Editorials
00’s Retrospect: Ryan Daley Reflects Back on the Year 2000
Y2K, 9/11, war and a a horrid recession, a major escape we had this decade was in the form of film, notorious for thriving during National crisis. Leading up to New Year’s Eve where we’ll ring in 2010, Bloody Disgusting will be looking back at the entire decade year by year through the eyes of various staff writers. Check back each day for a profound reflection from Ryan Daley, David Harley, Tex, BC and yours truly. Inside you’ll find Ryan Daley’s look back at the year 2000. Please share your memories for each year below, there are so many stories to be told!
’00 | ’01 | ’02 | ’03 | ’04 | ’05 | ’06 | ’07 | ’08 | ’09
More Retrospects:
-Top 20 Films of the Decade: 21-16 | 15-11 | 10-6 | 5-1
-Dead on Arrival: Ten Horror Duds of the Last Decade
2000
Which makes it even harder to explain the gran guignol excesses of Final Destination, what I consider to be one of the more influential horror movies of the past 10 years. I was simultaneously shocked and amused by the vast amount of carnage, much of it mean-spirited and primarily directed at innocent characters. Although horror movies that glorify the villain aren’t uncommon, Final Destination pared that concept down to its very core. In FD there was no villain, no hooded man with a scythe, no crazy ex-wrestler out to waste some teens. There is only death. Sudden, gruesome, unavoidable death. With its brutally elaborate kill scenes and gleeful sense of exploitation, Final Destination represented the first stirrings of the grue wave movement that would spawn later movies like Saw and Hostel. American horror cinema hasn’t looked back since.
Back in 2000 I was living in a dinky studio apartment near the university, taking film classes at night. One lonely Friday evening, I called a weed dealer for a house call, only to have him camp at my apartment for two hours because I happened to be watching Pitch Black right when he showed up. He walked in as the space transport Hunter-Gratzner, carrying murderous convict Richard B. Riddick (Vin Diesel), was burning through the atmosphere of an unidentified desert planet. And the weed guy couldn’t tear himself away. His phone rang every 5 minutes for about an hour, but after I cracked open a package of Chewy Chips Ahoy, he finally just switched it off. It pains me to imagine how many people had to go without doobage that night, all due to the captivating, mind-numbing power of Pitch Black.
In the case of Takashi Miike’s Audition, it was the burlap sack that got me. I think that 30-second hallway scene sums up everything that is awesome about horror. I rented a copy soon after its DVD release, and I watched it alone. Considering its infamous reputation, I was completely surprised to find myself watching a relationship drama, at least for the 45 minutes. Middle-aged widower meets cute model-type at fake audition, love ensues. But soon after the halfway mark, Miike’s movie blew my mind as it suddenly transformed into a gut-wrenching, eye-stabbing torture flick. The previously mentioned “burlap sack” scene merely serves as the tipping point to a grisly finale that haunted me for months.
When I read Bret Easton Ellis` novel American Psycho, it was like a kick in the nuts. It took my breath away. It made me want to barf on the sidewalk. Some chapters left me with brief bouts of diarrhea. To this day American Psycho remains the most offensive book I’ve ever read. Everybody has their line, and I suppose mine was crossed when a starving rat was jammed into a helpless vagina. Cruelly sadistic to the point of unforgivable, unforgettable perversion, Ellis’ exercise in calculated deviance follows self-absorbed yuppie Patrick Bateman through his daily routine of facial moisturizers and bloody murder. The final third of Ellis’ sick novel invites the reader to share Bateman’s lust for pain through several abhorrently-detailed torture scenes that stretch on for page after page after page. I sensed there was a satire buried somewhere under all the ugliness, but frankly, I just didn’t get it.
I watched Mary Harron`s film adaptation very reluctantly, but thankfully, she turned me around. With the help of a sardonic script and a charismatic central performance by Christian Bale, I was finally able to get a sense of what Ellis was going for in his novel. As a yuppie businessman living in the 1980s, Patrick Bateman knows his status will be determined by how well he blends in with his peers and co-workers. But by constantly focusing on being the same as everyone else, he denies a deep inner self that can only be expressed through ravenous acts of violence. Or maybe it’s all in his head. Either way, the movie was about a billion times better than the book would ever hope to be.
Back in the late 90s, I thought Robert Zemeckis was a hell of a director. But that was before he sold his soul to cartoons. As a rock-hard fan of Contact and Forrest Gump, I was curious about the what he would bring to the table as the man behind What Lies Beneath, an old-fashioned Hollywood horror flick. In terms of tone and structure, I thought that Zemeckis’ film bore a striking similarity to 1988’s Lady in White, another rare success in the world of PG-13 horror. With its increasingly tense set-pieces, What Lies Beneath served as a textbook example of how to successfully sustain suspense through an entire feature-length film. With every passing scene, it became more and more obvious that Zemeckis knew exactly what he was doing. I’ll probably catch hell for saying this, but I’ve always wanted to see what he would do with the Suspiria remake.
And who can forget the one-two punch of Winona Ryder and Kim Basinger attempting to choke out their respective careers with Lost Souls and Bless the Child? Both films were studio releases with respectable budgets, and both films currently rank on Rotten Tomatoes’ Worst of the Worst List. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that these movies are greenlit by people who are sober.
Also Worth Remembering: Ginger Snaps, Anatomy, The Cell, The Gift, Versus
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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