Editorials
Why the Criminally Underrated ‘Fright Night’ is a Near-Perfect Horror Remake
I don’t envy any filmmaker remaking a beloved horror movie. Trying to strike a balance between introducing a new generation of film-goers to what was so great about the original while also appeasing an established fan base sounds like an impossible feat.
However, every once in a while that tight-rope act is conquered, and the movie-going masses are graced with films like Martin Scorsese’s Cape Fear (1991), Gore Verbinski’s The Ring (2002) and Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead (2004). While I believe the aforementioned movies are all fantastic, there is one lesser-appreciated remake that is right up there with them when it comes to breathing new life into a property. That film is Craig Gillespie’s 2011 recreation of the 1985 cult classic, Fright Night.
And before someone sets the comments section ablaze, yes, Scorsese’s Cape Fear is objectively a better film than Fright Night (2011), but just roll with me, okay?
What makes this silly little ‘80s movie so special?
In the summer of 1985, Writer/Director/Not-Spider-Man Tom Holland (Child’s Play, Thinner, Psycho II) bequeathed audiences a horror/comedy/teenage/vampire film the likes of which had never been seen. Holland propped Fright Night up on a very simple premise: what if your next door neighbor was a vampire?
That simple notion generated a fun mix of Hitchcockian paranoia, Hardy Boy Mystery, and the works of Ray Bradbury while never taking itself too seriously. And despite its carefree attitude, the film was still able to be a sharp critique on society’s treatment of homosexual men in the wake of the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s (boy, this paragraph took a turn). Fright Night is a smart film. Probably smarter than it has any right to be. It’s also surprisingly funny. Most of the film’s humor is anchored by the fantastic cast, especially Chris Sarandon as Jerry the Vampire.
Yes, our villainous blood-sucker is named Jerry…
While the original Fright Night holds up pretty well, there are some facets that time has not been kind to (Jerry’s wardrobe, for example). Luckily, the remake updates the film like a fixer-upper home. The foundation for greatness is already there. The rest is just window dressing.
Craig Gillespie’s film certainly takes flight from the same launch pad. But what really makes his version shine is the manner in which we are reintroduced to the same gallery of characters with more contemporary edges. To me, this is what makes it such a compelling remake.
Our hero, Charley Brewster, is still an awkward teenager trying hard to be part of a clique, but instead of grappling with self-denied homosexual tendencies, the 2011 version of Charley (played by the late, great Anton Yelchin) is trying to escape from under the weight of his own uber-nerdom and grappling with isolating himself from people who truly love him.
While it may not be as morally pressing, the themes of isolation (self-imposed or not) and growing out of childish predilections must speak volumes to teenagers across the board despite their sexual orientation (given, this is coming from a straight, white dude who listened to metal and read comics during his teen years…and still does, so take that observation with a huge grain of salt).
Now, I don’t think this change is necessarily better, but it makes sense. Attitudes toward accepting people’s sexuality has thankfully come a long way since 1985, and retreading those themes in the context of the same film may seem blasé despite their importance (unless the filmmakers were going to double-down on these issues, which would be extremely interesting since LGBTQ horror is pretty rare in the industry).
As for good ol’ Jerry…
I have nothing against Chris Sarandon. He’s a handsome, talented, charming actor who is awesome in everything I’ve ever seen him in (Princess Bride, anyone?); but Colin Farrell is…well, he’s goddamn Colin Farrell. He’s dark, brooding (as vampires are want to be), and could realistically lure you, your mom, and your significant other into his home with that mischievous grin and/or seductive vampire powers.
The entire cast is fantastic and everyone seems on board with the craziness of having a vampire move in next door. Toni Collette (The Sixth Sense, Krampus) as Charley’s mother brings a strong female presence that was mostly devoid in the original film. Christopher Mintz-Plasse (Superbad, Kick-Ass) somehow makes the character of Evil Ed simultaneously more likeable, menacing, and annoying than his predecessor, Stephen Geoffreys (976-EVIL).
But the biggest standout is David Tennant (Doctor Who, Broadstreet) as self-proclaimed vampire hunter turned entertainer, Peter Vincent.
Full disclosure: I love David Tennant so much, you guys…
In Holland’s original film, Peter Vincent, played by the legendary Roddy McDowall (Planet of the Apes), is portrayed as a washed-up television horror film host who had slipped into his once famous vampire killer persona. Think Elvira, but if Cassandra Peterson wasn’t in on the joke.
While McDowall’s sage vampire hunter is a great callback to the Hammer Film-era Val Helsing, David Tennant’s version lovingly pokes fun at vampire tropes that would become popular after the original Fright Night. These tropes include, but are not limited to: vague fetish sexiness, heavy eye shadow, leather pants, runic tattoos, and industrial rock music, all of which were pretty laughable by 2011. But beyond aesthetic, the key difference between the iterations is that Tennant’s Vincent has a personal connection with our villain, which is a plot element that adds a certain depth that McDowall’s character lacked.
From the character tweaks to the shift in themes and location, all the small changes in Fright Night 2011 culminate to create a fresh take on a timeless story.
And if you miss the original while watching it, a really fun cameo from Chris Sarandon himself should be all you need to win you over.
The penultimate season of Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) aired its first three episodes on October 31, so it’s understandable that at least one of those three stories is set on Halloween.
Sandwiched between “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime” (Russell Mulcahy, Ron Finley) and “Whirlpool” (Mick Garris, A. L. Katz & Gilbert Adler) is the most severe episode of the bunch. Maybe the entire series? William Malone and Dick Beebe’s “Only Skin Deep” traded the show’s typical sense of fun for startling amounts of bleakness and kink.
