This latest doppelgänger of the horror genre can very easily be read as a formalistic adventure that takes its heart and soul from the 1973 film of the same name, and directed by, no less, George A. Romero. This new adaptation fairs well in the predictability arena and holds no punches when it comes to packing any surprises. It is not so much that it is a regeneration movie but that now we have become too staid within the confines of this genre within the last three decades or so.
Then, the new age of horror movie makers such as Romero, David Cronenberg (Shivers-1975, Rabid-1977), Wes Craven (The Last House on the Left-1972) to Abel Ferrara (The Driller Killer-1979) was, literally, scaring the hell out of their newfound audiences with breaking down the barriers of conformity. Today, with the remake horror genre that has spread so quickly like a virus across our cinema screens, the horror genre has now turned into pastiche and repetitive, formalistic cliché. Breck Eisner's work here is no different.
It's a fair attempt and does, occasionally, exactly what it sets out to do, to scare the viewer, but, in the same breath it also has no deep seated anxiety attached to it, no deep rooted connection for any of its players' in so much that we are not given the opportunity to bond, and ultimately, mourn their passing. The prime example here is the family brunt to death in their home and particularly "the man with the garden fork" and his killing of those strapped to the bed, there is just no tension to highlight the severity of the situation, no personal anguish for those in need. The whole setup from its first frame is all so predictable as to the mans own fate that the whole sequence becomes just a passing moment that only succeeds to pass one sequence to another with obvious conclusion.
With experience, and hindsight, we know better than to judge this as nothing more than middle-of-the-road horror, that shares the same ethos as its contemporises and this too lets itself down. Apart from everything else in contention, there was just no gain in its ploy not to evolve it players in a deeper and richer relationship with its audience. If there had been more time available, would we be feeling pity for those strapped to their hospital beds, burnt in their homes or exterminated and thus highlighting the need to feel less distant and indifferent, and too, feeling more in shock and disgust in their demise? Is this the premise of what "horror" is, to lets its audience "feel" shocked? To enter into their subconscious? Instead of relying, at times, only on the sensationalistic visuals of shallow character development and jump-scares to maximise an all too a shallow experience that fills the air with empty chances and unimaginative prose?
Then, the new age of horror movie makers such as Romero, David Cronenberg (Shivers-1975, Rabid-1977), Wes Craven (The Last House on the Left-1972) to Abel Ferrara (The Driller Killer-1979) was, literally, scaring the hell out of their newfound audiences with breaking down the barriers of conformity. Today, with the remake horror genre that has spread so quickly like a virus across our cinema screens, the horror genre has now turned into pastiche and repetitive, formalistic cliché. Breck Eisner's work here is no different.
It's a fair attempt and does, occasionally, exactly what it sets out to do, to scare the viewer, but, in the same breath it also has no deep seated anxiety attached to it, no deep rooted connection for any of its players' in so much that we are not given the opportunity to bond, and ultimately, mourn their passing. The prime example here is the family brunt to death in their home and particularly "the man with the garden fork" and his killing of those strapped to the bed, there is just no tension to highlight the severity of the situation, no personal anguish for those in need. The whole setup from its first frame is all so predictable as to the mans own fate that the whole sequence becomes just a passing moment that only succeeds to pass one sequence to another with obvious conclusion.
With experience, and hindsight, we know better than to judge this as nothing more than middle-of-the-road horror, that shares the same ethos as its contemporises and this too lets itself down. Apart from everything else in contention, there was just no gain in its ploy not to evolve it players in a deeper and richer relationship with its audience. If there had been more time available, would we be feeling pity for those strapped to their hospital beds, burnt in their homes or exterminated and thus highlighting the need to feel less distant and indifferent, and too, feeling more in shock and disgust in their demise? Is this the premise of what "horror" is, to lets its audience "feel" shocked? To enter into their subconscious? Instead of relying, at times, only on the sensationalistic visuals of shallow character development and jump-scares to maximise an all too a shallow experience that fills the air with empty chances and unimaginative prose?