New Obsession: Rob Zombie

Within the past few months, I've developed a bit of an obsession with Rob Zombie. I'm not sure where this is coming from - he's far from my favorite musician or director - but there it is nonetheless.

Like most people, my assumptions about Rob Zombie were almost entirely based on his name and his image - two things which tell you virtually nothing about a person. But then again, when he appears on an album cover with a Charles Manson "X" on his forehead, a pentagram in the background, no pupils, and that garish "monster" type of lighting, the reaction is almost predetermined. Having never listened to his music or seen his movies, I left pretty well alone and pretty much forgot about him.

And then I heard "Dragula" in full.

It was used perfectly in The Matrix soundtrack, and watching the video you see someone who's actually doing some interesting things visually and musically... but I still had my reservations. After all - one song doesn't amount to much in this crazy world. A few years after, though, Rob Zombie made himself positively infamous when his House of 1000 Corpses was all but barred from public view until upstart company Lionsgate bought the rights and "dared" to release it. That gave me my first taste of what Zombie was capable of.

Frankly, it didn't impress. The story wasn't particularly inventive, and for a film supposedly so gruesome and grotesque, it didn't seem particularly outrageous either. The film did stick in my mind, though. Sid Haig and Bill Moseley turned in some great work, and a few scenes were genuinely chilling and disturbing. The final product was mediocre, but it was obvious Zombie had potential.

His next film was what really caught my attention. The Devil's Rejects is pretty extraordinary: a sick, unsettling experience nevertheless full of humor and charm... Now I'll admit, there is not a single noble or "good" character in the entire film, but it takes a special kind of talent to make a band of psychopaths watchable... and even, in a twisted way, sympathetic. Despite all the death and mayhem they've wrought, in the end you still kind of like these people for some reason. The Devil's Rejects is not a pleasant film to watch - this is not fun "violence" (quote marks emphasized), a la Quentin Tarantino - but it is a great one nonetheless. There is nothing quite like it.

And that's really what intrigues me about Rob Zombie. At times, his fixation with murderers, madmen, and white trash/hillbilly subculture verges on caricature - almost as though his films are populated by side show freaks - but there is nevertheless a sincerity and deep understanding that sets his work apart. For what ever reason, Zombie understands that dark, grisly world, and he can intellectualize it. That's what differentiates The Devil's Rejects from not only most other films, but even his own body of work: the most disturbing things in the movie have little to do with blood or gore; the most devastating pain is mental in its origin.

His output since then has not been as daring. Halloween was a fairly disappointing venture into typical "slasher" fare; and Halloween II, though full of some great moments and a very good film overall, just came up a bit short... the potential was there, it just got lost in the body count.

Two for four, only one of which is a ringing endorsement. Not a very good average. And yet, as mentioned, there's something intriguing about what Mr Zombie is up to. It's not as though he's breaking new ground, but he's also not being purposely derivative (again, a la Tarantino)... Rob Zombie is trying for greatness, and he wants to do it on his own terms. I respect that. He has a unique outlook, an uncompromising vision, and an understanding of his material which rivals any filmmaker. And yes, I mean any filmmaker. He does not rank among the greats, but this is a man who swings for the fences at each and every turn; he is not content to turn in standard work, and he will play it safe for no one, least of all himself. Makes me excited to see what he'll do next. Bring on Lords of Salem.

Directors I Gave Up On: Kevin Smith

There was a time when I actually was a pretty big Kevin Smith fan; and to this day, I still stand by a portion of his work. No matter what he does to further derail his career, for instance, Chasing Amy is still an excellent movie. And for all their faults, I love Clerks II and enjoy the sentiment behind Dogma. So what happened? How did I go from an outspoken fan (I even bought some of the infamous "inaction" figures and a T-shirt) to a soft-spoken critic? Really, not much changed with me - Smith kind of did this to himself.

The problem is Kevin Smith's sensibilities apparently never matured past middle school, and to this day (now in his mid-40s) a vast majority of his humor remains scatological and sexually immature. Much time is devoted to semen and questions of sexual identity. Not to sound as though I'm above a good dirty joke, but after a while it just starts to feel... well, dull.

