Editorials
On the Road to ‘Hell’: Looking Back on ‘House of 1000 Corpses’ and ‘The Devil’s Rejects’
I owe a lot of my love for the horror genre to Rob Zombie. In particular, while I had grown up with the Universal Monster movies, it was both House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects that introduced me to more extreme horror. Funny enough, I saw The Devil’s Rejects first in theatres and rented House of 1000 Corpses afterwards. Since then, though, I’ve been hooked on the films of Rob Zombie.
So of course I’ve been head over heels excited for the release of 3 From Hell! In preparation for the film’s upcoming release, I want to look back at both House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects and detail what makes them such memorable works.
Released back in 2003, House of 1000 Corpses follows two couples traveling together who stumble upon Captain Spaulding’s “Murder Ride.” For many Zombie fans, Spaulding (played by Sid Haig), is the director’s first iconic character; wearing clown makeup, Spaulding is an uncomfortable mix of hilarious and violent. The film opens on Spaulding in an altercation with a robber, the former letting off vulgar “your momma” jokes. When the robber becomes distracted, Spaulding unloads a revolver several times into his face. For the brief time that Spaulding has in the film, he maintains a balance of goofy and chilling.
The couples leave Spaulding’s and head towards a tourist attraction involving the infamous “Dr. Satan” (who is said to have performed disturbing experiments on people). Along the way they notice and pick up a hitchhiker who goes by the name of Baby (played by Zombie’s wife, Sheri Moon-Zombie).
From the moment she enters the car, Baby acts in obnoxious ways. Whether she is leaning over abruptly to blast the radio or making crude remarks, she exudes an unnervingly friendly attitude. This friendliness of course is a trap, as one thing leads to another and she guides the couples to her family home. It is there that the four travelers come in contact with the Firefly family. Among the household, besides Baby, there’s Mother Firefly, Grandpa, and Baby’s brothers Tiny, Rufus, and Otis. It is Otis, portrayed by Bill Moseley, who makes for the film’s third iconic character. Unlike Baby’s buoyant personality or Spaulding’s goofy humor, Otis is much more sinister; his humor leans towards savage, with his actions coming off more vulgar.
Eventually the travelers know they need to leave, and just as soon as they do, the family traps them. From there the film explores the torture and suffering the friends endure at the hands of the Firefly family.
All the film’s violence is graphic and disturbing, Otis and Baby never hiding the pleasure they take in torturing. The film embraces a “torture porn” approach, using each chance it can to be exploitative. House of 1000 Corpses’ exploitative elements come through in the harassment and violence that the antagonists present upon their victims, as well as how the antagonists themselves are meant to be spectacles. The film takes numerous moments to highlight Otis’ batshit crazy nature and that of Baby’s sexuality; interlude moments throughout the film will display Otis rambling at the viewer or Baby dancing in heavily sexual ways.
The exploitative nature of the characters is theatrical to the point of being uncanny and unnerving; it is through this exploitative manner that Zombie pulls off something intriguing. While there’s a great deal of cheese throughout the film, it’s so on the nose that it ends up adding to the film’s sadistic tone. It’s odd to look at a scene with such intense violence and not notice how over-the-top the characters are; there’s this sensation that, as much as your stomach is turning with all the gore, you kind of want to chuckle at the scene.
Take the scene where Baby enters a room with one of the captive friends tied up. Baby sits on the man’s lap, cutting his hair with a blade. During this time she remains her upbeat self, only getting tense when he displays panic; she expresses to him that she doesn’t want to slip with the blade. She then tells him that if he can guess her favorite movie star correctly she will let him go; if he gets it wrong, however, he’s in trouble. In a situation with astronomical odds against him, he makes his guess. Baby ponders the answer for a moment, only to reveal that he was almost close, but not close enough (then proceeds to slice the blade into his skull).
In such a situation that screams tragedy for our victim, Baby’s dialogue and actions make it a grim amusement for the viewer. She and us are aware that not only does this guy have a slim chance of guessing the correct answer, but that she would more than likely not let him go anyway if he was right. The viewer acknowledges the ridiculousness of the situation, yet, still has to sit with how uncomfortable the actions are.
We see more elements like this later on when another victim is asking Otis where her boyfriend is. We then get a flashback of Otis and Baby laughing at the boyfriend’s expense as he is being cut up. Otis then pulls back a nearby curtain to show that not only is the boyfriend dead, but his body waist down has been replaced with a fish tail. Nicknaming him “Fishboy”, he laughs hysterically as the girlfriend screams and cries. We recognize that this violence is horrific, but the way the scene plays out is quite goofy. This humor encourages you to chuckle at the moment, but then you also feel gross for doing so.
