I thought I'd eventually outgrow The Devil's Rejects but I rewatched it last night and realized I've actually never fully grown into it. Here's this movie I've loved for damn near 20 years and suddenly it has a cranking, whirring and sliding Murphy Door to a winding staircase of Dr. Robert Zombie's most accomplished lab experiment. On the surface Rejects is a spectacular Frankensteinian monster that appears to be a simple 'throwback' to '70s exploitation movies but it's also a unique and measured satire. It went from being one of my casual favorites to edging into my all-time Top 10 because it's pretty much perfect on all fronts.
First off, visually, it's almost a prototype for me. If I'm dissatisfied with a movie's aesthetic, Rejects is either first or second on my wishlist of How Most Movies Should Look. Every single aspect of the color, the contrast, the lighting, the grainy texture — I adore every frame so much. Even the way he blocks scenes, utilizes the frame, slow zooms, and the energy he brings to handheld is all so casual without being aimless or one-note. There's a distinct style here that's complimented by the sharp control in the editing, especially the use of slides and dissolves.
But more than that is how he navigates the varying tones and shifts in narrative framing, achieving an uncanny harmony that's pretty remarkable. RZ has as much desire to entertain as he does to horrify. None of the horror is ever undercut by a joke nor is any of the horror intrusive on the humor — which is important considering the upsetting places that this movie goes.
Our 'Antihero' (a dubious designation), John Quincy Wydell, is a deeply angry person who jumps to threaten someone with brutal assault simply for insulting "The King" Elvis Presley. So when it comes to his 'righteous' mission for vengeance and Frontier Justice, it's obvious his intentions have little to no nobility. He's full of faux-badass one-liners and monologues, even hypocritically balking when others do the same bullshit posturing that he does in front of a mirror at home. And that hypocrisy is what defines his arc: he becomes who he hates. Again, he's aware of this, but he thinks it's a necessary part of his mission, "walkin' The Line," instead of delusional entitlement to violence. Yeah, The Fireflies are irredeemable monsters, no doubt, but them being awful doesn't absolve Wydell of his own accountability just cuz he's got a badge.
When no other police are around, Wydell slithers in and murders a handcuffed Mother Firefly but with the added venom of sexual violence since he initiates it with erotic coercion as he 'fucks' her stomach with a knife. He even uses this later to taunt Baby, saying "I bet that old whore came before I took her miserable life." This isn't any different than the graphic sexual assault of Gloria Sullivan by Otis Firefly as he shoved his gun into her panties and, later, uses it to taunt Roy Sullivan with "I think I can still smell your wife's pussy stink on my gun." The only difference is choice of weapon.
The parallels and flip-flopping tones constantly challenge the very idea of any binary Allegiances. One of them is working for The Lord and the others are doing The Devil's Work; they're all scum but at least the Devil's Rejects are honest about what they are. There's even a specific point where Zombie shows his hand: the turn happens after Wydell has an incredibly tender moment with the Rejects' traumatized maid. Zombie holds on her pained face as Wydell walks away, making her and her pain feel significant rather than a backdrop. Right after this, though, Wydell meets up with The Unholy Two, a couple of scuzzy bounty hunters he's paid to track down the Fireflies. They look as gritty and fringe as the Rejects themselves and Wydell doesn't mince words as he makes it known he thinks they're beneath him, which means he's embraced a 'necessary evil' — nevermind the fact that he's turning toward evil. And right after their exchange we cut to the infamous Tutti-Frutti scene, the first moment where these sadistic murdering necrophiliacs are shown in an endearing light. This is a brilliant editing choice because, from here on out, The Line is completely blurred as Zombie challenges us to enjoy the Fireflies' company as Wydell becomes a more annoying, embittered killjoy.
The ethos of the bottlenecking narratives is for us to ask ourselves when and if we're okay with Sadism and Torture, and we even get to laugh along the way.
The chill hangout aspect to the character building brings the much-needed light that gives this movie balance. With rhythmic dialog that sounds naturalistic because of the cast's chemistry—they all sound like people who've worked together for years—playing off of each other with funny asides that also reveal enough to humanize them. Again, RZ never tells us what to feel, but he refuses to let any character, no matter how small, feel insignificant. Miraculously, the pacing doesn't suffer when we get a bit about how one of the deputies has low blood sugar or the roadie for Banjo & Sullivan wishes he was a rodeo clown instead (or a prostitute who thinks she could really make some money cosplaying some "Star Wars shit" and her pimp not wanting to do it because he doesn't have the patience for nerds). With expert precision we're thrown from that back into terror and bloodshed without getting whiplash.
With this movie alone Zombie proves himself as a dab-hand juggler who's capable of never dropping any balls he throws up in the air. His coordination and everything he achieves with it makes for one of the most underappreciated American films ever made.
