Eli Roth's journey into the gruesome realms of horror cinema had unconventional beginnings – a bar mitzvah request to be sawn in half. The gore aficionado, known for crafting Y2K splatter classics like "Hostel" and "Cabin Fever," traces his fascination with horror to a desire for a mischievous outlet, a rebellion against his squeaky-clean image as the model kid, camp counselor, and babysitter.
Roth's parents, rather than recoiling in horror, embraced his newfound interest as a healthy expression of creativity. The magician hired for his 13th birthday may have simulated a sawing in half, but Roth's parents recognized it as a form of artistic mischief. Over the years, Roth's mother clarified that her son was drawn to "representations of violence," not the real thing.
As Roth delved into filmmaking, featuring scenes of women shaving their legs to the bone and men losing limbs in Slovak torture chambers, his parents remained steadfast supporters, becoming the first in line to witness their son's macabre creations. The peculiar but supportive dynamics of Roth's immediate family add a layer of complexity to the enigma at the heart of his work – a nice Jewish boy crafting some of mainstream cinema's most disturbing images of torture and bloodshed.
The Hostel movies, with their portrayal of American backpackers encountering grisly violence in Eastern Europe, found success not on seedy VHS rental shop top shelves but in multiplexes, opening to impressive box office figures. Roth, often seen as affable and closely allied with Quentin Tarantino, defied the stereotype of an oddball, earning envy for his Hollywood connections and perpetually glamorous companions.
As Roth's latest venture, a Scream-style slasher titled "Thanksgiving," hits the screens, the conundrum persists: What propels this seemingly normal Jewish boy to produce such disturbing cinematic fare? Roth's allure, a blend of charisma and a penchant for pushing boundaries, continues to captivate audiences, making him a compelling figure in the landscape of modern horror cinema.
In a rapid-fire conversation from Los Angeles, Eli Roth exudes confidence, carefully navigating restricted areas concerning politics and his personal life. However, pose a question about whether his films incite violence, and he swiftly deflects, emphasizing the distinction between cinematic art and real-world events. According to Roth, everyone knows it's a movie, created for the fans, and acknowledges the unpredictable nature of the world.
Roth's horror ethos, particularly in his earlier days, was all about pushing the boundaries, both on and off the screen. He describes horror films as inherently transgressive and punk rock, designed to showcase the forbidden and evoke a sense of danger, even intending to rile up parents a bit. Yet, in the present, Roth claims to have matured, expressing a shift from the need to prove himself through obnoxious interviews.
As critics have gradually warmed to Roth's work, recognizing its reflection on societal violence, he acknowledges the initial hostility. Early reviews, such as David Edelstein's characterization of "Hostel" as "torture porn," reflected a more critical stance. However, Roth's recent projects, including the campy 2015 film "Knock Knock," showcasing Keanu Reeves in an erotic thriller, reveal a more nuanced and mature approach. His latest venture, "Thanksgiving," currently in cinemas, plunges into similarly campy waters, delivering a slasher film featuring a killer in a pilgrim's outfit seasoning victims with herbs and spices before an oven demise, and a Black Friday rampage involving a gruesome scalping by a shopping trolley wheel. Roth's evolution as a filmmaker mirrors his journey from the provocative punk rock horror of his past to a more seasoned and versatile storyteller.
Born as a faux film trailer nestled within Robert Rodriguez's "Planet Terror" and Quentin Tarantino's "Death Proof" in the experimental double-bill movie Grindhouse in 2007, "Thanksgiving" has emerged from the shadows to become a cult favorite. Eli Roth, the mastermind behind the trailer, has now transformed it into a feature-length horror spectacle, expanding on the most tantalizing set pieces.
The genesis of "Thanksgiving" traces back to Roth's childhood in Massachusetts, where Thanksgiving held paramount significance. Growing frustrated with the absence of a Thanksgiving-themed horror film, Roth and co-writer Jeff Rendell, childhood best friends, unleashed their creativity. The result? A macabre concoction of deaths involving human turkey roasts, decapitated parade-goers in turkey costumes, and a chaotic spectacle of beheaded individuals mimicking turkeys.
The film not only resurrects these childhood fantasies but also teases audiences with a trampoline, a knife, and a topless cheerleader, among other jaw-dropping scenes. Roth reminisces about the duo's obsession with devising these imaginative deaths, fueled by their Thanksgiving-induced fervor.
