The Hills Have Eyes (2006)
The lucky ones die first.
Year of Release: 2006
Genre: Horror
Rated: Not Rated
Running Time: 108 minutes (1:48)
Director: Alexandre Aja
Cast:
Ted Levine ... Big Bob
Kathleen Quinlan ... Ethel
Dan Byrd ... Bobby
Emilie de Ravin ... Brenda
Aaron Stanford ... Doug
Vinessa Shaw ... Lynn
Maisie Camilleri Preziosi ... Baby Catherine
Billy Drago ... Papa Jupiter
Michael Bailey Smith ... Pluto
Robert Joy ... Lizard
Laura Ortiz ... Ruby
Ezra Buzzington ... Goggle
Greg Nicotero ... Cyst
Ivana Turchetto ... Big Mama
Desmond Askew ... Big Brain
Judith Jane Vallette ... Small Deformed Child
Adam Perrell ... Small Deformed Child
Tom Bower ... Gas Station Attendant
Summary:
Driving through New Mexico en route to California, the Carter family becomes stranded in a desolate government atomic zone. But as day turns to nightmare, the travelers soon realize they've got more than car trouble... they've got company. A freakish clan of bloodthirsty mutants inhabit the desert landscape, and they've just found their next meal.
Review:
The Hills Have Eyes, remake version, remindin' us that standing your ground is bad policy when facing down an atomic bomb test.
And speakin' of permanent skin cancer, this Summer crapola's startin' to wear out its welcome, and as far's I'm concerned, the sun can piss off to that mythical place where its alleged not to shine and stay there awhile.
Doesn't help that my box fan started makin' a noise like a rotor disc that somebody used to sight-in their .22 a couple days ago and has taken to producin' more heat than it expels, and so in light of this, Billy Hilliard and I decided to go night fishin' out at Lake Gunkamucka to beat the heat.
Musta been 9:30, 10pm by the time we got out there 'cause we ended up havin' to wait almost half an hour for Wade Sawyer to scoop us some worms while he introduced the finalists for the new Chickawalka Gawka nudie calander due out in December, and we only even got outta there that fast because I threatened to tell Tawny Sissel that Wade's been auctionin' off 'er employer issued undergarments to the highest bidder without cuttin' 'er in.
Anyway, Duke Tankersley musta had the same idea we did, 'cause he was already six cans deep into his case and had three good-sized mud cats fryin' in his skillet when we pulled in and I could tell he'd been doin' some serious thinkin' since we hadda actually exit the Sierra before the Black Sabbath hit hard enough to make us part blind.
"Gentlemen, may I offer you a can of Chickawalka's finest?" he offered, handin' Apollo a bite of his catch and rumplin' his ears before sendin' 'im off to round up his pack.
"Nah. I'll take one of them Pole Cats, though," I said, settin' my tackle box down just in time to catch the can at my chest.
"Make ih fwee," Billy grumbled, spreadin' out a lawn chair next to Duke's campfire.
"Rough day?" Duke asked, shovin' the cooler towards Billy with his furry foot.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...." Billy groaned, draining an entire can and crushin' it against his forehead.
"I guess he got reamed out by the owner after Blake Bock and Bud 'the Spud' Ewert got involved in a little nail gun skirmish this mornin'," I explained, baitin' my hook and pitchin' it out.
"'Zat right? Who won?" Duke queried like he had money ridin' on it or somethin'.
"Fickawaka Venerow," Billy scoffed, taking a more responsible approach to his second can and taking two full breaths before polishing it off and lettin' out a belch that caused the fire to blaze up and singe the hair offa Duke's right foot.
"Why'd you hire those dipshits? What happened to them--" Duke started to ask before pausing to extinguish his smoldering extremity.
"Depor'ed!" Billy snapped, castin' approximately 300' of line and scarin' the crap outta Skink Taylor and his date as the weight made splashdown about 18" from where they were skinny dippin'.
