October 13, 2024 • 39 mins
In this episode of Shelf Criticism, we dive into Rob Zombie’s 2012 film The Lords of Salem, a surreal blend of witchcraft, nightmares, and unsettling visuals. Join us as we explore the film’s haunting atmosphere, its meticulously crafted imagery, and how it flirts with the line between traditional horror and more nuanced, intellectual storytelling. From the diegetic score to the film's bold color palette, we look at the elements that make Lords of Salem stand out in Zombie's filmography, while pondering the subtle nods to Greek tragedy, and yes, even Peter Greenaway. Is it elevated horror or just pure chaos?
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
Were there any quote unquote real witches in Salem?
(00:03):
Well today there's a large Wiccan population.
They're a positive earth-centered religion.
Yeah, hairy armpits and granola.
I don't dig it.
I shave my armpits.
That's a pity.
You know, classic witches.
No, there are no classic witches, actually.
Witchcraft is nothing but a psychotic belief brought
(00:26):
upon by a delusional state of mind.
MUSIC
Welcome to Shelf Criticism.
Meet your host, Stephen, a scholar of literature and film by day.
(00:49):
And by night, a cinematic archaeologist with a penchant for everything
from art house to popular to outright trash cinema.
Over the past quarter century, Stephen has amassed an eclectic DVD collection,
now occupying five shells of a curio cabinet in his living room.
Each week, he bravely selects one of these titles to dissect.
(01:10):
Join him as he unearths everything from obscure gems to cinematic missteps.
From blockbuster hits to forgotten flops, each film gets the critical once over
it probably doesn't deserve but will absolutely receive.
So grab your popcorn and settle in.
It's time to dive into the diverse world of Shelf Criticism.
MUSIC
(01:36):
Welcome to this wild October ride as we plow through some of the spooky
season appropriate DVDs in my collection.
Today's selection...
Why do I do this to myself?
Today's selection is unrepentantly weird and viscerally unnerving
and honestly reviled by most moviegoers.
It's certainly not an easy watch on a number of levels.
For starters, it's abstract, more suggestive than overtly plot driven.
(02:01):
It's designed to deliberately feel off-putting to the viewer.
It revels in the defiant blasphemy of its satanic aggressors.
Even though I'm not particularly a devout fellow, some of the utterances
coming out of their mouths is unsettling, more so given my upbringing,
which was in fact, particularly if not compulsorily devout.
I kept thinking on this re-watch.
If my mother knew I was watching these witches spout this sacrilegious dialogue,
(02:24):
she'd probably break down in tears.
Luckily, my mother doesn't listen to this podcast.
Not that she's not proud of me, just that she thinks a PG film is still too risque
and sometimes even the Waltons or Little House on the Prairie push the envelope a
little bit too far.
I would never let her anywhere near a Rob Zombie film.
Let her be blissfully ignorant of how far boundaries can be pushed in his films.
I, on the other hand, while a self-proclaimed mama's boy, have never had
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an issue with a transgressive film.
In fact, I often seek them out and nobody compelled me to grab this particular disc.
Yet here we are.
Today's Shelf Pick is perhaps the most subdued and subtle of the Rob Zombie
oeuvre, which is still about as subtle as an air horn two inches from your ear.
Today we're taking a little trip to New England, revisiting the hysteria of the
late 17th century and dropping the needle on the nondescript vinyl that is
(03:08):
the 2012 film, The Lords of Salem.
We'll start with Shelf Pick where I take a look at my DVD.
I actually have the FYE Steelbook Collectors edition of this one.
I think FYE stands for Four Year Entertainment.
I'm not sure, but you've probably seen these, right?
They're blu-rays usually.
They're a little bit smaller and they're metal, hence the name Steelbook.
Who knew?
(03:29):
On the DVD front, against a rusty looking orange colored backdrop, we see Sherry
Moon Zombie wearing her black and white vertically striped sweater and her face
painted like a skull.
It's the way she appears when she's inside apartment number five after the
witches come to take care of her.
Above her reads a Rob Zombie film, no caps, and then underneath The Lords of
Salem.
On the DVD back, above another grainy shot of Sherry Moon Zombie, and here she's
(03:53):
has her eyes lacking irises and there's a, it's a close-up, but it's clearly that
scene she appears at the end.
We have the quote, the best movie to date by director Rob Zombie, Philip French,
The Observer UK.
The synopsis beneath reads, it has been called disturbing Los Angeles Times,
Nerve Shattering Chicago Reader, and Rob Zombie's masterpiece, Loudwire.com.
(04:15):
From the nightmare mind of writer-director Rob Zombie comes the terrifying story of
a Salem, Massachusetts radio DJ, Heidi Larocque, Sherry Moon Zombie of The Devil's
Rejects, who receives a mysterious record labeled A Gift from the Lords.
But when Heidi plays the disc, its bizarre sounds will trigger visions of the town's
depraved past, release the darkness within her own damaged soul, and unleash the long
(04:37):
awaited vengeance of Satan himself.
Bruce Davidson, Willard, and a coven of genre legends, co-star in this stunning
witchcraft shocker that Beyond Hollywood calls, a full-on piece of satanic madness.
The Lords of Salem is light years away from 99% of modern commercial horror cinema.
I should point out that this is a record, as in an actual vinyl.
(04:58):
Not sure when they call it a disc on the cover copy.
Maybe they assumed a large part of the market they were shooting for would have
no idea what an album was.
So aside from the aforementioned picture, there are smaller shots clustered around.
We have Margaret Morgan sitting in the torture chair with her iron mask across her face,
flames flickering in the background, which we know are barbecuing her coven, though we
don't see any of them here.
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Below that there's a close-up of the painted face of the death metal singer Count Gorgon,
whom the DJs interview at the beginning of the film, and who appears in the end
alongside the montage of Heidi riding the goat like it was a bucking bronco.
Next to that, it's a close-up of Heidi's face bathed in red, I presume, when she's
staring at the neon cross in Apartment 5.
And then at the bottom, there's a shot of the three sisters, Lacey, Megan, and Sonny,
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silhouetted in light from behind as they kneel, I presume, during the final
quote-unquote concert of the Lords at the Climax.
Special features? Includes audio commentary with writer, producer, director Rob Zombie.
That's it.
Nothing else.
But hey, it's a steelbook, so, you know, it's a collector's item or something.
Anyway, it was cheap.
Which brings me to how I came to own it.
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I'm aware that Rob Zombie is a divisive figure when it comes to filmmaking, though
maybe less so with his music.
When it comes to his tunes, I think you pretty much either like him or you don't,
but it seems like he's a staple of the industrial metal scene.
I first discovered him as part of White Zombie when I was a junior, senior in high school, I guess.
More human than human was my jam.
And I knew my parents would hate the entire album and criticize not just my musical taste,
but all my life choices.
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What better way to rebel?
I followed his career after the band's breakup, even seeing him at OsFest.
I want to say that was 2002.
It was in Atlanta, System of a Down, P.O.D. also played, that's about all I can tell you.
I'd always been a fan of his music, hard, hitting, and heavy, and just how I liked it back in those days.
Seriously, I sometimes come across a burned CD I made back then,
just look it up, kids, and learn how we used to live eons earlier.
(06:44):
But when I give that CD a listen, I can only think, why were you so angry?
College-age Steven?
Ironically, of course, Zombie's videos were pure camp, overblown and silly, if not visually stunning.
His earlier band, of course, was named after the 1932 Bela Lugosi film of the same name.
Dragula is also the name of a car in the silly sitcom The Munsters.
The follow-up single, Living Dead Girl, begins with a snippet of dialogue from Lady Frankenstein,
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and the, what are you thinking about?
sample looped into the music is from Daughters of Darkness.
Also the line in the song, Goldfoot's machine creates another fiend,
so beautiful they'll make you kill, is a reference to the 1966 film.
And, lest you think it's anything but camp itself, the title is Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine.
Not making that one up. Vincent Price, of all things.
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The video for Living Dead Girl is an homage to the classic 1920s silent film and masterpiece
of German Expressionism, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.
By the time we get to the video for Superbeast, we have Sherry Moon kicking karate chopping
and slicing away like she's in some 70s chop-saki flick.
And I could continue, but I think the point is made.
Despite the hard, industrial edge to his music, the video made it clear that,
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while certainly paying homage to classics as well as trash cinema,
they are a self-aware spectacle of ridiculousness.
So in 2002, when I heard he had written and directed a film,
I was sort of expecting it to have a similar vibe.
Even the title, House of a Thousand Corpses, could be construed as being a bit cheeky
and knowingly overblown. Imagine my surprise when I left that theater.
The film shattered my expectations of camp and cheeky horror.
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There's a clear marked difference between Zombie's music and music videos,
and that of his films.
His cinematic vision is not absurd or kitschy.
It's pure nihilistic splatterfest that leaves you wanting to take a shower after viewing.
I recognized right away that House of a Thousand Corpses wasn't a well-made film.
By 2003, I didn't consider myself a film scholar,
but with a master's degree in literature, I knew flawed storytelling when I saw it.
(08:36):
And yet I loved every minute of the Firefly family's nefarious machinations.
Matter of fact, when the Devil's rejects at theaters,
I was vacationing in New Orleans with an ex-girlfriend of mine,
and as she had the same twisted taste in film that I did,
we decided to put our appreciation of the Crescent City's charm and cuisine on hold
for a couple hours to dip into theater and check it out.
Of course, that film was much more grounded in reality,
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which made it feel even skeezier, darker, more sadistic.
You can't walk away from a zombie film and not feel unease and a creeping dread,
but that kind of abyss gazing is something necessary in cinema occasionally.
His remake of Halloween was all the more polarizing, and I understand why.
He approached a near-perfect, seminal entry into the genre
and put his own pitiless, sanguinary spin on it.
(09:17):
It was not John Carpenter's vision.
It was nowhere near as skilled or precise.
While Carpenter carved with an X-Acto knife, zombies used dynamite.
