Let’s face it, the 1960s were a weird time. A time when shows like The Addams Family and The Munsters could be produced purely for mainstream audiences, with the latter often beating it’s similarly macabre (and arguably now more fondly remembered) rival in the ratings war and only falling foul itself to a schedule clash with a similarly out there prospect; Batman starring Adam West. Nowadays, stuff like this primarily appeals beyond the mainstream, to the fringes of cult, kitsch or alt audiences. It’s this audience that Rod Zombie’s feature-length movie revival of The Munsters – released to Blu-ray last month – must inevitably play to, and which might explain the mainstream reaction.
It was always going to be a challenge resurrecting The Munsters, a much loved US sitcom that ran between 1964 and 1966, to say nothing of sparking several spin-off films and series and, over the years, plenty of mooted revivals that ultimately came to nought. It’s also fair to say that the odds increased when audiences learned that the man charged with bringing them back was divisive cult filmmaker Rod Zombie. I have to lay my cards on the table in advance and say that I know next to nothing about Zombie, either as a filmmaker or musician, and that I’ve only seen two of his films prior to this and that they were his Halloween remakes. Say what you want about him, but he’s got the balls to tackle properties that hold a good deal of affection from audiences. Fittingly, Zombie’s The Munsters is a love letter to the original series, but it is also one in which he struggles to understand that both times and audiences have changed. He pitches his movie as a celebration of the zany spookiness for cult lovers and forgets that, at heart, The Munsters was a satire of the domestic familial sitcom that inevitably chimed with the mainstream.
The film is effectively a prequel to the original ’60s TV show, opening as it does in Transylvania in which Lily Dracula (Sheri Moon Zombie, the filmmaker’s real-life wife) is a young vampire somewhat haplessly looking for love in all the wrong places, whilst grave robbers Dr Wolfgang (Richard Brake) and Floop (Lost‘s Jorge Garcia) are also on the hunt – for a brain to be housed within their monstrous creation. A mix-up sees Floop take the brain, not of Transylvania’s recently deceased most eminent intellectual, but his equally and conveniently recently decease deadbeat stand-up comic twin brother and, as a result, Herman Munster (Jeff Daniel Phillips) is born. Meanwhile, Lily’s werewolf brother Lester (Tomas Boykin) owes Zoya Krupp (Catherine Schell, yes it’s Catherine frickin’ Schell!) big money and only the deeds to his dear old dad’s mansion will do. If Count Dracula (Daniel Roebuck) thought that was trouble enough, wait until loved-up Lily brings Herman home.
[Zombie] succeeds in terms of artistic direction, with a visually striking family-friendly Halloween aesthetic of bright colours, along with a make-up and wardrobe design that superbly evokes the original series.
Unfortunately, the decision to effectively tell a backstory here means that it isn’t until around 80 minutes into this frankly self-indulgent running time of 110 minutes that the creepy, campy clan leave their homeland in favour of suburban California, meaning that Zombie completely misses the mark. The central fun of The Munsters is that these are an off-the-wall, eccentric bunch of monsters jarring comedically in their attempts to fit in with the everyday world around them. This focus on the backstory also means that if you’re looking for character favourites like Eddie (Herman and Lily’s werewolf son) and Marilyn (their normal niece), then you’re in for a disappointment as neither feature.
Still, let’s not complain about what we’ve not got, let’s look instead at what we have. Oh, dear. Yeah, there’s much to complain about here too. That 110-minute run time I mentioned wouldn’t be at all bad if Zombie chose to actually construct something meaningful with it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he chooses to make a movie that is essentially a series of skits and (one-note) jokes that never feel wholly cohesive. Sequences just occur for no reason other than Zombie presumes they are funny and bear no relation to a narrative overall. Exhibit A, m’lud is the decision to make Herman Munster a rock star for all of five minutes before discarding it and never mentioning it again. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were funny but, all too often, the gags are creakier than slowly opening coffin lids and Zombie’s Book of Dad Jokes is definitely shrouded in cobwebs and dust.
But then, maybe we’re all looking at the original The Munsters series with rose-tinted glasses. After watching Zombie’s movie I went back and looked at some clips on YouTube and was reminded why I preferred The Addams Family as a kid in the 90s. The Munsters was always a goofy comedy of groan-worthy puns and eye-rolling patter. The charm that it coasted upon came squarely from a game cast and, unfortunately, Zombie does not have Fred Gwynne, Yvonne De Carlo and Al Lewis. It’s not that the cast here isn’t attempting to pay effective homage, it’s that the material – and lack of a story – lets them down in ways that Barry Sonnenfeld simply did not let down Raul Julia, Angelica Huston and Christopher Lloyd in his 90s revival of The Addams Family. Still, kudos to Zombie for catering to the cult aficionados in casting the aforementioned Catherine Schell, former Doctor Who Sylvester McCoy as the family’s faithful retainer Igor and Cassandra Peterson, aka Elvira, Mistress of the Dark herself, in winning cameo roles.
Whilst Zombie misfires in failing to ground the material or reflect contemporary society, he succeeds in terms of artistic direction, with a visually striking family-friendly Halloween aesthetic of bright colours, along with a make-up and wardrobe design that superbly evokes the original series. The Munsters may be a bit of a shambles and feel like Saturday morning kids’ TV, but you know what? So was the original in some ways. There, I’ve said it.
THE MUNSTERS is out now on MEDIUMRARE blu-ray
