Like any genre fan worth her total blood volume, I first became aware of Sam Raimi after I saw The Evil Dead. But unlike those lucky bastards who got to see it at the drive-in, I watched it on video (a newer market at the time) with a bunch of rowdy drunk friends in a pal’s basement. It was through a giddy, intoxicated haze that I first witnessed bumbling accidental hero Ashley J.Williams hack up his demonic girlfriend for the very first time.
Many different colours of bodily fluids, an ominous porch swing, several conjured demons, possessed friends, dismembered limbs, a tree rape and one hideous, soul-swallowing, cellar-dwelling bitch later, we found ourselves wiping back tears as we laughed and screamed at the sloppy, slippy, ooey gooey, violating bliss that…