directed by Drew Goddard
Two milktoast cubicle types discuss the banality of a wife’s nesting instinct. If I wasn’t at least a little in the know, I would have thought I walked into the wrong auditorium. The two drone on (hilariously, by the way) about baby proofing, routine, company kinks and-BAM! The title credit socks you in the groin, and as far as the film is concerned, it’s game on from there on out. I may be a little late to the party, but The Cabin in the Woods did not disappoint in terms of sheer bloody, good time horror fun. I miraculously managed to remain delightfully ignorant of the premise (well, as ignorant as I could. I did watch the trailer), but Joss Whedon’s latest tale is a sure fire crowd pleaser as it has a bloody good time raiding the treasure chest of horror. The plot is, on the surface, timeless: a group of kids go into the woods to get loose, and their good time goes from rad to bad (that’s the last straw, BC. These jokes are making me sad) as they uncover a relic in the cellar. I’ve said too much, but you probably know all this already. The fun is in the way Whedon plays with the fact that we know, and even manages to give us some great surprises. Suffice to say, though, that the film belongs to Richard Jenkins and Bradley Whitford. Mr. Whedon, I could watch a whole movie (or, ahem, a series. Hint hint) about these two guys. Whitford’s tension killing lines are some of the finest in recent memory, and Jenkins is the master of finding hilarity in the mundane. As a guy who has grown extremely weary of the torture porn direction of modern horror (maybe I’m getting old), Cabin is one of those rare treats that find a way to blend the blood and guts with wit and tension, and a knowing wink that says, “relax. This is going to be fun.” Big ups, Mr. Whedon. The Cabin in the Woods is my lady!