Cabin In The Woods (Full Spoilers)

Now that Cabin in the Woods has been released and I've seen it a second time, I'd like to delve a little further into what exactly makes the film so special. I'm assuming you've seen it at this point, so consider yourself warned (and admonished if you have yet to support it). It's interesting how much the movie opened up for me with this sophomore screening. My initial viewing, I found it to be an intellectually engaging, moderately amusing first half of horror trope deconstruction that evolved into a rip roaring tribute to obsessive genre fandom in the back end. This second go round, freed from keeping up with the twists and turns and unburdened by the need to furtively dart my eyes about the screen trying to catalog each of the rampaging horrors, the films emotional core came into focus and its central philosophy was given room to breathe.

Both of these factors are inextricably linked. Cabin in the Woods loves its characters, both human and monster, with a genuine earnestness and abiding appreciation. It cares about who they are and the function they serve. You can see it in the wordless embrace Marty and Dana share in the elevator, the playful relationship Curt and Jules have, the lived in working relationship of Sitterson and Hadley. Hell, even Fornicus: Lord of bondage and Pain, a clear Cenobite knock off, is given a gravitas laden moment to shine. The Buckner's imbued with a painstakingly harrowing back story and functional familial structure. Each and every piece of this meticulous puzzle box lovingly crafted and carefully placed by the two master storytellers who envisioned and subsequently brought it to life. Which is ironic considering the pictures central thesis seems to lie in pointing out the dead end we as a species have come to both in terms of the stories we tell and in breaking down WHY we tell stories.

The uncomfortable questions raised by the films seeming adherence to a nihilistic, apocalyptic outlook can't be simply shrugged off in a gale of giddy laughter. There is a moment when Marty steps outside for fresh air, and upon gazing into the vacant heavens utters, "I thought there'd be stars. We are abandoned". It's an unsettling observation for both his character and the human race. Here we all are, at this late stage in our evolution, re-purposing and reconfiguring the same hoary old stories and cliches over and over again. Using the internet to tirelessly bemoan labored plot contrivances with similarly self aware pop culture acolytes. Intoning empty praises and hurling hyperbolic curses into a godless technological void of our own painfully self aware construction. This film ends with the destruction of the entire human race, not because it's funny or unique or anything so pedestrian. It ends the human race because that is the logical conclusion for the story and the species.

We're stuck in and saturated by a self perpetuating media loop of the same ideas, the same hatreds, the same politics played out writ large, ad nauseum, throughout perpetuity. The proverbial snake eating its own tail, except replace snake with well fed capitalist and tail with proxy mythology existence justification as a means to consensus morality promulgation. The need to kill, debase and sacrifice youthful naivete to sate our barely-in-check bloodlust and collective self hatred is a clear indication of how regressive we are in spite of miraculous technological leaps. We, the audience, are the elder gods, smashing the film at the end for its temerity in exposing the revolting machinations at work in keeping us quiet and entertained. We are slow witted and slumbering, subjugated ghosts drifting through an abominable afterlife of our own making. Nodding and winking toward obsolescence.