“Only Skin Deep” is, apart from the Crypt Keeper’s intro and outro, noticeably unfunny. There are no considerable attempts at making the viewer laugh. Come to think of it, if those bookends had been replaced, and there was more of a sci-fi element in the story, HBO could have easily squeezed this tale into that successor anthology, Perversions of Science (1997). In Crypt, though, “Only Skin Deep” is much too grim for an audience that had become accustomed to campiness and levity.
What makes “Only Skin Deep” feel dark, among other things, is its protagonist. Showing up to a Halloween party where he’s not welcome, and where his former girlfriend (Diane DiLasco) is attending, Carl Schlag (Peter Onorati) first comes across as your standard bitter ex. You soon realize it’s much worse than that, once Carl threatens Linda (“You know, silly me, thinking I gave you what you deserved. If I’d have done that, I’d have killed you”). Now, I haven’t forgotten that Tales from the Crypt was teeming with vile men who did women harm. Yet Carl’s brand of misogynistic menace hits differently—it borders on being too realistic for this kind of series.
Mike Vosburg’s EC-style comic cover for “Only Skin Deep”, as seen in the Tales from the Crypt episode.
Despite donning a party mask for much of the episode, Carl can’t ever mask his true nature. The invitation did say “come as you are”, after all. That inability to change and be better, however, is why Carl ends up in such a karmic predicament. His outburst of anger at the party attracts the attention of one loner partygoer named Molly (Sherrie Rose, who was also in Season Four’s “On a Deadman’s Chest”). Her bone-white, featureless “mask” and body-bag costume don’t initially register as too strange, especially on a night like this. But at a party chock-full of colorful, cartoonish, and lighthearted ensembles, it does look out of place.
Darkness attracts darkness as Carl ditches the party and accompanies the mysterious Molly to her place. Which, by the way, should have been an immediate red flag. But perhaps she’s so hot, he doesn’t seem to mind the serial killer aesthetic. Resembling a warehouse that has been converted into living spaces, but never then decorated to remove the cold, industrial look, Molly’s home (or lair) is as gloomy as this whole episode feels. It’s like the set of a grungy music video, albeit a tad cleaner. The environments in a typical Crypt episode tend to be small, overfilled, and broken-in. Warm, regardless of any weird goings-on. All that empty space in Molly’s hovel, on the other hand, elicits a creepy feeling that Carl was unwise to ignore.
Tales from the Crypt featured more sex than it didn’t, but hands down, “Only Skin Deep” boasts the steamiest scene in the show’s history. Pushing it over the line, in addition to Onorati showing bare buns and the camera never turning down one of his pelvic thrusts, is the twisted dirty talk. Carl stays in the moment, whereas Molly unleashes charged lines like “the hurt, the anger, give it to me” and “take it out on my flesh like you want to”. It’s all quite kinky, as well as tied into the story’s theme of pain.
How else “Only Skin Deep” differs from other episodes is its twists. Or rather, its lack thereof. Nothing comes as a great surprise here, particularly because the deuteragonist’s ulterior motives are so obvious. By no means is Molly a wolf in sheep’s clothing; her face is a fright mask, she practically reeks of death, and she lives in what can best be described as a serial killer’s hideout. That last-act revelation of Molly’s mask really being her face is also nothing shocking. Cleverness is certainly not this episode’s strength.
A page from “…Only Skin Deep!”, as seen in EC Comics’ Tales from the Crypt.
While “Only Skin Deep” isn’t the most universally loved episode of Tales from the Crypt, it’s an interesting preview of William Malone’s future as a director. Most notably, he went on to helm House on Haunted Hill (1999) and FeardotCom (2002), the former of which was co-written by Dick Beebe, this episode’s writer. Dark Castle Entertainment, that genre house founded by Crypt producers Joel Silver, Robert Zemeckis, and Gilbert Adler, was instrumental in bringing out Malone’s gruesome, over-the-top vision in House on Haunted Hill. However, FeardotCom and Malone’s Masters of Horror episode, “Fair-Haired Child”, are the most stylistically compatible with “Only Skin Deep”.
As one might guess, this episode is nothing like its source material. The “…Only Skin Deep!” found in the pages of EC Comics is set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and save for its last couple of pages, is pretty sweet in nature. There, a man named Herbert is enamored with a woman he met five years prior to the present-day story. Every year, he has come down to Mardi Gras to see Suzanne, who’s always dressed as a hag-faced witch. Well, this time, Herbert plans on popping the question and marrying someone who is, for the most part, a total stranger. Suzanne accepts his proposal, but with one condition: they stay in costume until they’re officially hitched. You can probably see where this is going…
Once they are married, Suzanne remains incognito, even when she and Herbert have consummated their vows. A semi-predictive nightmare then rattles Herbert; he dreamt that Suzanne’s real face was as wizened as her mask. Finally, in his haste to find out the truth, Herbert winds up killing his new wife. Faceless and well on her way to bleeding out, the dying Suzanne manages to say she never wore a mask.
For more traditional EC-style ghastliness, your best bet is reading the comic. It’s wickedly sad. For something less conventional, as far as Tales from the Crypt goes, the role-reversing adaptation is worth watching. It’s not the best this show had to offer, although Malone’s visual style, plus the sexual abandon, does set the episode apart. If nothing else, “Only Skin Deep” leaves an impression that, even years later, shows no signs of fading.
Season Six of Tales from the Crypt can be streamed on Shudder, starting on June 5.
Tales from Tales from the Crypt celebrates the show’s Shudder premiere by singling out one episode from each season. So don’t even think about changing that dial, boys and ghouls. More spot-“frights” are to come.
Carl discovers Molly’s collection of human ‘masks’ in the Tales from the Crypt episode, “Only Skin Deep”.
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