Drag Me To Hell

Sam Raimi was born to make balls-to-the-wall exploitation films, but since the mid-’90s he’s been too busy buffing up shiny studio product to bother. The question, after the stultifying Spider Man series, is not whether he’ll ever go back to the basics of Evil Dead-style lo-fi – the cinematic equivalent of Sir Alan Sugar having another crack at being a barrow boy – but whether he’ll ever make another film which refuses to round off its rough edges in the name of Hollywood homogeny.

The answer, happily, is a resounding ‘yes’. Owing as much to Looney Tunes as the J-horror films he’s recently been repackaging for subtitle-averse Sarah Michelle Gellar fans, Raimi’s return to the splatter genre is absolutely, unrelentingly mental. Terrifying in places, screamingly stupid in others, it’s a riot from OTT start to ADHD finish.

A former fatty with one eye on the cake-shop window and the other on rigorous self-betterment, Christine (Alison Lohman) is a loan adviser trying to break the glass ceiling in the boy’s-own world of banking. She’s got a nice boyfriend (Justin Long) and a cute kitten (although whether either of them will make it to the end credits is questionable to say the least); all is bright and shiny, WASPish and well. Until, that is, gammy-faced gypsy Mrs Ganush (Lorna Raver) arrives on the scene.

With her gleaming glass eye, sputum-flecked cough and stinky, nicotine-stained fingers, Mrs Ganush is a dead cert for a Best Supporting Crone of the Year award. Unfortunately for just about all concerned, Christine refuses to extend the old lady’s home loan to prove to her boss (David Paymer) that she’s got the stones for promotion – even as Ganush gets down on her knees and begs. Big mistake. After an almighty, eye-popping smackdown in a spooky car park, Ganush curses Christine with a Lamia, a spirit intent on dragging her… well, you can guess the rest.

Or can you? Amid the creaky plot twists, phew-it-was-all-a-dream sequences and general lunacy, Raimi’s refusal to back down leads to some truly gob-smacking scenes. Besides various manifestations of vomiting hags toothlessly gumming her face, Lohman is menaced by leaves, pots, shadows, flies, CGI hankies, talking goats and a possessed cake, as buckets of blood, goo and embalming fluid slosh across the screen. There’s no let up, so even when what you’re seeing is patently ludicrous, the tension never dissipates into derision.

Admittedly, lines such as, “Get your filthy pig knuckle off my desk!” might sound better coming from the cleft chin of Bruce Campbell; Long and some of the supporting cast err on the side of earnestness; and the climatic séance is more Fantasia than Fangoria, but this is still a Technicolor cheese nightmare that will stay with you for weeks.

For once, the repeated Evil Dead in-jokes aren’t redundant references to former glories. Raimi has an unerring grasp of horror film grammar and his return to form is an exclamation-mark movie of the first order.

Matt Glasby

Anticipation:

The Bleeuuuurgh Witch Project.

Enjoyment:

Gurn, Witch, Gurn

In Retrospect:

Every Witch Way – But Lose.