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Last House on the Left (1972)

Reviewed by Matt
Posted on October 17, 2005 
Filed Under Nasties, Slashers

The directorial debut of genre superstar Wes Craven, Last House on the Left is another film whose violent reputation precedes it. It tells the story of two teenage girls, Mari and Phyllis, who are taken captive by a group of escaped murderers led by Krug (David Hess), raped and then finally murdered. Faced with the bumbling and ineffective local authorities, Mari’s parents decide to take matters into their own hands and avenge their dead daughter - in the most horrendous and brutal way possible.

Last House on the Left shocked audiences on its initial release, and it’s never received a full cinema or uncut DVD release in the UK. On balance, the most unsettling thing about it is not the level of violence (really, there are only six deaths in the movie) but the unflinching way in which Craven presents it. It’s shot with documentary realism, complete with grainy hand-held camera work, that neither obscures the brutality on display nor glorifies it. Craven himself said that many people expect the camera to “blink” when presenting stabbings and killings, whereas it was his intention to present unflinchingly both the physical and emotional realities of rape and murder. His squalid, nasty direction works wholly in the film’s favour - considering the story is about the dehumanising and all-consuming aspects of a cycle of violence, it’s entirely appropriate that it’s delivered like a sickening punch in the gut. Many films are happy to present heroes killing their foes in an entirely positive light, whereas Craven is keen to show just how horrendous and upsetting any inflicted death can be. Banned in the UK on the grounds of the ‘potential harm’ it may cause, it’s hard to imagine anyone being incited to murder by this film - even Krug and his gang don’t seem to enjoy it very much, and that’s before they get their comeuppance.

The film’s cycle of violence is played out with depressing inevitability, adding weight to almost every line of dialogue no matter how naturally it’s delivered. Particularly significant is the opening scene in which Mari is preparing to see a band called Bloodlust - to the confusion of her parents, who cannot understand why their daughter (or anyone) would want to see a rock group that uses such violent imagery; later, of course, it is the parents who become the killers, displaying a more twisted imagination than either Krug’s gang or Bloodlust could imagine. Mari and Phyllis, on the other hand, enjoy Bloodlust’s pantomimic performance but seem relatively uncorrupted by it - Mari fantasises that sleeping with a member of the band would be like being wrapped in cotton (unlikely), and both girls are in no way desensitised to the real horrors that they later face. In a way, Craven taps into the the ‘video nasty’ debate ten years early - those seeking to ban graphic movies did so under the claim that imagery could corrupt; but whereas Mari and Phyllis, who willingly exposed themselves to such imagery, are uncorrupted, it her parents (whom one can well imagine siding with Mrs Whitehouse) who prove capable of the most depravity. It’s not the most sophisticated psychological outlook, but it’s fairly pertinent.

The film isn’t 100% successful. It frequently suffers from poor pacing - the chase through the woods in which Phyllis attempts to escape her soon-to-be killers seems to last an age, and quickly becomes repetitive. Similarly, the ‘comedy’ subplot involving the bumbling local sheriff and his assistant (a bargain-basement Laurel and Hardy) is largely unnecessary and slows the film down; however, presenting the sheriff as a figure of fun is not entirely without purpose as it makes the final shot of his blood-spattered, horrified face all the more impactful. And David Hess’s country and western music score is often intrusive and poorly judged; the atmosphere really steps up a notch when the twanging banjos are replaced with the obligatory 70s horror film analogue synth.

Still, even though it’s an uneven film, Last House on the Left has a powerful immediacy that gives it an almost unparalleled impact. Hess proves a better actor than a composer, bringing a quiet but terrifying malevolence to Krug, and the rest of the cast are superbly naturalistic, especially Sandra Cassell and Lucy Grantham as Mari and Phyllis. The film’s trailer and promotional material make liberal use of the phrase “keep repeating to yourself - it’s only a movie”, which is apt - Last House stands up today because it feels horribly real. It’s slapdash, gruelling and deeply nasty - but also commendably honest it its portrayal of violent acts and their consequences.

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