"So, what's yer story?" Duke turned to me, decidin' not to press Billy any further after examinin' the third flattened Pole Cat can that sat impaled through Billy'd pole holder as a warning to the rest of its frost-brewed brethren.
"Boy meets world. Boy loses world. World finds boy hiding under the bed and drags 'im kicking and screaming back to reality," I shrugged, pushin' Chainsaw into the portable TV/VCR combo.
"You look like shit spread over too much shingle. You gotta start gettin' some sleep, son," he nagged as Billy missed a bite and chucked an empty propane bottle in the direction of the offending fish.
"I sleep just fine... till 3:36. No bullshit, man - when I woke up this mornin' there was an EYE starin' at me through the hole in the ceilin'. Turn on the light - nothin'. And no more screamin' until the next day... it's..." I rambled.
"Hey! Watch it, asshole!" Skink barked, having gotten himself and his date back into his boat after takin' a splash from the propane bottle.
Duke and I managed to calm Billy down (though not before he'd gotten waist deep into the lake with a tire tool clenched in his jaws), and eventually the cracklin' fire, croakin' frogs, and the roar of Leatherface's eviction equipment got our chakras back in retrograde or however that works.
"You never said what got you out here," I remarked, grateful that the subject of my sleep habits had been dropped.
"Just thinkin'; thinkin', and harassin' them kids," Duke chuckled, pullin' out a pellet gut and plinkin' one off their motor and sending a startled shriek echoing out across the lake.
"You guys think... me and Roxanne... 'zat weird?" Duke posited, having passed the 10-beer threshold that keeps talk like that bottled up where it belongs.
"Extremely," I answered.
"Yup," Billy agreed.
"Wha-- why?!" he choked, apparently expecting support rather'n the truth.
"I mean, it's no weirder'n Roxanne and Cleave; it's just the idea of you with anyone reminds me of that campfire scene from The Howling," I snickered.
"He'v wigh' - if fumone dih'n know beh'ow you migh geh awef'ed for beefiaowihy," Billy cackled.
"If I was you I'd worry about gettin' arrested for havin' that fire, ya packa cucks!" Skink hollered, having apparently suffered a setback with his boaty call.
"Yeah?! Spoze I swim out there and examine your little gal's ID? Or is she even old enough to drive? You wanna get Deputy Dahl out here and see what takes priority?" Duke fired back.
"Why do you want a fire anyway? It's miserable hot out here," the girl squeaked, tryna change the subject.
"Keeps the Stalka away," I said as ominously as I could manage while stifling a snort.
"The who?" she asked, looking around nervously and dressing with the ludicrous speed only a teenager about to be discovered mid-aaardvarkus can.
"Chickawalka Stalka, hon. Couple crappie fishermen spotted 'im no more'n a mile from here just yesterday," Duke lied, fully embracing the aura of the learned, campfire elder whose wisdom always seems to transcend his blood alcohol level once darkness falls.
"Fuck that. It's just a bullshit story some old man made up to scare kids after his dick quit workin' and he couldn't get it up for the wife on campin' trips anymore," Skink insisted before gettin' swatted away as he tried roundin' second base.
"He'v wigh; prowy oughwa douf vuh fiow. Awfow dwy ow heow," Billy grinned, lifting the cooler and pullin' the drain plug, giving the melted ice time to douse the flames slowly.
"Wait! It's okay, really!" the girl screamed, leaning over the edge of Skink's little rower and watching the flames die.
"They're fulla shit! Come on, let's go back to the truck and..." Skink started to schmooze.
"Better not. In all my years I've never read a report of the Stalka venturin' into the lake... just might be the only safe place," Duke smiled wide as the last of the blaze flickered out.
I dunno why we do the things we do, and thinkin' back on it, that poor gal was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. In our defense, Billy was careful to grab 'er phone and make sure it didn't end up at the bottom of the lake when he and Duke quietly (if they even hadda keep quiet, since Marilyn Burns was layin' down some pretty serious noise pollution by that time) swam out and tipped the boat over while Skink continued to ply his charm.
