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There’s no convincing reason why these kids picked a crumbling swamp cabin for their weekend getaway. It doesn’t really matter, though, because some of them are dead before you hear their names twice. And they take a stunning amount of punishment, as the minions of hell are not simply content to let the doomed die. In fact, the only truly amusing moments in the film occur as the demons mercilessly taunt and manipulate the kids. Raimi’s camera hovers around it like a malevolent voyeur, barreling over the misty hills after his fleeing protagonists, or using his patented super-fast dolly zoom to highlight a specific visual action with humor. Every scene is staged and shot in a way that makes the movie feel charged with malicious intent. In fact, the last act abandons any kind of plot altogether and devolves into a gushy, oozing, screaming, burning, totally gonzo slam-dance of utterly insane mayhem.

And of course, that’s the part that I liked. Here was a horror movie that wasn’t trying to sell me an idea, teach me a lesson, talk down to me, or even really scare me. This was a demon possession from the demon’s point of view, and it was one with a wickedly fatal sense of humor. It felt okay to chuckle at what was happening to these people, because the movie thought it was funny, too. And there IS something scary about an evil spirit that isn’t just content to to devour your soul - it also wants to have a good time! But when you combine a weak screenplay and so-bad-they’re-almost-not-quite-good effects with some of the worst acting you’ll see outside a Star Wars movie, I’m not sure it fully stands the test of time on its own.

But what I originally liked about The Evil Dead wasn’t just about the movie itself, it was about who I was at the time. My idea of “edgy” was Mad Magazine. Fine dining meant Totino's pizza rolls and a glass of two-percent. In my world the very act of watching an R rated movie represented a major act of rebellion. The Me of today says this is just a bad movie with a lousy screenplay, shitty acting and bargain basement visual effects. But that snot nosed kid in me is still able to appreciate what made it seem so cool at the time. This is a gory film, but it’s so over the top that it’s hard to be offended, let alone frightened. It has a lot of energy, but it’s a gradual burn that will ultimately either suck you in or push you away.

And it displays considerable wit, without stooping to Freddy Krueger zingers or lazy sight gags. It has influenced a lot of films, and a lot of filmmakers. But the best thing for me about The Evil Dead is that without it, there would be no Sam Raimi. One of the most distinctive and inventive directors of our time - and the director of what is still the best Spider-Man movie - might not be doing what he’s doing today. And the same sense of personality that’s in what he’s doing today is easy to see in The Evil Dead, even if it isn’t quite as fun to sit through as it used to be. I still like The Evil Dead, even though it’s not as good as I remember it. And I know I’m not alone.

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