However, I contend that when you view the 2007 film in a vacuum,
forgetting about its superior progenitor, it's a watchable flick.
Nonetheless, I think that was the point where a lot of my ilk abandoned him and his vision.
I, on the other hand, have an appreciation for what he does, behind a camera.
(09:39):
He is certainly an auteur, putting his own specific stamp on everything he creates.
You know a Rob Zombie film when you're watching it.
I often talk about the Rob Zombie aesthetic.
It's harsh, it's grainy, it's a callback to the 70s grindhouse pictures,
but it's also popping with colors and textures.
Say what you want about his direction.
I don't think even his most strident detractors would deny
that there's seldom a single frame that isn't visually fascinating.
(10:01):
The tone, the subject matter, or the remorselessness of story
are all valid reasons to eschew his films.
I'll be the first to admit that I have yet to watch one of his productions
that hasn't made me uncomfortable.
Downright queasy sometimes.
But I've also yet to be bored while watching his fare.
He's not always good, but he's always interesting.
I would go on to start dating my late wife shortly thereafter,
a woman who loved horror movies and also appreciated a good Rob Zombie flick.
(10:23):
Needless to say, in 2013 when Lords of Salem hit theaters,
we contributed to that box office.
I remember it vividly actually.
We took in a Sunday matinee.
I was still a struggling adjunct professor with barely two dimes to rub together,
so we had to be frugal.
Or maybe not, because I also recall going out for sushi afterwards,
where we discussed it at length.
She didn't understand any of it, and I barely did myself,
but I kept trying to tell her it was the images, the atmosphere,
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the overall dissonant emotional turmoil the film caused that was the point.
I'm not sure she agreed.
Then again, when Target ran the steel box DVD on sale for a ridiculously low price tag,
and I came home with it that week, copy in hand,
she didn't give me any grief.
And this woman was beyond frugal.
She always harped on me for having to have Kerry Gold Butter
instead of whatever off-brand Marger in the supermarket stocked.
(11:06):
Who cares if we spend 87 cents more?
There's a difference, people.
I promise.
At any rate, that's how this got tucked away in my shelf.
We'll move into the next segment then, critical reception.
During the teaser at the end of last week's episode,
I speculated the critical assessment of this film would not be the best.
You probably weren't wondering, but I always wait until after my rewatch
to check the critical review so I can maintain an honest assessment
(11:28):
of my reaction without any outside influence.
I wasn't wrong, but I will again admit I need to stop guessing
and just wait until I start researching.
It did fare better than I expected.
It holds a 47% of Rotten Tomatoes,
so nearly half of all critics gave it a review that was more favorable than not.
Metacritic gives it a 57, meaning even some of those that were predominantly negative
still saw some positives in the undertaking.
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The user score on Metacritic is nearly the same, sitting at 5.5.
It's interesting to note the gap between this and the Rotten Tomatoes audience score,
which drops down to a 30%.
I've often noticed that Metacritic users tend to align more closely with critical consensus,
while Rotten Tomatoes audiences' reviews tend to reflect broader tastes.
That's a very nice way of saying something,
but I'll let you read in between the lines what it is.
(12:10):
I can't understand why a lot of viewers didn't like it.
Much as they might loathe House of Thousand Corpses,
Devil's Rejects, or the Halloween remake,
at least those are fairly straightforward in their narratives.
They have a neatly paced flow,
more or less divided into the typical three-act format.
They provide a clear climax in De No Man.
I would argue so does Lords of Salem, but it's not as straightforward.
(12:31):
While Lords has structure, it does ask the audience to be more engaged
and to follow a more abstract path which might take a bit more patience to unpack.
In fact, one critic, Henry Northmore of the list,
phrases this far better than I could.
I quote,
Zombie has a vision, and you assume in his mind it all adds up to something very dark,
deep, and meaningful, but that meaning has been lost in translation,
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and the film comes across as vague and confused.
I would argue it's just more subtle than vague,
but those two words are more or less synonyms, right?
Case in point, while I understood the narrative upon first viewing,
during this rewatch, which I think is my fourth,
I was able to see more clearly the underlying structure of it all.
Every beat that a more traditional film follows, it's still present here,
but it takes much more attention to notice some of them.
(13:15):
Once you lock into that rhythm, the film becomes more rewarding with each viewing.
For the in-depth review, I've chosen yet again Rob Nelson's Take in Variety,
and not at all because it's one of the trades that I have a digital subscription to,
and can easily read the archives on my iPad without having to go mining through my university's
archives like a really boring Indiana Jones, Sons Bull Whip, and Fedora.
Nelson's Take reads, quote,
(13:37):
Less inferno than slow burn Rob Zombie's retro witch thriller,
The Lords of Salem has plenty of portent, but not much payoff.
Likely to disappoint the diehard fans of The Devil's Rejects and other zombie atrocities,
this milder brew still has 70s-esque style to spare and sports a likable lead performance
by Sherry Moon Zombie as a DJ seemingly spun by Satan's Spawn into the lower depths.
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I can see where he's coming from in the opening. I can think of a hundred ways to describe
Zombie's earlier cinematic output, but Slow Burn would have never come to mind.
This film, however, is the textbook definition.
His assumption that a fan of The Devil's Rejects would be disappointed by this film,
coupled with the use of his word atrocities to describe Zombie's output,
does make him come off as a bit pedantic and condescending,
as if someone who appreciated one could not appreciate the other.
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He seems to assume it's a zero-sum game, that a bloodthirsty cadre of moviegoers salivating
for gore could also not be the type to sit down and enjoy a languid but inexorable march to
cataclysmic disaster. Nelson continues,
Zombie hasn't picked a bad time to tone himself down. Still, even as PG-rated horror has a duty
to deliver on some level, the Helmer's narrative dead end here registers not as a lack of nerve,
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so much as a lack of imagination. And this is the part of the review where it gets a
little confusing. He makes a reference to PG horror, which I'm not sure really even exists
all that much. It should be the PG-13 threshold of what is considered horror, at least this side of
R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series. There's a link on the word duty in his review, but it appears to be
dead, and I guess that's one of the drawbacks of the internet. I'm sure if I clicked that and it
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took me where I was supposed to be, I might be able to clarify some of this thought.
But more appalling is the phrase, lack of imagination. Nelson has just conceded that
if nothing else, this film is more toned down and subtle than Zombie's previous titles,
in his earlier fare and later for that matter. Zombie has a penchant for graphic violence,
often mirroring the nihilistic brutality of the 70s-era Grindhouse films or the Italian
(15:28):
Gialli that I discussed on my episode covering the Red Rings of Fear. Wink, wink. Yet in this film,
that very subdued horror means instead that he must rely on creating the spooky atmosphere,
the overall feeling of dread, the inexorable march towards a surreal but disturbing finale.
There's something of his characteristic gore present, but more so this film was brimming with
surreal, nightmarish imagery. Nelson continues, following a tongue-in-cheek prologue set in the
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late 1600s and showing a witch's coven getting burned to a crisp, we arrive in the present day,
which for Zombie looks and sounds a hell of a lot like 1974. Recovering addict Heidi,
Sherry Moon Zombie, and blonde dreadlocks, who lives in a run-down Boston apartment and co-host
of the late night Salem Rocks show, thinks she sees someone or something moving around the
unrented unit down the hall. Then at work, she gets an ancient-looking vinyl platter from a band
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called the Lords that freaks her out even more. Full of cacophonous bow-sawing and mumbled
incantations, this patently avant-garde long player goes out over the airwaves and puts
even more listeners at home in a trance.
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Several scares later, he continues, and poor Heidi is back on the crack pipe,
making it tough for the viewer to tell whether her subsequent visions of the damned are drug
induced or directed by a force even more malevolent than Zombie. As a side note,
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since I seem to be savaging Nelson on this episode, and if I recall the other time I used
him as a critique I also disagreed, I do have to concede he has a way with words. This is good
writing, and I can still appreciate a well-turned phrase even if I don't agree with it. Not that
there's much to disagree with here, as this section is mostly plot summary. I do think when
he says modern-day Salem looks like 1974, he's meaning this is a negative. For me, that's again
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part of the charm. It's pretty clear that the film takes place in present day. There's even a cell
phone used at one point. But partially it's the filter, and perhaps the fashion choices of some
of the cast that give it this feel. Yet again, this is Zombie leaning into his aesthetic. He's
as much a student of, or an imitator of film as Tarantino. Well, no, no one's quite at the level
of Tarantino, but still, Zombie knows his cinema and he knows his influences. The gritty 70s feel
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is part of this. It's no different than House of a Thousand Corpses or Devil's Rejects, or even
some of his later offerings such as 31. They all have a retro feel that, in my opinion at least,
adds to the enjoyment of watching. As for the character of Heidi, yes, she is a recovering
addict. And yes, as the visions and hauntings become increasingly virulent and disturbing,
she goes back to leaning on chemical substances to cope. Still, Nelton's claim that this makes
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it tough for the viewer to tell whether her subsequent visions of the damned are drug
induced or directed by a force even more malevolent than Zombie, that's a bit silly. We know she's
been clean for the duration of the film up until that moment, which is very late into the runtime,
so why would the visions not be legitimate? The idea, I think, is to draw a parallel between drug
abuse and that high one receives upon it, and the fever dream of the hauntings Heidi experiences.
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It may serve to add an even more outlandish, surreal nature to the experience, but I don't
think there's any doubt our willing suspension of disbelief is meant to have us accept that the
witches are back to enact their revenge on the Hawthorne bloodline. Nelson begins to wrap his
review by saying, all of this builds to Heidi being transported by some means or another to
17th century Salem, but not much farther, as the pic simply poops out around the 90-minute mark,
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leaving an in-credits sequence where an ending ought to be. I'm sorry, am I the only one who
thinks this is a perfectly logical and complete ending? Heck, even after the intense, visually
stunning climax, during the credits we hear a news report detailing the mass suicides of the 32 women,
all of whom happen to be descendants of the original families of Salem dating back to the 1600s.
