The Last Exorcism And Then Some, Apparently

The current found-footage horror craze began in 1999 with the still-effective The Blair Witch Project, a movie that ditched its videotaped format for a more traditional narrative with its first (and mercifully, only) sequel, the dreadful Book Of Shadows: Blair Witch 2. One of the more moderately successful found-footage knockoffs, 2010's The Last Exorcism, loses the shaky, handheld camera for its sequel as well. The cinematic conceit of a camera crew capturing an exorcism as it's being performed on a naive, demon-possessed farm girl was the chief obstacle to the original Last Exorcism being a better film, I thought. A potentially interesting third-act twist gave way to a hasty, unfulfilling wrap-up, since the story reached a point where no one in their right mind would still be holding a camera or a boom mike--they'd be running for their lives instead. The Last Exorcism Part II (a title only slightly less laughable than, say, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer) may have jettisoned one overused trend, but it replaces it with an even more annoying one. Like last month's Dark Skies, this is another movie that features eighty or so minutes of frustratingly vague buildup, followed by ten minutes of confusing, mostly offscreen mayhem, followed quickly by the end credits...and, presumably, another installment to come. The movie opens somewhat promisingly as Nell Sweetzer (Ashley Bell) mysteriously appears in a New Orleans couple's home, dirty, dishevelled, and with no memory of what happened to her in the first film. I can relate--I haven't seen it since it was first released, and other than a Rosemary's Baby-style twist about a cult that wanted the baby she had inside her, it's kind of a blur, and the new film doesn't do a lot to explain it either. Anyway, Nell winds up in a home for troubled girls, where she is set up with a job cleaning rooms in a hotel. The shy, repressed young girl begins to open up and make friends, first with the other girls in the home and later with a co-worker (Spencer Treat Clark--Bruce Willis' kid from Unbreakable, all grown up). However, it's not long before Nell starts being tormented by weird phone calls, the ghost of her father, and out-of-focus figures lurking in the background, and her new life starts to unravel when clips of her exorcism are found by her housemates on YouTube (begging the annoyingly unanswered question--who exactly uploaded the footage?). The demon Abalam is not done with her yet, it seems, and a mysterious (and frankly, pretty incompetent) organization of do-gooders takes one last stab at purging Nell of her infernal suitor. William Friedkin's classic original The Exorcist turns 40 this year, and the fact that people are still ripping it off today is a testament to that film's power. Even though the idea of a loved one suddenly acting like a hostile, dangerous stranger is a scary idea, none of the annual knockoffs really ever seem to bring much new to the table. The original Last Exorcism at least tried to meld it with the found-footage trend, but the sequel doesn't even have that going for it. Ashley Bell, with her strangely old/young features, is effective and sympathetic, but the first film also had Patrick Fabian as the charming, funny priest who tries to save her. No one else in this film leaves much of an impression, and Bell can only do so much on her own. Director Ed Gass-Donnelly gives it his best shot, with lots of attempts to convey a creepy, paranoiac atmosphere during brightly-lit afternoon scenes, but he falls back too much on the ol' "made ya jump" combination of two or three frames of something scary undercut by a loud noise. As in the first movie, Nell has a weird fondness for red Doc Martens, but I'm not quite sure what they're supposed to be a symbol for. Tempation? Materialism? An out-of-place reference to The Wizard Of Oz? Once again, producer Eli Roth proves himself to be a canny capitalist, making this movie on the cheap for a quick turnaround on his investment (the movie already made its budget back on a still-lackluster opening weekend of $7 million), but too many mediocre movies like this with his name on them can only hurt his legacy as a horror icon. I've still got high hopes for Roth's upcoming Netflix series Hemlock Grove (debuting this April), but I hope and pray that this Exorcism truly is his last.

I Survived The GORETORIUM!

When I visited Las Vegas with a group of friends for a wedding last weekend, there were a few things I knew I had to do before I left—see the desert, lose some money at the slot machines—but as a horror devotee, my top priority was to make a trip to Eli Roth’s new Goretorium attraction. I’d been following its progress since the release of this bloody teaser some months back, and there was no way I was missing out. My girlfriend Hillary is far too easily scared for such things (“I don’t like it when things jump out!” is a common reason why she won’t watch a lot of horror movies with me), but thankfully my pal Jess Smallwood was also in town for the wedding. Hillary refers to Jess as my “Horror Wife”, since she loves horror movies as much as I do, if not moreso. Jess is so committed, in fact, that she’s trying to watch a whopping 365 horror movies this year, which makes my paltry 31-film October attempt look pretty lame by comparison. In any event, Jess was going to visit the Goretorium even if she had to go it alone, but we partnered up to see the place for ourselves.

Located at the corner of Harmon and Las Vegas Blvd., the Goretorium is fronted by a bar and some suitably grotesque wall art, not to mention a chandelier constructed from skeletal remains and blood-filled hypodermic needles. There’s also a projection system that makes it look as though there are bugs crawling all over the floor, and an electric chair that you can have your picture taken in. The armrests actually deliver a mild electric shock—one that apparently doesn’t work as a deterrent, because I kept stupidly putting my hands on them. It took me about three zaps before I clued in to keep my hands up.

After a fairly long wait to get in to the actual attraction, followed by an even longer wait within the entrance, the fun began in earnest. While waiting, guests are treated to a history of the Goretorium’s location—the attraction is located on the site of the fictitious Delmont Hotel and Casino, founded in the 1960s by a deranged family of psychos and cannibals. According to the placards in the lobby and the accompanying news footage that plays on a loop in the waiting area, the police raided the Delmont and found the bodies of hundreds of unlucky guests in the basement. The murderous family members either killed themselves or were apprehended, with the exception of young Victor Delmont, who is said to have disappeared into the desert. Upon finally entering the attraction, we quickly learned what happens to any individual foolish enough to have his or her cellphone out. Our elevator, instead of lifting us up to view the Strip from the Hotel’s upper floors, plunged us into the hellish depths of the Delmont, where we were chased through a series of increasingly gory torture dens. We visited a cannibal’s kitchen, a twisted beauty salon, and an infernal wedding chapel. There was even a walkway that led us through a rotating cylinder that appeared to be made entirely of gristle and bone. All of the various rooms are decorated with gruesome props like severed limbs and the decaying relics of the Casino, and each area is inhabited by actors portraying both the twisted inhabitants of the Delmont and their unlucky victims. I don’t really want to give away too much of what’s in store for you if you visit the attraction—the less you know about what’s coming, the more fun it is. Truthfully, though, I probably couldn’t spoil it even if I wanted to. Our trip through the Goretorium lasted only about 15 minutes, but there was so much detail in the various sets and props that it’s pretty tough to take it all in. I can’t help but hope that someday the tour is documented on DVD or something so guests can fully appreciate all the hard work that clearly went in to making it such a wild experience. I especially don’t want to give away the final moments of the tour, where you are chased into an increasingly narrow tunnel that opens you out onto…never mind, it’s best if you see it for yourself. For a couple of horror nuts like Jess and myself, it was bliss. Our nerves were on edge waiting for a crazy butcher or mad doctor to jump out and leer at us or hiss threats, while we tried to drink in all the details of the place. I know that I jumped and screamed on at least one occasion. We even hit the gift shop afterwards, where Jess picked up a hoodie and I bought a t-shirt. We also were able to buy a cool photo souvenir of our trip through the nightmarish corridors of the Delmont Hotel.

As for Hillary? She rode the outdoor roller coaster at the New York, New York Casino, while I held her purse for her. I was too scared for that ride. I have a taste for terror, but even I have my limits.