| In
the 1960s and 70s the UK company Amicus -- driven by
an ambition to become a rival to Hammer -- made the
anthology horror film its own, producing titles such
as Dr Terror's House of Horrors (1965), The
House That Dripped Blood (1971), Tales from
the Crypt (1972), Asylum (1972), and Vault
of Horror (1973). One of the pinnacles of the genre
had come a few decades earlier: Dead of Night
(1945) -- a creepy horror anthology of five stories
contained within a creepy over-arching narrative that
actually works as a unifying concept. Amicus' servings
were fairly decent entertainments, if generally less
powerful than their predecessor -- well served by Hammer
stalwarts such as actor Peter Cushing and directors
such as Ray Ward Baker. They did, however, suffer from
patchiness.
Patchiness
is a problem endemic to the subgenre. Anthology horror
films (perhaps all anthology films) tend to suffer from
their disconnected story structure, rarely coalescing
as a whole, despite brave attempts to impose some sort
of coherent narrative framework over the "shorts"
(one exception being Pulp Fiction, I hasten
to add). Nevertheless, there is a certain ongoing appeal
to them, and though Amicus gave up the ghost, there
have since been many forays into the same territory.
Creepshow (1982) and its sequels, under the
auspices of Stephen King and George Romero, took their
inspiration directly from the EC pulp horror comics
of the 1950s. These comics were lurid, tongue-in-cheek
and colourful, full of startling imagery and displaying
a sort of moral irony that revelled in stories where
less-than-admirable characters meet their end in ways
that give a gruesome veneer to the term "poetic
justice". Creepshow effectively captured
the tone of these comics, even using bookend comic animation
to cement the connections.
Snoop
Dogg's Hood of Horror clearly wants to take its
place within this tradition. Translating the EC revenge
tale into a modern urban context (for the uninitiated,
"hood" is street slang for "neighbourhood"),
complete with rap (hip-hop)-culture personalities, a blaxsploitation
overlay and gangsta language, it offers three stories
that are in essence little different from those told
in preceding comic-horror opuses. As such it takes the
lead from Tales from the Hood (1995), but with
a more tongue-in-cheek, guts-on-the-wall approach and
upping the ante in terms of lurid imagery and a sniggering
desire to cause outrage. Rapper Snoop Dogg is the Cryptkeeper-style
host – here called the "Cribkeeper"
-- whose demonic origins and role are outlined in an
effective anime-style introductory/concluding sequence.
Though fans will no doubt appreciate the Dogg's efforts
throughout, I find his affected layback style rather
flat and monotonal. He is most effective in the music
video that ends the film, doing what he does best, singing
the theme song ("There goes the neighbourhood...")
against the background of assorted gruesome scenes from
the movie. Yet though this sequence may have been effective
as a standalone and is all well-and-good as a promo,
what was it doing here as part of the film itself? It
comes over as time filler.
Hood
of Horror consists of three stories, of inevitably
variable success – though identifying which of
them works best is a rather subjective exercise. The
first concerns a graffiti-artist given the power to
"clean-up" the neighbourhood by a mysterious
street dero. Reviewers generally give this one the nod,
but while it starts well, for me its thematic point
becomes rather confused and weak and it quickly hits the wall
with a dull, if colourful, splat! The second story features
a whitey couple so melodramatically exaggerated in their
obnoxiousness that it is impossible to reconcile their
comic "reality" with the initially serious
depiction of the disrespected Vietnam vets they victimise.
As with the first story, the ending of this one –
its "revenge" climax – is confused thematically,
coming over as gratuitous and unimaginative.
For
me it's the third story that earns its keep, though
I may be the only one who thinks so. It tells of the
rise-to-fame of a rapper and the gradual revelation
of his past iniquities – leading to the inevitable
supernatural comeuppance, of course. As a whole, Hood
of Horror takes onboard the posturing of rap/gangsta
culture in such an exaggerated way that you never believe
in any of the characters. But because it is about the
adoption of such a persona the third story seems less
artificial in its posturing and has an emotional content
that uses the comicbook "reality" to comment
on the real world rather than simply to provide superficial
impact.
The
trouble is, while it's clear we're not meant to take
any of it very seriously, Hood of Horror's
moralistic overlay asks us to give it all due respect
– and that isn't easy to do. Confused ethics and
shallow characterisation prove to be alienating and
continually push the viewer away. And while there are
good performances, much of the thespian activity is
amateurish, and the direction veers from reasonably
effective to dull and clumsy. Good music though.
In
the end, of course, any discussion about honesty, reality
and depth of theme and presentation is probably irrelevant.
Those satisfied to chortle at the occasionally imaginative
gore -- such as an obnoxious vandal tripping and impaling
his own head with a beer bottle (accompanied by an appropriately
witty aside from the protagonist) or rapper host Snoop
Dogg squelchily plucking an eyeball off a wall decorated
with bloody, ironically graffitified remains, and then
eating it – will have a ball ... most of the time
anyway. Those wanting something genuinely scary or something
a tad more narratively imaginative and convincing might
be less keen.
Note: the comicbook traditions of the film are reflected in the existence of artwork for a comic version -- or at least the cover for one. I have no idea if this is more than a promotional gimmick. See it here. |
SNOOP
DOGG'S HOOD OF HORROR |