Hey, I did concede Zombie is not a subtle storyteller, did I not? And then of course,
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it also is mentioned before the report fades out that Heidi is missing. How that isn't a clear
ending is beyond me. If anything, I think it's too neat. For all the restraint and suggestion and
show-not-tell that Zombie's given us for an hour and a half, to have such an obvious plot contrivance
be our final impression is actually a detriment to the film. Nelson does end his critique with a bit
of praise. In terms of tech credits, The Lords of Salem has its virtue. A handful of set pieces come
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on like vintage Ken Russell, with Sherry Moon Zombie, her face painted ghostly white, looking
like a human sacrifice or Marilyn Manson groupie. Brandon Tross' color-bleached, wide-screen
cinematography is particularly well-suited to rendering the heroine's dingy abode and the city's
autumnal chill. Zombie, having proven himself a connoisseur of gloomy 60s and 70s pop rock,
here delivers another killer playlist, although his pick of the velvet undergrounds Venus and
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Furs seems a touch obvious. And that conclusion leads me nicely into the next segment, my take.
This is a gorgeous film. I couldn't agree more with Nelson's take here. I didn't think Ken Russell
while watching, but the comparison is apt, particularly if we think of some of Russell's
work in the horror genre like The Devils and Layer of the White Worm immediately coming to mind.
Heck, at some points it becomes so surreal I thought more of Peter Greenaway, and I
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totally mean that as a compliment. I love the cook, the thief, his wife, her lover,
bizarre as it may have been. It's clear Zombie and cinematographer Brandon Tross have put
meticulous thought into even the tiniest details of every single shot, from the busy, over-stimulating
wallpaper of the apartment's hallway, which has an uncanny, off-putting vibe, sort of reminiscent of
the carpet and the shining, to the aforementioned color-bleached confines of Heidi's apartments.
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The film's a joy to watch. Each time I watch, I come across another detail, something else to
catch my eye. And even though this film is much more somber than the campiness of his music,
it still has its playfulness and nods to other older cinema, like how behind Heidi's headboard
the face of the moon with a rocket stuck in its eye, which is the image of course from the 1902
film Journey to the Moon, is painted on the wall, and it also perfectly matches her bleak monochrome
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bedroom and bathroom. But the film also gives us rich, deep colors, showing the glowing neon cross
inside room five, with its deep red filling the otherwise dark room, or the reds and greens of
the climactic visions where Heidi is seen cavorting with Count Gorgon as well as riding a goat,
which, in the logic of this film, which is to say there's very little, if any, makes perfect sense.
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I mentioned the Italian gialli films earlier, and while much of the brutality of Zombie's earlier
films seems to mirror this genre, Lords of Salem does at least visually look like them. The gialli,
with all their dark themes and graphic violence, were all sent on to pop with colors on the screen,
very vibrant and distinct. After all, giallo is the Italian word for yellow, and no, that's not
how they got their name, but it's still fitting. If you'd like to hear more about this somewhat
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forgotten genre, you can always check out episode seven of this podcast.
Shameless plug. Sorry, frog in my throat there. Speaking of those gialli, if you want to start
a fierce debate among them, perhaps even a fistfight, just toss out this simple question.
Is Dario Argento's Suspiria a giallo? Just be sure if you do ask that, you're wearing protective
gear. I won't get into that debate, even if I do touch on it in episode seven. I will say that just
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another way that Lords of Salem reminds me of Suspiria, and probably a lot of others in Argento's
body, is that it cares less about plot and logic, and more about each vignette, how it's staged,
how you feel viscerally as you view it. I would argue that Lords is far more straightforward than
Suspiria, as much as I love that film. It makes no sense, and abandons plot somewhere in the third
act. Still, if we're going to toss out directors like Russell and Greenaway, I think Argento needs
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to be name-checked as well. Much like Suspiria, the Lords of Salem relies heavily on its score
and its soundtrack to enhance the surreal, unnerving atmosphere. As I scrolled back through
different parts of the film, I realized just how rare it is for there to be moments of complete
silence. Whether it's the radio playing in the background, or snippets of cheesy black and white
horror flicks on the TV, or the film's actual score, there's always something, some sort of
(23:15):
soundscaping adding to the tension. And that's not even counting the music Heidi listens to,
which plays a significant role. I mean, she's a DJ after all. In film studies, we often talk about
diegetic and non-diegetic sound, terms that might sound complex, but they're actually really simple.
Diegetic sound refers to noises the characters can hear, like a radio playing in a scene,
or someone talking, whereas non-diegetic sound is what only we, the audience, can hear, which is
(23:38):
typically the film's score. Like that swelling, eerie music you hear as Heidi stands before the
ominous red cross in that one scene. What makes the Lords of Salem particularly interesting is how
it blurs these lines. The haunting music from the Lords record, scratchy, unsettling melody that
puts Heidi and everyone else on edge, functions almost like part of the film's score. But here's
the twist. It's diegetic. The characters hear it too, and that adds an extra layer of tension,
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making us feel just as disturbed and disoriented as they do. It's one thing for a film to use
non-diegetic music to create unease, but it's another to have the unsettling soundtrack creep
into the characters' world, which traps them as well as us into the sonic nightmare. I could
easily spend another hour unpacking all the thoughts I had during this rewatch, but this episode,
I'm afraid, would start to drag. I've talked about pacing in a lot of my other episodes, and
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I don't want to be a hypocrite. But just for example, I toyed with the idea of how Lords of
Salem feels like folk horror, despite the suburban setting. The film has a lot of nudity aside from
Zombie's candlestick tendency to showcase his wife. It's deliberately, maybe even transgressively,
unsexy. But do I really need to talk about nudity in every episode? I mean, I might end up with a
reputation. Then there's the great moment when Megan reads Heidi's poem and gets asked the
(24:46):
difference between fate and destiny. This is the line of fate. This is the only line of concern to
me. The length of your life is inconsequential. It's what you do with your time that matters.
Ah, okay. Well, so tell me, what is my destiny? It reads your fate, not your destiny.
(25:12):
Is there a difference? With destiny, you can premeditate the outcome, but fate,
while fate leaves you no choice. It is predetermined by forces stronger than ourselves.
Oh, I don't like that. I think I changed my mind. I don't want to know.
(25:33):
That hit me hard, especially since I've been teaching Greek mythology in my world-lit class
for well over a month now. In many ways, Lords of Salem has the bones of a Greek tragedy,
though with the ironic twist of Puritanism also lurking in the background. I've only touched on
the sonic experiences of this film, which is rich with diegetic music and I don't mean just the
Lord's creepy record. We have Manfred Mann's Blinded by the Light, Rush's Spirit of the Radio,
(25:56):
Rick James' Give It to Me, and most importantly, those two Velvet Underground songs, Venus and
Furs and All Tomorrow's Parties. Just like the visuals, the music is meticulously curated to
evoke the maximum emotional punch. I want to listen to that music again. Something about it
really upsets me. But if I start diving into all that right now, this podcast is going to run three
(26:19):
times longer than usual. And then it hit me. On my other podcast, McKenzie and I covered Jaws in our
very first episode. And we talked about all the things we had to cut and joked about coming back
for a part two on our one year anniversary. So why not do that here? Next October, I'll make a
return visit to Lords of Salem. While Van Helsing is my usual October tradition, which I talked
about last episode, I can definitely make room for another round with Lords. I'll go ahead and
(26:43):
pencil that in once I find a calendar that stretches that far ahead. And yes, I'm so
old fashioned. I still use a pen and ink paper calendar. Until then, though, let's just plan for
a Shelf Criticism special edition. That way I can finally wrap up this episode and shut up about it
for now. Standout Performances. There are so many recognizable names in this film, and that's not
just because I'm familiar with every film in Zombie's category, because he does have a tendency to
(27:05):
recast the same handful of actors. And a lot of those tend to be former Scream Queens, TV stars,
B-listers from Days of Yore. That's what we used to call that guys before Google made it easy for
us to figure out who anyone is. Shout out first of all to Bruce Davidson, who is, well, Bruce
Davidson in this role. He's good. His character is an idiot, but that's the screenplay, not him. He
(27:26):
plays everything like the seasoned, talented veteran you'd expect. And then there's his wife,
played by Maria Conchito Alonso. I just adore her. She's so likable in this film. Perhaps the only
one perfectly pure, unsoiled soul. If her role were any more substantial, I'd certainly consider her
in the running. And in this film, we have horror royalty like Meg Foster and Dee Wallace, and even
in a Blink and You'll Miss It cameo, Barbara Crampton. Am I wrong in thinking Foster's sort
(27:49):
of hamming it up here? And Wallace isn't bad at all, but she's got such a small role. Also,
while I'm not blaming the actors for this, Judy Geeson plays Heidi's landlord, Lacey, and we
discover that her sisters have come to visit, right? So Wallace is Sonny and Patricia Quinn's
Megan. Geeson is a Brit, Wallace is an American, and Quinn is Irish. And despite being sisters,
Lacey curiously has a British accent, despite apparently living in America and owning rental
(28:12):
property. Sonny is American as they come, and Quinn is so Irish she might as well have a
shamrock tucked behind her ear and be humming the fields of Athenry. Maybe that's deliberate to add
to the surreal nature of the film, but it really felt jarring to me. Then again, I do harp far too
much on accents when I watch a film. Other perennial zombie favorites include Jeff Daniel Phillips as
Whitey and Ken Foray as Herman, rounding out Heidi's crew of DJs on their late night show.
(28:35):
And both are decent, especially Phillips. Clearly, Whitey not only cares about Heidi,
but he's also romantically interested in her, which is probably unrequited.
