The Cabin in the Woods (2011)
Directed by Drew Goddard
***SPOILERS***
Don’t let the title fool you—I’m a Joss Whedon fan. Firefly is a fantastic television show.
I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen of Buffy.
My brother has nothing but good things to say about Dollhouse. Dude straight up co-wrote the Toy Story screenplay. Fuck yeah, I like the guy. He clearly loves
film and television, and his projects often cater to individuals who share in
such geekery. And, much like Toy Story pointed
towards, his projects are full of leaps, bounds, and fun, but also interspersed
with social commentary and intelligent observations. He takes the
most mundane aspects of any given genre and makes them full-blown cinematic
spectacles you can enjoy guilt-free, mostly due to the colorful and vibrant
characters. And that’s basically what The
Cabin in the Woods is…except to, like, the nth level. Because, this time
around, Whedon and co-screenwriter (and director) Drew Goddard aren’t just
basking in the modern horror genre’s worst elements and filtering social
commentary through—they are one in the same. But in an attempt to break down
shitty horror films with this dual approach, The Cabin in the
Woods just sort of…becomes one.
And once again, don’t let me fool you—that’s cool. The Cabin in the Woods is wholesome,
bloody fun, and could quite possibly be the most entertaining experience you’ll
have at theaters this year. But The Cabin
in the Woods really should have been so
much better. Whereas projects like Firefly
and Buffy serve well as
genre-embellishers and social commentary, The
Cabin in the Woods is burdened with stretching beyond tongue-in-cheek
throwbacks because the embellishments and social commentary are congruent. I mean, I understand why
Whedon and Goddard chose such a style: they know their audience. We want to see
Marty (Fran Kranz) whip out his bong/coffee mug Kill Bill-style and whack a zombie upside the head. The comic
reveal of a bird smashing into a hologram wall builds tension for Curt’s (Chris
Hemsworth) unfortunate motorcycle mishap. And when Hadley (Bradley Whitford)
comes face to face with his beloved Merman, it is fitting and hilarious
anticlimactic irony.
So Whedon has always been good at breaking down genres,
fueled by a nonchalant “hey, everybody is cool!” attitude. Even the crusty,
hard-nosed Sitterson (Richard Jenkins) seems like a guy you’d like to have a
beer with. It allows the film to steep in a genre’s most unoriginal aspects and
simply enjoy itself. And it’s welcoming for the viewer, who can be geeky
without guilt since Whedon is so adamant that "hey, it’s all good, man." So The Cabin in the Woods always entertaining, but never profound—which is great. We need more movies and
television shows like that. But Cabin in
the Woods is a direct, blatant commentary on modern horror flicks, and it
doesn’t hold the same aura as Firefly
or Buffy. Instead of basking in a
genre, Whedon is basically saying, “This is why modern horror sucks.” And he’s
right: most horror movies SUCK. But
other than the fact that Whedon is acknowledging that horror movies suck…what
is he improving on? Where is taking this idea? Where is the texture? He presents typical horror situations, but they’re so
incredibly layered with geekdom that they only expand on horror clichés by
making those clichés more ridiculous. It's just a more sophisticated and less pathetic version of Epic Movie's desire to spoof pop culture. It all seems so one-note that Whedon requires some profoundness to make
his project more substantial.
Not to iterate that The
Cabin in the Woods is free of substance. At its very core, there is a dual
purpose to Whedon and Goddard’s approach. The college characters of The Cabin in the Woods are brainwashed
by the simulators—cleverly and subtly mentioned in regards to Jules’ (Anna
Hutchinson) blonde highlights—and come to represent archetypal stereotypes
dating back to the good ole days of Nightmare
on Elm Street. They act the way they’re supposed to, but they’re also
self-aware of the ludicrousness—a (very) direct commentary on the insipidness
of modern horror films’ dedication to expendable characters. And the social
commentary, which is still fixated on genre conventions, accordingly utilizes
the simulators and displeased gods as pieces of symbolism. The simulators are
the producers/filmmakers of shitty horror films, blandly shaping their
characters to fulfill genre “guidelines,” and it’s all an attempt to please the
unrelenting gods…or, you know, THE AUDIENCE. We require these characters’ blood, and thus
we are the reason these movies continue to be made. And what’s great: Whedon
and Co. aren’t condemning such a licentiously pleasurable mindset, but simply
pointing out why shitty horror films exist. We hate them…but goddamn do we love
them.
