The Wizard of Gore

The original Wizard Of Gore from 1970 is not a great movie by any stretch. It’s a B-movie splatter-fest, a grindhouse legend but mostly just an excuse for special effects. But it knows what it is, and never tries to be anything more than shock theater. I have respect for movies that know their limitations and live within them. The remake had the opportunity to pump some plot into the movie, up the gore ante, and give it an overall professional sheen. Instead, this new version decides to drench in in a convoluted conspiracy of drugs and hedonism, suffocating it in too much punk burlesque noir that feels like it was all bought at Hot Topic, and filmed with the deft hand of a dad trying to keep the camcorder out of his kid’s hands at the beach. This is an ugly movie in every sense of the word; it was filmed in an ugly manner, the aesthetic is ugly, the plot is ugly, the acting is ugly, and the resolution is ugly. The titular character is almost a third wheel, as the main character — a pretentious, insufferable, trust fund hipster who who wears zoot suits and refuses to own a TV newer than 1974 — stumbles through a plot that is somehow overly complex yet incredibly moronic and obvious. He is but one of the many obnoxious characters this movie has to offer, which pairs well with how obnoxious this movie is shot. 80% minimum of the shots in this movie are a Dutch angle, and most of it is lit with terrible neon and shadow that obscures rather than enhances. Every word spoken sounds like the ramblings of a pompous windbag that counts getting a letter to the editor in the local newspaper as getting published, and is delivered with the stiff unfamiliarity of human speech one rarely sees outside of Tom Cruise interviews. It is never scary, never creepy, and never disgusting, because it is too busy trying to set the mood for a Suicide Girls music video. I can’t even appreciate Crispin Glover as the namesake magician, because he seems oddly toned down. It’s more like if Willy Wonka ran for governor than a magician that may or may not be murdering people. I was warned by someone that this movie was “up its own ass”. I couldn’t agree more. This movie wants to elevate a sleazy 70’s horror movie built on gore and cheap thrills into some cerebral exploration of reality and sanity against a backdrop of a culture so exaggerated and mocking in tone, it’s an insult to both people who love it and people who don’t. In the process, it forgets what the original is all about, and can’t find an identity of its own, but it is too smug to ever admit it’s veered off course. It’s definitely up its own ass, and, like so many bunnies put into hats by magicians, I wish it would go all the way in and disappear.