The film is billed as “genre-busting and certain to cause debate” – further, that it takes the conventions of horror and coming-of-age movies and turns them on their heads.

I’m not sure if debate was quite the right term. No one is going to be milling about the Parthenon, quizzing passersby with whether the zombie was screwed because the teenager inserted his penis, or if the teenager inserted his penis because, what with being dead and all, the zombie was screwed. (Please don’t think I’m spoiling anything with that. As the promos clearly state: “…(two young men) come face-to-face with a gruesome discovery: a woman whose body has been stripped naked… both react to the situation in extremely different ways” – two teenagers? It doesn’t have to be a nude woman in chains. If two teenage males had very different ideas for what to do with, say, the jar of mayonnaise they found, chances are, at least one of the routes would involve quasi-fornication.)

I’m also not quite certain what the powers behind Deadgirl believe exists to debate. That, I’m afraid, is an unfortunate aftermath for a film so clearly geared to prompt response. So, two young men skip school one day and end up amusing themselves in an abandoned asylum. Deep within the creepy bowels of the hospital, they come across a nude woman chained upon a table, draped in plastic. Turns out, she’s not quite dead. Let’s dissect just that: -- Did I say “creepy bowels of the hospital”? What I meant to say was, “Deep within the surprisingly well-lit creepy bowels of the hospital.” --Good thing she was a zombie – because those two jerks sure as hell never thought to offer food nor water to the broad. Therein lies my main beef with Deadgirl: SHORTCUTS up the yazoo!

While it isn’t polite to pit a man into competition with his colleague, it also isn’t polite to stoke my excitement with the promise of a Trent Haaga scribed zombie flick, and then trick me into spending an hour and a half watching Deadgirl. To that end, while it is refreshing to know Haaga is finally breaking through to the world beyond cheese-sandwich-eating, ditch digging for Lloyd Kaufman, it is no secret this Troma alum had sizeable shoes to fill – those belonging to that delightful, and seemingly boundless chap, fellow Tromaville extraordinaire, James Gunn.

James Gunn achieved the unthinkable – he remade Dawn of the Dead into a worthwhile film. By association, alone, Haaga’s foray out of Bromo-foam Land was laden with expectations. By choosing to stroll down the halls of Coming of Age Movies, Haaga unwittingly burdened himself with even more expectation. Which merits yet another comparison: two genres of film stand out in my mind from my youth. What were the 80s besides cheesy horror and coming of age movies? Gunn tackled the former with Slither (a fabulous homage to Night of the Creeps, Critters and the like), and now Haaga sidewinds into the other.

Part of the difficulty with this review is Haaga certainly can’t shoulder all of the blame. There were two directors on the project. Did he have a gorgeous script that was slowly shredded throughout production? I’d like to think so, but who knows. In the end, we have a film which purports to be a coming of age tale, yet, doesn’t present us with a single character we’d care to see come of age. Shiloh Fernandez smacks of a young Joaquin Phoenix and was fully capable of bearing the load of a fully conceived character. That he wasn’t provided with one is perhaps Deadgirl’s most grave sin. As Rickie, Fernandez represented the voice of reason. When the not-quite-dead girl is found, it is Rickie who suggests, “Maybe we should call the police?” A testament to the void of altruism in the world, he adds, “… maybe there’s a reward.”

So… he doesn’t call the police, because his friend didn’t want him to. If we are to buy into the possibility that a glimmer of a good soul exists within him, despite his inaction (and really, the ending relies nearly solely upon this purchase), we’d have to believe that either Haaga or the two directors were loading us up on a deep, psychological angle.

Trouble with the knee-deep psychological take is it must be thought out. This means:

-- No electricity running freely in the basement of an abandoned asylum.

-- Consider the parents, teachers, etc. Rickie’s mother is perpetually absent. As are everyone else’s parents. As are in-school suspensions for unexcused absences, risk of expulsion, etc.

Further:

-- We never find out who put the girl there. Nothing beyond a suspicion she was a leftover from the asylum was ever investigated nor suggested.

-- Days? Weeks? The story seems to lean towards the latter, but time, like most other details, are skimmed over.

-- Either way, she couldn’t have been there very long… as she soon begins to rot.

-- Others afflicted rot very quickly. Did she rot slowly because she was Patient Zero, or because neither Haaga nor the directors had a freaking corkboard on the wall to affix notations to, so they could better sort their thoughts?