Not sure how I feel about this Roxanne and Duke business, although I guess I shoulda suspected as much when he turned up at Mack's Stacks of Manly Snacks the other day with two handfuls of hair missin' off his shoulders and claimed he fumbled his electric shaver. You can infer from that what you will, but I'm gonna do my damnedest to avoid the subject altogether because every time I think about it reminds me of the jail cell scene from Wolfcop and I don't wanna find out if its possible to vomit in the midst of a laughin' fit.
Our collective drunk didn't wear off until about 6am, or at least that's my best guess since that's about the time Apollo, Dinky, Slinky, Stinky, and Blythe polished off the catfish we'd left in the skillet and roused us from our enchanted lawn chair slumber. Regardless, it was still the best night's sleep I've gotten in over a month, so once Billy dropped me off at the house and I'd gotten a chance to comb my face and shave my tongue I was ready to open up the Videodome for business, and with Chainsaw day in the rear view mirror, I decided to marathon that series' brother from another mother.
Now, I know I've made my feelins about 21st Century remakes known and so I'm not gonna go down that road again, but The Hills Have Eyes is a rare exception to an otherwise iron-clad rule. There will, however, be no excessive celebration or pathetic fanboying where it concerns this flick because the last thing I want is studio executives pointin' to my commentary and usin' it as justification to remake anything they mighta forgotten up to this point.
Nonetheless, I will grace the non-believers with three atomic hot takes to prove I haven't been kidnapped and replaced by AI-generated thoughtslop, so prick up those ears and don't make me hafta tell ya twice.
First, always knock before entering the outhouse, 'cause some folks get so embarrassed about what they've done in there that they could just die. Second, daytime TV is built to withstand a 25 kiloton blast. And third, while best known for their eyes, the Hills are also happy to lend an ear to those in need.
The movie begins down around Los Alamos where a coupla field agents from the Environmental Rejection Agency're out countin' geigers tryna find the nuclear sweet spot that turns a guy's arm into a plasma cannon instead of scramblin' his huevos, only while they're gatherin' water samples to see how they stack up against the stuff comin' outta the tap at the fracking site next door, some maniac with a pickaxe to grind shows up and impales their entrails and ties their carcasses to the rear bumper of his pickup before drivin' off like he's goin' honeymoonin' with Aileen Wuornos. Next thing, this old gas station attendant whose brain's been fried to the point of qualifyin' as a Denny's Grand Slam Breakfast platter goes outside to investigate some thumps and bumps near his pumps before returning to find Mr. T's overnight bag and a Big Mac container with Mike Tyson's picnic lunch inside. Unfortunately, while he's separatin' the meat from the cash, a rig towin' an Airstream rolls in for fuel and one of the occupants gets a look at his bag of kill-gotten gains while retrievin' one of the family's dogs (Beauty) and leaves 'im no choice but to tell the patriarch (Ted Levine) about a shortcut through the desert that'll cut down on travel time and exposure to his insufferable family (wife Ethel, kids Bobby, Brenda, Lynn, son-in-law Doug, and infant granddaughter Catherine). Instead of trimming time off their trip, the detour shaves several years off everyone's life when a spike strip pops up in the road and sends their Suburban plowin' into a boulder where it comes to rest with its front end lookin' like a Chinese Pug with a harelip, and so now Ted hasta hoof it back to the gas station while Doug heads further down the road in search of assistance and/or adequate Nokia coverage.
