All in all, House of Wax is a better class of stupid-but-fun horror romps. Characters are dispatched in inventive (and cringe-inducing) ways, and director Jaume Serra doesn’t pretend to be making a landmark suspense film. Rather than bombard you with crappy music that telegraphs every scare, the film uses its score with no small degree of style by randomly giving you silence and music, so that you don’t know what’s going to happen. It worked well enough to make me jump more than once, and that’s no mean feat.
So if you’re feeling the need to see photogenic B-listers taken out in a horrific manner and then dipped in wax, this is the movie for you. House of Wax doesn’t come close to approaching the weirdo-creep factor of the Vincent Price original, but it’s a welcome return to the glorious days of bloody mayhem and forgettable horror.
House of Wax
2 & 1/2 Stars
If there’s one thing Hollywood has done right in the last couple of years it would be knowing that if Paris Hilton is in a movie, she’d better die in a horrible, brutal manner. Thankfully, House of Wax has seen fit to continue this trend.
 |
| Artist Rendering of Paris Hilton’s Soul |
A remake in only the loosest sense, House of Wax is yet another Dark Castle update of an old horror classic. This time around the unlucky victims are a group of college kids on their way to the Big Game, but soon find themselves stranded in the boonies. Faster than you can say “Crystal Lake”, bad things start happening as the WB All Stars find themselves being stalked by two crazy brothers with some odd ideas on what constitutes a memento.
Elisha Cuthbert and Chad Michael Murray lead the pack of soon-to-be-forgotten faces this time around, with Jared Padalcki, Jon Abrahams, Robert Ri’chard, and Paris Hilton filling out the ranks. Rather than delve into the details of a horror film plot, we’ll just stick with how things work out.
You’ve got to turn off the dumb meters for any horror film, and this one is no exception. What does set this slasher flick apart from the pack is its early 80’s feel, both in its gorey deaths, and the hallmarks of its characters’ behavior. If you can’t guess who’s going to live or die within the first 15 minutes of this movie, you have no right to call yourself a horror fan. Just like in the halcyon days of 80’s horror, sex means death, characters are too stupid to realize that open doors are pathways to unimaginable horror, and hiding from the baddie never, never works.
All in all, House of Wax is a better class of stupid-but-fun horror romps. Characters are dispatched in inventive (and cringe-inducing) ways, and director Jaume Serra doesn’t pretend to be making a landmark suspense film. Rather than bombard you with crappy music that telegraphs every scare, the film uses its score with no small degree of style by randomly giving you silence and music, so that you don’t know what’s going to happen. It worked well enough to make me jump more than once, and that’s no mean feat.
Sure the plot makes about as much sense as a hobo’s dream diary, but that’s not what you’re there to see. I know what I was there to see, and that was the death of Paris Hilton. Thankfully the film makers seemed to understand that might be a common goal, so they set about doing so in a very satisfying manner. If the crowd doesn’t cheer when she’s finally dispatched, I’d be very afraid of your fellow moviegoers.
My one real nitpick with the film is the casting of teen heartthrob Chad Michael Murray as a rough and tumble thug. I mean c’mon. With his high dollar gym abs and wispy facial hair, Murray looks about as tough as the Snuggles Bear. Seriously. Betty White could take his ass down, but hey: looking for realistic casting in a horror film is like wishing for a pony that flies to the moon.
While we’re talking about the cast, let me take the moment to assure each and every one of you that any fears/hopes you may harbor as to Paris Hilton’s acting ability can surely be put to rest. The titular House of Wax displays more charisma and charm than the giggling socialite, and the only laughs her character generates are the ones that are firmly at the expense of Hilton and her internet sexcapedes.
So if you’re feeling the need to see photogenic B-listers taken out in a horrific manner and then dipped in wax, this is the movie for you. House of Wax doesn’t come close to approaching the weirdo-creep factor of the Vincent Price original, but it’s a welcome return to the glorious days of bloody mayhem and forgettable horror.