Day 73: It's Only A Movie, Only A Movie, Only A Movie....

THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (1972)
Directed by Wes Craven
Starring: Sandra Cassell, Lucy Grantham, David Hess, Fred J. Lincoln, Marc Sheffler, Jeramie Rain, Gaylord St. James, Cynthia Carr, Marshall Anker, Martin Cove

By now, all of my readers (and I love all three of you) know how I feel about films that are hyped up beyond what they can possibly deliver.   And this is one of those cases.  Up until now, the only thing I knew about this film was the classic poster that claimed that this was no less than the most harrowing film you will ever sit through.  And it really isn't.  It is and exercise in extremely poor taste - and an effective one, at that - but as far as being scary?  Not so much.

The story centers around two high school girls; Mari (Cassell) and Phyllis (Grantham) who go into the city to see a rock concert.  While trying to score some grass, the come across Bob Dylan Junior (Sheffler), a junkie who just busted out of prison with his brother Krug (Hess), child molester and all-around sex fiend Weasel (Lincoln) and slutty gun moll Sadie (Rain).  The group drives the two girls out to the woods where they beat, rape and eventually kill them.  In the ultimate ironic twist, the group find shelter for the night in the house where one of the girls lived.  And once her parents find out what happened, they quickly and effectively plot revenge.

Now all of this sounds like typical horror/slasher/exploitation movie stuff, and it is.  And, handled the right way, it can be plenty scary.  But the way Craven directs this picture, you'd think it was a comedy.  The soundtrack is upbeat, there are a couple of bumbling cops (Kove, Edwards) who provide comic relief, and the banter between Mari and her parents is like something out of a sitcom.  About the only thing that's handled seriously are the most brutal scenes in the film.  And even in those scenes, the actors playing the baddies act like they're in a comedy.  And the effect is not so much scary as much as it is disturbing.

And this may have been what Wes Craven was going for, but there's not a lot of balance.  We switch from one scene in which the girls are put through some of the most humiliating scenarios imaginable to another scene with the two Keystone Cops who get clue after clue after clue about the whereabouts of the girls, but can't put two and two together.  We go from tragedy to comedy in a matter of seconds.  And I don't know about you, but when I see a girl brutalized on screen, the last thing I want you to cut to is a scene where two cops try to hitch a ride on the roof of a chicken truck.  Sorry, but I don't feel much like laughing after that.

About the only real tension we get in the movie is in the third act, when Mari's parents discover what happened to her.  They quickly devise a plot almost as elaborate as Macauly Culkin's burglar traps in Home Alone.  And they do it rather quickly, not taking any time to mourn their loss.  Of course, where Home Alone was cartoony in it's violence, here we have the exact opposite.  In this house, revenge is a dish best served with a chainsaw.

The Last House on the Left is an effective screamer, to be sure, but it is almost laughably uneven.  There's no emotional arc.  I guess that's hardly surprising for a film that was originally conceived as a hardcore porno version of Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring (!?). And it did make enough of an impact to get Wes Craven noticed.  And as far as debut films go, I've seen worse.  But it's not the harrowing experience the poster told me it would be.  It was right about one thing, though: "It's only a movie."  No more, no less.