His vulnerability is on display, subtle again, a word we've established doesn't often get mentioned
with zombie, but it's still palpable. When you realize this Heidi is using again, you can see
his heartbreak on your screen before seconds later seeing his resolve grow to try to help her through
(28:55):
it again. And I do also have to give a nod to Sherry Moon Zombie. As baby Firefly, she's manic,
lewd, sociopathic, laughing and licking a cone of tutti frutti ice cream as she embarks on a
murderous rampage. Her cartoonish high pitched voice squawks and screeches some of the most
profane blasphemies ever uttered this side of, well, Meg Foster in Lords of Salem. But in this
(29:15):
film, she also shows her vulnerability. She's just a recovering addict working her late night job,
trying to make the rent, just shuffling through life with her faithful golden retriever Troy by
her side. She doesn't ask for any of this, simply inherits the curse. I told you, great tragedy.
Some reviewers have said she sleepwalks through her performance and I don't disagree, but I think
that's what's required here. It's understated, but it's convincing. So I'm going to do something
(29:37):
I have yet to do. For this film, the standout performances will be shared. Both Jeff Daniel
Phillips and Sherry Moon Zombie take the alcholades. These two have an interesting dynamic and they are
what makes the film. Because let's face it, when it comes to the rest of the cast, suffice to say
acting is not the strong suit of this movie. Except for the good boy Troy. I almost gave
the standout performance to him. All he does is sit there, look cute and wag his tail, but that's
(30:00):
really all that's required of a dog. Moving into cultural context. I think actually my large
digression at the very beginning into Rob Zombie and his musical output, plus his transition to
filmmaking will serve as perfect fodder for this segment already. So let's just say we've done it
just a slightly out of order and move on. The next section is trivia. I do have a few points here.
I mentioned the canine star of this film named Troy, though I can't tell if that's the good boy's
(30:23):
film name or what he's actually called as well. However, we do know that the goat that Heidi rides
on in that scene I mentioned earlier is named Noodle. A novel title Lords of Salem was also
released that year written by Rob Zombie and BK Evenson. It was based off Zombie's original
script that changed significantly due to rewrites and particularly budgetary limitations. Some of
the visuals and scenes that he had just were not feasible with the amount of money that they were
(30:48):
given. It would cost much, much more. Interestingly, Evenson's work is known for its spare pros and
Hemingway-esque minimalism and Zombie, as we have surely attested to, is quite the typical maximalist.
I do have a copy of the book and I did read it, I guess, what, 12 or so years ago when it came out.
I remember it just being so. It was a book. Then again, book and film sounds a lot like another
(31:08):
podcast. Real it. That it could one day be a part of, perhaps. Who knows? Bruce Davison also played
the Reverend Paris in the film version of The Crucible in 1996. That is based on the play of
Arthur Miller, of course, that dealt with the Red Scare and Joseph, I mean, dealt with the Salem
Witch trials. If you know your literary criticism, it technically dealt with both. Really solid film,
(31:28):
incidentally. It does star THE actor, Daniel Day-Lewis. And I could not verify this one,
but according to IMDb's trivia section, which is also user edited, Zombie described this film as,
quote, If Ken Russell directed The Shining. As our chosen critic Rob Nelson mentioned Russell,
and I thought of The Shining before I read this tidbit, that might be validating to us both.
But like I said, I couldn't officially verify it. But then again, everything you read on the
(31:52):
internet is true. So all right, we need to go ahead and wrap this thing up. So we'll move into our
shelf esteem segment. For those new or just needing a refresher the way this works, there are five
shelves on my DVD cabinet. So I essentially use the bartender's model. The best stuff goes on the top
shelf, rot gut goes on the bottom shelf, and then we have second shelf, mid shelf and fourth shelf
in between. What oh what to do with this one. I've made it no secret I'm quite fond of it, or
(32:19):
at the very least I enjoy the visual compositions, the overall feeling of dread and unease it creates.
I think it is the best presented and most well done of all the entries into Zombie's catalog.
And I also get that it's not for everyone, even many horror enthusiasts. Still, it should be
for the horror enthusiasts, I mean. The term elevated horror has been tossed about in discussions
(32:39):
over the past few years. The term started picking up steam in the mid to late 2010s with films like
The Babadook and It Follows and The Witch, so forth, ushering in slow burn, more intellectually
demanding films that still sent the pleasurable shutter down one's spine. Well, before directors
like Ari Aster and Jordan Peele, however, got their laurels, there were elements of the genre peeking
through for years, decades. Certainly David Lynch's Mulholland Drive has elements, which is a film I've
(33:04):
also covered in depth on this podcast. As does Kubrick's The Shining. Heck, I mean, you could
argue that all the way back in 1920, the cabinet of Dr. Kaligari, which Zombie pays homage to,
as I said before, in his Living Dead Girl music video, was more cerebral than the average horror
flick. Not that there were a whole lot of horror flicks to choose from at that point. Am I about
(33:24):
to make the case that Lords of Salem is elevated horror? No, I'm not going that far. I am, however,
going to insistently contend that it flirts with such a distinction, and maybe even brushes against
it, rubs its chin around it, you know, like my cat Athena does my shin sometimes. I don't think
it quite goes as far as elevated horror, but it's a film that understands nuance and foists
atmosphere and suggestion to the forefront. It leaves the viewer with a similar gnawing in the
(33:49):
pit of the stomach as say The Devils rejects. As I said in the intro, zombie films always leave me
feeling as if I need a shower to wash off the metaphorical filth and degeneracy I've picked up
simply by viewing. Lords of Salem just takes a markedly different approach to coat the spectator
in the same nihilistic sadistic grime. Still, I do try to be rigorous and stick to my rubric,
so I'm going to put my personal feelings aside. For the most part anyway, and put this twisted
(34:13):
feature on the middle shelf. It's not a second shelf dweller, at least when I take my personal
biases out of it. And that said, even though a lot of critics and viewers alike would place this
sucker on the fourth, maybe even bottom shelf, what do they know? Well, a lot actually, but let
me explain my logic. Middle shelf films are good films that have a few flaws or aren't quite as
(34:35):
impactful, but still enjoyable and worth your time. Fourth shelf on the other hand are generally
deserved for those who are hardcore fans of the genre. While I certainly think all horror
aficionados should give this film a viewing, I also think there's some who just enjoy cinema
overall who would benefit. A film student, a film scholar, a budding filmmaker, yeah, they all should
at least check out the mise en scene from the composition of each shot, the colors on the set,
(34:55):
to the music. For anyone who spends far too much time ruminating over the magic of cinema overall,
you're going to at least find this film interesting, I promise. That is unless unabashed blasphemy,
naked and besmeared witches frolicking, or white hipster women with dreadlocks unnerve you,
then you should stick to Aster and Peele. All right, we've got another one wrapped up,
and we're officially mid-October now. I'm three Halloween appropriate films in. October is a
(35:20):
traditionally busy month for me with midterms and conferences and other obligations all coming
to a head, but I am dedicated to chipping away at the titles of my DVD curio, and because I'm me,
horror is overrepresented by a lot. Thus, I'm going to endeavor to slide another one or two
more frightful features in before Hallows Eve. No promises, but I'm shooting to get a couple more
(35:41):
episodes in. Either way, I did say there was an animal attack in the lineup, and I'm certainly
going to deliver on that one. For those who don't know, my line of research is animal horror cinema,
so this is essentially my life's work. I know, academia's weird, but hey, they pay me to go and
talk about crap like Sharknado to other academics, so I have the best job in the world. Jaws, of
(36:01):
course, is the quintessential film of this genre, not the err, but perhaps best executed and the
most longevity, but Mackenzie and I covered that one on our first episode of Real Lit,
so if you want to check that one out, you do have other outlets to do so.
No, next episode, we're choosing an entirely different animal, not a shark. We're going with
a fox. Okay, no, not actually. The fox's name is Megan, but she's not the attacking animal, of
(36:25):
course. She's the leader of a band of mercs who get tangled with a pretty gnarly, irascible lioness
in the 2020 film Rogue. You hulu subscribers can watch it with ease, while the rest of you would
have to rent or purchase it in order to view the carnage, but if you do watch it or have seen it
and want to talk about any points, feel free to shoot me an email at steven at shelfcriticism.com,
and that is S T E P H E N. You can also find the podcast on Facebook at shelf criticism. And don't
(36:51):
forget about my other podcast, Real Lit, where I'm joined by my colleague, the extraordinary Mackenzie.
You can find that just about anywhere you get your podcast fix, as well as our official website,
reallitpodcast.com and social media at real lit podcast. Remember that's R E E L like a film reel.
And I may have just shamelessly plugged our inaugural episode where we dove into jaws.
(37:12):
I don't know if you've noticed what a bad throat problem I've had this episode, but yeah, apparently
a lot of shameless plugs. Oh well, go back and watch everyone I plugged. Promise you'll enjoy them.
But with Real Lit, even though we didn't plan it, a lot of our early book film combos could be
considered Halloween themed. The next episode was I know what you did last summer. And then our
fourth episode, we discussed the birds, which is of course another animal attack, which may or may
(37:34):
not have been influenced by a certain fellow who studies animal horror cinema. And then in between
that we gawked at zombie strippers. Yes, it's very loosely based on a mid-century French play. And yes,
could make the case that it falls into horror. Just in time for Halloween, Mackenzie now will
be dropping another episode, this time looking at Susan Hill's novel, The Woman in Black and its
film adaptation. In other words, if you like the sound of our voices or just think Real Lit and
(37:56):
Shelf Criticism are full of great insights, which they are, then not only are you our favorite human
being, you're also in the right spot for the best October podcasts across all of, well, yeah, no,
that's going to be snap judgment spooked, isn't it? But we like to think Alice in the Palace is
doing a fine job of getting into the spirit of the spooky season as well. Either way, there's so much
more to come before the ghosts and goblins invade your neighborhood in search of candy bars and
(38:17):
lollipops. Until next time, DVD aficionados, remember to treat yourself to a little shelf
indulgence of your own. Amelia, sing us home. Shelf Criticism is an Owls of Palace production.
(38:41):
This podcast is in no way connected with the educational institutions the host is employed by.
