eightylicious

Sam Raimi's directorial debut, "The evil dead" (1981) is a commendable effort by a promising director. In the grand tradition of "The Texas chainsaw massacre" (1974), Raimi shows in the first half that good direction can be more powerful than any kind of visual terror, something not always understood when making thrillers (see, or rather don't, "The Amityville horror" (1979)). We follow a group of friends as they accidentally summon some demons and try to survive their attack.

This premise, to which isn't done justice by my blunt description, is excellently brought to life through the well-paced, full of feelings direction by Raimi. With his camera, he managed to create a sense of constant horror, this feeling of continuous chase by the demons so intensely felt by the heroes themselves. The haunting music by Joe Loduca helped the most. While we do see some gore, most of the horror comes from the sense of danger prevalent in the atmosphere, as created by Raimi's directorial skills.

Unfortunately, in the second half, the director has a change of mind and suddenly decided to fill his movie with all the gore imaginable, scenes that, if grouped together, could be - and this could be no exaggeration - be named, "The decay and utter destruction of the human body". The human body reduced but to a pile of entrails that are there for us to see and want to vomit ours.

"Vomit" is the perfect verb that could describe what Raimi wanted us to do in the second half of this movie. As if having lost faith in his direction and thinking it didn't make the film scary enough, the director decided that bloody spectacle is the recipe for a good horror movie, and put in his one everything imaginable, emphasized and reinforced by his direction. To me, this changes the whole movie. The feelings that are now caused are not those of fear and terror, but of disgust and repulsion. The movie becomes hard to see not because it is horrifying, but because it is disgusting, so stinking with bodily fluid and entrails that it pushes you away. It also becomes kitsch, in the sense of the hyperbolic.

In most horror movies, we don't really see the horror, but the reactions of the protagonists, which, if directed well, are terrifying by themselves. Raimi may have thought that this is a sign of cowardice on the part of most directors. But it is, to my mind, a way worse move to show this horror, because this way one only turns to easily-produced feelings of disgust to make their film memorable. Maybe I'm the one whose sensibilities are offended, but I don't think so. I just think that "The evil dead" prefers to show us how repulsive it can be rather than how frightening,even though it happens to be so that through disgust,we become desensitised to horror. It simply leaves our mind.

I believe that good thrillers, be they the ones who haunt us ("Don't look now", "The shining"), or the ones who frighten us ("The Texas chainsaw massacre", "Driller killer"), are the result of good direction. Visual spectacle matters next to nothing (Cinematography is another thing). Too bad that "The evil dead" preferred to use this method at the end. Because it was, indeed, something.

"Indiana Jones and the raiders the lost ark", was one of the best adventure movies ever made, not because of its lush settings, or impressive spectacles, but because of its exemplary direction. It showed, in my opinion, that what is important is not the action itself, but how this action is shown by the director. Its human qualities, as displayed by the vulnerable yet smart characters it had as heroes, also helped. Unfortunately, what the sequel does is abandon both of these traits for something more commercial and certainly less difficult to achieve: large-scale spectacle.

In this movie, which functions as a sequel to the first one, Harrison Ford's hero embarks on an adventure in India after leaving Shanghai due to being chased by a man named - in a completely stereotypical manner, that is just the beginning of this movie's faults - Lao Che. Together with him are a singer (Kate Capshaw) and an orphan, whom he calls Short Round (Ke Huy Quan). After a tumultuous journey, they arrive in India, where they learn of the disappearance of a village's children and of the existence of five holy rocks, wanted by a religious cult in order to impose their godess's dominion over the world.

What may sound like an interesting premise is to me but a lazy attempt at exploiting the success of the first film. Directed slowly by Spielberg, it has none of the intensity of the first one, and instead relies on the meticulously constructed hideout of the cult to impress the viewer. Yet the era of the cinema of attractions has long passed and we demand more from a film than visual spectacle, especially if it has action at its core. Except for the final sequences, where the director tried to make up for his lack of intervention in the film's previous ones, the action, or rather the thrill (because the feelings that are caused to the viewer are what matters when talking about action) is mostly produced from the imposing scenery. But this just changes the position of the viewer, who, from one immersed in the action and emotionally involved in the heroes' adventures (which are emphasized by the director) is rendered a passive observer to whom the space makes them clear that they watch something important. And the hero? Where is he in all that feast for the eyes? There, as he was in the first film, fighting ans trying to escape, but filmed so slowly and dare I say aloofly by Spielberg that he never had the chance to shine. As in the first film, the stunts that he does are within the limits of reality, and just test the endurance of his body. But now, this body doesn't interest the director. What he cares about is what's around it.

For me, this film is a prime example of the danger of having action sequences exploiting generally ordinary circumstances without adequate direction, something also demonstrated by the James Bond films. "From Russia with love" (1962), features action scenes involving ordinary objects and filmed in ordinary places. Consider the scene where Bond battles with Nash in the train. It is just a scene with two men fighting in a train cabin, yet with Terrence Young's excellent direction and pacing, it becomes not only intense, but also a test for the hero. It also emphasizes his human qualities by showing that there is no need of a villain with gadgets (Nash is only holding a gun) to put him in danger, something that makes his victory later even more satisfying. This scene not only has narrative value (though it, the story progresses), but it also enriches the character, and gives the movie a perfect tone, that of low-key in nature but thrilling in direction. "Indiana Jones and the raiders of the lost ark" had the exactly same quality in its action scenes, which, taken for granted that they take place in a war, and thus are excepted to be more large-scale, show nonetheless the competence of Spielberg as a director of solid, commercial action films. The body of Indiana Jones was there the only protagonist, of which the actions were emphasized by Spielberg's camera. Kicking a Nazi out of a truck can be more thrilling than rolling down a cave in a minecart, if the former has better pace than the latter.

Not only is the direction lacking in passion, the characters are also lacking in development. Both of Jones's sidekicks are there to provoke easily-gained sympathy, in the most condescending and lazy way. Capshaw, but for her bursts of anger when with Jones, has none of Marion's vivacity and craftiness, being just the innocent, easily-frightened victim, and is there only to provoke the viewers' fear and create agony about her and Jones's fate, something that the artificial direction can't do (but did, and too well I say, in the first film). Quan is an even worst case, since his character is written in such a condescending way that he is rendered unbearable to watch. Is this truly the only way the director of "E. T.", can write child characters? Where is the compassion and the knowledge of their feelings? What we have here is just a caricature of a child, who only has the innocence of the previous children created by Spielberg and is used in order to have us melt at his sweetness. Again, easily provoked sentiments that have no other use but to give the film some of the human character of the first. The difference is that in the first film, the feelings were caused because of the characters' actions, not their stereotypical qualities.

What we have here is a film that puts all its faith in the spectacle and the stereotype, serving nothing new but showing what had already been shown in other adventure films ("The spy who loved me" (1977)); that it is not what we see as action, but how see the action, that matters. That is is not the scale, but the direction that makes an action film deserving of praised. The sequel of the famed "Raiders of the lost ark" got praise in its time, but to my mind it was only a feast for the eyes. And we don't only watch films with our eyes. We have brains too.