Photo by Lorenzo Hodges

Hi FEARnet.  Hi America.  Hi Mom.  So I'm what some might call a "natural beauty."  You know, I just wake up looking gorgeous and ready to attend things, like the Last House on the Left premiere.  But the people that say that are morons, because, wow, it was a process.

First, I had to buy the perfect dress. I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when I went into a boutique, Reiss, on the much-paparazzied Robertson Blvd., and the helpful sales associate looked me up and down and said, "Are you looking for the sale rack?", drawing out the word "sale" to emphasize how poor and out-of-place he considered me to be.  I just said, in a completely un-ironic way, "Yes, thanks for noticing", and had the guy grab me 20 different sale dresses before I decided that Reiss just wasn't in my measly budget.  I ended up getting a simple red dress from the actually helpful people at D&G, who even tailored it to fit perfectly.  However, the consensus in the store was that the dress "didn't match my skin," so I definitely needed to spray tan before the premiere.  I'd never changed my skin to match my outfit before, but after three minutes of standing in a weird shower, naked, being squirted by orange chemicals and trying not to breathe in the fumes, I realized they were right.

Because I run marathons, my body looked great in the form-fitting dress.  Or not -- the only place I run is to the mailbox to see if I got any residual checks from my two-line stint on "Raines" -- so I needed a little help.  I wore a pair of Spanx, which is a like a panty hose girdle for girls who want to pretend they are two sizes smaller and don't have cellulite, and man, was that comfortable.  Add in "chicken cutlets" to give me cleavage, four inch heels and a pile of fake hair extensions and I was ready to go.  Like I said, natural beauty.

The premiere, however, was a blast.  I got to speak to a cool guy from FEARnet on the red carpet, and I got to see people I haven't seen since we filmed.  And, although I had seen the movie before, seeing Last House with a packed audience at the Arclight, and hearing everyone scream and even applaud, made it so much fun.  I also realized, for the first time, how funny the movie was.  Garret Dillahunt (who plays Krug) made me laugh the whole movie, which I think is a testament to Garrett's acting chops and made for a more complex, creepier villain.

The next day, the reviews started to pour in, and I've got say, I was thrilled.  People either loved the movie and thought it was the best horror film they'd seen in 20 years, or they absolutely abhorred it.  Entertainment Weekly even gave it an "F" (btw, it's the same critic who gave "Epic Movie" a B-).  Something about an "F" feels personal and aggressive and, at the same time, kind of flattering, because it's a divisive movie.  It's unflinching, tough to take in places and shot in an outside-the-box, beautiful, lyrical way and so people who want a traditional, boring, teen slasher flick are not going to like it.  The real horror fans, however, flipped out over the movie and gave it glowing praise.   Personally, I'd much rather see the movie get half "A" grades and half "F's" than get "C's" down the line.  I think that if no one is offended by your horror movie, you haven't done your job.

Last House opens tomorrow and I can't wait for people to finally see it.  I'm really proud of the movie and I'm hoping that people embrace it for what it is.  I also hope it scares the shit out of them.  My friend called me this morning and said "Riki, I didn't sleep at all last night," because the movie scared her so much.  I think that's a good thing, right?