The opinions expressed herein are solely those of the host and do not necessarily reflect the views
of any other organization with which he is affiliated. Most images displayed are public domain.
Images and stills from films, descriptions of scenes and passages from books are used for
educational and critical purposes and not for profit and therefore fall under the terms of fair use.
(39:05):
So did you listen? How was it? Did I listen? Did I listen? Of course I listened. You were fantastic.
(39:27):
Yeah? And I recorded you so you could hear yourself back. Oh no, I hate the sound of my voice.
Well, imagine me. I have to listen to it every day.
Were there any quote unquote real witches in Salem?
(00:03):
Well today there's a large Wiccan population.
They're a positive earth-centered religion.
Yeah, hairy armpits and granola.
I don't dig it.
I shave my armpits.
That's a pity.
You know, classic witches.
No, there are no classic witches, actually.
Witchcraft is nothing but a psychotic belief brought
(00:26):
upon by a delusional state of mind.
MUSIC
Welcome to Shelf Criticism.
Meet your host, Stephen, a scholar of literature and film by day.
(00:49):
And by night, a cinematic archaeologist with a penchant for everything
from art house to popular to outright trash cinema.
Over the past quarter century, Stephen has amassed an eclectic DVD collection,
now occupying five shells of a curio cabinet in his living room.
Each week, he bravely selects one of these titles to dissect.
(01:10):
Join him as he unearths everything from obscure gems to cinematic missteps.
From blockbuster hits to forgotten flops, each film gets the critical once over
it probably doesn't deserve but will absolutely receive.
So grab your popcorn and settle in.
It's time to dive into the diverse world of Shelf Criticism.
MUSIC
(01:36):
Welcome to this wild October ride as we plow through some of the spooky
season appropriate DVDs in my collection.
Today's selection...
Why do I do this to myself?
Today's selection is unrepentantly weird and viscerally unnerving
and honestly reviled by most moviegoers.
It's certainly not an easy watch on a number of levels.
For starters, it's abstract, more suggestive than overtly plot driven.
(02:01):
It's designed to deliberately feel off-putting to the viewer.
It revels in the defiant blasphemy of its satanic aggressors.
Even though I'm not particularly a devout fellow, some of the utterances
coming out of their mouths is unsettling, more so given my upbringing,
which was in fact, particularly if not compulsorily devout.
I kept thinking on this re-watch.
If my mother knew I was watching these witches spout this sacrilegious dialogue,
(02:24):
she'd probably break down in tears.
Luckily, my mother doesn't listen to this podcast.
Not that she's not proud of me, just that she thinks a PG film is still too risque
and sometimes even the Waltons or Little House on the Prairie push the envelope a
little bit too far.
I would never let her anywhere near a Rob Zombie film.
Let her be blissfully ignorant of how far boundaries can be pushed in his films.
I, on the other hand, while a self-proclaimed mama's boy, have never had
(02:47):
an issue with a transgressive film.
In fact, I often seek them out and nobody compelled me to grab this particular disc.
Yet here we are.
Today's Shelf Pick is perhaps the most subdued and subtle of the Rob Zombie
oeuvre, which is still about as subtle as an air horn two inches from your ear.
Today we're taking a little trip to New England, revisiting the hysteria of the
late 17th century and dropping the needle on the nondescript vinyl that is
(03:08):
the 2012 film, The Lords of Salem.
We'll start with Shelf Pick where I take a look at my DVD.
I actually have the FYE Steelbook Collectors edition of this one.
I think FYE stands for Four Year Entertainment.
I'm not sure, but you've probably seen these, right?
They're blu-rays usually.
They're a little bit smaller and they're metal, hence the name Steelbook.
Who knew?
(03:29):
On the DVD front, against a rusty looking orange colored backdrop, we see Sherry
Moon Zombie wearing her black and white vertically striped sweater and her face
painted like a skull.
It's the way she appears when she's inside apartment number five after the
witches come to take care of her.
Above her reads a Rob Zombie film, no caps, and then underneath The Lords of
Salem.
On the DVD back, above another grainy shot of Sherry Moon Zombie, and here she's
(03:53):
has her eyes lacking irises and there's a, it's a close-up, but it's clearly that
scene she appears at the end.
We have the quote, the best movie to date by director Rob Zombie, Philip French,
The Observer UK.
The synopsis beneath reads, it has been called disturbing Los Angeles Times,
Nerve Shattering Chicago Reader, and Rob Zombie's masterpiece, Loudwire.com.
(04:15):
From the nightmare mind of writer-director Rob Zombie comes the terrifying story of
a Salem, Massachusetts radio DJ, Heidi Larocque, Sherry Moon Zombie of The Devil's
Rejects, who receives a mysterious record labeled A Gift from the Lords.
But when Heidi plays the disc, its bizarre sounds will trigger visions of the town's
depraved past, release the darkness within her own damaged soul, and unleash the long
(04:37):
awaited vengeance of Satan himself.
Bruce Davidson, Willard, and a coven of genre legends, co-star in this stunning
witchcraft shocker that Beyond Hollywood calls, a full-on piece of satanic madness.
The Lords of Salem is light years away from 99% of modern commercial horror cinema.
I should point out that this is a record, as in an actual vinyl.
(04:58):
Not sure when they call it a disc on the cover copy.
Maybe they assumed a large part of the market they were shooting for would have
no idea what an album was.
So aside from the aforementioned picture, there are smaller shots clustered around.
We have Margaret Morgan sitting in the torture chair with her iron mask across her face,
flames flickering in the background, which we know are barbecuing her coven, though we
don't see any of them here.
(05:18):
Below that there's a close-up of the painted face of the death metal singer Count Gorgon,
whom the DJs interview at the beginning of the film, and who appears in the end
alongside the montage of Heidi riding the goat like it was a bucking bronco.
Next to that, it's a close-up of Heidi's face bathed in red, I presume, when she's
staring at the neon cross in Apartment 5.
And then at the bottom, there's a shot of the three sisters, Lacey, Megan, and Sonny,
(05:40):
silhouetted in light from behind as they kneel, I presume, during the final
quote-unquote concert of the Lords at the Climax.
Special features? Includes audio commentary with writer, producer, director Rob Zombie.
That's it.
Nothing else.
But hey, it's a steelbook, so, you know, it's a collector's item or something.
Anyway, it was cheap.
Which brings me to how I came to own it.
(06:00):
I'm aware that Rob Zombie is a divisive figure when it comes to filmmaking, though
maybe less so with his music.
When it comes to his tunes, I think you pretty much either like him or you don't,
but it seems like he's a staple of the industrial metal scene.
I first discovered him as part of White Zombie when I was a junior, senior in high school, I guess.
More human than human was my jam.
And I knew my parents would hate the entire album and criticize not just my musical taste,
but all my life choices.
(06:22):
What better way to rebel?
I followed his career after the band's breakup, even seeing him at OsFest.
I want to say that was 2002.
It was in Atlanta, System of a Down, P.O.D. also played, that's about all I can tell you.
I'd always been a fan of his music, hard, hitting, and heavy, and just how I liked it back in those days.
Seriously, I sometimes come across a burned CD I made back then,
just look it up, kids, and learn how we used to live eons earlier.
(06:44):
But when I give that CD a listen, I can only think, why were you so angry?
College-age Steven?
Ironically, of course, Zombie's videos were pure camp, overblown and silly, if not visually stunning.
His earlier band, of course, was named after the 1932 Bela Lugosi film of the same name.
Dragula is also the name of a car in the silly sitcom The Munsters.
The follow-up single, Living Dead Girl, begins with a snippet of dialogue from Lady Frankenstein,
(07:09):
and the, what are you thinking about?
sample looped into the music is from Daughters of Darkness.
Also the line in the song, Goldfoot's machine creates another fiend,
so beautiful they'll make you kill, is a reference to the 1966 film.
And, lest you think it's anything but camp itself, the title is Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine.
Not making that one up. Vincent Price, of all things.
(07:29):
The video for Living Dead Girl is an homage to the classic 1920s silent film and masterpiece
of German Expressionism, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.
By the time we get to the video for Superbeast, we have Sherry Moon kicking karate chopping
and slicing away like she's in some 70s chop-saki flick.
And I could continue, but I think the point is made.
Despite the hard, industrial edge to his music, the video made it clear that,
(07:50):
while certainly paying homage to classics as well as trash cinema,
they are a self-aware spectacle of ridiculousness.
So in 2002, when I heard he had written and directed a film,
I was sort of expecting it to have a similar vibe.
Even the title, House of a Thousand Corpses, could be construed as being a bit cheeky
and knowingly overblown. Imagine my surprise when I left that theater.
The film shattered my expectations of camp and cheeky horror.
(08:13):
There's a clear marked difference between Zombie's music and music videos,
and that of his films.
His cinematic vision is not absurd or kitschy.
It's pure nihilistic splatterfest that leaves you wanting to take a shower after viewing.
I recognized right away that House of a Thousand Corpses wasn't a well-made film.
By 2003, I didn't consider myself a film scholar,
but with a master's degree in literature, I knew flawed storytelling when I saw it.
(08:36):
And yet I loved every minute of the Firefly family's nefarious machinations.
Matter of fact, when the Devil's rejects at theaters,
I was vacationing in New Orleans with an ex-girlfriend of mine,
and as she had the same twisted taste in film that I did,
we decided to put our appreciation of the Crescent City's charm and cuisine on hold
for a couple hours to dip into theater and check it out.
Of course, that film was much more grounded in reality,
(08:56):
which made it feel even skeezier, darker, more sadistic.
You can't walk away from a zombie film and not feel unease and a creeping dread,
but that kind of abyss gazing is something necessary in cinema occasionally.
His remake of Halloween was all the more polarizing, and I understand why.
He approached a near-perfect, seminal entry into the genre
and put his own pitiless, sanguinary spin on it.
(09:17):
It was not John Carpenter's vision.
It was nowhere near as skilled or precise.
While Carpenter carved with an X-Acto knife, zombies used dynamite.
