Horror-maestro director, Eli Roth returns with a feature film teased sixteen years ago in the double-whammy homage, Grindhouse. The film is called Thanksgiving, a Sony/Tristar slasher-feast, molded in a garish, early-1980s style, that commemorates the holiday like other horror entries have marked Halloween, Valentine's Day, Christmas and New Year's.
Cowritten by Roth with his Grindhouse/Cabin Fever collaborator, Jeff Rendell, Thanksgiving isn't shy in flaunting its face-value, splatter approach. Though predominantly a whodunit, there's no right-under-the-nose killer revealed in a jarring, didn't-see-it-comin' twist, in the manner of Psycho, Scream or Friday the 13th. Yes, the slasher's identity is withheld until the end, but it's more an obligatory, oh-yeah shrugger than an all-out shocker, and for all the morbid revelry that ushers it, the obvious "zinger" is forgivable.
Thanksgiving thrives and prospers per its avid slaughtering, wherein a Plymouth, Massachusetts, pilgrim-disguised, serial killer, who calls himself John Carver, goes down the Ten Little Indians line to accumulate victims (inspired by, and in atonement for, a horrifying, department-store rampage that struck a year prior). Each of Carver's "responsible" candidates is murdered with a different, holiday/kitchen apparatus, and for added devilishness, the ravenous fiend commemorates each kill by striking off place cards from a symbolic, dinner table, along with a prized appendage from the doomed; how very Dr. Anton Phibes! (For those out of the loop, the Carver moniker is apt, albeit in an scornful way, since outside the evident slicing and dicing, Plymouth's revered, governor/Thanksgiving emanator bears that specific name. Roth maligned the historic overseer in a recent interview, but that's a matter perhaps better shelved for any number of upcoming, contentious, holiday gatherings; ahem and amen.)
Thanksgiving's other characters (more than a few of whom are potential, if not probable, victims) are never too complex, but neither annoying, even if a few bubble-headed moments arise for comedic relief, and even those moments work more often than not. (Thanksgiving is no Motel Hell, Dead Alive, The Gruesome Twosome or The Gore Gore Girls in this respect, but like Psycho, Blood Feast, Two Thousand Maniacs, April Fool's Day 1986, Drive-in Massacre and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 1 & 2, it does infuse periodic witticisms.)
The nuanced Patrick Dempsey acts, in fact, as the fable's recurring strand, Sheriff Newlon, a personable investigator who expresses care and diligence, while Nell Verlaque performs as the identifiable, anguished lead. They're joined by Rich Hoffman, Karen Cliche, Milo Menheim, Jalen Thomas Brooks, Gabriel Davenport, Gina Gershon, Addison Rae, Tim Dillon, Amanda Barker, Shailyn Griffin, Mark Bakunas, Ty Victor Olsson and Jennifer Warren, among others: each competent in his/her assigned niche.
Though skimpy on the sexual insertions that distinguish most slasher flicks, Thanksgiving compensates for such by being downright grim, thanks in no small part to its harsh, old-school effects. The results aren't as surreal as the general, Herschell Gordon Lewis, Lucio Fulci or George A. Romero flick, mind you, but even so, the sagacious demises will make most cringe and/or giggle in discomfort, as the ambiance taps the stylings of Black Christmas and Silent Night, Deadly Night. (Sentimental traditions and gore shouldn't mesh, and yet if done right ... 😊)
It's too soon to say how Thanksgiving may endure, but I wouldn't be surprised if this one becomes an annual view for some (if not many) horror fans and forges an endless line of t-shirts, costumes and action figures. Move over Norman, Leatherface, Ghostface, Chucky, Michael, Freddy and Jason. Johnny the Pilgrim has arrived!
No comments:
Post a Comment