Psychological becomes both a terrifically thin excuse to conjure an Apocalypse Now reference in the zombie den of debauchery (as Jerk #2, JT, slips into madness in more of a two-footed plunge, than an actual descent. Rather than horrific buildup, his darkness is presented as nearly spliced-in, "shocking" activities -- among them, a definite throwback to a Heart of Darkness), and a dumping ground for plot holes.

Beginning with his closet adoration of a popular girl at school, to his mother’s loser boyfriend, the film seemed to be suggesting Rickie’s reverse coming of age was due to a deep-rooted belief he wasn’t suitable for anything more. A self-fulfilling prophecy, if you will. As for his compadre, JT was one of those toothless punk kids, but, as the film winds on, turned out to be deep-down-bad. Perhaps these themes might have seeped in, and directors Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel would’ve succeeded in waxing poetic on the zombie genre, if leaps of logic weren’t so rampant and jarring. The scenes, characters, events, deeper meanings all flickered by like cinematic flashcards. Yes, I recognize an expression of indecision, the pain of loyalty versus morals, somewhere in my brain a synapse fires off a repulsion to rape – but at no point did a harpoon eject from the screen, smack into my gut and reel me in.

Now a few words about rape, as it is a focal point of the film. There isn’t a doubt in my mind Deadgirl will settle into a niche as the most fucked up movie plenty of its viewers have ever seen. They’ll puff out their chests like a comely Southern sheriff adjusting his suspenders, and slyly declare, “Yeah, it was one twisted mother of a movie.” Slyly, because they will declare such with no other hope in their head than having the group they say it to run right out, rent the film, and be rendered disgusted, while heaping accolades onto the one who had the intestinal fortitude to make it through to the end credits.

… just like people do with Saw.

Just, as I’m sure, people did years ago with I Spit on Your Grave. It’s a film which begins with… hmm… “graphic and hideous” doesn’t even begin to explain, but for lack of better adjectives, a graphic, hideous rape. The rest of the film follows the young Miss in her revenge. As gory and as brutal as the proceeding murders are, none of them quite atones for the horrors unleashed upon the woman at the onset. Deadgirl steps right into this trap. Zombie bites are expected in zombie films, and therefore, aren’t fodder for glorious retribution. The film wasn’t too invested in the subject of vengeance, but I have a sneaking suspicion we were supposed to rally a little. However, by the time that rally should have taken place, I wasn’t too invested in anything, either. I Spit on Your Grave comes to mind for more than just the rape reference. The films are cousins in presented brutality that will overshadow any merited grievances of them. “Gee, the characters could’ve been better formulated,” will surely be met with “Oh, you just don’t like hardcore movies” a-plenty. Despite the kudos Ain't it Cool News heaps upon Deadgirl, my opinion remains: Rape worked wonderfully for Death Wish, but it is hardly enough for Deadgirl to hang its hat on.

All of that said, the scenes of depravity were well fashioned. The helpless zombie girl, gnashing her chompers in vain as she is chained and re-chained in a variety of accommodating positions was nothing short of striking. Had the characters been better hammered out, had the filmmakers knuckled down to the laborious task of threading a sturdy backdrop to the action, this could’ve been a fabulous film. Trent Haaga had a splendidly depraved idea. I could – easily – have been riveted. The time-line should’ve fit more snugly, the locations should’ve been presented as more closely sewn (the asylum sometimes appears miles from school and home, yet, Rickie ends up traversing the distance on foot. Frequently), and the descent into madness should’ve been a bit longer in the making. As it stands, everything happens right off the bat, leaving over three-quarters of the film as visits to the sex den.

There is a singular scene which puts my angst over Deadgirl into perspective: As jerks numbers 2 and 3 attempt to abduct a woman from a gas station, the plan goes hilariously awry. Somehow, everything fit correctly. It wasn’t a cheery scene, for sure, yet it was the first honest sense of camaraderie between characters. Within seconds of laughing, the tone turns dangerous, prompting the only true squirm in my seat Deadgirl inspired. Too bad it occurred ten minutes from the end. If only the whole film had boasted such precision!

So, I recommend seeing the film. All that could have been is so very nearly palpable in the mind after watching, that, in a way, it’s almost like seeing a good flick. When you realize the consideration that went into desaturating the color in much of the film, with saturation reserved for a later, strategic point, you’ll appreciate it, but be incensed that such care wasn’t taken with the actual story.

 

But I also recommend Haaga attaching his name to something more solid next time he’s out and about.

 

For more info on Deadgirl, visit: http://www.deadgirlmovie.com/ 

Comments

Add New Search

3.26 Copyright (C) 2008 Compojoom.com / Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."