The Lords of Salem. Directed by Rob Zombie (Anchor Bay, 2013).
Lords, what a mess.
A promising premise--local DJ hexed by the music on a mysterious album sent to her--regrettably gives way to a film full of occult mumbo jumbo. The director seems to labor under the mistaken belief that blasphemous cackling and an assortment of bizarre images (that have all the narrative logic of a rock video) add up to frightening. The typically fetching Sheri Moon Zombie here appears grungy and emaciated-looking, and practically sleepwalks (thanks to a conflict-starved plot) through her role as the cursed descendant of a 17th Century witch-burner. No less disappointing, for a movie set in a town with such rich history and modern-day love for the macabre, is the fact that Lords supplies very little sense of Salem as a community.
For perpetrating such an atrocity upon his devoted fan base, Zombie arguably deserves to be stoned. And audience members probably will need to be stoned in order to sit through this morose and unmoving mish mash.
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