Then Brenda accidentally lets Beauty outta the trailer and by the time Bobby catches up to 'er she's all dressed out with no place to go and he ends up takin' some Quiet Riot lyrics a touch too literally and bangin' his head tryna get back to the Airstream due to a pair of shoes that're better suited for bowling than rock climbing. It's probably for the best, 'cause while he's out this Little Inbred Riding Hood (Ruby) gal comes down outta the hills and starts strokin' his hair with these gnarly hands that always give the Vulcan salute while 'er Lord Baldemort of a brother (Goggle) partakes of some German Shepard's thigh and snarls at 'er for microcheatin'. By the time Ted makes it to the gas station it's after hours and any hope of rescue or sketchy barbecue has been dashed, but when he heads inside and starts rootin' around he notices a collage of newspaper clippins about atomic testing, grizzled prospectors standing their ground, and missing persons reports all tacked to the wall alongside photos from the Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head family reunion and decides he'd rather go to his grave a man than wear any of these people's skins. Ted's just about to rip off the owner's car when he spots a set of feet pokin' outta the shithouse, 'cept when he goes to make sure there's ain't some sleazeball in there with aunts in his pants he ends up gettin' showered with Jack's Body Spray when the fuel attendant gets nostalgic for the good ole days and pumps 'imself fulla leaded. Rather than risk the plague of parasites left homeless by the loss of their ringworm sanctuary, Ted runs for the car and tries to split but ends up experiencin' the last thing a June bug sees when the Mirror Universe's Thomas Haden Church (Jupiter) grabs his face and smashes it into the windshield. Elsewhere, Brenda's screamin' eventually rouses Bobby, and he's able to follow the trail of hysteria back to the camper where the family's second dog (Beast) breaks his chain and takes off to find out where his bitch's at.
A few minutes later Doug returns from his trip down the yellow cake road having found nothing but the makins of a respectable auto wrecking yard in a crater some five miles away, at which time the lid on Bobby's burden containment tank finally blows and he ends up spillin' his guts about the spilled guts he found out in the scrub while a malformed, malodorous mountain of malevolence (Pluto) sneaks into the Airstream and tries to work up the nerve to ask Brenda for 'er phone number. Pluto knows he's got what it takes to win 'er heart if he can just get a few minutes alone with 'er, so he radios for his wingmen to buy 'im some time and they detonate a big ole Joshua tree where they've crucified Ted in the hopes that his sacrifice will wipe clean the sin slates of grumpy conservatives whose kids refuse to come to Thanksgivin' dinner. 'Course as we all know, there's always some handsomer, more sophisticated, sweet talkin' charmer with a radioactive tan and a world class harelip out there, and damned if he (Lizard) don't always swoop in at the last minute and sweep the girl off 'er feet just as you're about to make your move, and as expected, Lizard kicks Pluto outta bed for tryna eat his cracker and woos Brenda with a page outta the Jeffrey Epstein book of romance while the rest of the family's out in the bush tryna extinguish Ted before the flames spread and destroy the future site of a Chinese solar farm. Despite the chaos, Lynn realizes they're bein' divided and conquered and goes tearin' back to the trailer before the fallout boys can make their escape with 'er baby, and Lizard finds out firsthand what happens when you're not the mama and there's a fryin' pan within reach. Lizard is P.O.'d, and he purt'near spoils the veal before gettin' a grip on himself and goin' for a slurp offa Lynn's milkshakers until Ethel comes in and tries to rock his world with a chunka slate and leaves 'im no choice but to break out his revolver and shutter 'er crap factory.
