick T-shirt with the cover of their beloved first album, Otis references both "Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory" and Samuel Clemens (both in cold-blooded threats), and one of Charlie's top hookers (played by Elizabeth "E.G." Daily, the former Valley Girl and "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" star forever known as the voice behind Tommy Pickles) gripes that she should dress up like Princess Leia to attract clientele. And in the film's most blatant attempt at comic relief (and I'm not even mentioning the conversation about bestiality), a Gene Shalit-like movie critic (played by the hammy and uncredited Robert Trebor) attempts to piece together the Groucho Marx-referencing aliases for Sheriff Wydell, only to get on his bad side when he takes his affection for Groucho past that of Elvis Presley. I did end up laughing at that moment, as did the "Star Wars" reference, the aforementioned animal sex banter and a scene where Baby and Spaulding force Otis into stopping by an ice cream parlor. It threatens to be distracting, but Zombie blends it into the fabric of the film so well that it looks like a comfortably cheesy pair of bell-bottoms.

All three stars from the previous film return with a large degree of success. Once again, Sid Haig is nothing short of an absolute blast as the backwoods Bozo with homicidal tendencies. No longer spouting stories of Dr. Satan and keeping his fried chicken obsession down a notch, he still manages to combine sleaziness and comic chops effortlessly. From the moment we first see him having sex with Ginger Lynn Allen in a riotous dream sequence (which ends with a priceless piece of very small dialogue), it's clear that we aren't meant to know whether we should watch him play the fool or run for our lives. Sheri Moon Zombie also projects a fascinating duality as the seductive, petulant Baby, Hell in a pair of ripped jeans. In fact, her maiden name proves to be quite indicative of the T&A she presents in this movie. Veteran creep Bill Moseley is the most naturally and outright evil member of the clan, with a sense of humor that is pure Charles Manson. Thankfully, Moseley also lays off the snickering Chop Top persona he perfected all too well in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, developing one of the most uncomfortable screen presences in exploitation history since David "Krug" Hess.

William Forsythe heads the supporting cast with one of his most fiery performances in quite a while, tearing away the moral fiber of his God-appointed lawman until he emerges as a raving lunatic who is just as effective a torturer as the scum he's hunting down. The rest of the cast, consisting mostly of forgotten character actors and B-movie beloveds, all chip in splendid performances for their respective roles: Ken Foree as the dependable(?) Charlie, Leslie Easterbrook of "Police Academy" doing a sublimely wicked Mama Firefly, Danny "I'm a Mexi-CAN" Trejo & Diamond Dallas Page as Wydell's hired help, Priscilla Barnes & Geoffrey Lewis as the unlucky Sullivans, Kate Norby & Lew Temple as the Banjos, Michael Berryman as Charlie's slow-witted assistant, E.G. Daily and Deborah Van Valkenberg (you know her from The Warriors) as Candy and Casey, Tom Towles (best known playing another psycho named Otis) as George Wydell, P.J. Soles as a soccer mom who runs afoul of Spaulding's "top secret clown business," Daniel Roebuck (from Bubba Ho-Tep) as Ruggsville TV personality Morris Green, Steve Railsback as Sheriff Dwyer, Dave Sheridan as Officer Dobson, and Mary Woronov as the opening credits victim.

THE DEVIL'S REJECTS, while not as essential as "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," is a surprisingly strong movie that deserves to be held in the same breadth as such heyday classics as "Last House on the Left" and "The Hills Have Eyes." Just like those type of movies, it strives to be a double dare for audiences whose idea of horror are flooded corridors and spooky little Japanese girls. Zombie's good intentions are justifiably perverse and fascinating, and the cast/crew (which also includes KNB's Robert Kurtzman and Zombie's previous make-up FX crony Wayne Toth) follows him lockstep down the road to Hell.

