Dir. Steven R. Monroe
While staying at a secluded cabin to finish her novel, a young writer is brutally raped and left for dead by a group of local men. Some time later, she systematically hunts down the men to extract merciless and gruesome revenge.
The original I Spit on Your Grave is a notorious rape-revenge film produced in the 1970s. Written and directed by Meir Zarchi, it generated controversy upon its release for its graphic violence and depiction of the brutal gang rape of the main character (novelist Jennifer Hills, portrayed by Camille Keaton) which lasts about half an hour. It was branded a Video Nasty and subsequently banned. Some critics over the years have suggested the film is ‘pro-feminist’, that Zarchi was exploring 'feminist wish-fulfilment', and that revenge narratives can subvert traditional power dynamics, ultimately empowering the victim. Others have said it can't possibly be a feminist work because rape-revenge films are inherently misogynistic, produced solely to exploit images of graphic rape, torture and violence against women.
The remake of I Spit On Your Grave is a film of two distinct parts. The first unravels slowly, stressfully, as Jennifer (Sarah Butler) arrives at her rented lakeside cabin in the middle of nowhere and sets about preparing to write her second novel. The cabin is idyllic - though it is obvious just from looking at it, things will become more ominous when night falls - and Jennifer, like any good writer, has stocked up on fine wine to get those creative juices flowing and help her settle in. Events move measuredly, and a slow-burning tension is soon ignited, only to increase as the story unfolds. We follow Jennifer as she goes about her daily, mundane routines, oblivious to the fact that she is being watched and filmed by the young men she encountered earlier at a gas station. Realising that she is staying at the cabin, and alone, they skulk around the surrounding woods at night and film her. Every so often she wanders out into the cold, dark night to investigate strange noises, raising the tension that little bit more. We know what’s coming, and director Monroe knows that we know, and he continues to build queasy suspense.
The events that follow are harrowing. The depiction of her attack and rape is difficult to watch. In the stifling quiet of the aftermath, she slowly hobbles away, alone and in a state of traumatised shock, her body and her spirit utterly broken. It’s a stark and overwhelming moment. When she disappears into the woods, the film takes a strangely odd and somewhat frustrating direction and begins to follow her attackers; not so much in an attempt to flesh them out, but just to observe them from a distance and maybe even relish in their anxiety when they don’t find Jennifer’s body right away... The sheriff (Andrew Howard) is a thinly-drawn family man, but after witnessing what he did to Jennifer, no amount of picturing him cuddled on the couch watching TV with his pregnant wife and little girl will make us feel anything but contempt for him. He is the ringleader – his role made all the more shocking because of his status as a sheriff – someone who should have helped Jennifer. Writer Stuart Morse doesn’t even attempt to make us care for these characters. Likewise, director Monroe is perhaps more concerned with setting up tension surrounding Jennifer’s imminent return to seek revenge, than character profile. Similarly, the aftermath of Jennifer's horrific ordeal, and how she dealt with it, processed it, is left completely off screen.
When Jennifer does finally return to the narrative, the tone jars as Monroe switches gears into a tightly wound revenge fantasy. As Jennifer dishes out righteous vigilante punishment, she spits retorts like ‘Is that any way to treat a lady?’, before producing a sizable pair of garden shears and castrating one of her attackers. The punishments walk a line between intricately designed Saw-type traps boasting nasty pay-offs, and the Grand Guignol showmanship of vintage Italian horror movies – the scene with the eyelids, fish-hooks and hungry crows is pure Dario Argento – brutal, fantastic and more than a little convoluted. As Jennifer, Sarah Butler delivers a strong, committed performance, and she remains credible even when she returns later and starts dishing out one-liners. As her attackers Jeff Branson, Daniel Franzese and Rodney Eastman (Joey from A Nightmare of Elm Street 3 and 4) are suitably menacing and sleazy; all macho-posturing, crotch-grabbin’, phlegm-spittin’ rednecks that can not, and will not, be reasoned with.
Morse's screenplay avoids nuance or in-depth characterisation, as he simply attempts to uphold the spirit of the original film. Monroe's direction is as polished as many other recent remakes of horror films, and there's unexpectedly sly humour injected into the last act. Whether or not this is intentional, or even appropriate given the sombre tone and grim events depicted earlier, it works to add some relief. The original was a stark, powerful exploitation flick, bereft of humour, deliberately fashioned to shock and provoke (and entice fans of extreme cinema). It is also worth mentioning that, unlike the original film, this film presents Jennifer's revenge as meticulously planned, blunt and to the point. She doesn't use her sexuality to entrap her attackers before she kills them, she uses cunning and resourcefulness. She also ensures that her attackers see it all coming, repeating back to them all the taunts they used on her.