Lynn seizes the opportunity and a screwdriver and plunges it into Lizard's leg clear to the handle, but he's had enough of the mixed signals he's gettin' and decides to be done with it all and puts a round into Lynn's skull before gettin' Pluto on the leash and haulin' the baby back to the Alamagordo Daycare Center. Needless to say, the home team's ahead on points, but while all this's goin' on the Beast finds the remains of his squeeze, makes mutant meatloaf outta Goggle, gnaws his arm off, and drags it back to the camper still clutchin' its radio which the carcinogenic cannibals use to taunt the survivors by broadcasting the sound of the baby's cries. Doug wants his baby back, baby back, baby back - so when dawn breaks he takes the Beast through a mine shaft littered with the grave markers of the Lost Dutchmen who gave their lives so that others might impress their neighbors at block parties until the tunnel opens up on the far side of the mountain and descends into the husk of an old mining town where Doug's able to find the child but gets waffled with a shovel for tryna stiff the daycare provider. When he wakes up, he's pretty concerned about havin' so many more limbs than he started the day with, but that concern turns to full-on panic when he realizes they don't belong to him and that he's next in line for the smokehouse. He manages to kick his way outta the meat locker and runs into this beached beluga (Big Brain) who looks like he tried to swallow an Australian rules football but he can't tell Doug where his kid is 'cause he doesn't get around much and his only prospects of ever leavin' the room involve gettin' forklifted out to star in a reality show on TLC. Turns out the hydrocephalic phallus is just stallin' for time, 'cause pretty quick Pluto and his decaying orbit come crashin' through the wall and it's lookin' like Doug's about to get his atoms smashed till the Beast jumps the blight wight and buys Doug enough time to make it to the can even though there's no way his bladder's held through the mornin' he's had.
This is not a long term solution, 'cause after about ten seconds the Drool-Aid Man busts through the dry wall, spears Doug through a second wall, and hacks off a couple of his fingers until Doug busts out the Ric Flair special and starts beggin' for mercy to get Pluto to drop his guard long enough to ram a screwdriver through his foot and pick his brain. Then the mongolard radios Lizard and tells 'im to prepare the toddler tar-tar, but it's the last Door Dash order he'll ever place, 'cause once the Beast gets his second wind he launches 'imself on the guy and chews clean through his jumbo jowl. Elsewhere, Lizard receives the order and begins preppin' the kitchen for his signature baby back ribs, but when he reaches for the meat he finds a drowsy pig in a blanket and realizes too late that Ruby's pulled the ole swine and dash on 'im. Meanwhile, Bobby and Brenda're back at the Airstream tryna stay ahead of the prevailing nuclear winds, only while they're off investigatin' a triggered trip wire there's an invasion of a body snatcher and when Bobby follows the blood trail to its source and finds Jupiter gnawin' at his prize's Great Red Clot he withdraws his objection and runs like his half-life depends on it. Gonna stop right here even though it's a very faithful remake and if you're watchin' it you've likely already seen the original, but there are still some differences, and since all our mutants're too ugly to assimilate into society you'll definitely wanna stick around to see how they resolve their Ruby dilemma.
Alrighty, so I hope everyone was payin' attention, because what we've got here is a by-God unicorn - namely, a remake produced in the 21st Century that is not only respectful to the source material, but also a damn good flick. There are even those who proclaim it to be better than Craven's original film, and although it is safe to assume that these people were at least nine cans deep into a case at the time of said declaration, you can't fault their enthusiasm or taste. It is not better than, nor is it as good as, the original '77 version. That said, this assertion is in no way a criticism of the retread because the reality is that damn few horror flicks rate higher than the original Hills Have Eyes, and there's no shame in failing to knock off one of the greatest titles in genre history. Decades from now folks will still remember Wes Craven as the director of A Nightmare on Elm Street and Scream, and while those are superb flicks and tremendous achievements for which he *should* be celebrated, I still say Hills is his crowning achievement, and one can only hope that this modernized version not only enthralled younger audiences, but also got some new sets of eyeballs on the film that made it possible.
Part of its success, I feel, can be attributed to its faithfulness to Craven's original story. I tend to throw around the word "remake" far too liberally, as few modern reboots (which is the more accurate, if equally repulsive term) truly match that description. It's not shot-for-shot, but all the key scenes are reproduced, with minor tweaks to the story and its timeline coming out of necessity to explain the advanced state of mutation our abominations find themselves in. Too often reboots try to expand the story and adopt new ideas that inadvertently trample the simplicity of their source material (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and A Nightmare on Elm Street come to mind), but Aja's film manages to do the former while escaping pitfalls that lead to the latter and having the guts to beef up the running time to maintain the slower pace of decades past. It's not all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows, and believe me, criticism will be levied where warranted, but whatever its faults, The Hills Have Eyes is the best remake since Tom Savini's Night of the Living Dead in 1990, and is likely to remain the best effort of this century.
