Editorials
From Script to the Big Scream: ‘Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight’ Turns 25!
With multiple seasons, a spin-off cartoon, and endless merchandise tie-ins under its belt, anthology series Tales from the Crypt decided to parlay its success to the big screen in the mid-90s. Unlike the series, which was based on the 1950s EC Comics of the same name, the first film told an original story unrelated to the horror comics. Book-ended by the series’ beloved Cryptkeeper, a master of undead puns and storytelling, Demon Knight offered a central tale of good versus evil of biblical proportions.
A tongue-in-cheek action-horror hybrid that boasted great practical creature work and a stellar cast from top to bottom, Demon Knight released in theaters on January 13, 1995, just as the sixth season of the series was winding down on HBO. Twenty-five years later, Demon Knight holds up well and remains a standout of ‘90s horror.
Former NYU film school students and pals Ethan Reiff, Cyrus Voris, and Mark Bishop collaborated on the screenplay for Demon Knight in 1987, long before HBO began its seven-season run of Tales from the Crypt. They remained with the script in its many iterations in the long road to production in 1994. Before it finally found its home with Tales from the Crypt, Tom Holland felt it’d make a great follow-up project to Child’s Play, with Chris Sarandon in the villain’s role and Tommy Lee Jones as the hero for Holland’s dream casting.
When the project fell through, director Mary Lambert was the next prominent horror director to show interest. Her vision would’ve drastically changed the story, which entailed making the Demon Knights enslaved people, and her dream casting would’ve had Willem Dafoe as the villain and Edward Furlong as Uncle Willy. The financial failure of Pet Sematary II meant financial backing for her vision of Demon Knight evaporated. The script even passed through Charles Band’s Full Moon Productions for a brief stint, but finally found its way onto the desks at Joel Silver’s Silver Productions, who were looking for a script to round out their package of three Tales from the Crypt features.
Next came director Ernest Dickerson (Bones, The Walking Dead), a lifelong horror fan who’d been searching for a genre project to tackle. Unlike those who came before, Dickerson was a fan of the script, though he did work with Reiff, Voris, and Bishop to refine it. The mythology behind the demons, as well as the character work, were fleshed out further. So too, were the kills and the method in which the demons had to be killed; taking a page from Alien, Dickerson wanted these demons to have an extra level of difficulty to slay. Shooting their eyes, therefore, wasn’t such a simple task anymore. Most of all, though, Dickerson infused the script with his love of Ray Harryhausen. The scene that sees the Collector (Billy Zane) birth demons from hell is an homage to Jason and the Argonauts.
The group wrote two scripts with budgetary limitations in mind — one with monstrous demons, and the other with a more human-like take on demons. The Collector, who was initially called Travelling Salesman, would be a bible salesman and fellow traveling salesman would be his legion. Only the removal of their sunglasses that exposed their demonic eyes would indicate they weren’t human. The Demon Knight novelization by Randall Boyll, written from an earlier draft of the script, features the Salesman and numerous changes to the characters and their deaths.
Luckily, Universal Pictures realized the need for actual demons in a movie called Demon Knight and granted extra funding, much to the relief of special effects makeup designer and creator Todd Masters (Tales from the Crypt series, Slither). The stellar designs and work by Masters and his special makeup effects and creature crew contribute a large part of what makes the film so memorable. The unique and intricate designs, and the gore, of course. Masters and some of his crew watched Dead Alive (aka Braindead) during production and fell so hard for it that they brought one of the more outlandish deaths into Demon Knight; The Collector’s fist going straight through Sheriff Tupper’s (John Schuck) head. As for the creature performers, they had the tough task of being enclosed in the monster suits and perform on stilts- to keep balance on the stilts, the performers kept in constant motion.
Well executed creature and gore work, great direction, and a tight script were pushed over the top by a fantastic cast giving it their all. From Zane’s scene-stealing turn as the Collector opposite William Sadler’s grizzled hero Brayker and Jada Pinkett Smith‘s fierce Jeryline to supporting characters like Dick Miller’s Uncle Willy or CCH Pounder’s tough-as-nails Irene, there’s not a single character or actor involved that’s not compelling. Everyone’s a necessary and robust player in one of horror’s best ensembles. They were having a blast making this film, and it’s infectious to see on screen.
The Tales from the Crypt film trilogy never panned out according to the original plan. The film teased in the post-credit scene, Dead Easy, never came to fruition. Nor did Body Count. Producers even considered From Dusk till Dawn and The Frighteners as Tales from the Crypt features, but ultimately went with Bordello of Blood, a screenplay penned by series’ producers Gilbert Adler and A.L. Katz. Love it or hate it, the film had an arduous task of following on the heels of Demon Knight.
