Woah, there. Before this gets too out of hand, please excuse me while I knock myself on the head with a mental anvil.

Ow.

That hurt a little, but the Mental Anvil always makes me come to my senses. It makes me get over my knee-jerk reaction. The thing is, there are only two extremist camps that might have any opinion at all on this strange unfolding phenomenon. The first is the mainstream movie critic's point of view. This is a rather snooty reaction; a polite version of "pointing and laughing". It seems to be the most logical step in the right direction for these men to attempt an escape from low-brow genre purgatory for legitimate drama. For the most part though, these critics aren't anticipating much from their efforts. Their opinion? Give it a try, then go back to where you came from. Such is the reverse point of view of the more subversive cult film purists. This group can only ask how a mind so brilliantly seditious and sick could even begin to try telling a sedate, traditional love story. Their opinion? Come back to the dark side or become a sell-out. Both of these opinions seem pretty counter-productive, don't you think?

I share opinions with both of these factions. What's a girl to do? Luckily that Mental Anvil thumped a philosophical approach into me. It tells me to put myself in the filmmaker's shoes. Try to become one with Wes Craven or Sam Raimi. For a short moment, inhabit their minds. Now, ask myself why am I choosing to make these kinds of movies? Sounds like a good start to me. But before we begin, it's important that I give a brief history lesson about... well, I guess, myself. (Just for the record: no, I am not a schizophrenic.)

My name is Wes Craven. On a whole, I find little of my body of work to be particularly genius, but can you think of any other director who has successfully re-invented not only himself, but a genre so many times? My first directorial undertaking was Last House on the Left (1972). This is a horror movie about a parent who seeks to avenge the brutal murder of his daughter. All I remember of it however, is shooting scenes where two teenaged girls are sexually humiliated, assaulted and tortured, then dismembered with a machete. The sadistic film somehow turned into a cult classic and became the forbearer of a new horror subgenre - "rape and revenge". It laid the tone for most of the horror films of the '70's, including exploitative imitations like Three on a Meathook, My Friend Needs a Killing, and my own, The Hills Have Eyes.

This trend followed me in the '80's when I ended and era of tedious stalker horror movies (all variations of John Carpenter's Halloween) with A Nightmare On Elm Street. Again, others tried to reproduce the same concept (see Bad Dreams, Dreamaniac, etc.) but failed. I even began to mimic myself and flogged the 'nightmare/reality' idea to unbearable exhaustion. Hence, the multiple sequels to A Nightmare On Elm Street (count, SIX of them, plus a TV series). Slumping in the '90's, I looked back on the horror genre and saw all of the horror clichés that were riddled in them. I'd use these as canon fodder to create the clever and self-aware teen movie, Scream. Naturally, the industry tried to bank on its success again with more silly imitators (I Know What You Did Last Summer, Urban Legend, The Faculty.)

My unique talent is in my ability to learn (albeit slowly) from my mistakes. From them, I can creatively adapt something new within my genre, every time it looks as though it's going to collapse upon itself. So I instigate some of the worst movie imitations ever produced -- is that really my fault? What do you think, Sam?

Well, in my opinion (circa 1982), it's actually the audience's fault! Hi, my name is Sam Raimi. You see, way back when, one of my small student films bombed, and I blamed my failure on the audience that stayed away! My vengeful side wanted to punish the audience for my crappy movie. As I stated in an interview once, "I wanted them to jump and scream and feel my wrath!" The result was The Evil Dead, which basically kicks the viewer in the ass with its kinetic style and my now signature, swooping POV shots. If you have an observant eye you might also notice a one-sheet of Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes sitting in the background of scenes in the basement while Ash listens to scary audio tapes.

The Evil Dead was intended to be a serious horror movie, but because of its exaggerated style it became quite comical in some points. I picked up on this and began to build my career on this weird hybrid of serious fear, black humour and comic gore. Next came Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn (essentially a slicker, tongue-in-cheek remake of The Evil Dead). I pushed the comedy even further with Army of Darkness, to end the trilogy. On the strength of this series, I was commissioned to make the comic book-like monster movie Darkman and by request of Sharon Stone, I even got to play around with westerns (another highly stylized genre) in The Quick and the Dead. My gonzo vision consists of things like eyeballs popping out and flying into a screaming girl's mouth. Some say I'm just too whacked to imitate.

So you now know the background from we're coming from. Now, before we turn her into a complete schizophrenic, let us turn the narration back over to Julie.