Lend me a hand?
I came upon the first Evil Dead (1981) while researching influential horror movies online. I had heard the title before and had previously assumed it to be a schlock oddity, something people watched for kicks. When I finally ventured out to my local Best Buy to pick up a copy, I spotted a sequel sitting beside it. Together, they came to less than twenty bucks so, I figured, what the Hell.
My experience with Evil Dead was mind blowing to say the least, so much so that I couldn’t wait to watch the second entry. But even that first film could not prepare me for what was in store. Horror, up until then for me, had been a largely serious affair. Certainly some contained elements of comedy and strange tonal shifts, but none had ventured into straight slap-stick. Had someone told me that was the direction the franchise was headed in, I would have scoffed – certain that the change would simply not work.
Still, that’s the genius of what Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, Scott Spiegel, Greg Nicotero and a slew of others accomplished with Evil Dead 2 (1987). It is less a sequel and more a revision of the film that came before, employing the same sense of spirited cinematography, outrageous effects and breakneck pacing that worked so well to create visceral terror in the original.
Exaggerating what worked in Evil Dead in an effort to infuse new life, tonality, and the breadth of imagination present in Evil Dead 2 served to instantaneously alter the way I viewed sequels. More than that, it shifted my perspective on horror, for it suddenly occurred to me how much the genre had in common with comedy. Timing is everything. Exaggeration is key. The characters in both exist in a heightened state and are being tested in ways that can be almost frightening in their awkwardness. Hilarity and fear both arise from a place of unease and both can co-exist as a release of sorts for that unspoken turbulence.
Few sequences represent this oddball dichotomy better than that where Ash, portrayed by the always iconic Bruce Campbell, is forced to deal with the possession of his own hand. Walking the fine line between hilarious and terrifying requires every element of a scene to work together in tandem, stylistically, physically, and operationally supporting the ever changing sense of silliness and raw terror vying for center stage. A sense of danger needs to be present, an improvisational nature to the flow of the scene as well as to the reactions of the character occupying the frame.
Ideas and execution are two very different things. It was my own curiosity regarding how the creatives involved with this film went from one to the other that finally drew me to the screenplay that Sam Raimi and Scott Spiegel wrote in the mid-eighties. How is it possible for black and white text to bring to life sequences so ludicrous and ghastly? How did the words on the page help to define a film so unlike anything else I had ever encountered?
Those pages concerning the possessed hand exemplify the answer: employing simplicity of prose – a directness of blocking while still leaving room for the nuance of character required to really land the gag in question. Straightforward and devoid of the sort of emotional poeticism one might find in other scripts, Evil Dead 2 presents exactly what is necessary to successfully accomplish its lofty aims of existing inside of horror and comedy, together as one but distinct in the moment. Some practical effects sequences lean heavily on the gore, the applications and the monstrousness of the creations onscreen to affect the emotion desired. Others utilize those things to supplement the tone and energy brought about by the visual style, storytelling and larger than life performances they are able to inspire.
THE SCENE
Ash looks down from the mirror to his hands. He watches in horror as black veins spread about his hand which sports a darker complexion and long, monstrous fingernails. The hand accosts Ash, clawing at his face. He fends off the attack with his free hand, pinning it to the ground and shouting in anguish. He hurries into the kitchen, dousing his hand in water but to no avail. His hand attacks once more, breaking dishes over Ash’s head and knocking him out cold. Spotting a cleaver, the hand drags Ash across the floor. The hand inches ever closer to the weapon but is halted when Ash drives a large knife into the hand. Shouting, Ash revs up a chainsaw and severs the hand from his body, crying out “Who’s laughing now?!” into the night.
THE SCRIPT
Excerpt taken from the script ‘EVIL DEAD II’ written by Sam Raimi & Scott Spiegel. The script was sourced from www.imsdb.com (Found here).
THE SCREEN
The scene continues on from a sequence designed to break Ash down to a quivering shadow of his former self, picking up just after his doppelgänger emerged from the mirror to assault him. Shaken, he does a double-take toward the mirror, immediately invoking a subtle sense of Vaudevillian practical comedy. The screenplay, being a shoot script as opposed to a spec script, includes direction and is broken up by shot as opposed to scene, allowing the reader to understand the visual dynamism intended to be employed.
