Review: ‘Hatchet’ on DVD

Hatchet

Cast & Credits
Ben: Joel Moore
Marybeth: Tamara Feldman
Marcus: Deon Richmond
Victor Crowley: Kane Hodder

Written & Directed by Adam Green
Running time: 84 minutes
Unrated

Before I begin my review of Hatchet, let me reference a much better movie.

In David Cronenberg’s “The Fly,” Seth Brundle learns that his teleportation device doesn’t work correctly. It likes to turn living things inside out, because it doesn’t understand flesh. So, Brundle does an experiment with some steak and surmises the problem: “The computer is giving us its interpretation of a steak, it’s translating it for us. It’s rethinking it rather than reproducing it and something is getting lost in the translation.”

Now replace “computer” with “director” and replace “a steak” with “a horror film.” 

“Hatchet” was supposed to be a return to “old school American horror,” right? What school are we talking about? This film has none of the aggressive chaos on display in Tobe Hooper’s “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” none of the imagination of “A Nightmare on Elm Street.” Where is the atmosphere, the sense of dread? This movie looks like it was filmed in the woods and lit with a floodlight. When I think of “old school American horror,” I think of films like Universal’s classic monster movies. I think of the Robert Wise classic “The Haunting,” or Polanski’s “Rosemary’s Baby.” 

Now, those are all much older films and I understand that “Hatchet” is not trying to emulate them specifically, so where does that leave me? I guess “old school American horror” is supposed to mean “An American Werewolf in London?” Maybe it’s “The Evil Dead?” Am I suppose to believe “Hatchet” has “American Werewolf’s” humor and pathos? Hardly. The jokes on display here are of the dick, pussy, and fart variety. Exposed breasts gets a laugh, too, because, you know, tits are funny, dude.

And who are all these characters populating the film? With the exception of two boys, they are all strangers to each other, thus making them strangers to the audience. Their deaths carry no weight; they are merely on display for your enjoyment: Violence, minus the consequence or emotion, pure masturbatory voyeurism.

Before you think I’m being judgmental towards those who enjoy a good gore film, please understand that I am one of those people. I’m a gorehound at heart, but this movie can’t even satisfy that, with the exception of one totally awesome kill: Patrika Darbo(pictured above), in a thankless role as an annoying bitch, has her head torn clean in half, the one true money shot of the film. Kudos to John Carl Buechler. I only wish the film had more of this. The kills on display are underwhelming in their execution, or kept in the dark because they look like shit, an easy task considering the inept lighting.

Hatchet also has one of the most abysmal scores I have ever heard in a horror film, courtesy of Andy Garfield. All the instruments are synthesized, and quite obviously, even distractingly so. This score has no identity, no recognizable theme.

So, besides one kill, did I like anything about this movie? There is a certain kitsch value in the inclusion of Robert Englund, Tony Todd, and Kane Hodder. Joel Moore will go on to bigger, better things. The guy that got farted on in “One Crazy Summer” touches me in a nostalgic way. And, of course, Richard Riehle is always a welcome face, a really talented guy who always manages to bring more to a role than what is required.

On the DVDs special features, director Adam Green relates a childhood story about summer camp and how he told other little kids spooky stories about Hatchet Face. He talks about almost getting kicked out of camp because all those kids got so scared. Then he says he sat on that story for 20 years, and remarks “…an 8 yr old really thought of this, and I don’t know what that means but it worked.”

Well, I can tell you what it means.

Only an eight year old would think this is funny, or scary. And I’m sorry if you’re reading this and getting all offended, but come on.

This is the cinematic equivalent of a piece of bubble gum, except when you pop it in your mouth it tastes just like shit.

I’d rather be looking at an inside out baboon.