Vampires and lacy panties
As a child, Darryll Walsh was mesmerized by stories of ghosts, phantom ships and headless horsemen. Most children outgrow these imaginary concerns. But for Walsh, they would stretch into adulthood and eventually find their way to television. Shadow Hunter
( Space, 10 tonight) is a new Canadian documentary series in which, according to the press release, Walsh (“ charismatic ghost hunter”) pursues his lofty goal (“ lifelong search for the truth”) by exploring the paranormal (“ fascinating worlds”). Because, hey, it probably wouldn’t be wise to build a 13part series around a listless ghost hunter who searches for lies by exploring boring worlds.
“ What is it about this bloodsucking, anti- social group that captivates people?” Walsh asks in tonight’s premiere. ( FYI: he’s referring to vampires and not, say, Republicans.)
After a contrived B- roll stroll through a cemetery at dusk, Walsh sheds his trench coat and sits down with Bev Richardson. She is a member of the Transylvanian Society of Dracula, not to be confused with the Pennsylvanian Society of Dracaena.
“There are people out there that drink blood and this kind of thing,” she says. “ Some of them — I don’t know of that many people that go out and just sort of grab someone — they usually make arrangements to drink somebody’s blood.”
Bev, does this mean you know of some people who do go out and just sort of grab someone for blood consumption and this kind of thing? Because those of us who are not undead tend to frown upon such unsolicited violation. To ascertain the vampire’s pop- cultural legacy, Walsh interviews Geoff Pevere, one of the Star’s film critics.
“ The eternal popularity of the vampire is particularly recycled, usually among adolescents, for whom the idea of the romantic death cult is persistently attractive,” he says. But as Geoff talks, I’m persistently distracted by something Richardson said earlier about vampires: “ They never change” . . . “ they never get old” . . . “ they have an aura of power” . . .
Oh, sweet Moses! Geoff Pevere is a vampire! Walsh pays a visit to Siren, a Toronto boutique that specializes in clothing for those with limited corporate aspirations. The smiling proprietor suggests a “ goth makeover” for Walsh. So his hair is dutifully spiked and frosted. Black eyeliner, black lipstick and black nail polish are applied. And he’s garbed in high leather boots, a kilt and fishnet shirt.
This, I think, is supposed to create a menacing transformation, à la Marilyn Manson. But when Walsh emerges from the change room he looks more like a groupie for the Pet Shop Boys.
Later, he visits a lifestyle club to gauge the “ fetish” factor. A shirtless lad shows him a bondage contraption — something called a “ St. Andrew’s Cross” — that would make a unique Christmas gift, assuming your loved one enjoys being flogged. What this excursion has to do with vampires is not entirely clear. But, soon, Mistress Ritz is waxing approvingly about the crossover of goth and fetish cultures.
“ A banker can come in here dressed in, like, lacy panties and a bra and dance around all night and nobody blinks an eye,” she enthuses.
( Note to self: visit ABM tonight and withdraw all funds.) A guy sitting beside Mistress Ritz is identified as Baron Marcus. He is the front man for the Vampire Beach Babes. His music, the Baron explains, transcends mere frivolity.
“ I believe this is important,” he declares. “ I believe the exploration of ourselves aesthetically and the exploration of our understanding of the paranormal, in its relation to daily life, is what drives me as an artist.”
This sounds noble. Alas, most viewers would appreciate it even more if the Baron wasn’t just on stage belting out “ Sandflea,” a catchy little ditty that, if I heard correctly, opens with these instructional lyrics: “ F-- k you!!! F-- k me? F-- k you!!! F-- k me? F-- k you!!!” Near the end, Walsh talks to Elizabeth Miller, a “Dracula scholar” with a collection of creepy figurines. He is ready to ask the “$ 10- million question,” which, let the record show, is like $9,936,000 better than a $ 64,000 question.
“ Do vampires actually exist?” he asks, with the credulity of a toddler.
“ I have yet to see any hard and fast evidence that such things exist,” replies Miller. Oh well. At least he got a cool new outfit. vmenon@thestar.ca