Much of the text here manifests on the screen directly. For example, the sentence “The wound suddenly blackens and spiderwebs it’s infection across the entire surface of the hand” describes point for point exactly what occurs, without nuance. The only thing missing from the description is Ash’s emotional state and his reactions to what is happening. The screenplay allows for the actor to bring his own emotional timing to the scene – a stroke of brilliance that provides clear direction coupled with the freedom to breathe unique life into the situation.
The screenplay does suggest some visuals and effects that are not present in the film. Phrases regarding the hand such as “it’s veins throb and pulsate”, “The hand’s fingernails grow inches” and “The wound oozes black fluid” are excised in lieu of what one assumes is time or budget constraints. However, it is undeniable that the speed to which the hand goes from alteration to attack is fast and mean, continuing the sense of chaotic pacing that is both exciting and intrinsic to the manic eccentricity of the film.
The screenplay then describes Ash’s battle with the hand, continuing by saying, “He slams the hand to the cabin floor.” While true, the film does slow down a bit here, allowing for Ash to showcase his wild emotional state: fear intermingled with anguish infused with a hint of untethered rage. His descent to the floor is slow and instead of screaming the line written in the screenplay, he first says it pathetically and emotionally, almost pleadingly:
“You bastards… you dirty bastards. Give me back my hand.”
The line appears in the script as the slightly more truncated: You bastards. Give me back my hand. While seemingly a very slight change the alteration serves to truly land the sacrifice Ash knows he will moments later have to make, the helplessness he feels in the wake of these beings which control every element of the situation. This unprocessed emotion is followed by the canted camera angle and the scream the script originally promised as Ash once again shouts: “Give me back my hand!”
The script emitted the following sequence which appears in the film, cutting away from Ash and providing a path for the peripheral characters to arrive at the cabin. Arguably, the scene allows the audience to breathe before reentering the insanity of the cabin, to digest the predicament Ash is in and to provide a modicum of distance from the plea of wanting his hand back to the hardened decision to lop it off.
Again, the screenplay is altogether direct in its blocking of the sequence: “Ash rushes into the kitchen and places his hand in the sink.” Ash frantically stumbles through the cabin, while the camera takes its own smooth path. Ash moves in and out of frame, suggesting a fluidity of motion to the point of view of the audience, which may well be that of the evil which finds itself observing the man its tormenting. The water turns on and we watch from under the stream as the hand is engulfed in liquid, visually putting us somewhere strange and providing a sense of life and awareness to the hand as before.
The screenplay has Ash mumbling “reassurances” to himself, but the film does away with that, again cutting to the action of the scene: “It grabs a plate sitting in the dishwater and reaches up silently out of the sink.” The onslaught of plates shattering over Ash’s head is described in a pretty straight forward manner. Words like “mercilessly” and phrasing such as “again and again” pepper the action description of this sequence, suggesting absurd repetition. One of the last sentences before Ash is said to have been “knocked unconscious” reads:
“He smashes into a cupboard where dishes and plates fall upon him.”
The line could just as easily have appeared in a 3 Stooges script. Nowhere in this text appears stage direction for Ash, merely the matter of fact actions to which he be beholden. On screen, his performance is comedically masterful: he warbles pathetically as the glass shatters, he flops around animatedly as his own hand pummels him over and over and he even appears to go slightly crosseyed when taking a particularly hard hit and falling to the floor.
The hand has a voice in the matter as well, a high pitched, self aware sound emitting from the space around the hand – cartoonish and harmless in its silliness, defiantly opposite of the threat it actually poses on screen. Even after Ash is knocked unconscious, the screenplay reads “The hand continues breaking objects over his head.” Adding insult to injury amplifies the goofiness of this sequence and makes for several riotous laughs. This interaction is then proceeded immediately by an obvious pan as the hand senses a cleaver just out of frame.
The hand moves toward the meat cleaver “as it pulls Ash’s unconscious body along after it.” The sequence continues to ratchet up the stakes as it edges closer and closer to cartoonish hilarity. The idea, however, when juxtaposed against the eventuality of the hand’s actions (i.e. the cleaver and what it is intending to do with it) is bizarrely disturbing and something that moments ago was seeped in our protagonist’s rage and desperation.
The sequence is cut down in the film compared to how it appears in the screenplay. Streamlining the hand’s attempt to get to the cleaver was wise as it allows for the moment when the knife comes flying down to pin it to land with intensity and triumph. Again, pacing is everything in this sequence.
