The scariest thing about The Evil Dead is the fact that its cult following are so violent and tenacious at defending it. We've gotten as much hateful feedback for its inclusion on the RinkWorks feature It's a Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad Movie as we've gotten hateful email from people that mistake the review of Ralph Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings as pertaining to Peter Jackson's.

It's time to face reality. The Evil Dead has exactly one quality that could conceivably attract an audience, and that is lots and lots of food products oozing out of dismembered demons. And boy is there a lot of it. Actors spew milk. Ketchup oozes out of eye sockets. Creamed corn spills out of guts. At one point, a pointy metal object is removed from the body of a demon, and the fruit punch flows. These scenes are endless. I guess the message of the movie is that demons are pigs without enzymes. The film is 85 minutes long, but it feels like three hours. Director Sam Raimi had not yet learned the value of restraint. Or perhaps he had, but he correctly realized that if there was not an incessant parade of food effects, audiences would realize that the underlying story is not only simplistic, not only cliched, but stupid.