Interestingly enough, Zombie has not only managed to craft a nailbiting ride through serial killer hell, he's also managed to create a beguiling bunch of degenerate characters that we, the filmgoers, eventually learn to love and in some ways respect. The film flip-flops between sequences with Wydell squirming at the bit as he tries to figure out the fugitive's each and every move and the unholy trio of the Captain, Otis, and Baby dispensing their own singular brand of road rage out on the open highway. The Devil's Rejects-Mama Firefly, Otis, Captain Spaulding, and Baby-are pursued by the ever vigilant Sheriff Wydell. The story is pretty basic, once stripped down to its core. Zombie even digs deep into his supporting cast, utilizing genre vets like Danny Trejo, Michael Berryman (The Hills Have Eyes), Geoffrey Lewis, Ken Foree (the original Dawn of the Dead), and Steve Railsback (Stuntman). Haig is mesmerizing as the evil backwoods clown, Zombie's wife is rambunctiously piquant, and Moseley, who actually looks like he could be Zombie's older brother, gives his character a laidback intensity that crackles with unpredictability. As commanding as he is, however, the trio of Baby, Otis, and Spaulding, hold their own. Forsythe, a staple of '80s low-budget action films, shines as the smoldering Christian solider hell-bent on killing the Rejects. The core of the cast can be whittled down to Sheriff Wydell (William Forsythe), Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig ), Otis (Bill Moseley), and Baby (Sheri Moon Zombie). The assembled players grasp the sharpness of the satire with vim and vigor and keep the film teetering on the ledge of camp. Zombie's words may be the main thrust that propels the film, but the actors delivering them are due equal credence: they truly bring Zombie's twisted vision to life. To this end he judiciously mixes references to Mark Twain, Star Wars, and politically incorrect nursery rhymes along with biblical thematics and pop culture scare tactics. Zombie kicks up a lot of verbal dust via his wonderfully deadpan redneck soliloquies, instilling his characters with the type of sharp wit that treads precariously along the line of social acceptability with demented fervor. In terms of the script, it's populated with intriguing characters and viciously barbed dialogue. The film isn't merely retro eye candy, though. Even the two musical montages that bookend the film in the form of the opening credit sequence and the guns-a-blazing finale, owe a tremendous debt to Peckinpah for their integration of real time, slo-mo, and still photography to create a staccato rhythm of subdued intensity. This is visually apparent in the basic look of the picture, which is delivered in a washed tone that pays tribute to the dusted amber tinge that many of the aforementioned auteurs favored. Once you do it's quite obvious that Zombie spent a great deal of his spare time prior to writing and filming immersed in works of San Peckinpah, Arthur Penn, George Roy Hill, John Hough, and Hal Needham, just to name a few. In fact, to fully grasp the scope of this film it is necessary to look beyond the gore and intense scenes of rape, implied incest, and brutal killing. It's not a traditional entry in the slasher genre, but rather a serial killer road trip epic from hell teeming with wickedly skewed humor, crisp, witty dialogue, and hilariously depraved irony. Astute cinephiles will quickly pick up on Zombie's brilliant homage to the grit and verve of such films as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry, Bonnie and Clyde, The Getaway, and even to a certain extent the loose and jocular glee of Smokey and the Bandit.
#Devils tockler plus
Starting with said ashtray and a nearly empty apartment, plus the two of them as pretty much the entire cast, Benson and Moorhead have delivered a cross between “ Poltergeist” and “ Close Encounters of the Third Kind” on a tiny fraction of the budget.While House was pure drive-in derived schlock, The Devil's Rejects seems to be channeling the specters of some of the great films of the down 'n dirty American filmmaking era of the '70s. In “ Something in the Dirt,” they somehow manage more with less than ever. Audiences who’ve experienced a Moorhead&Benson film - eerie vacation-sex nightmare “Spring,” perhaps, or else UFO death-cult puzzler “ The Endless” - already know how the pair can spin elaborate mind games out of duct tape, twine and popsicle sticks. Where others might see a crystal ashtray, DIY filmmaking duo Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead envision some kind of haunted relic, a portal to another dimension or maybe just the ideal prop on which to base their next screwy sci-fi imagination-tickler.
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