Now let's start peelin' back the layers and find out if this thing's ugly to the bone, or just skin deep.
The plot follows Craven's blueprint admirably with only moderate adjustments made to character motivations (such as the gas station attendant deliberately directing the family onto Cannibal Cutoff out of self preservation when one of them spots his bag fulla booty, rather than John Steadman's instruction not to leave the main road going ignored in the original), but we still arrive at the same destination despite the occasional detour. One significant difference is the mutant origin story, which shifts southeast from the Mojave to New Mexico where nuclear weapons were actually tested, while adding a mining village whose residents refused to leave prior to the tests. It is this village where the bulk of the increased 18-minute runtime takes place, and while you can argue whether or not they add anything substantive to the movie, they serve only as a detour rather than a blasphemous re-imagining. As an added bonus (that may be entirely coincidental), the mine shaft connecting the cannibal hunting ground to the irradiated mining town serves not just to make travel time from locations more plausible, but also functions as a call-back to Craven's ill-fated Hills Have Eyes Part 2, in which the surviving cannibal clansmen use an abandoned mine to refrigerate their leftovers.
Essentially, the shift in origins for the mutant family breeds additional changes (not least of which being that the film is set 30 years later than the original, thus allowing the miners' deformities to worsen with additional generations) that become necessary to keep things plausible. But the destination and all of its connecting points remain the same, and there are even a few welcome additions, such as the inclusion of what Doug finds on his trek, which was only summarized by dialogue in the original. You always risk a great deal by making changes in a remake - but they were able to thread the needle by making choices that open up opportunities for grosser special effects and an additional location, without diverting the story from its ultimate destination or the events that lead it there, which is both rare and commendable.
The acting is very good, with Ted Levine giving an amazing performance that perfectly encapsulates and emulates the gruff, patriarchal archetype of his predecessor. He's not just playing the same character Russ Grieve portrayed in the original - he's also doing it the same way, with the same inflection and mannerisms, and as a result, the flick seems to be set in the past until someone whips out a cell phone and breaks the illusion. Love Dee Wallace, but Vinessa Shaw brings more to the expanded role of Lynn; Aaron Stanford's transformation from pacifist wimp to badass savage (modeled after Dustin Hoffman in Straw Dogs) is phenomenal and far more fleshed out than that of Martin Speer's portrayal; and Dan Byrd does a nice job as the unlikable but genuine Bobby, who actually reacts the way you'd expect a teenager to as his world collapses around him.
In general, the acting from the suburbanites is an improvement over the '77 version across the board (with the exception of Emilie de Ravin, who gives a fine performance, but cannot eclipse Susan Lanier's raving lunacy), but that's only one side of the coin. Because of the decision to make the cannibals so degenerated both physically and mentally, the story becomes one-sided, and you lose the family dynamic of the villains who previously had unique personalities that gave each member their own identity. With the exception of Ruby, no distinction can be drawn between the antagonists, and while the changes in plot do not adversely affect it - there are downstream consequences that hurt the film, and this is one of them. James Whitworth, Lance Gordon, Michael Berryman, and Janus Blythe made that film what it is, and while you can't fault the new generation of mutant performers for the way they're presented, the absence of that family unit and its interpersonal relationships are a tremendous loss. Also, I'd be very curious to know who had the sense and taste to cast Billy Drago and then do absolutely nothing with him, because that was some next-level ballbrainery; tremendously talented character actor, totally wasted.
