Mr. Rage Movie Review: Drag Me to Hell

Mr. Rage: Furious About Films...

"Drag Me to Hell" 

Gets 4 Fuckin' -A rights!

Mr. Rage here. I’m no film critic. I don’t know Godard from “goddamn.” I know dick about documentaries. And unless German expressionism included throwing up a middle finger or breaking things, well, I don’t know shit about that, either.

However, I know I like movies with people who are pissed off and do something about it. I know I hate that Sandra Bullock cuddly-farty bullshit. I know I’ve never been caught smuggling Funyuns and cognac every time I’ve gone to the movies.

This week, I saw “Drag Me to Hell,” a horror movie directed by Sam Raimi. Time was, that guy’s name guaranteed greatness. The “Evil Dead” movies, “Darkman” and “A Simple Plan” all get Mr. Rage’s seal of approval.

But my right butt-cheek went numb during “Spider-Man 3,” a snoozer that turned Peter Parker into a spastic-dancing jackass.  Seriously, I’ve flushed better movies after long nights at White Castle. Then again, I don’t get paid to crap out “Spider-Man” movies like he does.

Maybe that’s a little harsh, because if the inevitable “Spider-Man 4” kicks half as much ass as “Drag Me to Hell,” it’s going to be one of the best superhero movies ever.

Raimi has gotten his shit back together for this one – pissed-off demons throwing people around like ragdolls, stapled-shut eyes, vomited maggots and formaldehyde, and a gypsy woman that even I wouldn’t want to fuck with. Now I know why Borat and his fat friend wanted nothing to do with them. But more about the gypsy later.

Let’s talk about Alison Lohman as Christine, a hot, young banker who once was a fat farm-girl teenager. Forget dragging her to hell. I’d gladly take her to heaven. (A scene with a tight-fitting T-shirt in the rain is one that I’ll enjoy on Blu-ray.) I read that Ellen Page, the pregnant chick from “Juno,” was supposed to be in this. Friends, we call that trading up.

But I digress. Pissed off? I don’t care. You want professional? Read Ebert.

Anyway, Christine’s trying to put her past behind her with a good job and an uppity boyfriend (that rail-thin toolbag who’s the Mac in the Mac-PC ad). Even in this shitty economy, she’s up for a promotion. But her boss says she’s got to be more of a cast-iron bitch to get it. Boy, does Christine pick the wrong lady to piss off – an old gypsy who hocks phlegm and takes apart her dentures on Christine’s desk.

When Christine won’t extend the gypsy’s mortgage, the gypsy flips her shit so much that she even tries to bite Christine with her denture-less mouth. (That’s not even scratching the surface of how batshit this movie gets. Trust me.) Then, the gypsy summons a black-goat demon from hell to torment Christine before taking her soul.

I don’t want to spoil anything because this is one movie you won’t be pissed that you paid to see. Rest assured, though, that Christine does something about her anger, too. See it with the hottest chick that will go with you. In her fragile state, you can, uh, comfort her later. 

Oh, “stars.” Every critic gives “stars.” Well, how about “fuckin’-A rights”? “Drag Me to Hell” gets four fuckin’-A rights. 

Well, that’s it. Join me next time when I review a pissed-off-looking John Travolta in “The Taking of Pelham 123.” Until then, rage on my angry friends. 

Mr. Rage