THE DEVIL'S REJECTS is the first movie in quite a while to be given an update for the DVD edition, something I have to do for Land of the Dead and will likely get to once Rent makes it to its two-disc incarnation. But I think the unrated special edition package for this movie is one of 2005's best offerings on the format, if not truly the best of the horror genre that year. The 1.78:1 widescreen transfer, enhanced for 16:9 TVs, stays true to the movie's grindhouse influence whilst offering a crisp, accurate presentation that just about gets it all down to a gory T. You shouldn't rag on this movie for the grainy and muted picture quality throughout, as it is just one of the things that give the movie its sick, sleazy appeal. Artifacts and edge haloes are non-existent throughout, and the film's purposefully flawed look isn't taken into overkill. Colors, whilst intentionally drab, look natural and vivid, with the proper shadow detail and blackness levels in night shots as well as a sun-baked glow during the daytime sequences, which tend to be nastier than anything shot on sundown. Add to this nice detail in wide shots (as well as even close-up shots of Sid Haig's clown make-up) and you've got a technically splendid transfer that really delivers.

The movie's soundtrack comes in two flavors: tutti frutti, and tutti f*ckin' frutti, or, to be more direct, Dolby Digital 5.1 EX and DTS 6.1. No matter which one you choose, you should expect the same solid mix, which has fun with all manner of directional effects, rumbling musical stings and nerve-shredding sound effects. When a movie boasts clarity in even the way in which characters cough up blood, you know you have found the key to a horror buff's heart. The song selections get a solid boost from the stellar mix, and I can never listen to David Essex's "Rock On" or Skynyrd's "Free Bird" on a car radio the same way again. Dialogue is crystal clear throughout, even when the soundtrack starts to get loud. I can assume that the DTS mix will be even punchier and tough in terms of its aural ammunition, hence the "tutti f*ckin' frutti" moniker. Either way, expect all of your speakers to have a little fun blasting this movie.

The "Unrated" edition is never truly explicit in what has been restored, but I'm pretty sure those who heard about or witnessed firsthand the Priscilla Barnes torture scene or the gruesome Mack truck death will be appropriately sickened once again by their extended plays. Just expect a bit more sex and death, and you should be fulfilled by the promise of this director’s cut edition.

This whopping package kicks off with a pair of audio commentaries, the first one with Rob Zombie. The man proves himself a very astute, informing subject, giving as much attention to what he feels didn't work with the film as well as what did. He seems to provide a nice frame of reference for the grueling production that spanned a mere month that will be more detailed in a later supplement, getting into day-night shooting and production design/set construction details that bear the type of urgency carried onto the picture. A lot of what Zombie has to say is actually pretty valid, albeit spoken very congenially and without pretense, such as when he explains why he didn't want to give Leslie Easterbrook's Mother Firefly a bruised eye or his feelings on the claustrophobic, hot motel shoot (if the shoot lasted longer, Zombie admits maybe he could've driven his actors even further to the brink of madness). I would recommend a listen to both this movie's admirers and detractors, as it proves that even as exploitation, it's a lot more whip-smart and lovingly crafted than virtually any other movie in the past few years.

Fans will definitely opt to listen to the second yak track, which boasts the "devil's rejects" themselves: Sid Haig, Bill Moseley and Sheri Moon Zombie. The actors are certainly more animated than Mr. Zombie, especially the director's own wife, which lends the track a bouncier air that will have you laughing along with the participants. Zombie pointed out that having these three actors already helped, as their comraderie helped keep them involved and motivated. Technical details are a thing of another commentary, though, as the participants tend to offer their own perspective and opinions on various scenes and production elements touched upon in the last track. It's odd to say that these three performers are quite charming and amiable, especially when their characters are so sinister, but this is the way the track unfolds, and there's plenty of fun to be had.

The deleted scenes reel (13:17) consists of eleven cut/alternate segments that are presented without indexing, in non-anamorphic 1.78:1 and DD 2.0. A few of them were cut for pacing (the swamp escape scene and some more with Michael Berryman's Clevon), whilst a few of them interjected with the film's tone in a very noticeable way. In Zombie's yakker, he notes that the scene where Wydell and the maniacs argue in the van couldn't have worked due to the fact that the three rejects have basically been beaten into a somber staidnes, and that an admittedly funny montage of scenes with Bill Moseley and E.G. Daily "making funky music" was perhaps a bit too humorous. The most memorable axed moment is when we see the MIA Dr. Satan in a hospital, where he rips open the throat of a nurse (Rosario Dawson, literally a bloody delight) Fulci-style.