However, I contend that when you view the 2007 film in a vacuum,
forgetting about its superior progenitor, it's a watchable flick.
Nonetheless, I think that was the point where a lot of my ilk abandoned him and his vision.
I, on the other hand, have an appreciation for what he does, behind a camera.
(09:39):
He is certainly an auteur, putting his own specific stamp on everything he creates.
You know a Rob Zombie film when you're watching it.
I often talk about the Rob Zombie aesthetic.
It's harsh, it's grainy, it's a callback to the 70s grindhouse pictures,
but it's also popping with colors and textures.
Say what you want about his direction.
I don't think even his most strident detractors would deny
that there's seldom a single frame that isn't visually fascinating.
(10:01):
The tone, the subject matter, or the remorselessness of story
are all valid reasons to eschew his films.
I'll be the first to admit that I have yet to watch one of his productions
that hasn't made me uncomfortable.
Downright queasy sometimes.
But I've also yet to be bored while watching his fare.
He's not always good, but he's always interesting.
I would go on to start dating my late wife shortly thereafter,
a woman who loved horror movies and also appreciated a good Rob Zombie flick.
(10:23):
Needless to say, in 2013 when Lords of Salem hit theaters,
we contributed to that box office.
I remember it vividly actually.
We took in a Sunday matinee.
I was still a struggling adjunct professor with barely two dimes to rub together,
so we had to be frugal.
Or maybe not, because I also recall going out for sushi afterwards,
where we discussed it at length.
She didn't understand any of it, and I barely did myself,
but I kept trying to tell her it was the images, the atmosphere,
(10:46):
the overall dissonant emotional turmoil the film caused that was the point.
I'm not sure she agreed.
Then again, when Target ran the steel box DVD on sale for a ridiculously low price tag,
and I came home with it that week, copy in hand,
she didn't give me any grief.
And this woman was beyond frugal.
She always harped on me for having to have Kerry Gold Butter
instead of whatever off-brand Marger in the supermarket stocked.
(11:06):
Who cares if we spend 87 cents more?
There's a difference, people.
I promise.
At any rate, that's how this got tucked away in my shelf.
We'll move into the next segment then, critical reception.
During the teaser at the end of last week's episode,
I speculated the critical assessment of this film would not be the best.
You probably weren't wondering, but I always wait until after my rewatch
to check the critical review so I can maintain an honest assessment
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of my reaction without any outside influence.
I wasn't wrong, but I will again admit I need to stop guessing
and just wait until I start researching.
It did fare better than I expected.
It holds a 47% of Rotten Tomatoes,
so nearly half of all critics gave it a review that was more favorable than not.
Metacritic gives it a 57, meaning even some of those that were predominantly negative
still saw some positives in the undertaking.
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The user score on Metacritic is nearly the same, sitting at 5.5.
It's interesting to note the gap between this and the Rotten Tomatoes audience score,
which drops down to a 30%.
I've often noticed that Metacritic users tend to align more closely with critical consensus,
while Rotten Tomatoes audiences' reviews tend to reflect broader tastes.
That's a very nice way of saying something,
but I'll let you read in between the lines what it is.
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I can't understand why a lot of viewers didn't like it.
Much as they might loathe House of Thousand Corpses,
Devil's Rejects, or the Halloween remake,
at least those are fairly straightforward in their narratives.
They have a neatly paced flow,
more or less divided into the typical three-act format.
They provide a clear climax in De No Man.
I would argue so does Lords of Salem, but it's not as straightforward.
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While Lords has structure, it does ask the audience to be more engaged
and to follow a more abstract path which might take a bit more patience to unpack.
In fact, one critic, Henry Northmore of the list,
phrases this far better than I could.
I quote,
Zombie has a vision, and you assume in his mind it all adds up to something very dark,
deep, and meaningful, but that meaning has been lost in translation,
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and the film comes across as vague and confused.
I would argue it's just more subtle than vague,
but those two words are more or less synonyms, right?
Case in point, while I understood the narrative upon first viewing,
during this rewatch, which I think is my fourth,
I was able to see more clearly the underlying structure of it all.
Every beat that a more traditional film follows, it's still present here,
but it takes much more attention to notice some of them.
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Once you lock into that rhythm, the film becomes more rewarding with each viewing.
For the in-depth review, I've chosen yet again Rob Nelson's Take in Variety,
and not at all because it's one of the trades that I have a digital subscription to,
and can easily read the archives on my iPad without having to go mining through my university's
archives like a really boring Indiana Jones, Sons Bull Whip, and Fedora.
Nelson's Take reads, quote,
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Less inferno than slow burn Rob Zombie's retro witch thriller,
The Lords of Salem has plenty of portent, but not much payoff.
Likely to disappoint the diehard fans of The Devil's Rejects and other zombie atrocities,
this milder brew still has 70s-esque style to spare and sports a likable lead performance
by Sherry Moon Zombie as a DJ seemingly spun by Satan's Spawn into the lower depths.
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I can see where he's coming from in the opening. I can think of a hundred ways to describe
Zombie's earlier cinematic output, but Slow Burn would have never come to mind.
This film, however, is the textbook definition.
His assumption that a fan of The Devil's Rejects would be disappointed by this film,
coupled with the use of his word atrocities to describe Zombie's output,
does make him come off as a bit pedantic and condescending,
as if someone who appreciated one could not appreciate the other.
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He seems to assume it's a zero-sum game, that a bloodthirsty cadre of moviegoers salivating
for gore could also not be the type to sit down and enjoy a languid but inexorable march to
cataclysmic disaster. Nelson continues,
Zombie hasn't picked a bad time to tone himself down. Still, even as PG-rated horror has a duty
to deliver on some level, the Helmer's narrative dead end here registers not as a lack of nerve,
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so much as a lack of imagination. And this is the part of the review where it gets a
little confusing. He makes a reference to PG horror, which I'm not sure really even exists
all that much. It should be the PG-13 threshold of what is considered horror, at least this side of
R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series. There's a link on the word duty in his review, but it appears to be
dead, and I guess that's one of the drawbacks of the internet. I'm sure if I clicked that and it
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took me where I was supposed to be, I might be able to clarify some of this thought.
But more appalling is the phrase, lack of imagination. Nelson has just conceded that
if nothing else, this film is more toned down and subtle than Zombie's previous titles,
in his earlier fare and later for that matter. Zombie has a penchant for graphic violence,
often mirroring the nihilistic brutality of the 70s-era Grindhouse films or the Italian
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Gialli that I discussed on my episode covering the Red Rings of Fear. Wink, wink. Yet in this film,
that very subdued horror means instead that he must rely on creating the spooky atmosphere,
the overall feeling of dread, the inexorable march towards a surreal but disturbing finale.
There's something of his characteristic gore present, but more so this film was brimming with
surreal, nightmarish imagery. Nelson continues, following a tongue-in-cheek prologue set in the
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late 1600s and showing a witch's coven getting burned to a crisp, we arrive in the present day,
which for Zombie looks and sounds a hell of a lot like 1974. Recovering addict Heidi,
Sherry Moon Zombie, and blonde dreadlocks, who lives in a run-down Boston apartment and co-host
of the late night Salem Rocks show, thinks she sees someone or something moving around the
unrented unit down the hall. Then at work, she gets an ancient-looking vinyl platter from a band
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called the Lords that freaks her out even more. Full of cacophonous bow-sawing and mumbled
incantations, this patently avant-garde long player goes out over the airwaves and puts
even more listeners at home in a trance.
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Several scares later, he continues, and poor Heidi is back on the crack pipe,
making it tough for the viewer to tell whether her subsequent visions of the damned are drug
induced or directed by a force even more malevolent than Zombie. As a side note,
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since I seem to be savaging Nelson on this episode, and if I recall the other time I used
him as a critique I also disagreed, I do have to concede he has a way with words. This is good
writing, and I can still appreciate a well-turned phrase even if I don't agree with it. Not that
there's much to disagree with here, as this section is mostly plot summary. I do think when
he says modern-day Salem looks like 1974, he's meaning this is a negative. For me, that's again
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part of the charm. It's pretty clear that the film takes place in present day. There's even a cell
phone used at one point. But partially it's the filter, and perhaps the fashion choices of some
of the cast that give it this feel. Yet again, this is Zombie leaning into his aesthetic. He's
as much a student of, or an imitator of film as Tarantino. Well, no, no one's quite at the level
of Tarantino, but still, Zombie knows his cinema and he knows his influences. The gritty 70s feel
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is part of this. It's no different than House of a Thousand Corpses or Devil's Rejects, or even
some of his later offerings such as 31. They all have a retro feel that, in my opinion at least,
adds to the enjoyment of watching. As for the character of Heidi, yes, she is a recovering
addict. And yes, as the visions and hauntings become increasingly virulent and disturbing,
she goes back to leaning on chemical substances to cope. Still, Nelton's claim that this makes
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it tough for the viewer to tell whether her subsequent visions of the damned are drug
induced or directed by a force even more malevolent than Zombie, that's a bit silly. We know she's
been clean for the duration of the film up until that moment, which is very late into the runtime,
so why would the visions not be legitimate? The idea, I think, is to draw a parallel between drug
abuse and that high one receives upon it, and the fever dream of the hauntings Heidi experiences.
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It may serve to add an even more outlandish, surreal nature to the experience, but I don't
think there's any doubt our willing suspension of disbelief is meant to have us accept that the
witches are back to enact their revenge on the Hawthorne bloodline. Nelson begins to wrap his
review by saying, all of this builds to Heidi being transported by some means or another to
17th century Salem, but not much farther, as the pic simply poops out around the 90-minute mark,
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leaving an in-credits sequence where an ending ought to be. I'm sorry, am I the only one who
thinks this is a perfectly logical and complete ending? Heck, even after the intense, visually
stunning climax, during the credits we hear a news report detailing the mass suicides of the 32 women,
all of whom happen to be descendants of the original families of Salem dating back to the 1600s.