The screenplay reads: “CAMERA pulls over to reveal a revived Ash.” Followed by the dialogue: Who’s laughing now?
While not mentioned, Ash contains a glint of insanity in his eyes. He has officially succumbed to the pressure the entity has placed on him. His words issue out with laughter, exasperation and exultance in what I can only summarize is madness: the violent, passionate outburst of emotional dissonance and disconnectedness associated with facing the demonic.
“He reaches over with his good hand and pulls a fire engine red chainsaw down from the shelf.” The film employs this same notion, showing Ash raising the chainsaw maniacally, but rather than simply pulling the starter cord as the screenplay dictates, he bites it with his teeth and pulls, adding a sense of instability to his character that isn’t present on the page. The words on the page then continue to track Ash’s decent without dictating it, reading, “The CAMREA TRACKS IN to Ash’s sweating face.” Even this simple sentence provides a feeling of intimacy and closeness with one who is on the verge of losing themselves.
“Who’s laughing now!?” Ash repeats in the screenplay. This time an exclamation point has been added at the end of the sentence, a small change but an important one. Repetition intermingled with rising intensity begets insanity. The screenplay leaves the scene with the words:
“He lowers the spinning blade of the chainsaw down out of frame and toward the evil hand. Blood flies up into frame.”
These words describe what appears on the screen well. Yet nothing can accurately provide a window into Ash’s delirium like the look on his face as the bright, red blood splatters onto him, dousing him in a screaming frenzy. Chaos reigns and yet the words appear structured and purposeful, finely walking the line between the horrific and hilarious which present themselves against the backdrop of irrationality.
THE BLOODY CONCLUSION
Originally a more elaborate hand was designed for this sequence, one which had the ability to grow fingernails and ooze bile and blood. In the commentary track found on the Lionsgate Evil Dead 2 blu-ray release (Available here), Greg Nicotero talks about the prosthetic before Bruce Campbell interjected regarding his personal philosophy regarding effects:
“I think with all that effects business, you got to shoot some stuff and if it works it works, but… you wind up… with a mix and match of all kinds of different things.”
Practical effects are best served as understated extensions of character. Subtlety is not what the Evil Dead franchise is known for, far from it, and certainly this particular film contains its fair share of elaborate effects. However, it is a scene like this, one where the visual style and Bruce Campbell’s performance is on full display, hopping in and out of the various tones the film employs, that best represents how and when to use practical effects most effectively.
I stumbled upon Evil Dead 2 while trying to expand my horror horizons, assuming it might be a fun follow up to what I assumed would be a genre classic. What I walked away with was a genre classic in its own right, and one that redefined what was possible in horror cinema. Even the moniker of “sequel” didn’t have be something inferior, for if all art is a jumping off point for one’s imagination then even a second entry can offer limitless possibilities for growth.
Some practical effects sequences are big, bombastic things with unforgettable creature effects employing genre-altering realism. Others still are supplemental to the performance of the actor by which they’re being inflicted. Evil Dead 2 creates its impact with visual flare and performance, leaning on its impressive effects to amplify those elements, rather than overcome them. Its screenplay’s simplistic writing style and straight forward narrative mirrors this intent and presents a canvas upon which the filmmaker was able to paint his vision.
The film is an amalgam of ideas, of dissonant elements that may not seem as though they would work on their own, but when combined, create something bizarre and effective – difficult to define, but powerful all the same. Unlike anything I ever have or likely ever will encounter again.
During the aforementioned commentary track there’s a moment where Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, Scott Spiegel and Greg Nicotero all fall silent. A moment later, the evil hand breaks the first plate, hard over Ash’s head, sending him reeling. All four break into riotous laughter, enjoying the moment as if they had never seen it before, let alone toiled away making it on the cheap all of those years ago. A second later they move on, as if nothing occurred, to discuss the amount of blood thrown at Bruce Campbell in the following sequence.
Whether smashing several plates atop a dazed person’s head or dousing someone in gallons of thick, red blood, one thing is for sure – horror can abide both. Especially when the words are clear, concise and utterly limitless in their potential for visual realization.
Just ask the creators of Evil Dead 2. That is, once they stop laughing.
Evil Dead II (1987) Written by Sam Raimi & Scott Spiegel.
Directed by Sam Raimi
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