The Cabin in the Woods

8 / 10

2012.

I used to hate horror movies.  I had a genuine psychological aversion to them that went beyond a reasonable fear of ‘what’s going to happen next’.  If I were to trace the trauma to its origins, I’d have to go back to when I was just an innocent pup and sweet Josie Morgan invited me over to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Where the hell were her parents?  When Leatherface put Pam on the meathook, I gave a small involuntary burp and wet the Morgans’ couch.  I deliberately knocked over my 7-Up to try to cover my shame but I’m pretty sure sweet Josie knew what was up.

But that was 18 months ago now and I think I’ve really turned a corner.  I had a small relapse recently when I saw The Woman in Black on a plane, and, although I’m not allowed to fly Solomon Airlines any more, I think I’m at least ready to start appreciating the horror genre again.

The Cabin in the Woods is a good place to start, as it’s both a tribute to and a parody of the horror genre.  The tribute is to the traditional thrills of the horror classics; the creaking doors, slack-jawed locals, unspeakable monsters and things that go bump in the night.  The parody is of the 21st century variety of horror, which revolves around pretty teenagers doing stupid things in the dark and then dying gratuitously violent deaths often with an unnecessarily (sara lee, sara lee) sexual twist.

Remember in Scream when Tatum tries to escape through the garage door cat flap but her boobs are too big and her head gets crushed when the door goes up?  Classic.

The pretty teenagers who go to The Cabin in the Woods include the jock, played by Thor (Chris Hemsworth), and the virgin, played by House of Cards talent Kristen Connolly, who, did you know, used to be a professional tennis player.  How’d that work out for you Kristen?  There’s also the flirt, the scholar and the fool.  The gang get drunk, play some truth or dare and then find a hidden trapdoor into a basement full of creepy dolls, mouldy diaries, torn paintings and other dusty relics.  They awaken the undead and, shortly after, begin to die gratuitously violent deaths with an unnecessarily (sara lee, sara lee) sexual twist.

Is this all sounding a bit clichéd?  A tad tired?  Did I mention one of the teens is black and one’s a stoner?  Well the joke is on YOU sucker, because it’s all a ruse!  That’s right, Thor, Kristen and the rest of Team Stereotype are in fact unwitting pawns in an extremely well resourced set-up puppeteered by some lab-coated boffins in a NASA-esque control room.  Boffins press the green button and a door slams shut.  Boffins press the blue button and the only road to town caves in.  Boffins press the pink button and pheromones leak out of the ground, making the poor kids instantly want to mount each other rather than checking to see what made all the lights go out.

Sounds ridiculous right?  It totally is.  But it’s also surprisingly scary, funny and outright enjoyable.  It’s kind of like the Truman Show, except everyone hates Jim Carrey and wants to kill him.  If Adam Sandler had been cast as Truman, it would be exactly like The Truman Show.

I had prepared myself for the frights but not for the LoLs.  There are some classic gags in there.  As the teen sacrifices flee from knife-wielding zombie rednecks, back at mission control everyone from the chief technicians to Ronald the intern are merrily placing bets on who’ll be next to die and how.  It’s kind of like Rat Race except not quite as funny because it doesn’t have John Cleese or Mr Bean in it.  But it’s still very funny.  I can’t imagine how funny it would have been if John Cleese and Mr Bean were in it.  Probably too funny.

There’s a lot else to like too.  The acting is good, the dialogue is deceptively sharp and the special effects are impressive, particularly towards the end when the shit really hits the fan —————————–>

There’s also an absolute smattering of clever references to a century worth of horror films; each time you catch one you’ll feel superbly smug and raise your eyebrows knowingly at whoever else is in the room, quietly assuming that they didn’t get it like you did.  Because you get subtlety.

So, yes, I suppose there is still that chance that, just like me on sweet Josie Morgan’s couch all those months ago, you will wet yourself while watching The Cabin in the Woods.  The surprise will be finding out whether it was because you were scared, ROFLed, or a perfect combination of both.  Or medically incontinent.