What happened really is that audiences pigeon-holed him... and then he pigeon-holed himself. With the string of Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, and Dogma, Kevin Smith established himself as a sharp-tongued, subversive independent - sharing his frank, unromanticized view of the world on a range of topics, not the least of them pop culture and religion. But he always wanted to expand and try something new. Professionally, this included branching into different media altogether (the early 2000s saw a failed animated series, and he has penned and continues to pen a number of comic books), as well as more diverse and mature material. Clerks and Mallrats were about disenfranchised youth, whiling away the hours with inane conversation. Chasing Amy was a departure, and at the same time a return to form. Mallrats - despite its third nipple gag and Porky's-inspired laissez-faire nudity - felt like an attempt to sell out and make it big; Chasing Amy was smaller, quieter, more realistic - a candid look at the vicissitudes of love. Dogma saw a further expansion of his creative talents: with its mix of humor, drama, fantasy, and faith, it is undoubtedly Smith's most ambitious film, and it obviously came from a very personal place. Dogma also marked the first time he ventured out of the "View Askewniverse" - bringing in such heavyweights as Alan Rickman, George Carlin, Linda Fiorentino, Matt Damon, even musician Alanis Morissette and cinematographer Robert Yeoman; while not his best film, it is perhaps his most impressive achievement.

Dogma is also an important demarcation point, in my opinion, because it's after Dogma that we can really see Smith start to struggle with his place in the filmmaking community. It seems he wasn't sure what to do: the kid from New Jersey who had cut his teeth in low-budget fare and had found success with some of the unlikeliest of subject matters, who always had an opinion, suddenly seemed at a loss for words... So he went back to the well and reintroduced the central characters of Clerks, this time in animated form. The show was quickly cancelled (only to find cult success on disc), and he promptly followed it up with the ultimate self-serving/self-abasing tribute: Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back. Now, let me make clear that I still enjoy his output to this point. The Clerks cartoon is extremely funny - same with Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back - but they're also incredibly derivative, to say the least. They are not the work of a man challenging himself with new subjects, characters, or interests: they are the result of a man at a creative crossroads, who ultimately retreats back to familiar, redundant material, rather than risk failure.

He did take a chance, however, and unfortunately failed miserably with the complete public trashing of Jersey Girl, a film which really isn't all that bad but is memorable simply for its mediocrity. I mention it here because this seems to me to be Smith's breaking point. He had weathered criticism, insecurity, and financial ruin, but never before had it all happened with the same film, and never to this severity. He bounced back with Clerks II, making arguably his best film despite "retiring" the Askewniverse, but even with that success you could tell he was just throwing his hands up, uncertain of what to do and apparently employing a kind of shotgun approach to his career. He followed that quickly with Zack and Miri Make a Porno, a cry for attention that audiences mostly ignored... After that came Cop Out, an absolute disaster commercially and critically. Smith proponents argue that the film would have been better had he written it himself, but they are clearly grasping at straws: whatever script Cop Out had was obviously ignored in favor of improvisation, and it seems like Smith had either no control over the actors, or he didn't really care about the final product.

Smith's most recent title, Red State, is supposedly his final film - but, then, he has made such claims before. This fascinates me. According to interviews and his own web site, Smith is taking himself out of filmmaking - ostensibly because there is no future in the film world, and he would like to devote himself solely to web-based media. If this is sincere, more luck to him, but this to me sounds more like a man giving up, not taking a stand.

I think the failures and the vitriol got to be too much for him. When he was younger, Smith used to tour with his movies and do his famous Q&As for free - just because he had so much fun doing it... then he started to charge for it... then he started to charge more... and then he started to become hostile. Smith makes it no secret that his humor was developed as a defense mechanism for his obesity, but over the last few years he's started to get kind of nasty and impatient with people, even his fans. He would say things in a kind of frank (even somewhat rude) way, but there was always a winking assurance that no matter what was said, it was all in good fun... lately, he's lost the wink, and sometimes it seems as though his goal is simply to shock, or (worse) to hurt.

All of this frustration and anger culminated in Red State - itself a very angry and spiteful film - and then compounded when critics and audiences again ignored and/or decried it. Smith's original intention for Red State was that he would finance the entire theatrical run independently, eventually selling rights to the highest bidder in a highly publicized auction... but when the bidding price wasn't as high as he'd hoped, and the film hadn't generated the type of interest he'd planned for, suddenly the auction was withdrawn, he kept the film to himself, and he seemed to give the metaphorical finger to anyone and everyone who questioned him.

Within just a few years, Kevin Smith has gone from the everyman filmmaker - living proof that you could accomplish something kind of extraordinary simply on wit and moxie - and then lost it all... Actually, worse than that - it's not like Smith gave it his all and had it taken from him, he simply gave up. This ribald raconteur had a gift, but he lost it to anger and ego.