Hey, I did concede Zombie is not a subtle storyteller, did I not? And then of course,
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it also is mentioned before the report fades out that Heidi is missing. How that isn't a clear
ending is beyond me. If anything, I think it's too neat. For all the restraint and suggestion and
show-not-tell that Zombie's given us for an hour and a half, to have such an obvious plot contrivance
be our final impression is actually a detriment to the film. Nelson does end his critique with a bit
of praise. In terms of tech credits, The Lords of Salem has its virtue. A handful of set pieces come
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on like vintage Ken Russell, with Sherry Moon Zombie, her face painted ghostly white, looking
like a human sacrifice or Marilyn Manson groupie. Brandon Tross' color-bleached, wide-screen
cinematography is particularly well-suited to rendering the heroine's dingy abode and the city's
autumnal chill. Zombie, having proven himself a connoisseur of gloomy 60s and 70s pop rock,
here delivers another killer playlist, although his pick of the velvet undergrounds Venus and
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Furs seems a touch obvious. And that conclusion leads me nicely into the next segment, my take.
This is a gorgeous film. I couldn't agree more with Nelson's take here. I didn't think Ken Russell
while watching, but the comparison is apt, particularly if we think of some of Russell's
work in the horror genre like The Devils and Layer of the White Worm immediately coming to mind.
Heck, at some points it becomes so surreal I thought more of Peter Greenaway, and I
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totally mean that as a compliment. I love the cook, the thief, his wife, her lover,
bizarre as it may have been. It's clear Zombie and cinematographer Brandon Tross have put
meticulous thought into even the tiniest details of every single shot, from the busy, over-stimulating
wallpaper of the apartment's hallway, which has an uncanny, off-putting vibe, sort of reminiscent of
the carpet and the shining, to the aforementioned color-bleached confines of Heidi's apartments.
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The film's a joy to watch. Each time I watch, I come across another detail, something else to
catch my eye. And even though this film is much more somber than the campiness of his music,
it still has its playfulness and nods to other older cinema, like how behind Heidi's headboard
the face of the moon with a rocket stuck in its eye, which is the image of course from the 1902
film Journey to the Moon, is painted on the wall, and it also perfectly matches her bleak monochrome
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bedroom and bathroom. But the film also gives us rich, deep colors, showing the glowing neon cross
inside room five, with its deep red filling the otherwise dark room, or the reds and greens of
the climactic visions where Heidi is seen cavorting with Count Gorgon as well as riding a goat,
which, in the logic of this film, which is to say there's very little, if any, makes perfect sense.
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I mentioned the Italian gialli films earlier, and while much of the brutality of Zombie's earlier
films seems to mirror this genre, Lords of Salem does at least visually look like them. The gialli,
with all their dark themes and graphic violence, were all sent on to pop with colors on the screen,
very vibrant and distinct. After all, giallo is the Italian word for yellow, and no, that's not
how they got their name, but it's still fitting. If you'd like to hear more about this somewhat
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forgotten genre, you can always check out episode seven of this podcast.
Shameless plug. Sorry, frog in my throat there. Speaking of those gialli, if you want to start
a fierce debate among them, perhaps even a fistfight, just toss out this simple question.
Is Dario Argento's Suspiria a giallo? Just be sure if you do ask that, you're wearing protective
gear. I won't get into that debate, even if I do touch on it in episode seven. I will say that just
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another way that Lords of Salem reminds me of Suspiria, and probably a lot of others in Argento's
body, is that it cares less about plot and logic, and more about each vignette, how it's staged,
how you feel viscerally as you view it. I would argue that Lords is far more straightforward than
Suspiria, as much as I love that film. It makes no sense, and abandons plot somewhere in the third
act. Still, if we're going to toss out directors like Russell and Greenaway, I think Argento needs
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to be name-checked as well. Much like Suspiria, the Lords of Salem relies heavily on its score
and its soundtrack to enhance the surreal, unnerving atmosphere. As I scrolled back through
different parts of the film, I realized just how rare it is for there to be moments of complete
silence. Whether it's the radio playing in the background, or snippets of cheesy black and white
horror flicks on the TV, or the film's actual score, there's always something, some sort of
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soundscaping adding to the tension. And that's not even counting the music Heidi listens to,
which plays a significant role. I mean, she's a DJ after all. In film studies, we often talk about
diegetic and non-diegetic sound, terms that might sound complex, but they're actually really simple.
Diegetic sound refers to noises the characters can hear, like a radio playing in a scene,
or someone talking, whereas non-diegetic sound is what only we, the audience, can hear, which is
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typically the film's score. Like that swelling, eerie music you hear as Heidi stands before the
ominous red cross in that one scene. What makes the Lords of Salem particularly interesting is how
it blurs these lines. The haunting music from the Lords record, scratchy, unsettling melody that
puts Heidi and everyone else on edge, functions almost like part of the film's score. But here's
the twist. It's diegetic. The characters hear it too, and that adds an extra layer of tension,
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making us feel just as disturbed and disoriented as they do. It's one thing for a film to use
non-diegetic music to create unease, but it's another to have the unsettling soundtrack creep
into the characters' world, which traps them as well as us into the sonic nightmare. I could
easily spend another hour unpacking all the thoughts I had during this rewatch, but this episode,
I'm afraid, would start to drag. I've talked about pacing in a lot of my other episodes, and
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I don't want to be a hypocrite. But just for example, I toyed with the idea of how Lords of
Salem feels like folk horror, despite the suburban setting. The film has a lot of nudity aside from
Zombie's candlestick tendency to showcase his wife. It's deliberately, maybe even transgressively,
unsexy. But do I really need to talk about nudity in every episode? I mean, I might end up with a
reputation. Then there's the great moment when Megan reads Heidi's poem and gets asked the
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difference between fate and destiny. This is the line of fate. This is the only line of concern to
me. The length of your life is inconsequential. It's what you do with your time that matters.
Ah, okay. Well, so tell me, what is my destiny? It reads your fate, not your destiny.
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Is there a difference? With destiny, you can premeditate the outcome, but fate,
while fate leaves you no choice. It is predetermined by forces stronger than ourselves.
Oh, I don't like that. I think I changed my mind. I don't want to know.
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That hit me hard, especially since I've been teaching Greek mythology in my world-lit class
for well over a month now. In many ways, Lords of Salem has the bones of a Greek tragedy,
though with the ironic twist of Puritanism also lurking in the background. I've only touched on
the sonic experiences of this film, which is rich with diegetic music and I don't mean just the
Lord's creepy record. We have Manfred Mann's Blinded by the Light, Rush's Spirit of the Radio,
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Rick James' Give It to Me, and most importantly, those two Velvet Underground songs, Venus and
Furs and All Tomorrow's Parties. Just like the visuals, the music is meticulously curated to
evoke the maximum emotional punch. I want to listen to that music again. Something about it
really upsets me. But if I start diving into all that right now, this podcast is going to run three
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times longer than usual. And then it hit me. On my other podcast, McKenzie and I covered Jaws in our
very first episode. And we talked about all the things we had to cut and joked about coming back
for a part two on our one year anniversary. So why not do that here? Next October, I'll make a
return visit to Lords of Salem. While Van Helsing is my usual October tradition, which I talked
about last episode, I can definitely make room for another round with Lords. I'll go ahead and
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pencil that in once I find a calendar that stretches that far ahead. And yes, I'm so
old fashioned. I still use a pen and ink paper calendar. Until then, though, let's just plan for
a Shelf Criticism special edition. That way I can finally wrap up this episode and shut up about it
for now. Standout Performances. There are so many recognizable names in this film, and that's not
just because I'm familiar with every film in Zombie's category, because he does have a tendency to
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recast the same handful of actors. And a lot of those tend to be former Scream Queens, TV stars,
B-listers from Days of Yore. That's what we used to call that guys before Google made it easy for
us to figure out who anyone is. Shout out first of all to Bruce Davidson, who is, well, Bruce
Davidson in this role. He's good. His character is an idiot, but that's the screenplay, not him. He
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plays everything like the seasoned, talented veteran you'd expect. And then there's his wife,
played by Maria Conchito Alonso. I just adore her. She's so likable in this film. Perhaps the only
one perfectly pure, unsoiled soul. If her role were any more substantial, I'd certainly consider her
in the running. And in this film, we have horror royalty like Meg Foster and Dee Wallace, and even
in a Blink and You'll Miss It cameo, Barbara Crampton. Am I wrong in thinking Foster's sort
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of hamming it up here? And Wallace isn't bad at all, but she's got such a small role. Also,
while I'm not blaming the actors for this, Judy Geeson plays Heidi's landlord, Lacey, and we
discover that her sisters have come to visit, right? So Wallace is Sonny and Patricia Quinn's
Megan. Geeson is a Brit, Wallace is an American, and Quinn is Irish. And despite being sisters,
Lacey curiously has a British accent, despite apparently living in America and owning rental
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property. Sonny is American as they come, and Quinn is so Irish she might as well have a
shamrock tucked behind her ear and be humming the fields of Athenry. Maybe that's deliberate to add
to the surreal nature of the film, but it really felt jarring to me. Then again, I do harp far too
much on accents when I watch a film. Other perennial zombie favorites include Jeff Daniel Phillips as
Whitey and Ken Foray as Herman, rounding out Heidi's crew of DJs on their late night show.
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And both are decent, especially Phillips. Clearly, Whitey not only cares about Heidi,
but he's also romantically interested in her, which is probably unrequited.
His vulnerability is on display, subtle again, a word we've established doesn't often get mentioned
with zombie, but it's still palpable. When you realize this Heidi is using again, you can see
his heartbreak on your screen before seconds later seeing his resolve grow to try to help her through
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it again. And I do also have to give a nod to Sherry Moon Zombie. As baby Firefly, she's manic,
lewd, sociopathic, laughing and licking a cone of tutti frutti ice cream as she embarks on a
murderous rampage. Her cartoonish high pitched voice squawks and screeches some of the most
profane blasphemies ever uttered this side of, well, Meg Foster in Lords of Salem. But in this
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film, she also shows her vulnerability. She's just a recovering addict working her late night job,
trying to make the rent, just shuffling through life with her faithful golden retriever Troy by
her side. She doesn't ask for any of this, simply inherits the curse. I told you, great tragedy.
