Having made his mark with The Last House on the Left, such as it was, by turning Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring into ultra-sleazy and ridiculously amateurish drive-in horror, it took Craven five years to come up with Hills, which was essentially Sam Peckinpah's Straw Dogs set in the desert with inbred mutants standing in for inhospitable British rubes.
Like Sam Peckinpah's "Straw Dogs," in which meek, bespectacled Dustin Hoffman resorts to his base instincts to repel the British thugs invading his home, Stanford's Doug becomes the vessel for the viewer to work out dormant aggression.
Doug works for a cell phone company and he increasingly resembles the ineffectual character that Dustin Hoffman played in Sam Peckinpah’s "Straw Dogs."
I suppose that may be making light of their violent and thoroughly disgusting predilections, and when Aja steps into Straw Dogs territory the film turns unreasonably nasty, but these aren’t the nameless monsters of the ‘70s.
Just as the recent remake of House Of Wax somehow segued into Texas Chainsaw Massacre territory, Aja seems at some point to have lost interest in remaking Hills, since his movie eventually morphs into a retread of Straw Dogs, with Stanford tackling the Dustin Hoffman role of the nebbishy man of peace forced by circumstances to become a man of violence.
Its notion of tribal viciousness is well developed (marked by some interesting thematic nods to Sam Peckinpah's Straw Dogs), and the other threads are reasonably effective, but by stating its message so openly, the film loses some of the unconscious subversion that defined the original.