But without the proper characterization, the substance
becomes less…well, substantial. Albeit being a rather lame, frivolous, and
facetious way of conveying the asinine character stereotypes of modern horror
films, there’s not much to assess in Dana’s (Kristen Connolly) candid
observation that, “hey, I’m not a virgin!” It's like when the director in Black Swan shouts, "You must BECOME the black swan!" Yeah, uh huh OK Aronofsky, we got it.
Let’s not kid ourselves: this isn’t The Innkeepers. In the film, Claire’s (Sara Paxton) ghost-ridden situation becomes a direct parallel for her deepest fears and regrets. The ghost bride of The Innkeepers reflects Claire’s hesitance to settle down or aspire for something greater. Thus, the scarier aspects of The Innkeepers gain a double meaning: while astutely filmed and gratingly suspenseful, these scenes carry emotional weight and humanize Claire. But when Dana questionably assesses her popped cherry, there’s no profound or detailed parallel being drawn. It’s simply: Dana appears stupid for the sake of perpetuating the giant metaphor, but look, she’s really not!
Let’s not kid ourselves: this isn’t The Innkeepers. In the film, Claire’s (Sara Paxton) ghost-ridden situation becomes a direct parallel for her deepest fears and regrets. The ghost bride of The Innkeepers reflects Claire’s hesitance to settle down or aspire for something greater. Thus, the scarier aspects of The Innkeepers gain a double meaning: while astutely filmed and gratingly suspenseful, these scenes carry emotional weight and humanize Claire. But when Dana questionably assesses her popped cherry, there’s no profound or detailed parallel being drawn. It’s simply: Dana appears stupid for the sake of perpetuating the giant metaphor, but look, she’s really not!
Because of this lame character assessment, it cripples the
more clever aspects of Whedon and Goddard’s writing. While Dana is being tossed
about by the macho, indestructible zombie leader, we see the simulators
gathering in laughter, toasting to each other and celebrating another
successful apocalypse-free year. And as the comically tension-relieving music
plays alongside Dana’s torturous fling, we see that the simulators (or the
filmmakers) don’t really care about this girl. Sure, they’re sad she’s a pawn
in their game, but she’s just another empty kill to please the gods.
But because Whedon and Goddard are so self-aware of such a throwback, the
parallel becomes entertaining in its own right, but altogether uninteresting. Instead of utilizing horror films' greatest assets and creating substance, the filmmakers simply mimic horror films very tongue-in-cheekily. There is no double
meaning giving the scene substance, as seen in The Innkeepers with Claire, but instead one very obvious meaning:
most horror movies are dumb, so let’s laugh at them.
And yes, we enjoy laughing at them, but we also enjoy them. We all own the sickly innate desire to see somebody’s head chopped off in a film because…well, it’s not real. So, in the end, what is Whedon really saying about modern horror flicks? Not much at all, really. He’s incredibly astute in recognizing and honoring scary movies by diluting their ridiculousness with clever, witty observations and colorful characters, but The Cabin in the Woods is really too clever for its own good. It’s altogether savvy in its approach, but it just sort of sits there, asking you to be impressed, despite being void of any real connectivity on a humane level. The most aggravating part of it all? Joss Whedon fucking knows this. He knows that releasing every monster known to man in a murderous onslaught will be the most entertaining thing you’re likely to witness in film. He knows that he can sidestep legitimate and “traditional” characterization conventions and produce a bloody good ole time at the movies. It’s why I love Joss Whedon, and it’s why I hate Joss Whedon. I know he’s smart enough to step up to the next level, but he’s admirable for remaining adamant in his crowd-pleasing approach—so much so that when the monsters are released by way of a confoundingly convenient “monster release” button, we don’t really much care about the profound aspects of The Cabin in the Woods. But upon contemplation, there’s not much to say about the film. It is what it is, just like Joss Whedon always will be.