Here's who matters and why (besides Greg Nicotero): Maxime Giffard (The Cabin House), Michael Bailey Smith (Blood Shot, Chain Letter, The Hills Have Eyes 2, The Unknown 2005, Monster Man, Men in Black II, Space Marines, Cyborg 3, A Nightmare on Elm Street 5), Tom Bower (For Sale by Owner, Thre3e, Raising Cain, Lady in White), Ted Levine (The Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park: Fallen Kingdom, Banshee Chapter, Joy Ride, Evolution, Wild Wild West, The Mangler), Kathleen Quinlan (The Stairs, Chimera Strain, Horns, Event Horizon, Strays, Warning Sign 1985, Twilight Zone: The Movie, Nightmare in Blood, Where Have All the People Gone?), Dan Byrd (Mortuary 2005, Salem's Lot 2007), Emilie de Ravin (Santa's Slay, Carrie 2002), Aaron Stanford (Clinical), Vinessa Shaw (We Need Something to Do, The Blazing World, Family Blood, Clinical, Stag Night), Robert Joy (Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem, Land of the Dead, Helter Skelter 2004, Resurrection 1999, Waterworld, The Dark Half, Millennium 1989, Amityville: 3-D), Laura Ortiz (Hatchet II, Victor Crowley, Chillarama), Ezra Buzzington (Nightmare Cinema, The Chair 2016, Trash Fire, The Last House, Dug Up, Lost Lake, Darkening Sky, Someone's Knocking at the Door, Mirrors, The Haunting of Morsten Manor, Halloween 2007), Billy Drago (Tremors 4, Night of the Templar, Children of the Corn: Genesis, World's End, The Ritual 2009, Ghost Town 2009, Dark Moon Rising, Copperhead 2008, Zombie Hunters, Revamped, The Dead One 2007, Seven Mummies, Blood Relic, Fort Doom, Mirror Mirror 3 & 4, Convict 762, Sci-Fighters, Lunarcop, Cybor 2, Freeway 1988, Hunter's Blood, Vamp), Ivana Turchetto (The Cabin House), Desmond Askew (No Man's Land: The Rise of Reeker, Jekyll 2007, Turistas).
And the mainstreamers: Ted Levine (Bosko in Heat, John Brennan in The Report, Same in Little Boy, Stottlemeyer on Monk, Lou Toback in American Gangster, Sergeant Tanner in The Fast and the Furious), Kathleen Quinlan (Marilyn Lovell in Apollo 13, Amy Taylor in Breakdown, Bonnie Hanssen in Breech, Lynn Holt on Family Law, Patricia Kennealy in The Doors), Dan Byrd (Brandon in Easy A, Travis Cobb on Cougar Town, Young Collier Sims on Any Day Now), Emilie de Ravin (Ally Craig in Remember Me, Claire Littleton on Lost, Emily in Brick, Belle on Once Upon a Time), Aaron Stanford (James Cole on 12 Monkeys, Seymour Birkhoff on Nikita), Vinessa Shaw (Emma Nelson in 3:10 to Yuma, Sandra Cohen in Two Lovers), Robert Joy (Sid Hammerback on CSI: NY, Charles in Fallen), Laura Ortiz (Laura on Holliston), Billy Drago (Nitti in The Untouchables 1987), Desmond Askew (Richard on Grange Hill).
The special effects are another area with improvements that are partially negated by bad methodology, as there is usually a lousy piece of CGI for every masterful conventional effect, and this is my biggest argument to anyone claiming the remake is the better film. I would first like to say that the mutant makeup is glorious, and Nicotero and company cannot be praised enough for the work (and research into deformities) that brought these characters to life because it's some of their best work, and that's saying a lot. Furthermore, I will even concede that the CG used to modify the faces of the two children (used in conjunction with traditional makeup effects) creates a delightfully grotesque sequence, and that the gore effects created for the scene in which Byrd discovers Drago munching his stolen prize make for one of the most disgusting scenes of cannibalism since Anthropophagous.
