The Munsters

When Rob Zombie first announced his interest in adapting classic sitcom The Munsters, star Jeff Daniel Phillips told me, fans of the series were nervous. They expected what most of us do from a Zombie film – a gorefest with a cynical take on life and lots of gratuitous violence, starring the director’s wife. This is a very different piece of work from the cult director, however, and only the latter of those things applies. It’s surprisingly close to the spirit of the original, but with an added layer of meta-humour which, though often playing with irony, somehow also manages to be full of heart.

Sheri Moon Zombie plays Lily (of course), whilst Phillips is Herman, freshly made from not-so-fresh parts and just starting out in the world. As the film opens, with Lily’s father The Count rising from his coffin and putting his back out, Lily is on a date with Count Orlok (an impressively made-up Richard Brake), but all he wants to do is show her cute rat pictures and show off his disco moves, whereas she’s looking for true love. One look at Herman, who is plying his trade as something between a rock star and a stand-up comedian armed only with Christmas cracker jokes, and she’s smitten. Daddy disapproves of course, and so kicks off the first in a series of sitcom-style plots which are neatly interwoven across the course of the film.

It’s a little too long and a little too indulgent. Around a quarter of the jokes misfire completely, but that leaves it with a better hit rate than some episodes of the original, and it’s so amiable and free of pretension that at worst it sags rather than being actively annoying. Most of the way through, it’s quite charming. This is in large part down to Phillips, who gives Herman a perfectly judged childlike quality. One can understand Lily’s affection for him (even if not personally attracted to the large, green, flat-headed type) and his innocence gives him the freedom to make bumbling mistakes without seeming truly at fault. He will need this element of protection as the family stumbles through a series of disasters occasioned by the Count’s ex-wife and a scheming werewolf, but in true sitcom style, everything ends up as it ought to be by the end, and Lily gets to deliver a moral about how it’s who people are on the inside that matters (even if, on this occasion. Zombie doesn’t actually show us their insides).

On the outside, most of the characters closely resemble the originals, though this time around they’re in highly exaggerated full colour mode – the film looks almost like a cartoon in its garishness. The costumes and sets, several years in the making, are lavishly appointed, with heavy use of velvet and sequins. Music by Zeuss complements this perfectly. The effect is occasionally overbearing, and at other times it sets the stage for action which fails to achieve much, but there is always something there to enjoy. Viewers can also look out for cameos from sometime Doctor Who Sylvester McCoy and the first lady of late night horror herself, Cassandra Peterson.

This is light-hearted, campy cinema with a bit of a pantomime atmosphere, and it will leave some fans disappointed, but it’s interesting to see what Zombie can achieve when he breaks with formula. It’s likely to have particular appeal to younger viewers and there’s nothing in it that isn’t family friendly. If the director is serious about pushing boundaries, this is exactly the kind of experiment he should be engaging in. Perhaps lightning can strike twice.