Every single facet of Demon Knight’s production is perfection; the soundtrack, the cast, the crew, the creatures, the direction, and the screenplay all work in unison to deliver one seriously entertaining entry in pulp horror. Full of endlessly quotable lines of dialogue, too. Twenty-five years later, anyone involved with the film reflects fondly of their experience working on it, which is a significant testament to its enduring longevity.
Demon Knight is an all-time great. Fangs for the memories, ghouls.
“Elevated Horror.” Of all the combinations in the English language, that one is the most insufferable.
It represents almost a decade of scary movies that, for the most part, took themselves too seriously. Horror responds to the moment, so its “why so serious” lean makes sense as we scuttle through the “worst of times” equation of Charles Dickens’ famous opening lines. But there’s still an opening and a need for a lighter approach; one that not only has fun with its audience but takes the piss out of a genre that is seemingly letting its newfound “respectability” go to its head.
Wes Craven believed devotees see horror films to let out their fears one primal scream at a time. At their core, these movies are roller coasters; they bring us as close to the edge as possible before pulling us back into a safety net of reality. The need for a bigger and badder coaster increases during times when the size of that net decreases.
There’s a thrill that comes from imagining being in a foot race with a madman, or outthinking the hordes of zombies on the other side of the door, plus the scavenger humans coming behind them. There’s even a rush that comes from imagining how one might deal with possession to see good triumph over evil in the end. It’s all about building tension and releasing it through catharsis. That cathartic release usually sounds like screams followed by laughter, which signals relief. Genre heavy hitters over the past 10 years offered very little of that respite when the credits rolled. Films like Hereditary, The Witch, Talk to Me, and even Smile (pick one) keep that tension going after the screen fades to black.
Hereditary
As the genre became obsessed with creating trauma metaphors, that lack of release made sense. Anyone with even a small sample size of traumatic experiences knows those emotions don’t magically resolve themselves in an allotted run time. But how much trauma can one take? Especially when there’s a mess going on outside that few of us can escape from. Movies offer that off-ramp, no matter how short.
Everything can’t be, nor should it be, “elevated.” Audiences need thoughtful explorations of life’s ills via monsters as much as they need murdering masked maniacs with kitchen knives. And no, it doesn’t have to go any deeper than that. Sometimes, a knife is just a knife, and it’s still worth our time and respect. As weird as it sounds, that simplicity is comforting not in spite of the trauma but because of it.
The worst of times should manifest more than just anguish. People need to laugh just as much as they need to think seriously about this moment in time. Even the Scream franchise forgot the meta rock upon which it built its church when the latest foray sacrificed the subtle comedy for serious drama. Scary Movie returned at the perfect moment. It provides the necessary laughs, but it’s not a cure-all.
This isn’t a call for Scary Movie imitators but a return to a mainstream landscape where Killer Klowns from Outer Space sat with The Serpent and the Rainbow, nestled neatly with the latest Nightmare on Elm Street, which took nothing away from The Vanishing.
They Live
Even They Live, John Carpenter’s horror sci-fi satire sandwich, kept its tongue firmly in cheek while discussing serious ideas still relevant in 2026. Yes, a film about aliens taking over the world through subliminal messaging only visible through coded sunglasses is, in fact, a tad silly. Carpenter understood that mainstream horror can’t become so self-important that it never looks itself in the mirror and laughs at that inherent silliness.
The thing is, horror historically excels at poking fun at itself. Most of the Scream franchise, The Cabin in the Woods, or The Blackening show adoration without kowtowing. They recognize tropes and trappings but invert them for an audience already in on the joke, but one that also finds solace in said conventions. This keeps the genre on its toes; once something gets parodied, it’s usually time to evolve. That breeds new ideas and fresh filmmakers, which not only strengthen the genre’s collective voice but also amplify it.
Get Out, as “elevated” as some critics want us to believe it is, is a cathartic, populist scary movie that spoke to an untapped audience rather than speaking down to them. Backrooms is one of the biggest horror hits in years, partially because it’s fine-tuned for modern-day teenagers instead of their parents. Movies like these tell everyone the genre is open for business; open for innovation and, yeah, open for new ways in which people can lovingly poke fun at with a wink and a nudge.
Horror needs dread as much as it needs laughter.
Catharsis is just as important as tension, and pulpy populism has the same merit as more high-brow material. Respectability shouldn’t come at the expense of an experience akin to walking through a haunted house. At a time when joy seems in short supply, horror should look to its past to map out its future, and make things just a tad brighter for audiences.
Backrooms
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