Some reviewers have said she sleepwalks through her performance and I don't disagree, but I think
that's what's required here. It's understated, but it's convincing. So I'm going to do something
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I have yet to do. For this film, the standout performances will be shared. Both Jeff Daniel
Phillips and Sherry Moon Zombie take the alcholades. These two have an interesting dynamic and they are
what makes the film. Because let's face it, when it comes to the rest of the cast, suffice to say
acting is not the strong suit of this movie. Except for the good boy Troy. I almost gave
the standout performance to him. All he does is sit there, look cute and wag his tail, but that's
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really all that's required of a dog. Moving into cultural context. I think actually my large
digression at the very beginning into Rob Zombie and his musical output, plus his transition to
filmmaking will serve as perfect fodder for this segment already. So let's just say we've done it
just a slightly out of order and move on. The next section is trivia. I do have a few points here.
I mentioned the canine star of this film named Troy, though I can't tell if that's the good boy's
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film name or what he's actually called as well. However, we do know that the goat that Heidi rides
on in that scene I mentioned earlier is named Noodle. A novel title Lords of Salem was also
released that year written by Rob Zombie and BK Evenson. It was based off Zombie's original
script that changed significantly due to rewrites and particularly budgetary limitations. Some of
the visuals and scenes that he had just were not feasible with the amount of money that they were
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given. It would cost much, much more. Interestingly, Evenson's work is known for its spare pros and
Hemingway-esque minimalism and Zombie, as we have surely attested to, is quite the typical maximalist.
I do have a copy of the book and I did read it, I guess, what, 12 or so years ago when it came out.
I remember it just being so. It was a book. Then again, book and film sounds a lot like another
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podcast. Real it. That it could one day be a part of, perhaps. Who knows? Bruce Davison also played
the Reverend Paris in the film version of The Crucible in 1996. That is based on the play of
Arthur Miller, of course, that dealt with the Red Scare and Joseph, I mean, dealt with the Salem
Witch trials. If you know your literary criticism, it technically dealt with both. Really solid film,
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incidentally. It does star THE actor, Daniel Day-Lewis. And I could not verify this one,
but according to IMDb's trivia section, which is also user edited, Zombie described this film as,
quote, If Ken Russell directed The Shining. As our chosen critic Rob Nelson mentioned Russell,
and I thought of The Shining before I read this tidbit, that might be validating to us both.
But like I said, I couldn't officially verify it. But then again, everything you read on the
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internet is true. So all right, we need to go ahead and wrap this thing up. So we'll move into our
shelf esteem segment. For those new or just needing a refresher the way this works, there are five
shelves on my DVD cabinet. So I essentially use the bartender's model. The best stuff goes on the top
shelf, rot gut goes on the bottom shelf, and then we have second shelf, mid shelf and fourth shelf
in between. What oh what to do with this one. I've made it no secret I'm quite fond of it, or
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at the very least I enjoy the visual compositions, the overall feeling of dread and unease it creates.
I think it is the best presented and most well done of all the entries into Zombie's catalog.
And I also get that it's not for everyone, even many horror enthusiasts. Still, it should be
for the horror enthusiasts, I mean. The term elevated horror has been tossed about in discussions
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over the past few years. The term started picking up steam in the mid to late 2010s with films like
The Babadook and It Follows and The Witch, so forth, ushering in slow burn, more intellectually
demanding films that still sent the pleasurable shutter down one's spine. Well, before directors
like Ari Aster and Jordan Peele, however, got their laurels, there were elements of the genre peeking
through for years, decades. Certainly David Lynch's Mulholland Drive has elements, which is a film I've
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also covered in depth on this podcast. As does Kubrick's The Shining. Heck, I mean, you could
argue that all the way back in 1920, the cabinet of Dr. Kaligari, which Zombie pays homage to,
as I said before, in his Living Dead Girl music video, was more cerebral than the average horror
flick. Not that there were a whole lot of horror flicks to choose from at that point. Am I about
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to make the case that Lords of Salem is elevated horror? No, I'm not going that far. I am, however,
going to insistently contend that it flirts with such a distinction, and maybe even brushes against
it, rubs its chin around it, you know, like my cat Athena does my shin sometimes. I don't think
it quite goes as far as elevated horror, but it's a film that understands nuance and foists
atmosphere and suggestion to the forefront. It leaves the viewer with a similar gnawing in the
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pit of the stomach as say The Devils rejects. As I said in the intro, zombie films always leave me
feeling as if I need a shower to wash off the metaphorical filth and degeneracy I've picked up
simply by viewing. Lords of Salem just takes a markedly different approach to coat the spectator
in the same nihilistic sadistic grime. Still, I do try to be rigorous and stick to my rubric,
so I'm going to put my personal feelings aside. For the most part anyway, and put this twisted
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feature on the middle shelf. It's not a second shelf dweller, at least when I take my personal
biases out of it. And that said, even though a lot of critics and viewers alike would place this
sucker on the fourth, maybe even bottom shelf, what do they know? Well, a lot actually, but let
me explain my logic. Middle shelf films are good films that have a few flaws or aren't quite as
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impactful, but still enjoyable and worth your time. Fourth shelf on the other hand are generally
deserved for those who are hardcore fans of the genre. While I certainly think all horror
aficionados should give this film a viewing, I also think there's some who just enjoy cinema
overall who would benefit. A film student, a film scholar, a budding filmmaker, yeah, they all should
at least check out the mise en scene from the composition of each shot, the colors on the set,
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to the music. For anyone who spends far too much time ruminating over the magic of cinema overall,
you're going to at least find this film interesting, I promise. That is unless unabashed blasphemy,
naked and besmeared witches frolicking, or white hipster women with dreadlocks unnerve you,
then you should stick to Aster and Peele. All right, we've got another one wrapped up,
and we're officially mid-October now. I'm three Halloween appropriate films in. October is a
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traditionally busy month for me with midterms and conferences and other obligations all coming
to a head, but I am dedicated to chipping away at the titles of my DVD curio, and because I'm me,
horror is overrepresented by a lot. Thus, I'm going to endeavor to slide another one or two
more frightful features in before Hallows Eve. No promises, but I'm shooting to get a couple more
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episodes in. Either way, I did say there was an animal attack in the lineup, and I'm certainly
going to deliver on that one. For those who don't know, my line of research is animal horror cinema,
so this is essentially my life's work. I know, academia's weird, but hey, they pay me to go and
talk about crap like Sharknado to other academics, so I have the best job in the world. Jaws, of
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course, is the quintessential film of this genre, not the err, but perhaps best executed and the
most longevity, but Mackenzie and I covered that one on our first episode of Real Lit,
so if you want to check that one out, you do have other outlets to do so.
No, next episode, we're choosing an entirely different animal, not a shark. We're going with
a fox. Okay, no, not actually. The fox's name is Megan, but she's not the attacking animal, of
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course. She's the leader of a band of mercs who get tangled with a pretty gnarly, irascible lioness
in the 2020 film Rogue. You hulu subscribers can watch it with ease, while the rest of you would
have to rent or purchase it in order to view the carnage, but if you do watch it or have seen it
and want to talk about any points, feel free to shoot me an email at steven at shelfcriticism.com,
and that is S T E P H E N. You can also find the podcast on Facebook at shelf criticism. And don't
(36:51):
forget about my other podcast, Real Lit, where I'm joined by my colleague, the extraordinary Mackenzie.
You can find that just about anywhere you get your podcast fix, as well as our official website,
reallitpodcast.com and social media at real lit podcast. Remember that's R E E L like a film reel.
And I may have just shamelessly plugged our inaugural episode where we dove into jaws.
(37:12):
I don't know if you've noticed what a bad throat problem I've had this episode, but yeah, apparently
a lot of shameless plugs. Oh well, go back and watch everyone I plugged. Promise you'll enjoy them.
But with Real Lit, even though we didn't plan it, a lot of our early book film combos could be
considered Halloween themed. The next episode was I know what you did last summer. And then our
fourth episode, we discussed the birds, which is of course another animal attack, which may or may
(37:34):
not have been influenced by a certain fellow who studies animal horror cinema. And then in between
that we gawked at zombie strippers. Yes, it's very loosely based on a mid-century French play. And yes,
could make the case that it falls into horror. Just in time for Halloween, Mackenzie now will
be dropping another episode, this time looking at Susan Hill's novel, The Woman in Black and its
film adaptation. In other words, if you like the sound of our voices or just think Real Lit and
(37:56):
Shelf Criticism are full of great insights, which they are, then not only are you our favorite human
being, you're also in the right spot for the best October podcasts across all of, well, yeah, no,
that's going to be snap judgment spooked, isn't it? But we like to think Alice in the Palace is
doing a fine job of getting into the spirit of the spooky season as well. Either way, there's so much
more to come before the ghosts and goblins invade your neighborhood in search of candy bars and
(38:17):
lollipops. Until next time, DVD aficionados, remember to treat yourself to a little shelf
indulgence of your own. Amelia, sing us home. Shelf Criticism is an Owls of Palace production.
(38:41):
This podcast is in no way connected with the educational institutions the host is employed by.
The opinions expressed herein are solely those of the host and do not necessarily reflect the views
of any other organization with which he is affiliated. Most images displayed are public domain.
Images and stills from films, descriptions of scenes and passages from books are used for
educational and critical purposes and not for profit and therefore fall under the terms of fair use.
(39:05):
So did you listen? How was it? Did I listen? Did I listen? Of course I listened. You were fantastic.
(39:27):
Yeah? And I recorded you so you could hear yourself back. Oh no, I hate the sound of my voice.
Well, imagine me. I have to listen to it every day.
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