Editorials
Generation Hex: 5 Reasons ‘The Craft’ Still Kicks Ass
The Craft is over twenty years old. It’s still a little crazy to think about that. I was really young when it came out and probably didn’t see it for the first time until about a year or two later, but when I did manage to see it, I was captivated. There was a witty, ironic flair about late ‘90s horror that I gravitated to even as a kid. I watched Scream, The Faculty and The Craft in rapid succession and I loved them all. All three of those, in particular, have stuck with me for two decades and counting. But out of the three of them, The Craft was the one that I started to love more and more as I got older.
That’s because when I was a kid, I could understand slashers and I could understand aliens. Sure, I understood the witchcraft going on in that movie and thought it was cool, but at that age, I couldn’t understand why these characters would need it.
The movie is more popular now than it has ever been. There’s something about it that almost begs for rediscovery. It’s not a lost relic of its era by any means, but it’s a relic all the same. The Craft is dated and it should be. Great art—and let’s just say that’s what this is—is representative of its era.
A lot of people might say “That is so nineties” as a sort of insult, but I think The Craft is a time capsule. And even though it’s entirely of its era, there are core elements that are just as relevant today.
It really does kick ass. With its growing popularity and apparent remake/sequel on the horizon, it might be kicking more ass than ever. So let’s take a look at the major reasons as to why it still works as well as it does.
The Soundtrack
I’ll admit, this could be the nostalgia talking, but the music of The Craft really holds up. A lot of other nineties soundtracks get into trouble with weird, forced-in pop hits, but Craft has a distinctive sound all its own. Covers of “Tomorrow Never Knows” and “I Have the Touch,” performed by Our Lady Peace and Heather Nova, respectively, are standouts among a soundtrack that already stands out from so many teen horror films of the era.
Something about the music of The Craft only helps to build up the film’s mystical sensibilities. It’s unique. It’s ethereal teenage angst, more punk in spirit than in sound. On top of that, there’s Graeme Revell’s incredibly underrated score. He brings a bit of the same, almost meditative quality to The Craft that he did so well for The Crow. But The Crow is a very melancholy score overall, and this one is definitely not.
The Mythology
The movie might not be an accurate representation of the Wiccan religion, but that’s mostly because this is not set in the real world, this is still a teenage fantasy epic of best and worst case scenarios when it comes to magic. My favorite bit of mythology in The Craft, though, is the notion that some people are born with a natural inclination toward magic and others have to work twice as hard to basically be half as good.
On paper, that doesn’t sound too different from the world of muggles and pure-bloods in Harry Potter. The concept is basically the same, but The Craft doesn’t give it a name. I also like the idea that, at the end of the day, power might just come from within. Sarah’s been able to do things to some degree her whole life.
She retains her power at the end, but the others do not. They were using their powers for self-serving reasons—well, Rochelle’s actually seemed justified—and while that could easily be taken as a bit too moralistic of a message, I think it works for a film that is fundamentally about manipulative high school relationships.
The Style
For me, the style of The Craft comes down to a mixture of aesthetic and thematic elements. Visually, the movie is kind of fascinating because it feels entrenched in the nineties but, at the same time, is sort of separated from it. The style, music and overall sensibilities of the decade are there. But the girls themselves are mostly depicted in their school uniforms, which allows them to occupy their own neat space where they can be entrenched in the ‘90s, yet still almost exist outside of it.
The overall look and tone of The Craft feel almost effortlessly good. It’s not as overtly stylized as other goth classics like The Crow. I think part of what makes The Craft so interesting is that it’s set in the here and now. It’s fantasy based in an otherwise realistic world and that’s what allows these girls to stand apart as outsiders.
The Characters
The character work in The Craft is terrific. This is the point that the success of the entire film hangs on because if we don’t buy the relationships between the four girls, nobody’s going to care about any of the crazy witchcraft. My favorite thing about this movie is that each of the characters approaches witchcraft for their own, clearly defined reasons. Sarah, more than simply wanting a boy to like her, wants to be noticed. Bonnie wants to heal her scars. Rochelle wants to not have to deal with racist crap all the time. And Nancy just wants some control over her life.
None of these are selfish goals at the onset. For Rochelle, Bonnie and especially Nancy, they simply want more and more power, probably due to the fact that it doesn’t come as naturally to them.
I would hesitate to call The Craft a feminist movie, but I don’t think it’s trying to be one. It’s simply a film about looking at the relationships and power struggles of teenage girls and exploring that concept through magic.
Fairuza Balk
The whole cast of The Craft does a great job with the material they’re given, but even among such a strong core group of girls, Fairuza Balk’s performance stands out. Heather Langenkamp does an amazing job in the original Nightmare on Elm Street, but Robert Englund’s performance is just transcendent. That’s what’s happening here. Balk’s on a whole other level and it’s amazing to watch.
What I love in particular is how many different kinds of things Balk is able to do in this single performance. Nancy is always creepy, but she’s never creepy the same way twice. There will be times when she’s just casually bitchy and times when she’s quietly unsettling. There are moments toward the middle where she’s clearly becoming unhinged but is almost disturbingly calm about it. And then there’s the whole third act in which she just goes for it. She dials it up to 11. She swallows the scenery in one bite.
But she’s easily one of the main reasons we’re still talking about the movie, if not the main reason. The Craft holds a nostalgic place in the hearts of so many horror fans, but if there’s one reason that could be singled out as to what makes it so great, it’s that Fairuza Balk’s performance is purely and simply magic.
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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