THE CABIN IN THE WOODS
People talk about The Cabin in the Woods as a post-modern horror film, and it sort of is, but the word I keep coming back to is ‘maximalist’.
That makes it hard to write about. The film is essentially its own essay. Taking into account the fact that talking about anything, even its opening scene, could outright ruin the experience of watching The Cabin in the Woods, and it’s almost impossible to know where to start.
So I'm just going to just spoil everything. Consider this fair warning. It’s a film worth seeing, and worth seeing with as few preconceptions as possible. A lot of the joy of Cabin in the Woods lies in discovering it.
If you haven’t seen it yet, I hope the fact that I singled it out of a great year of movies is all the encouragement you’ll need to check it out. If you have… well, I hope you’re sitting comfortably.
Cabin in the Woods constantly delights in pulling out not just the rug but the entire floor out from under you.
The film's 90-minute running time is divided into rough thirds. It's actually a pretty great American Pie-style teen comedy for its first half hour, mixing up gross-out humour with genuine wit: Five College Kids. One RV. The Holiday of a Lifetime.
Then a hatch opens up in the floor of the cabin, and the five of them step into the basement, and accidentally raise the dead. The Buckners, to be precise, a “zombie redneck torture family”. The kids start to get picked off, one by one, in a variety of gruesome ways, as they try and escape the cabin.
Then, just as it looks like they’re all dead and we can all go home, the film takes a left turn into sheer insanity. The two surviving kids find a hidden underground hatch, and step behind the curtain, and help bring about the end of the world.
…Except it’s not that simple, even structurally. The whole film jumps between these kids and an entirely different set of characters. They’re actually the first characters on screen, as the film cuts from its credit sequence showing various historical depictions of human sacrifice to two guys discussing their wives over a coffee. Pull back: they’re in a lab of some variety. Pull back: they’re monitoring the kids.
Over the course of the film, we pull back and pull back (it’s here that Goddard’s Lost pedigree shines clearest) until the full truth of the situation is apparent. They’re the guys who make the horror movies – manipulate the kids, prep the locations, and drop in the killer clowns/zombies/unicorns until all the kids are dead. They’re making them for the benefit of the Old Ones, world-destroying demons whose hunger for human sacrifices apparently got a whole lot funkier circa 1968.
It’s easy to see where the post-modern thing comes from. We’re watching the film from over these guys’ shoulders – they’re the filmmakers, checking conditions are just right on their banks of monitors, and the audience, cracking a beer and whooping as the blonde pulls her top off.
On its own, that could make for a reasonably interesting film, but nothing particularly new – a combination of Scream and Michael Haneke’s Funny Games. Trying to force the audience to question why they’re here watching these acts of unspeakable violence is a bit of a well-worn furrow for horror films.
And I think that, for people who found the film a bit clever-clever or less original than it thought it was, this is where they stopped. But I think that misunderstands the film a little.
It’s a film about pretty much everything. The catharsis of violence in movies, yes, as both a good and bad thing. How that ties into our need to see people punished. The way the older generation can view the youth in tabloid-simplistic terms. How young beautiful bodies are commoditised. Reality TV. The fact that the younger generation genuinely are arrogant and selfish. Whether it’s right to force people to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Whether it’s right to say no. How quickly we can become desensitised to that question, and to graphic violence. The rise of ‘torture porn’. How we cope with a violent world. How we cope with our jobs, unethical as they might be. The banality of evil. How we cope with boredom.
Pause for breath. It’s a film which tries turning on every switch, is what I’m saying. Even better, it’s on everyone’s side. There are, at least, ten characters in this film, and Cabin in the Woods is interested in all of their viewpoints. The guys behind the curtain aren’t depicted as straight-up bad guys – they’re sympathetic and, more importantly, they get a lot of the best lines. Meanwhile, those last two survivors – who are in many ways, the exact opposite of the cast of Buffy and Angel, unwilling to sacrifice themselves, even to save the world – aren’t damned for that decision.
It’s a really inclusive horror movie, and not just in terms of its characters. The thing that hurts the most about Cabin in the Woods being pigeonholed as a po-mo clever-cleverfest is that implies it thinks it's better than its audience, or at least the audience of your standard slasher flick.
It’s happy for the viewer to take the ‘leave your brain at the door, and enjoy the ride’ approach, and just enjoy the ride. There are gruesome murders, and action, and jokes, and boobs (and abs), and a mile-a-minute plot.
The violence is being shown from multiple angles on screens, but people keep walking in front of the action with beers and cocktails.
It’s a sharp bit of commentary, yes, but it’s also sheer sensory overload, and that’s good. Switching your brain off for two hours isn’t a bad thing. That’s one of the most beautiful things about art.
I keep coming back to the poster for the film, which is actually a masterful bit of marketing. Its Rubik’s Cube cabin gives nothing away, but hints to expect something a bit different, a reshuffling of the usual stock elements.
It’s a great visual metaphor, a picture worth a good chunk of the 1,351 words I’ve written so far.
Cabin in the Woods is a puzzle to be solved, something to turn over in your mind. It hands the viewer chunks of knowledge, and challenges them to put it all together before the film gets round to explaining them.
Meanwhile, it’s doing the same thing itself, taking the hundreds of horror films Goddard and Whedon have seen in the past and constructing its own internal logic for them so they fit neatly alongside one another. It doesn’t just point out that the characters in these films do things you’d never do, hahaha, it actually tries to find a reason why they’re behaving like that – they’re being manipulated by unseen forces, spraying pheromones and closing off doors – and explains why they’re there in the first place. It even takes a moment to explain why horror traditions are so different around the world.
That’s nicked straight from Escher – an optical illusion which hurts your brain (and eyes) to look at at first, but which, the longer you look at it, starts to makes sense.
Or is it a Picasso, and the Cubist idea that you can only get at the truth by viewing it from all different angles? The film, like the image on the poster, is something multi-faceted, as I hope I’ve shown. Many of those facets
are contradictory: It cares for all of its characters; it’s totally happy to throw them to the wolves. Jules is being mind-controlled into wiggling her bum around in hot pants; she’s an attractive girl wiggling her bum around in hot pants. The film begs to be picked apart; it’s sheer escapism.
Cabin in the Woods both has its cake and eats it, to such an extent that Whedon and Goddard must’ve stumbled on the secret for an infinite cake-machine. That might be off-putting. It might sound ethically unstable. It might sound like a film-student manifesto. It actually does undermine the scariness of the film.
But for every piece you don’t like, there are usually three others running simultaneously you might enjoy. You can opt to ignore a layer – like closing one eye behind your 3D glasses – and still be bombarded with enough stimulation/ideas/excitement/stuff for a film twice the length. That’s what I mean when I say Cabin in the Woods is a maximalist horror film, and it’s what I mean when I say that it’s the single most interesting film I saw in 2012.