Like any good horror fan, I have enjoyed the Evil Dead franchise. Most recently, I indulged in Ash vs Evil Dead on Starz. So when we saw that Evil Dead: The Musical was being performed by the Equinox Theater Company in Denver over the summer, my friends and I immediately bought tickets.
The six of us incorporated the show into a birthday celebration and trekked to the Bug Theater down the streets of downtown dressed all in white. We purchased splatter zone tickets, naturally, and wanted every drop of carnage to be visible.
The first act began a bit slow for me. It might have been the fallout of spending a day drinking mead in the sun. It might have been the impatience for blood and carnage. It might have been my fixation on thinking the actors for Ash and Scottie should have been reversed. The first act definitely was not poor quality at all, but it was not as engaging as I needed. Some of the expected corny parts struck an eye roll rather than a chuckle.
However, the second act made up for any inadequacies I found in the first. With mundane requirements like plot establishment and character development out of the way, the play dived into the meat. Literally.
As a whole, Evil Dead: The Musical was just fun for our entire party. The rendition remained very true to its inspiration, keeping a balance of gratuitous horror and campy comedy. Many jokes and puns hurt as much as they tickled.
I was impressed by the Equinox Theater Company, though I do think Ash may have been slightly intoxicated for how many times he stumbled on his lines. He definitely could sing and throw himself across the stage in physical comedy to make up for it. My favorite portrayal was definitely Ash’s sister, Cheryl. The actress did a superb job of making her both hysterical and unnerving. I enjoyed every time she popped up from the floorboards. We also did not miss how she took Ash accidentally really slamming her face into the stage like a champ.
I was, however, disappointed in the splatter zone. Here, I was, dressed in a pretty white lace dress. I do not wear pretty. Or white. Or lace. I wanted that dress to get absolutely destroyed. I wanted to look like a horror movie survivor or, at the least, like I used to look after a heavy metal belly dance show or horror photo shoot. I wanted fake blood like this picture of the Detroit show.
Unfortunately, we ended up in the last row of the splatter zone. We were shielded from much of the carnage by the patrons in front of us. The lucky bastards. Then, much of the blood was actually just kool-aid. My husband even tasted it to confirm. It produced this watered-down, pinkish, sticky blood that barely showed up even on our white apparel.
I have interacted with a lot of fake blood in my day. From the bottles at the Halloween store to an amazing chocolate recipe I learned from a brilliantly twisted photographer. I was hoping a theater performance would step up the quality. The blood thrown not from a super soaker (hilarious, by the way) or the fertilizer sprayer was more legit though.
From some online research, it looks like other cities stepped up their splattering a bit. Maybe it was venue restraints (been there); maybe it was director’s purview. I just wanted MORE. More blood.
I did end up with a bloody dusting that looked a bit like spaghetti gone wrong, but I will take it. I took one shot right in the eye. It was fun to be so interactively part of the experience. Splatter zone again definitely. Splatter zone every time.
All in all, my experience of Evil Dead: The Musical was awesome; I thoroughly enjoyed it. I would recommend it; I would go again. Of course, I had complaints and things I would change but not enough to detract from the overall fun.
After this, I wish I would have gone to see Silence! The Musical when it was running in April. More horror musicals!
Christina Bergling
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Savages
Two survivors search the ruins of America for the last strain of humanity. Marcus believes they are still human; Parker knows her own darkness. Until one discovery changes everything.
Available now on Amazon!
savagesnovella.com
The Waning
Beatrix woke up in a cage. Can she survive long enough to escape, or will he succeed at breaking her down into a possession?
(I have been woefully slacking on this blog, I know. Life surged up and kept me overly distracted. Now, back to the important business of horror…)
One scene. One image. One thing that truly affected you. Widened your eyes, caught your breath in your throat, brought your hand over your mouth. A picture that climbed under your skin and made a home in the back of your brain.
Something that haunted you long after the image faded from your retinas.
I watched Hellraiser for the first time last week. I know, I was gravely deficit in my horror history by not indulging it until now. Yet at my more mature age (I was 4 when it was originally released) and my expanded horror expertise, I feel like I could more fully appreciate the horror brilliance of it.
And the brilliance of Hellraiser lies mostly in its imagery. Frank, from the point of his resurrection onward, is visually impressive. His initial resurrection scene enthralled me. His creature clawing after his victim was completely unnerving. I was dazzled, and the film lingered with me.
That effect, that successful bit of horror got me thinking about horror as a genre. To me, the ultimate purpose of media in the horror genre is to evoke a fear-based reaction in the audience. By definition, what you see (whether with your eyes or with your mind) should be frightening or disturbing.
When I craft horror, I definitely (attempt to) lean heavily on these ideas. With my book, Savages, I aim to make my reader uncomfortable with the terrifying savagery hiding under our humanity, personifying it with a crucified sacrifice. With my book, Ode to Master (working title, soon to be retitled!), I climb into vivid detail of skin removal, hoping to make my audience’s skin cringe at the words. With any luck, I am successful, but I rely heavily on creating horror through images.
When I think back through the library of horror exposure in my memory, there are a few stark images that stay with me.
From reading horror, it is Gerald’s Game. Unfortunately, my brain tends to offload the details of a book very quickly after I finish it. I can remember if I liked it or if I thought it was amazing, but the specific scenes fade away. I wish they did not, but gray matter real estate seems to be at a premium these days. Yet one image from Gerald’s Game lingers with me. Jessie is handcuffed to the bed after her husband dies. Eventually, she lubricates her hand with her own blood to attempt to free it from the cuff. Complete with skin peeling. My hands crawl just typing the glimpse. That picture lives in my nerves.
I have seen numerous horror movies, good and bad. I have cringed; I have laughed. I could probably list plenty of disturbing scenes and gory flashes. Yet the first one that comes to mind is the baby removal scene in Inside. Thankfully, I had not had children by the time I viewed said scene because, after two babies, I cringe at the mere recall of that bloody mess. Again, I feel the memory of the image in my body.
These are just two, the first two on the crest of my brain. Yet they are burned deep behind my eyes.
What horror image haunts you best?
Fiery Pen 