THE REVEREND’S REVIEW
FT’s resident man of the cloth REVEREND PETER LAWS dons his dog collar and faces the flicks that Church forgot!
I like to think of myself as fairly well versed in horror films and B-movies. Heck, last week I watched the ultra-rare, shot-onvideo Black River Monster from 1986 – a home-made Sasquatch movie financed purely to showcase a horse ranch for girls in Michigan. Yet every now and then I’m sent something to review and my immediate thought is: “How have I never seen this?” This month, it happened three times.
How I have managed never to see Dementia 13 (1963) is a mystery, since it’s the very opposite of obscure. A copyright snafu landed it (along with Carnival of Souls and Night of the Living Dead) in the public domain, which is why you’ll find these movies in every bargain-bin DVD collection on the planet. Yet still, it passed me by. Finally exposed, I was quite impressed with this twisty, gothic melodrama about a woman convincing her drowned husband’s family that he’s still alive. First time director Francis Coppola proves a dab hand at brooding castles, misty lakes and axes to the face. It all looks nice and crisp in this HD presentation; maybe the movie gods saved me from seeing this on a grainy, Poundland DVD version years ago.
The next admission is going to lose me serious street cred with my generation, but here I stand and I can do no other... I had never seen The Wraith (1986). Sure, theVHS cover art is etched into my memory: a cool looking, helmeted robot type in front of a kick-ass space car. The film itself is a trip, with a fresh-faced Charlie Sheen exacting vengeance on a gang of dictionary definition ‘moviepunks’. But this is no ordinary kid. He can turn into flying lights and for some reason, only kisses Sherilyn Fenn on the top lip. Sane-at-the-time Randy Quaid plays the gherkin-hating sheriff while Clint Howard is fab as the gang’s mechanic, complete with Eraserhead/ Evilspeak hair. It’s packed with retro songs and car chases, one of which sadly killed a crew member.
Not only had I not seen our last choice, I’d barely heard of it. This is my loss, because I thoroughly enjoyed Sundown: Vampire in Retreat (1989), a film about reclusive, abstinent vampires setting up a blood substitute factory in a remote desert town. Along with high factor sun-block and groovy shades, they hope for a new, peaceful chapter in human/ vampire relations. Yet others in the town want to return to ‘the old ways’. I loved the stopmotion bats and wooden stake bullets, but there are moments of depth too – like when vampires discuss their hopes for redemption and being tired of murder. “Where did I find you?” one asks another. “You were crying in the Pyrenees after killing a 10-year-old boy.”
The cast is a mix of character actors and Eighties soap and horror stars. Bruce Campbell is the bumbling ancestor ofVan Helsing, while David Carradine brings heft and heart to the head pacifist vampire. It’s a charming, silly, inventive and surprisingly full-blooded movie. How could I have missed it, first time round?
The VHS cover art showed a helmeted robot in front of a kick-ass space car