Editorials
Do “So Bad It’s Good” Horror Movies Have Their Place?
From Sharknado to Lavalantula, some might claim that we’re living in a golden age of direct-to-video B-movie franchises. With cheesy digital effects and (usually) inconsequential plots, these films have become the proverbial bread and butter of channels like SyFy and production companies like The Asylum.
As these movies grow in popularity, so does a certain backlash against the “So Bad It’s Good” sub-genre. This is understandable, as it does feel rather questionable to try and profit off of purposefully awful features when there are so many great independent filmmakers who could create something wonderful with that kind of funding. However, This does bring up an important point. As these peculiar films sometimes overshadow productions that are genuinely trying to make good movies, should these modern B-grade pictures even be made at all?
Of course, the phenomena of extremely cheap genre films achieving financial success isn’t anything new. Legendary filmmakers like Roger Corman have built long-lasting careers out of schlocky B-Movies, and I’d even argue that some of these silly productions are necessary to keep the film world alive. The real issue here seems to be artistic intent, as most of the watchable bad movies out there were actually trying their best to offer an entertaining experience.
The effort behind some of these productions is admirable, and a ridiculously small budget is oftentimes the real culprit behind a film’s perceived lack of quality. Movies like Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space are downright charming in their earnest attempt at emulating Hollywood’s biggest successes on a tight budget, with little-to-no technical know-how. Watching these clunky films is a rewarding experience in spite of their amateurish origins, not necessarily because of them.
How can you not like this movie?
The same can’t be said of more recent films like the aforementioned Sharknado series, that seem to relish their inferior production values and make no real attempt at compensating for their inherent crudeness. While I don’t judge people who are fans of numerous (and usually shark-related) franchises like Ghost Shark and Sharktopus, it’s apparent that these films are using our love of cheesy B-movies as an excuse to make a quick buck. I mean, regardless of what you thought of the film, you can’t really claim that Dinocroc was anyone’s passion project.
Nevertheless, that’s not to say that these films shouldn’t exist, as despite my criticism I’ve enjoyed my fair share of trashy monster movies. Even seemingly irredeemable train-wrecks like Birdemic can be enjoyable under the right circumstances. As the various incarnations of Mystery Science Theater have shown, sometimes you need a bad movie to have a good time, and that’s awesome!
Even so, we’ll probably never see this modern trend of intentionally awful movies be celebrated the way we celebrate famously bad movies from the past. The honesty behind a full-fledged attempt at making a great film results in a certain kind of charm that you can’t simply replicate on demand. In order to be fun, these movies shouldn’t be produced on an assembly line as if they’re coming from some strange shark-related factory.
To be clear, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with making movies intentionally cheesy, but there’s a right way of going about it. As with Rodriguez and Tarantino’s love letter to the best (and worst) that the horror genre has to offer, Grindhouse, a little bit of effort can go a long way. In fact, there’s a long list of great movies with downright ridiculous subject matter that manages to be entertaining despite their budgets.
Could this be the best of the good bad movies?
There’s also a huge difference between filmmakers trying to make bad movies on purpose and filmmakers attempting to emulate a different kind of cinema experience that some people consider “bad”. Loving homages to the corny monster movies of old can actually be pretty fun, even if they’re made with the same level of limited production value as most SyFy films. The sad thing is, many of these dedicated productions will be inevitably compared to those arguably lazier movies. Looking at it like this, there’s really no excuse for setting out to make a crappy horror movie, no matter how stupid the premise may sound.
Ultimately, What really bothers me is how the thought process behind these newer “So Bad It’s Good” movies is almost predatory in its intention of profiting off of moviegoers who just want to have a good time with no serious artistic pretenses. This cynical corporate instinct is also the source of several knock-off movies made by many of the same production companies, hoping that grandmas everywhere might somehow confuse Transformers with Transmorphers as a viable gift during the next holiday season.
This is why, in an ideal world, enjoyable “bad” movies should be a happy accident and not a sub-genre in and of themselves. However, overall, these movies aren’t actually causing the horror genre that much harm. No one can really force you to exclusively watch the countless Sharknado sequels instead of original horror movies that put more effort into their productions. And, while it’s unfortunate that some better monster movies will be compared to these trashy films, there’s still nothing wrong with zoning out and enjoying the show as the titular Ghost Shark devours innocent people on a Slip ‘N Slide.
As long as viewers make an effort to value decent horror movies as well as these silly ones, there’s no reason for them to stop existing entirely. After all, in time, most of the unenjoyable crappy movies will be forgotten, and we’ll be left with only the most entertaining and memorable gems that the trashy side of our favorite genre has to offer.
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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