Long before he burned the image of Tobey Maguire in spandex into our minds with the Spider Man franchise, Sam Raimi was the master of B-movie schlock. His Evil Dead films are the gold standard for blood-splattered, midnight-showing-worthy guts and gore. With Drag Me to Hell, Raimi returns to the genre, this time with tongue firmly planted in cheek. Much like Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino did with their Grindhouse double bill, Raimi delivers a gleeful, self-referential horror send-up.
When we meet Christine (Alison Lohman), her life seems full of potential. She’s ripe for a promotion at work, is about to meet her brainy boyfriend’s parents, and has bouncy blonde hair worthy of a shampoo ad. Everything changes when she turns down an old woman’s request for a third mortgage extension. The old woman begs and pleads, but with that promotion in sight, Christine has security escort her from the building. Big mistake. Christine quickly learns that the last thing you want to do is shame a gypsy, especially during the housing crisis. The old woman puts a curse on Christine that she has three days to reverse, otherwise she will, as the title suggests, be dragged to hell.
As Christine works tirelessly to undo the gypsy’s curse, demons from the underworld unleash an increasingly horrific barrage of terror upon her. It’s gross, visceral stuff — geyser-like nose bleeds, home-wrecking phantasms, and phlegm, lots of phlegm. There’s an especially memorable sequence when Christine finally meets her boyfriend’s comically snobbish parents that involves a piece of cake that bleeds and spews flies.
Raimi pulls all the gross excess off because he’s winking at us the entire time. The film sustains an elevated comic tone throughout and crescendos at a memorable, shocking climax.
Lohman, best known for enduring an embarrassing succession of wigs and the foster care system in White Oleander, gamely traverses the corporeal horrors that Raimi springs on her. The film rests on her shoulders, and she carries the narrative with dignity and pluck. As her improbably supportive and understanding boyfriend, Justin Long reminds us why he’s most famous for those 30-second Apple ads — he’s a TV-sized personality who does not seem comfortable on the big screen.
Drag Me to Hell knows exactly what it is. The production values, including a memorable score by Christopher Young, conjure memories of dated, low-budget staples of the horror genre. One gets the feeling that it would feel more comfortable being watched in the middle of the night on one of the lesser cable networks. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
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