And yes, we enjoy laughing at them, but we also enjoy them. We all own the sickly innate desire to see somebody’s head chopped off in a film because…well, it’s not real. So, in the end, what is Whedon really saying about modern horror flicks? Not much at all, really. He’s incredibly astute in recognizing and honoring scary movies by diluting their ridiculousness with clever, witty observations and colorful characters, but The Cabin in the Woods is really too clever for its own good. It’s altogether savvy in its approach, but it just sort of sits there, asking you to be impressed, despite being void of any real connectivity on a humane level. The most aggravating part of it all? Joss Whedon fucking knows this. He knows that releasing every monster known to man in a murderous onslaught will be the most entertaining thing you’re likely to witness in film. He knows that he can sidestep legitimate and “traditional” characterization conventions and produce a bloody good ole time at the movies. It’s why I love Joss Whedon, and it’s why I hate Joss Whedon. I know he’s smart enough to step up to the next level, but he’s admirable for remaining adamant in his crowd-pleasing approach—so much so that when the monsters are released by way of a confoundingly convenient “monster release” button, we don’t really much care about the profound aspects of The Cabin in the Woods. But upon contemplation, there’s not much to say about the film. It is what it is, just like Joss Whedon always will be.
I agree with this. Aside from a Titanic-sinking sized Iceberg of Wit, the film doesn't DO too much. And is missing the human heft. And this is probably intended. The movie, while mocking the genre, mimics the genre. Which is maybe polite?
ReplyDeleteLike...it's one thing to make fun of someone for playing soccer, when you're also a soccer player: you're sort of making fun of yourself, so it's cool. It's another thing to make fun of someone who is a nerd because you're cool and you fucking hate nerds.
If Whedon had made a GOOD horror movie, while also mocking bad horror movies...that's like...mega dick. So maybe he's being humble?
Or maybe, like you said, he didn't feel like making a good one? Or maybe he wasn't good enough to? I didn't think "Serenity" was very good. I saw it years and years ago. Maybe I'll change my mind?
But. In the long run, I think the important thing about this movie is that, whether well executed or not, it called the genre out on its shit. So maybe it is like...a really poorly executed intervention. Like a heroine addict is shooting up while yelling at someone "You're a heroine addict and it's ruining all of our lives." Where was I going with this? I think I'm off what I wanted to say. Anyway. The genre no longer has an excuse to fail to innovate. Which means this movie is a call to arms: make a better horror movie, or become part of the joke.
Well, like I said, I don't find Whedon to be condemning anyone. It's not the filmmakers faults, because we're the ones asking for these films. And he is blaming us, the audience, but it's not demeaning. It's OK to like shitty horror movies. But I think there's a general grumble among the moviegoing community that modern horror movies suck, so Whedon's commentary is more or less matter-of-fact instead of insulting. I just wish it could have been more than a homage.
DeleteOoooo. Good clarification. I definitely missed that distinction. And that's quite an important distinction. I don't know why I never realized the Ancient Ones were supposed to be us viewers?????? I mean, I even read it in your article. Dumb.
ReplyDeleteI don't know what comment I have now? None? Yeah, I guess none. Just agreement.
So how would he have condemned anyone? By not having the 'gods' as parallels and just flat out saying it? I think the average modern day thriller lover (not to be too stereotypical) wouldn't quite notice Whedon's hidden meanings. Hell, I didn't understand it to its fullest. And unless you're a movie critic who spends hours after the movie thinking about and critiquing it, I don't think many others will either.
ReplyDeleteI didn't mean to claim that Whedon should be condemning anyone. I noted that it's "awesome" that The Cabin in the Woods feels content with being a shitty horror movie because...well, shitty horror movies are fun. We like them. Watching some slut's hand stabbed with a knife by zombie is innately and sickeningly pleasing to us--but it's OK, because it's not real. Therefore, there's no reason to condemn anyone. But because Whedon does make these parallels and perpetuate pieces of symbolism, The Cabin in the Woods goes beyond what an average modern day thriller lover would hope for. So in terms of entertainment, there's no denying that Whedon gave these people what they want. But because he searched for some form of profoundness, it has the right to be dissected as well, and I found it to be rather barren of anything humane or substantial.
Delete