Orchestra Brings ​’80s Slasher To Life

Evil Dead in Concert
College Street Music Hall
New Haven
Sept. 23, 2025

When a movie gets too scary for me to handle, I like to think about how hard the film crew is working behind the scenes.

“Wow, they did a great job lighting this” is a pretty good fear-dispeller. The hairs on my arms lie back down as I imagine assistants high-fiving.

So when blood and guts spattered College Street Music Hall’s big screen for their screening of The Evil Dead Tuesday night, I knew where my mind would go: a few feet below the screen, where a small orchestra was hard at work humming a low, ominous panic from the film’s live score. It was the second stop on a 50-city national Evil Dead in Concert tour that promised to ​“thrill and chill.”

The six-person ensemble, complete with strings and percussion, brought the cult classic’s score to life as five college friends on the screen above took an ill-fated trip to a cabin deep in the woods. The movie was made 40 years ago, and every detail served to remind us of that, from the long skirts and blowouts to the bright red corn-syrup blood. There was something cozy in that recognition.

The movie, in all its ​‘80s camp and moments of slapstick humor, was a journey in extremes. The women were cautious and sensitive, the first to suggest running away even if it seemed impractical. The men were at least superficially macho, calming down their girlfriends and making tough, but almost always wrong, decisions.

These patterns found their reflection in the live strings and percussion. It was a score that pushed the high instruments to their highest and the deep ones to vast depths.

In the horror movie context, the bass and cello got to shine. The deep vibrations of these larger instruments provided the sense of doom saturating the background and invading the foreground of the plot as the story progressed.

Surrounded by a semi-circle of various percussion instruments, the drummer had plenty to play around with. He set the pace for beating hearts and shaky breaths. In the most gruesome scenes, booming drums were a must.

Lest anyone think a horror soundscape is all about the low notes, the screeching violins and viola prickled spines with ease. When one of the characters said ​“It might not be that bad” at the start of the film, a single, scratching violin begged to differ, prompting laughs from the crowd.

The musicians were dressed in plaid shirts, white nightgowns, and thick fall fabrics, copying the five on-screen friends rushing toward their demise. When they spoke in the pre-show introduction and intermission, I was struck by how sweet they seemed. They were on a long, horror-filled journey toward Halloween and well beyond (their tour won’t end until late November), but their demeanors were cheerful. It all added to the playful, absurd quality of an older fan favorite of the genre.

The live-music format encouraged audience participation. Groans emanated from the crowd as the characters looked down into the creepy cellar and decided, of course, to explore it. When one of the friends, Cheryl, fell to the floor, clearly possessed, moviegoers tried to warn the others: ​“Don’t do it!”

“Oh no.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Screams ensued as monster-Cheryl grabbed a pencil to attack those who had gathered close to her. Her friend Scott struggled to trap her in the cellar, violins below embodying virtuosic desperation.

Later in the movie, the musicians paused for Scott’s girlfriend Shelly to scream. The rest of the characters looked around, slowly realizing something had gone wrong.

“Take your time,” someone from the audience called out, breaking the tension. The crowd devolved into a stream of giggles, enjoying the collective frustration about how horror movie characters behave.

When some of the characters returned to the house to realize the cellar door was open and monster-Cheryl was on the loose once again, one person in the crowd lifted his hands and slapped them down on his knees, like come on, guys.

The story is about the terrifying undead, but it’s also about growing up and the struggle of remaining a good, optimistic person even in trying circumstances. The main character, Ash, makes a point to give his friends a proper burial in the midst of all the action, tries to protect his girlfriend Linda, and provides a contrast to his friend Scott, who says, ​“I don’t care what happens to her. She’s your girlfriend, you take care of her. I’m getting the hell out of here, right now.” (Reader, he would not get out of there.)

In the good vibes of the College Street venue, Ash’s commitment to the glass half full grew more and more comedic as he later told his disintegrating friend, ​“Scottie, you’re going to be OK,” and promised, ​“We’ll all be going home together” after one member of their crew was already in pieces.

The live score highlighted the impossibility of that dream. I could tell when things were about to go haywire, as the music would start to tremble out of control. It was an auditory as well as a visual experience. The violinists and violist moved in impeccable formation, a precision they wound tighter and tighter until it snapped.

It’s easy to laugh at optimism, and I certainly did Tuesday night. It was cathartic to join the monsters in finding Ash’s hope funny. But as Scottie’s fate illustrates, fear thinly veiled as cynicism also spells doom.

I looked around at the crowd in their rock t‑shirts and metallic gear and wondered how many of them were Ash’s age when The Evil Dead came out. As confirmed by an intermission poll done by the orchestra’s bassist, many in the crowd were die-hard fans, having watched the original movie, its sequels, and its spin-offs several times over.

They grew up with the film, into the reality of a violent and morally taxing world. They may have had to ask themselves some of the same questions Ash grappled with, though in a less paranormal way. I had never watched any of The Evil Deads before, but I felt like I was borrowing the fans’ armor of camp, humor, and ultra-specific, gory ​‘80s aesthetic as I looked up at the screen and leaned into the absurd.