That said, the pickaxe impalement in the opening sequence, the fish in the stream, the cratered landscape, the burning bush sequence, shotgun suicide, and flame-engulfed Billy Drago are abysmal and detract from the good practical work with which they share a screen. I will likely go to my grave a cranky old man with an irrational hatred of computer effects, but even those who lack such an aversion will find the 20-year-old digital effects distracting. Less critical effects include the severed ear (very nice), dummies being drug behind a truck (insufficiently weighted), severed limbs in the freezer (nice, but soft and prone to bouncing about), an axe to the head (solid, with just the right depth), and the Airstream explosion, which would be great if not for the accompanying digital flames. The blood formula was also very good and dribbled with flawless tint and thickness.
The shooting locations are nice, but the exteriors are a touch too pretty for my liking - an observation shared by Ted Levine's character while commenting on the beautiful red rock formations as he tries to distract from the fact that he's gotten the family lost. Wes Craven and Peter Locke (who worked as producers on the film) had initially wanted to shoot in the same area where they'd filmed the original, but upon having found a series of unsightly condominiums erected on those hallowed grounds, turned scouting duties over to director Alexandre Aja and art director Gregory Levasseur, who searched the world over the world and settled on... Morocco. The landscapes are very photogenic and lovely to look upon, but this runs in stark contrast to the film's terror and brutality in a way that's not absurd enough to work ironically. Looking back on the original flick, the desert is gray, bleak, and utterly inhospitable to the point that it functions as a character unto itself - seemingly working in league with the cannibals in their quest to slay and devour the hapless family who've stepped out of their element and into a rough part of town.
Alternatively, the decaying mining town and the antique decor inside the various residences are both triumphs of the flick's production designer, despite a still-operable 50-year-old television set that's been runnin' off a generator for half a century and pickin' up analog signals in an area with no cell phone coverage. Equally enjoyable are the Gas Haven service station and its squalid conditions (including a 30-year-old TV set of its own) and Airstream interiors, and now that I think about it, it's kinda appalling the way the sets are so much better than the natural locations in a Hills movie, but that's the way it shakes out - though the mine was authentic and excellent, if underutilized.
The soundtrack is powerful and perfectly in tune with the emotion on display in every scene in which it plays - from its subdued strings that seem to echo and project a lifeless void of nothingness for miles around, to melancholic acoustic guitar pieces accompanied by swirling winds that elicit a sense of utter hopelessness, and grandiose brass/bass compositions that promise and deliver absolute carnage when warranted and not for a moment longer. The score fits its visuals as well or better than Don Peake's soundtrack from the original film while occasionally using some of the same non-musical elements that made Peake's composition work, such as strange, primitive noises that are beyond my ability to identify, but which inject a sense of lurking, primeval danger into pieces that are not overtly threatening. I'm kinda on the fence about the droning buzzer noise that's utilized when the film is about to do its worst; both because it's a bit cheesy and because it tips the movie's hand a bit too much, but for a soundtrack without a central catchy piece that's remixed and reused numerous times, it's very effective at building suspense, enhancing sorrow, and making you feel something for very human characters who aren't always the most sympathetic, but who, nonetheless, are worth rooting for. And extra points for the inclusion of "California Dreamin'" in a flick where a family vacation to said state is brought to a screeching halt in the worst possible way.
Overall, The Hills Have Eyes is a superb, faithful remake of Wes Craven's original classic that doesn't quite live up to it either in terms of production or entertainment value, but comes close on both fronts. Its unfortunate digital effects and picturesque landscapes often neuter what should be a foreboding and frightening atmosphere despite an effective modernization of the story, strong acting, and a soundtrack that's perfectly in sync with the film's tone. Regardless, it's one of the best genre titles and *the* best remake of this century, so don't go skippin' over it just because it's chronologically challenged; it's the real deal.
Rating: 84%