The Ruins
By Matthew Rodgers
There is something extremely primal about Carter Smith’s botanical bloodfest, both in terms of Mayan Temple location and also the unmistakable vibe of 70’s horror that elicits memories of classic chillers such as Friday the 13th. Of course it’s nowhere near as good as the events of Camp Crystal Lake and appears to have been included in the same vacation brochure as that dog of a movie, The Breed and similar T&A terror, Turistas.
As the final day of their holidays arrive, two couples – Jeff (Tucker) and Amy (Malone), Stacey (Ramsey) and Eric (Ashmore) – sensibly decide to take the beaten path through the jungle towards an ancient temple. This being a horror movie things don’t go according to plan and the appearance of some less-than-welcoming locals force the terrified travellers to ascend the building towards impending doom and some plant-life that makes Audery II from Little Shop of Horrors look like a buttercup by comparison.
There is plenty that blooms with The Ruins; an abundance of delectable young torsos on display for either disposition to look at, a staple of any horror movie, no matter the quality. It’s what happens to these bodies that provides some real quality icky moments, there are some scenes of self-surgical body horror that would have Cronenburg retching, one in particular is gleefully grotesque as a victim does some weeding on her own leg. Seriously.
The Ruins looks highly polished too, a production credit from Ben Stiller may have helped boost the budget but it’s the addition of cinematographer Darius Khondji, who gloriously framed the similar vistas of The Beach and styled the unique visuals of Se7en that raises the quality bar.
However, the plant-killer should have been applied to the dispensable acting; the casting call must have asked for hot bod, acting drunk and looking scared because that’s as stretched as they get. It’s been said before and will be many times again but horror doesn’t work if you do not care for those that are being infested with tentacles or fired at by stereotypical locals, and that’s The Ruins biggest fault, the fact that the two survivors are the least likable out of a bad bunch does little to improve opinions on the film.
Certainly better than most of the recent crop of remakes – Prom Night, When A Stranger Calls, The Eye – because it has an original, if not entirely cliché free plot for its roots. The Ruins is best left for a late night post-pub showing because either way you are going to remember very little come the morning.
