Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on November 1, 2005, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a documentary that better captures just what a long, involved yet rewarding and satisfying experience making a movie is than the 145-minute 30 Days in Hell, which comprises the entire second disc of Lions Gate’s The Devil’s Rejects two-DVD set. From the offices where Rob Zombie and company first broke down the script to the helicopter from which the aerial shots of the Rejects’ car was filmed, there’s nowhere that the cameras weren’t given access, and what they captured has been expertly assembled into a day-by-day chronicle of the making of Zombie’s startling and stunning follow-up to House of 1000 Corpses. With this release, the year’s best horror film (reviewed here) has now been given the year’s best DVD treatment of a new fright feature.
Any genre fans who missed this one in theaters—well, they have some explaining to do, but they won’t miss much in viewing the disc’s exemplary 1.85:1 transfer. The sun-blasted exteriors, shadowy interiors and morbid colors are all replicated with razor sharpness and perfect clarity. And as befits Zombie’s background, the DTS-ES 6.1 and Dolby 5.1 Surround EX soundtracks rock, punching across all the screams, audio mayhem and perfectly chosen ’70s rock songs. This edition is the unrated Director’s Cut but, frankly, I couldn’t spot too many differences from my recollections of the surprisingly intense and graphic R-rated theatrical version. There appears to be a little extra grue added to the roadkill aftermath scene, for example, but I’d have to do a side-by-side comparison with the R-rated fullscreen disc that has also been issued, and really, who’d even want to bother touching that one?
And the transfer quality is just the beginning. There’s so much good stuff here that it’s hard to know where to start, but let’s begin with the deleted scenes. Way too often, this sort of material is negligible, revealing only that it was better off excised, but there’s meaty stuff here, most notably a complete hospital setpiece with a bedridden Dr. Satan and a nurse played by Rosario Dawson. On the lighter side, there’s a fun bit in which Michael Berryman discusses the sexual possibilities of corn. Equally amusing is a collection of bloopers (including some from the cut sequences), among them a wet outtake from Mary Woronov’s murder. Then there’s the full Morris Green Show, chock full of pop-culture shtick as Daniel Roebuck’s talk-show host spouts off about Welcome Back, Kotter and other threats to America’s youth, a couple of Captain Spaulding ads and a vintage video of Buck Owens’ soundtrack song “Satan’s Got to Get Along Without Me.”
On a more serious note, there’s a brief, moving tribute to towering Tiny actor Matthew McGrory, who died earlier this year, combining interview and on-set footage. In a nice touch, a dedication to McGrory has also been added to the head of the end credits on the feature itself. A makeup test section (which plays without audio) mostly spotlights the straight makeup applied to various actors, but stick through it for a better look at the Dr. Satan prosthetics. Cheerleader Missing—The Otis Home Movie adds an extra bit of disturbing mayhem, styled as Super-8 footage of Bill Moseley’s character attacking a young victim, and this part of the supplemental package is topped off by a good collection of stills, trailers and TV spots.
Oh yes, and then there are a pair of commentaries, one by Zombie and the other by stars Moseley, Sid Haig and Sheri Moon Zombie. The writer/director’s talk is thorough and informative, and shot through with plenty of humor as well; recalling that Moseley originally wanted Otis to get out of bed naked and stay that way through the opening shootout, he says, “I didn’t feel like dealing with a nude Bill Moseley all day long.” He notes that he did have to deal with porno shoots he stumbled upon while preparing this movie (and House), and shares plenty of details about his influences and filming techniques. And he clarifies the chronology of his pair of features, noting that Rejects takes place in 1978, eight months after the events of House.
With so much production info in Zombie’s talk track and the documentary, the three leads are free to just have fun on their own commentary, and it’s contagious. While there are a few fresh insights to be gleaned here—like the particular lines they came up with in rehearsal, including the “Tutti-f**kin’-frutti” bit—the experience is mostly like hanging out with the actors and enjoying their observations about the movie and their collaborators. They clearly enjoyed themselves on the shoot—even if filming some of Otis’ more violent and abusive moments freaked Moseley out, and Moon Zombie was a little intimidated by co-star William Forsythe. She also admits that there are certain scenes in the movie she still can’t watch!
And then there’s 30 Days, which by the end will have you feeling like you went through the production along with the filmmakers and cast. We get to see auditions (including Priscilla Barnes reading for the role eventually taken by Ginger Lynn Allen—who, we learn, did her sex scene with Haig with an injured leg) and quick portions of a table read of the script. That one looks so entertaining, one wishes the whole thing could have been included here somehow. When lensing begins, every significant member of the crew has a chance to discuss their involvement—from cinematographer Phil Parmet, who was hired for his documentary experience, to production designer Anthony Tremblay, who came on board a week before filming started after his predecessor left the project. There are all kinds of neat little nuggets, like Parmet taking digital photos, treating them on a computer and sending them to the lab to show the techies there just what look he wants in the final footage.
Of key interest to genre fans will be sections devoted to Wayne Toth’s makeup FX and Kane Hodder’s stunt coordination. Ironically, one of the closest examinations of the former’s work is in the segment detailing the aforementioned Dr. Satan attack; we’re also shown step-by-step how CGI augmented the gory moments. We also witness Hodder applying his expertise to making the film’s fights look convincingly brutal, unrefined and, as Zombie describes them in his commentary, “sloppy.” And the slugfests are the only facet of The Devil’s Rejects—the movie or the DVD—where that description even remotely applies.
