The Evil Dead (1981) Film Review and Summary
SOFT 8/10
Film audiences have become disillusioned to what the genre of ‘horror’ can be. Many expect various aesthetic extremes that a director has to stand by throughout his creative process. Prototypical horror flicks are usually adjacent to films like Halloween (1978) and The Conjuring (2013) that rely a lot on the fear of the unknown as an easy method to cash in on shock-value and jumpscares. In contrast, films like Midsommar (2019) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991) have placed more emphasis on the subtext that precedes horrifying events in order to elicit a more thrilling, rather than surprising, response. The Evil Dead (1981) fits itself within these two ends of the spectrum as a film that has the reputable camp of explicit horror alongside the stylistic signatures that you’d find in a film directed by an auteur.
The film starts with a comfortable trope, a group of friends are heading to a sketchy cabin in the middle of nowhere, which they know nothing about besides the fact that it was cheap. Immediately, director Sam Raimi’s creative vision is felt when the camera begins to take on a life of its own as it twists and turns to set its sights on the clique’s car. Then, they arrive at the cabin and the camera is focused on a loudly swaying porch chair which abruptly stops once Scott (Richard DeManincor) finds the house keys. In coalition with Raimi’s famous dutch angles, this entire introduction ominously personifies the inanimate environment that they are entering as if it has been waiting for them.
Raimi’s world-building is eccentric and expressive in itself. The lodge consists of many artifacts, such as a spare bone (a human’s?), a rusty saw and other obscurely intimidating items hanging from its ceilings. There is clearly an eerie history at this location, and Raimi hammers this home with his campy signs of foreshadowing, such as a transitional scene that begins with a blender full of red liquid (to say that this indicates what follows is an understatement).
Even though Raimi doesn’t mess around when it comes to the actual horror he wants to showcase, he still takes time to develop the characters enough to understand their roles. Actually, he manages to do this in only two or three scenes. The first one being a sequence where the group hears noises coming from the cellar. Scott condescends to Shelly (Teresa Tilly) and Cheryl (Ellen Sandweiss) about their concerns with the noise, certifying him as the stereotypical patriarchal macho-man and the other two as expendable supporting characters that we know will soon be victims of inevitability. After Scott doesn’t return from exploring underground, Ash (Bruce Campbell) appeases his girlfriend, Linda (Betsy Baker) and the other girls as he goes to search for his friend. Ash is the sympathetic moral compass of the film, with Linda being the main determinant of this. There is a tender scene between the two that is structured as if an imminent jumpscare is approaching, but instead it dramatizes the simple gesture of him gifting her jewelry.
During Ash and Scott’s time in the cellar, they find a book that unlocks the evil spirits of the forest they inhabit. These entities begin to possess the characters one-by-one, leaving Ash to fend for himself. Even though fighting what are basically zombies is nothing new in horror, the way that Raimi executes it deserves praise. Instead of solely depending on the abundant amounts of gore, violence and blood that The Evil Dead contains, the absurdity of the film is what makes it constantly engaging. Most of the runtime is spent in the house, and there is one particular extended sequence where Ash is in one specific room. It lasts about 5-10 minutes, which is a lot for virtually no action happening, but there’s a playful banter between the literal deformed monsters, Ash and Scott. As Scott moans in pain, the living corpse of Cheryl mocks his agony in a moment that makes for great comedic timing.
Ash’s relationship with these devilish beings also develops, as he is initially hesitant to fight back because of his loyalty to the once-friends, but his disdain for these evil spirits grows so intensely that violence becomes his intuition.
The Evil Dead feels as though it was a 50s or 60s horror film with late 20th century stylization because of how blunt the action is, and how tongue-and-cheek the dialogue is. This correlation feels intentional as well with the couple moments of classic horror homage. One scene finds Scott entering a bathroom like the murderer in Psycho (1960) just to pull back the curtain to find nothing but an assault when he turns around. Another example is the film’s finale is where it pays respect to Alien (1979) in a montage of limbs protruding from the inside of the zombies’ bodies. This scene in question accentuates the cosmetic accomplishments of the film in all of its eccentricity.
By no means is horror my favorite genre of film, but it is impossible for me to not love one like The Evil Dead. It is a devastatingly serious film that doesn’t take itself too seriously, all while showcasing some of the most egregiously repulsive exhibitions of what people call ‘movie magic’ in its aesthetic composition. Yes, Sam Raimi is now known for his work with Marvel, but even when you watch something like Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022), his roots are always apparent.