Like most hypocritical people, I have an intermittent fascination with the sensationalistic true crime-y network shows that evaporate after a brief epiphany of how wrong it is to be watching said shows. Personally, I love works that explore the darkness and depths of a warped psyche. Where would art be if it didn’t take its inspiration from the admirable and the despicable?
During one of many squirm-inducing scenes in Rob Zombie’s second film, The Devil’s Rejects, one of the psychotic protagonists, Otis Diftwood, has bested a pair of men trying to escape his clutches. With his makeshift weapon — a bulky tree branch — in hand, he stands over one of his victims, chiding the man’s religious beliefs. With his long gray hair whipping against his blood-drenched face, Diftwood slowly pulls his hair back and matter-of-factly states, “I am the devil and I am here to do the devil’s work,” before