I Spit on Your Grave (1978-2010)

Director: Meir Zarchi
Writer: Meir Zarchi
Stars: Camille Keaton, Eron Tabor, Richard Pace

Jennifer Hills (Camille Keaton) is a big city New York girl who's off to the peaceful countryside for a summer of relaxation and time alone to write her first novel. Her arrival is inconsequential, and the suddenly liberated Jennifer enjoys her newfound privacy to its fullest extent. It doesn't take long for the locals to start interrupting her peace and quiet. Speed boats and unwanted passes quickly turn into something much more sinister. Jennifer is raped repeatedly by four men, one of them the slow and seemingly friendly grocery store clerk named Matthew (Richard Pace) who's the virgin the men egg on to get his first taste of manhood with the now bloodied and beaten Jennifer. Matthew can't quite bring himself to finish the task, but Jennifer survives the ordeal thanks to Matthew's wobbly attitude over the whole thing. As she heals from her physical wounds, she begins to realize that the psychological scars may never disappear, so long, at least, as her rapists are sill breathing. I Spit in Your Grave doesn't have much of a plot, and it's drawn out to occasionally excruciatingly brutal stretches of violence. It's the sort of movie with no secrets and no false fronts; it is what it is and it makes no effort to hide its intentions.



Director: Steven R. Monroe
Writers: Adam Rockoff (screenplay) (as Stuart Morse), Meir Zarchi (based on the film by)
Stars: Sarah Butler, Jeff Branson, Andrew Howard

I Spit on Your Grave, or Day of the Remake, takes the same story as its predecessor, cleans it up with some spit and polish, and considerably amps up the gore and gut-wrenching acts of violence that are sure to leave even the most stalwart viewers squirming in their seats, but this update somehow manages to leave out the rawness and emotion of the original and replace it with, well, nothing really. A few points for the shiny new façade and a few nasty shots that the gore hounds will love to no end, but this remake – re-imagining, better said – fails to resonate with the same stand-up-and-cheer emotion of the original. It' not like the original really needed a remake to begin with. Some movies are better left alone, Director Meir Zarchi's seminal and highly divisive cult classic being one of them. Steven R. Monroe's re-imagining of the quintessential cult shocker isn't destined for the same lifespan as the original; it has everything the first didn't in terms of a more refined storyline, better acting, and superior filmmaking techniques, but all that jazz means nothing without the emotional center. Sure, this version will leave viewers wanting to punish the rapists, too, but there's no spark, no sense of real danger, no sense of real revenge. It just feels like a movie going through the motions, a movie that's more concerned with besting the original in every area – which it almost does – except that it forgot the most critical part of the formula: a reason to care.

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