VAMPIRE: Woe is me, I've lost my one true love...!
VAMPIRE'S MOTHER: Where was the last place you looked?
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Fright Night (1985): 8.5/10
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Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992): 7.5/10
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Dark Shadows (2012): 8/10
A trip of vamps lose - and find - their lost paramours in this trio of romantic horror flicks. 1985's
Fright Night offers up a nifty suburban riff on Hitchcock's
Rear Window, as horror-obsessed teen Charley Brewster (William Ragsdale) becomes convinced that new neighbor Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon) is a vampire, and is working his way through a succession of beautiful young women in his small town. The cops don't believe him, his virginal girlfriend Amy (a pre-
Married With Children Amanda Bearse) doesn't believe him, and his obnoxious buddy "Evil" Ed (Stephen Geoffreys) doesn't believe him, so Charley is forced to beg for assistance from local horror TV host Peter Vincent (a wonderful Roddy McDowall), who's initial dismissal of Charley's wild claims melts away when the evidence mounts that he'll have to survive "Fright Night"...for real. Did I mention that Mr. Dandridge sees Charley's squeeze Amy as the spitting image of the woman he loved from centuries earlier, and wishes to claim her as his own?
Written and directed by Tom Holland,
Fright Night is a classy, beautifully-produced vampire thriller with effective performances, top-notch special effects and a near-perfect mixture of scares and laughs. Ragsdale and McDowall make for an ideal pair, and Sarandon makes for a suave, threatening adversary.
1992's
Bram Stoker's Dracula is a far more elaborate piece, a lavishly-produced take on the titular novel featuring Gary Oldman as Prince Vlad, whose defense of his native Transylvania against the forces of the Ottoman Empire circa 1462 is "rewarded" when his young bride Elisabetha (WInona Ryder), believing her husband dead, hurls herself from their castle's parapets. Enraged with grief, he vows to rise up from his own grave and avenge his love's death. Cut to 1897, where young solicitor Jonathan Harker (an amusingly stilted Keanu Reeves) is tasked with a trip to Transylvania to see to the affairs of Count Dracula (Oldman again, in the first of a variety of guises courtesy of Oscar-winning makeup artist Greg Cannom), who wishes to purchase several pieces of real estate in the heart of London. But when Drac gets a gander at the portrait of Harker's fiance, Mina (Ryder again), he's smitten with her, seeing the ghostly image of his lost bride, and vows to woo her anew, even as his old nemesis Abraham Van Helsing (a hammy Anthony Hopkins) susses out his old foe has returned.
Directed by Francis Ford Coppola (and scripted by
Hook's James V. Hart),
Bram Stoker's Dracula is a film of bountiful audiovisual pleasures, from the Oscar-winning costumes of Eiko Ishioka to Michael Ballhaus' lustrous cinematography to Wojciech Killar's lush musical score. And the central romance between Oldman and Ryder is passionately-written and performed, giving the movie a strong dramatic core. But for all of these positives, the movie is - simply put - a mess on a narrative level. Performances from the majority of the rest of the cast are pitched as one-note cartoons (Cary Elwes doing his stuffy prig routine as the fiance of Ryder's friend, played by Sadie Frost, a Texan suitor played broadly by
The Rocketeer's Bill Campbell as Yosemite Sam), and the film veers from gory horror shocks to harlequin romance to bouts of unintentional chortles (especially Hopkins' utter lack of tact in delivering grim news). It's never boring for a second, and it's so pretty to look at it's easy to get swept up in its entertaining histrionics, yet it glances off the greatness it's striving for in every frame.
Finally, for some
intentional yuks, there's Tim Burton's underrated 2012 riff of the popular 1970s soap opera
Dark Shadows. After a prologue, set in 1760, where the fortunes of the Collins clan - who relocate from Liverpool, England to the wilds of Maine and start a successful fishing company - are cut short by witchy Angelique (Eva Green), we cut to 1972, where Barnabas Collins (Johnny Depp) is finally unleashed from nearly two centuries' worth of entombment in a shallow grave. Seems like, after rejecting Angelique's ardent affections in favor of the fetching Cossette (willowy Bella Heathcote), she cursed her romantic riva to pitch herself from a local cliff and Barnabas to turn into a vampire so that his torment would be everlasting (
Women...!). Now in a strange new era, Barnabas makes his way to to the now-decrepit family mansion of Collinwood, where the remnants of his family (including siblings Michelle Pfeiffer and Johnny Lee Miller, their children Chloe Grace Moretz and Gully McGrath, and a psychiatrist played by Helena Bonham Carter) are living in quasi-squallor. But Barnabas looks to restore the family to its former glories, and makes great strides, even as he is struck by the resemblance of new governess Victoria WInters (Heathcote again) to the lost Cossette. Too bad that his old fling Angelique - now "Angie", and head of a rival canning factory - gets wind that Barnabas is back, and she's looking for a rematch.
Burton's droll film works, in many respects, by playing the material straight, and allowing the humor to grow naturally out of the situations. Depp is peerless at playing Barnabas as a courtly gentleman out of his proper time, and much of the laughs arise from his prim, overly-cultured reactions to modern-day devices and attitudes (his delivery of lyrics from "The Joker" by the Steve Miller Band has the plummy grandiloquence of a Shakespearean sonnet). The movie has a beautiful, gloomy atmosphere to it, and the soundtrack - both the obligatory, brooding Danny Elfman score and a most groovy selection of 70s songs - is impeccable. It's one of Burton's most enjoyable movies of the last 15 years or so.
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Last Night In Soho (2021): 10/10
Superb psychological shocker about a young woman, Eloise Turner (Thomasin McKenzie), who heads off to London from a small town in Cornwall with dreams of becoming a great fashion designer...and, in general, keen on experiencing the city that her grandmother and late mother have rhapsodised about for years (especially in its glamorous swingin' 60s prime). After some unpleasant experiences with a roommate, she finds her own flat run by kindly Miss Collins (Diana Rigg, in her final screen appearance), and settles in amicably...until she starts having a series of exceptionally vivid dreams, ones where she follows a young woman named Sandy (Anya Taylor-Joy) in the mid-60's. Sandy wants to sing, and pursues her dreams with pervid passion, only to find herself manipulated and used by a charismatic pimp (Matt Smith). In her waking life, Eloise is initially fascinated by these dreams, even going so far as to dye and chop her hair into a facsimile of Sandy's blonde, Brigitte Bardot locks, but quickly finds herself having difficulty in separating her dreams from reality. Was there a murder in the past? Does it have a sway that connects to the present, and are unrestful spirits haunting Eloise as she slowly begins to lose her grasp on sanity?
Directed by the gifted Edgar Wright (who co-scripted with Krysty Wilson-Cairns),
Last Night In Soho is like one of Roman Polanski's pressure-cooker psychological thrillers from the 1960s bathed in the lurid color spectrums of a Dario Argento films from the 1970s. Set to a bloody brilliant soundtrack of excellent 60s cuts and boasting terrific performances from McKenzie and the striking Taylor-Joy, it's a film that's engrossing, eerie and exceptionally well made on every technical level. It sadly found few takers at the box office this time last year, but it's worthy of a major reappraisal, and ought to weather the years well as more and more people discover it at home.