Autumn is upon us, kiddies, and for a horror guy like myself, that means a veritable smorgasbord of gory goodies on the menu. Although 2003 has been a fairly mediocre year for mainstream cinema, it's yielded a sizable boom for horror movies both old and new. One of the best of the new just hit screens nationwide last Friday, after a wet, sticky avalanche of advance hype and fannish frenzy. I've tried to steer clear of the publicity, but frankly you can't swing a dead marmoset without hitting a CABIN FEVER blurb somewhere. Oh well. I wasn't exactly creaming my jeans in anticipation, but I was definitely looking for a good time, and thankfully, one was found in the little woodland wonder that is CABIN FEVER.

For those three or four of you who haven't heard the plot synopsis already, I'll recap: A group of college graduates rent a remote cabin in North Carolina for a final drunken hoo-hah, where each celebrates in his own special way. Jeff (Joey Kern, a budget Johnny Depp) and Marcy (Cerina Vincent, muy caliente despite plastic boobies) just want to fuck each other's brains out; Paul ("Boy Meets World" nicey-boy Rider Strong) desperately wants to do likewise with perky Karen (Jordan Ladd, actually cloned from Cheryl Ladd's DNA at a lab in Pasadena), albeit via a more refined approach involving twelve years of foreplay. Then there's Bert (James DeBello - imagine Sean Astin playing Blutarski in ANIMAL HOUSE), who just wants to kill small animals because "They're gay."

As grandpa used to say, it's all fun and games until somebody contracts necrotizing facscitis. This time, that somebody is a creepy hermit (Arie Verveen), bleeding from every orifice and covered with open sores, who through a paranoia-fueled series of accidents spreads a highly contagious flesh-eating virus to our merry band, beginning with Karen. Of course, by the time anyone even catches a hint of what's about to happen, parts of Karen have begun to decompose. That's unfortunate for her, of course, but equally so for Paul... especially after he tries copping a feel. It's not a pretty moment. And that's just the beginning.

First-time director Eli Roth (protegee of David Lynch, who's thanked in the credits) obviously cherishes puke-bag scenes like that one and countless others, thanks to his unbridled love of all things horror, particularly the so- called "hardcore" independent flicks of the late '70s and early '80s (the likes of which are enjoying a revival these days, thanks to Rob Zombie's HOUSE OF 1000 CORPSES, the hillbilly horror WRONG TURN, and the what-the-hell-were- they-thinking remake of TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE). Roth's enthusiasm spills over into every frame, and fans (like me) will salivate over every homage, in-joke, nod and off-the- cuff reference to dozens of creepy classics: "Hey, that music's from THE SHINING!" "Dude, that's the 'ass shot' from CHAINSAW!" "Damn, that's 'Wait for the Rain' from LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT!" How much would you pay for a film like this? Don't answer yet - because you'll also get the screwdriver-in-the-ear bit from DAWN OF THE DEAD, the "shaky-cam" shot from EVIL DEAD, the corpse bonfire from NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, and much, much more!

CABIN FEVER would be fun enough if it were nothing more than a pus-dripping skip down memory lane for Stinky McFanboy. But Roth's skill elevates the material beyond mere tribute by virtue of a fat-free script (co-written by Randy Pearlstein) and a flair for sharp dialogue - despite the freshman writer's tendency to equate profanity with cool (I've never heard "fuck" used as a noun, verb, adjective and preposition in the same sentence... except for the time I skinned my shin on an open drainpipe).

Although the characters would definitely get on my nerves after crashing at my house for a week, they are infinitely more interesting than any of the SCREAM-era teenage cyphers we've been forced to contend with for the last decade. While not terribly sympathetic, they're at least pretty damn funny - until they're eclipsed by some of the wackiest supporting characters I've ever seen. I won't spoil the fun for the uninitiated, but if you're still wondering why people are heading up their board postings with "Do NOT sit next to Dennis!" then you really need to educate yourself. I guess a little bit of Lynch rubbed off on our young Eli. (So what was the fat guy keeping in that box?)

As for the premise, it's a natural for full-on horror, even if this were just a documentary. (Roth should know: he got the inspiration for the story after contracting a similar virus himself at age 19, during which he gouged huge gobs of meat from his face while shaving - a literal flesh-crawling experience that he recaptures in one of the movie's nastiest scenes.) Even in less capable hands, the thought of being eaten alive from the inside out by a microscopic invader would still be high-octane nightmare fuel. Thankfully, Roth's cinematic toolkit contains some pretty impressive devices, and the implicit horror progresses toward the graphic payoff at just the right pace. The aforementioned humor is refreshingly irony-free, but there's a powerful undercurrent of anarchy to it (lemonade, anyone?) that gives the laughs the same acid edge as the shocks.

As we left the theater, my wife commented, "It's no classic, but I'd say I got my money's worth." I guess maybe I spoiled her by screening ICHI THE KILLER a couple of weeks ago. Still, I have to agree. Maybe CABIN FEVER's not up to its hype, but it's still a hell of a good time from a guy who knows how fun horror movies can be.