Yet, Roth's journey in horror has not been without its share of controversies. The censor boards, as well as critics, have often taken issue with his films. "Hostel II" faced a ban in New Zealand and drew criticism from Conservative MP Charles Walker, who condemned it as "horrible, nasty, and unpleasant stuff" based solely on hearsay. Roth, however, finds amusement in Walker's attempt to ban materials related to the film, even though he hadn't watched it, providing Roth with what he considers the ultimate trailer quote: "90 minutes of pornographic violence." As "Thanksgiving" hits the screens, it promises to be another feast of horror, blending childhood imagination with Roth's signature penchant for the transgressive and shocking.
Eli Roth, the maestro of horror, opens up about the challenges he faces with international film censor bodies, expressing greater frustration abroad than with the American MPAA. In the UK, he laments the decision-making power held by a mere three individuals, with no avenue for appeal or filmmaker interaction. Adding to the complexity, he notes that these censors, working for the government, are unlikely to advocate for violent content.
Roth reveals that his films, including both "Hostel" entries and the cannibalistic satire "The Green Inferno," were significantly edited in the UK, Germany, and New Zealand, leaving fans disappointed. He attributes such censorship to external factors, citing that violent incidents in a country often prompt a knee-jerk reaction targeting movies as a controllable element. Despite these challenges, Roth remains dedicated to his genre.
When asked about his commitment to horror, especially when many directors transition to franchises and studio films, Roth shares his journey. After the success of "Cabin Fever," he was offered a lucrative sum of $350,000 to direct a movie, rumored to be the big-screen version of "The Dukes of Hazzard." However, inspired by Quentin Tarantino's advice, Roth declined, realizing that the financial windfall could lead to a compromise in the quality of his work. Instead, he chose to make "Hostel," followed by its sequel, before taking a hiatus to discover himself beyond the directorial realm.
Reflecting on this break, Roth emphasizes the need for life experiences, highlighting his time in Chile and marriage. Returning to the horror genre as an adult, Roth sees the evolution of his life and creativity, underscoring the importance of personal growth in shaping his artistic endeavors. As he continues to navigate the turbulent waters of international censorship, Roth's dedication to horror remains unwavering, grounded in a newfound understanding of life and storytelling.
Eli Roth's journey in filmmaking takes an intriguing turn as he delves into studio budgets and diverse genres. Following his foray into children's fantasy with "The House with a Clock in Its Walls" (2018), Roth is set to unleash the video-game adaptation "Borderlands" next year, featuring the unexpected duo of Cate Blanchett and Kevin Hart. While he remains upbeat about the project, Roth coyly navigates questions about substantial reshoots, expressing pride in the film's potential as a big, fun summer popcorn movie.
Addressing speculation, Roth hints at the possibility of "Thanksgiving" launching a franchise, emphasizing his conscious decision not to wipe out the entire cast for shock value. His surprising moral code emerges – a belief that characters, if clever and able to outsmart the killer, have earned the right to survive. This ethos reflects a nuanced approach to storytelling, blending horror with a sense of earned survival.
As "Thanksgiving" graces cinemas, Roth's evolution as a filmmaker is evident. From horrifying people since childhood, where he balanced wholesomeness and responsibility with daydreams of decapitation, Roth continues to shape narratives that captivate audiences. While he remains tight-lipped about "Borderlands," his enthusiasm for potential franchises and adherence to a unique moral code underscore Roth's commitment to pushing the boundaries of cinematic storytelling.
Eli Roth, the master of horror, has evolved from his early days of shocking audiences with gruesome tales to navigating studio budgets and diverse genres. With projects like "The House with a Clock in Its Walls" and the upcoming "Borderlands," Roth embraces new challenges while maintaining a sense of secrecy around the latter's potential reshoots.
The release of "Thanksgiving" hints at Roth's desire to create a franchise, showcasing a unique moral code where characters, if clever and resourceful, earn the right to survive. This ethos reflects a nuanced approach to storytelling that goes beyond mere shock value.
As Roth's cinematic journey unfolds, his dedication to pushing boundaries remains unwavering. From childhood daydreams of decapitation to the wholesome responsibility of a seasoned filmmaker, Roth's impact on the film industry endures. Whether it's horror or family-friendly fantasy, Roth continues to surprise and captivate, leaving audiences eagerly anticipating the next chapter in his ever-evolving cinematic odyssey.