31

31 is like a horror version of The Running Man, masterminded by Malcom McDowell and Judy Geeson. A group of hypersexual carnies, including Sheri Moon Zombie and a remarkably fit Meg Foster (two years shy of 70, by the way), are taken hostage and forced to play the twisted game. Remember the video game Manhunt? It’s like that. Director Rob Zombie concocts one great villain after another, but unlike more memorable Most Dangerous Game movies, has absolutely nothing to say. (I’d be fine with that if it were at least entertaining.)

The most frustrating thing about Zombie is he’s almost there. He’s uncompromising, unapologetic, doesn’t pull punches, and makes old fashioned horror without a lick of unnecessary CGI. Best of all, he populates his films with veteran B-movie performers who may otherwise be pushing autographs for a hundred bucks a pop at horror conventions. Unfortunately, his characters are too dumb to fulfill the all-important role of becoming a surrogate for the viewer. You need characters you can relate to so you can wonder: “What would I do in this situation?”

If Zombie put one-tenth of the effort into his good guys as he puts into villains like Doomhead (Richard Brake, who’s legitimately fantastic), we’d have a great film. This is why The Devil’s Rejects is still his most watchable project to date: everybody in that movie is a villain, which is what Zombie excels at. If he’d put Doomhead in the lead and made him go against even badder guys, I would’ve been thrilled.

Unfortunately, that’s a different film and this one looks as if it were edited with a cross-cut paper shredder. Editing is supposed to establish things like geography, a sense of time, flow, and most of all coherency. 31 accomplishes little of that. At one point, the group is split up by a trap door, but for most of the scene I thought they were all on the same side. In another scene, the characters watch one of their own die and somehow discover his body in the very next room.

I’m always pulling for Zombie to make a great movie because I think he’s got it in him. He keeps proving me wrong. The joke’s on me, though, because I paid ten bucks to see the damn thing. I haven’t been more disappointed all year.