Mel Sykes: Why couldn't Raimi have just given Bruce Campbell another 'Evil Dead' movie? Preferably based on one of the many excellent spin-off video games or comics. It would have generated instant appeal, pulled in a massive fan base and given Campbell the recognition he deserves, instead of the Monty Python-esque waiter in 'Spider-Man 3'.
John D Hall: After three forays into the comic-book world of Spider-Man, Raimi returns to his first love: the Fifties schlock-horror of EC Comics and its weird world of gypsy curses and twist endings. The horrific moments are deliberately unconvincing and gross-out, splattering the heroine with blood and putrefaction at frequent intervals. After strong performances in the likes of 'Matchstick Men', Alison Lohman will be a star, but she needs to avoid appearing in too many movies where the characters are so two-dimensional that it comes as neither a shock nor disappointment when the heroine is finally dragged screaming to hell..
Bing81: My girlfriend really hated this film. I loved it. Not quite sure why, seeing as we usually have pretty similar tastes. We like watching TRULY scary films like 'The Orphanage', and also jolly splatterfests like 'Braindead', so I think the reason might have been that this film was a bit of both. 'Drag Me...' is based on a very old formula, but is executed to perfection. There was nothing new, but it hit all the right buttons. A million times better than all that 'Spider-Man' tripe.
Hank Quinlan: Drag me to a decent film more like. So where did the gypsy get the brick in the middle of a commercial private car park? And why smash the window – as the door was open? She didn't reach in to unlock the door from the inside ... just a couple of many plot holes and continuity errors in this poor excuse for a film.
Chicunique: The make-up and special effects are reminiscent of the Eighties: eyeballs on stalks; buzzing flies disappearing into orifices; glass shattering for no reason; but the projectile nosebleed was something new. This is a good old-fashioned vomitfest of gargantuan proportions. Throughout the film, the crone's cavernous mouth splutters forth three courses of accursed gloop: the first time, she hiccoughed a veritable pyramid of penne-esque goo all over our unfortunate protagonist; that was shortly followed by a family-sized proffering of death-by-chocolate-esque spittle, and finally, she spewed forth a kiwi-fruit smoothie; I had to miss 'Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares' when I got home.
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