Having spent more than a decade in the realm of music promotion, I say with experience that receiving shitty, unsolicited albums is all part of the job. Rob Zombie’s The Lords of Salem gets that right. Where it veers from reality is that one such package — left at reception for late-night radio DJ Heidi LaRoc — triggers mass hallucinations upon listening. (Possible timely exception: One Direction.)
Letting the needle drop on the satanic-looking slab of vinyl from The Lords, the dreadfully dreadlocked LaRoc (Sheri Moon Zombie, 2004’s Toolbox Murders) is plagued by memories involving the sacrificial rituals of a coven of witches. Strange goings-on increase exponentially at her apartment building, where a supposedly unoccupied room down the hall is alight with unspeakable activity.
Even with all its intestines-pulling, blood-puking and full-frontal nudity, Salem marks a step up the maturity ladder for Mr. Zombie, who shows more restraint in the aggro department than any of his previous films, especially his pair of Halloween remakes. The trade-off is that it doesn’t radiate the pervading sense of menace that House of 1000 Corpses and its more intense sequel, The Devil’s Rejects, possessed in proverbial spades. Armed with a strong eye, Zombie makes up for it in visuals, particularly in the nightmare/flashback sequences; he’s really a terrific director and designer.
Although certainly confined to a limited range, Mrs. Zombie holds her own as the film’s anchor. She’s surrounded by many a horror vet — Ken Foree, Meg Foster, Dee Wallace, Michael Berryman among them — who actually contribute to the project, rather than rest on the stunt casting you see in so many lesser movies. By the same token, Bruce Davison (X-Men) invests in his role with as much sincerity as he does prestige pictures. Salem is more than artful enough to deserve that, even if we know Zombie can — and will — do better. —Rod Lott