At first, I was going to watch this film and then the remake from 2009 and be all “scholarly” and compare and contrast them, with a comment on how the more society changes, the more it stays the same. And then I realized, I’m a fucking idiot. Now, eventually I may watch the remake, but NOT TODAY.

Holy crap.

Okay, let’s start with the fact that Wes Craven is the “Master of Horror” which I assume was the nickname given to him by his first grade teacher because there is no way this sick stuff just pops into the head of a mentally fit 33 year old. Jesus probably saw less horrors in the desert with the devil than Wes Craven saw in his coffee swirls.

Anyways, I knew this was a slasher film, as all Wes Craven movies are, but I didn’t realize it WASN’T a satire (like the Scream franchise). I had previously chatted about The Hills Have Eyes but thought even that was a tongue-in-cheek, over-the-top comment on the genre. Instead I was in for a whirlwind 84 minutes of gruesome terror with this roller coaster.

First off, most of the movie doesn’t even take place in a house, so there goes your trust in the filmmakers to take you on a lovely ride down a Connecticut dead end road. Instead, it’s a lot of woods. 13 acres according to the film poster, but I don’t remember that number being mentioned in the film. Perhaps it’s in the deleted scenes along with my interrupted sleep cycles.

A teenager (Mari) and her friend from the “bad part of the city,” Phyllis, head into Manhattan to see a concert. On the way, they decide to buy weed off a random stranger standing on his stoop. I love the 70’s. You see someone just standing there, think “they look like they are high,” and then casually ask if they are a dealer. If they look like they are high, kids, they DON’T have any extra. I promise. Go get a medical marijuana script like normal people.

However, the audience knows he’s not just some random guy, because while the girls are taking their jaunt into the city, the film parallels with news reports of two criminals violently escaping from prison with the help of a girlfriend and the (worse?) criminal’s son. All four are psychotic, but the convicts are sadists as well. In a move seen coming from 1000 After-School Specials away, the two teens are kidnapped and raped in the apartment.

The next morning, this vile troupe isn’t done with these two girls, so they toss them in the trunk of their car and decide to drive up to Connecticut to escape the police. In a coincidence that increases the terror, their car somehow breaks down on Mari’s family’s property. WHILE the cops are inside the house chatting with the parents’ about their missing teenager.

I’ll just ramble through the next 40 minutes because it was very disturbing and I’d rather not think about the mise-en-scène or the soundtrack (which is sung by one of the actors who plays the criminal). Anyways, both girls end up dead, and the four low-lifes decide to hide out in the nearby home (which of course is the home of Mari’s parents). The parents eagerly let them in, even while they know their teenager is missing. I’m sorry, if my kid was missing and Oprah, Beyonce, and the ghost of Mr. Rogers came to my door, I’m not fucking inviting them in for dinner and a warm bed for the night.

They start to suspect that these people are dope fiends (the father is a doctor who just HAPPENS to specialize in addiction), which IS correct. The son of the escaped convict (Junior), is addicted to heroin. So he’s the weak link that makes this whole chain of events come crashing down. They overhear the criminals talking about where the daughter’s body is, so once they confirm that yes, the daughter is dead, they don’t call the police. No, instead they hatch a plan to torture the criminals through sex acts and Home Alone style booby traps.

I read up on what is was like to make this film, and how the actresses were absolutely terrified the entire time, and also it was banned in Australia until about 2000. Wes Craven originally wanted people to think they were going to see a snuff film dramatization. Which….could be a genre? I don’t know. Wes Craven may be dead, but he’s haunting my nightmares still. Oh damnit, that’s one of his movies too.