The first disc also contains the complete Mary the Monkey Girl Commercial as featured in the first moments with Captain Spaulding in the film, as well as a bonus Spaulding Christmas Commercial. Those who lamented the loss of Sid Haig's country-fried humor and hawking of fried chicken in this movie will lap up these minute-long mock-adverts. Also shot for the movie but featured in its entirety is The Morris Green Show (13:19), with Daniel Roebuck hamming it up as the Ron Burgundy of talk show personalities, reciting a cheesy opening monologue before announcing that the show will instead focus on an interview with "doctor" Robert Bankhead (Dwayne Whitaker) concerning the "Devil's Rejects" slayings, the twist being that he will randomly interject his own opinions in the middle of his guest's thoughts. Zombie even has fun at the expense of the concern over heavy metal albums, purposefully blurring the cover of an LP copy of Blue Oyster Cult's Agents of Fortune.

Cheerleader Missing - The Otis Home Movie is a minute-long piece of simulated snuff footage wherein Otis has his way with a kidnapped young woman, the ordeal being shot with a Super 8mm camera. Even at such a short run time, this will more than likely give you nightmares. To lighten the mood, we also get a 5:21 blooper reel, which boasts several really funny moments, especially the starting goof with Geoffrey Lewis and Priscilla Barnes. Interesting to note is how William Forsythe handles his flubs: he doesn't laugh, refuses to break character, and then asks if he can be excused like he's really gonna cut loose.

There is also a fairly brief but very welcome Tribute to Matthew McGrory, the Joey Ramone-like actor who played Tiny in both this and House of 1000 Corpses, complete with on-set footage of him with and without the burn make-up.

Satan's Gotta Get Along Without Me is the Buck Owens song whose vintage performance clip was seen briefly in the hotel room, but is luckily presented here in its entirety. Finishing up the first disc's platter is a still gallery of 20 production photos, 13 minutes worth of silent make-up tests wherein the main performers mug and mode for the costumes/cosmetics team, a soundtrack spot (touting it as the first motion picture soundtrack to utilize the "DualDisc" format for both CD and DVD players), and the theatrical trailers/TV spots, which can only be viewed combined and play for 3:04 (there's two of each).

With all those out of the way, disc two is basically devoted to one special feature only, and what a bonus it is: 30 Days of Hell: The Making of THE DEVIL'S REJECTS. Taking a look specifically at the movie's production schedule in day-by-day fashion (we get some pre-production footage courtesy of the script breakdown, screen tests and table reading, but nothing post-wrap), this is a rather lengthy but worthy 144-minute documentary thankfully presented in five different chapters for those who want to take it at a leisurely pace. It lies somewhere in the middle between Full-Tilt Boogie, the feature-length look at the making of From Dusk Till Dawn, and the recent boxed set devoted to the online production diaries from the set of Peter Jackson's King Kong. We get to hear from virtually all the important cast/crew members (look out for stunt coordinator Kane Hodder!) and even the supporting players, guiding us along the way via plenty of direct-to-camera commentary as B-roll, workprint and completed footage stack up to cover the entire schedule.

The presentation is edited well enough so that it doesn't feel as long as it might seem, but it's the way the shoot unfolds in a very rushed and high-tension manner that locks your attention on this look at the filming. The program starts well-enough with the expressive, honest, highly ambitious Rob Zombie guiding us along on location scouting and various essentials of conceptualization (casting, storyboards, planning of stunts, costumes/make-up, etc.). But given the relatively bigger but still shoestring budget (a luxury Zombie admits was mostly wasted during the shoot for his first movie), watching director and co. cope with all the stress proves rather bumpy a road for the typical "fly on the wall" exposé piece. It would be tempting to point out which scene was shot on each day, but I really prefer you experience this for yourself, as I would only spoil all the fun and fascination. As a conclusion, let me just say this: If you thought Rob Zombie was just some shock rocker with a camera (as I once thought after watching House of 1000 Corpses), don't be surprised if you start to pay some genuine respect to this man.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age