The duality found in Zombie’s grim humor is easily one of House of 1000 Corpses stand out components, and pushes the material’s jarring aggression.
The aesthetics of the film also play into this bizarre blend of violence and humor. Taking place in a setting similar to that of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Hills Have Eyes, Zombie provides us a plethora of characters that give off wacky and twisted vibes. The film also presents a grainy texture to its visuals, adding an element of grit to the picture. In general, the atmosphere of House of 1000 Corpses exudes this carnivalesque madness.
While House of 1000 Corpses saw negative reviews upon release, the film would gain a large cult following later on. Two years later, Zombie would release a sequel entitled The Devil’s Rejects, which saw stronger critical praise.
If Zombie’s debut was a more cartoony torture porn whirlwind, The Devil’s Rejects is the director elevating his violence to more dramatic levels (while containing plenty of grim humor). Narratively the film flows to a more traditional structure; however, while the film lacks a surreal tone like House of 1000 Corpses, the cast as a whole still deliver upon eccentric dialogue and personalities. From the overly aggressive sheriff, to that of the loveable pimp, The Devil’s Rejects carries over Zombie’s use of wacky characterization.
The film opens with a police raid on the Firefly home. After Mother Firefly is taken into custody and Rufus is killed, with Tiny away from the house, Baby and Otis are able to escape. With a massive chase on the loose for the two of them and Spaulding, the story focuses on their run from the cops (while they torture people along the way).
Along with its own brand of violence, what stands out a lot from The Devil’s Rejects is the narrative’s strong focus on these three characters. Not only are they the protagonists, but as repulsive as they are, we end up becoming closer to them over the course of the film.
We come to see a genuine care that the three have for one another, especially in the film’s bizarre touching moments; I only call them bizarre because, for a film that’s so violent, these scenes are somewhat heartwarming. Even Otis, easily the most deranged of the three, can be eerily likeable at times. There’s one particular moment where the three of them are driving to a hideout and Baby is asking for ice cream. Otis argues how they don’t have the time, with Spaulding pushing him to get Baby some ice cream and lighten up. After some back and forth banter, we cut to Baby and Spaulding having ice cream in the car. As the two playfully tease Otis, we see a small smile come across his face as he embraces the lightheartedness of the moment. Just before this scene, we saw Otis carve off some dude’s face and make it into a mask, only to force the guy’s girlfriend to wear it.
The Devil’s Rejects is certainly not without its moments of cheese, but Zombie elevates the duality of his work to involve a more emotional component this time around. It is that of Spaulding, Baby, and Otis that draw the viewer to the film. With our protagonists, we are given brief moments that remind us that these monsters are still human. Besides the ice cream scene, towards the end of the film we see the trio relaxing in a brothel. Watching them chill and laugh with friends is fun and reveals more of themselves outside of their violent tendencies. But if feeling “heartfelt” for such villainous characters still sounds odd, the film presents a unique situation towards its end that adds more to the mix.
At one point the trio is captured by mercenaries hired by the sheriff. The sheriff brings them to their house and ties them up. He then proceeds to torture each of them, saying how they should feel ashamed of themselves for all their evil. As the viewer, we find ourselves in a unique place; by all means of logic, we know that these three individuals deserve what is coming to them. But as characters we’ve been following and investing ourselves in, as well as having the chance to see how they care for one another, we also feel a little reserved about the moment. In a bizarre way, we don’t want to see them suffer, but to escape.
Upon their escape, the film enters its conclusion. The three of them are driving down a road, coming upon a police barricade. In a last stand, they drive towards the barricade, shooting away; bullets from the opposite end tear into the trio, the film ending on blaring sounds of gunshots with still images of blood spraying from Baby, Otis, and Spaulding.
In 2019 we are used to films with graphic levels of violence; nowadays, it takes even more drastic levels to truly shock or gross someone out in a film. But House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects came out at a time where we weren’t as desensitized to on-screen violence. In that sense, both films provide a nostalgic air in the world of horror. But it’s also Rob Zombie’s fun approach to horror that allows both films to live on in the hearts of fans. Among contemporary filmmakers, Zombie has an intriguing voice that allows his films to embrace and exude their own bizarre identity. His vision and direction, from 2003 to now, has brought films into the world that continue to explore an outrageous duality of humor and violence.
While the conclusion of The Devil’s Rejects is satisfying on its own, 15 years later, Zombie would decide to create a sequel entitled 3 From Hell. I cannot wait to see what Rob Zombie has planned for the film. Will it include the wackiness of House of 1000 Corpses? Or will it be more serious and with interesting character dynamics like The Devil’s Rejects? With such little information shared in regards to the narrative of 3 From Hell, along with Rob Zombie’s flair for violence, we’re all in for a surprise come this fall.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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