The Munsters: Revived by Rob Zombie

This beloved TV family was more apple pie-American than the Waltons, the Cleavers, or the Simpsons, but they originally hailed from Transylvania. Sure, some most fans might be somewhat fonder of the Adamses or the Collinses of Collinsport, but we all have a soft spot for Herman Munster and family. That’s why everyone had the same thought when Rob Zombie’s remake was announced: “he better not screw it up.” At least he gets the tone right in The Munsters, which releases today on DVD and Netflix.

Lily is a ghoul (with the moistest) living with her father the Count, who wants her to settle down with a wealthy Nosferatu. Instead, she falls for Herman Munster, the days-old creation of Dr. Henry Augustus Wolfgang. He was stitched together soon after the death of two brothers. One was a brilliant quantum physicist. The other was a moronic nightclub comic. Guess which one’s brain Wolfgang’s assistant Floop was supposed to steal and which he plundered instead.

The Count thinks Herman is an idiot, but it is love at first sight for Lily. Unfortunately, the Count is not wrong about Munster, which makes him easy prey for Lily’s scammer brother Lester, a compulsive gambling werewolf deeply indebted to fortune-teller-real estate developer Zoya Krupp (yes, we still love Maria Ouspenskaya as Maleva in The Wolf Man, but the Roma stereotypes are getting a bit outdated).

Unlike every other film Rob Zombie ever made, The Munsters is sweet and gentle. You won’t hear anyone leveling charges of toxic fandom to defend the film, because it respects what made the original so enduring—a loving nuclear family, who just happen to look like vintage Universal monsters. To that end, there are a number of warmly pleasing sequences, like Herman and Lily’s duet on “I’ve Got You Babe” and Herman’s introduction to Lily’s uncle, the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

The problem with Zombie’s script is that it is a totally unnecessary origin story. We completely get who the Munsters are. There is no need wasting time explaining. Just cut to the riffing on classic monster tropes. Frankly, there is not a lot of genuine conflict to drive the narrative, such as it is. We do not even get to meet Eddie or Marilyn Munster yet, but the original cast-members Butch Patrick and Pat Priest who portrayed them have voice-over cameos (as Tin Can Man and an airline announcer) that viewers should be forewarned of, because otherwise they aren’t likely to register.

Sundance ’16: 31

There are thirty-one days in October. Baskin-Robbins has thirty-one flavors and Rob Zombie probably knows at least that many disembowelment techniques. Two of those will apply here. It is Halloween 1976 and the sickos behind Murder World are holding their annual survival game. The freaky faux-aristocrats will place their wagers, but it hard to understand why, considering how thoroughly they have rigged the contest. Not surprisingly, the bodies quickly pile up in Zombie’s 31, which screens during the 2016 Sundance Film Festival.

At least the 1970’s setting gives Zombie the opportunity to use some twangy, era-appropriate Southern Rock. Those are exactly the sort of tunes a scuffling, fly-by-night carnival would listen to as they drive through miles and miles of lonely highway. When they stop to clear a Blair Witch-looking road block, we can tell it is a trap, but they blunder into it nonetheless.

When the five survivors come to, there are informed they are the contestants in this year’s game of 31. If they can survive twelve hours in the post-industrial hunting ground than they win a year’s supply of Rice-a-Roni and Turtle Wax. If not, they’ll be painfully dead. Their first designated hunter will be Sick-Head, the diminutive National Socialist psychopath. No sir, don’t you expect any subtlety here.

Frankly, 31 brings very little to distinguish it from the field of Most Dangerous Game exploitation knock-offs, including so-so predecessors like Preservation, Black Rock, Paintball, and Raze. Heck, there is even the awkwardly similar Carnage Park also playing in the midnight section this year. All of them are pretty darn bleak, which makes Raimund Huber’s Kill ‘Em All such a breath of fresh air in comparison. In the Thai martial arts beatdown, two contestants are actually vengeance-seekers who have knowingly infiltrated the brutal game of attrition, giving us something 31 and its ilk never offer: hope for payback.

Instead, Zombie just sets up his carny characters like bowling pins, knocking them down one-by-one. Everything is very methodical, with no reversals or detours permitted. It is certainly violent, but the predictability gets perversely boring.

It is a shame, because the colorful ensemble cast has plenty of genre potential. Meg Foster (They Live) is a wonderfully earthy presence as carnival owner Venus Virgo and Sheri Moon Zombie has real action cred as their exotic dancer Charly. Welcome Back Kotter’s Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs adds 1970s authenticity as Panda Thomas, the carny manager. Zombie also earns double genre points for casting Malcolm McDowell as the powered wig-donning mastermind. Yet, none of them ever have a chance to surprise us.

Zombie does have a distinctively grungy sweat-hog aesthetic, but it only gets us so far. A little suspense would help considerably, but we know how this will end right from the start. If gruesomely inventive deaths are enough for you, than have at 31 when it screens this Saturday (1/30) in Park City, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.