Editorials
‘When a Stranger Calls’: Misbegotten Remake or Worthwhile Gateway Horror?
Society’s relationship with the telephone has changed throughout the years. Once a necessary means of communication, the phone is treated as a nuisance these days. Unwanted calls, bad news, and plain social anxiety are among the reasons why we avoid answering. So, while the phone’s place in a modern world has shifted, its purpose in horror remains all but the same. An affected voice, a thinly veiled threat, the dead silence—no matter how old we get, or how advanced technology becomes, nothing quite raises goosebumps like a creepy phone call.
No urban legend feels more at home in horror than “The Babysitter and the Man Upstairs”, a story that dates all the way back to the 1960s. This myth and its ilk paralleled the emergence of phone thrillers like I Saw What You Did and Midnight Lace. Bob Clark‘s Black Christmas is another seminal example of putting the device to pernicious use. In 1979, Fred Walton changed the landscape of horror with When a Stranger Calls, a movie that faithfully adapts the “Babysitter” urban legend. What began as a 1977 short film eventually became one of the most terrifying openers in horror history.
Twenty-five years later, Screen Gems announced its upcoming redial of When a Stranger Calls. In a time where horror remakes were common, this news was par for the course. Words were neither minced nor kind when February 3, 2006 came around, though. By and large, critics found Simon West‘s reimagining routine and devoid of genuine scares. The film was unanimously panned, then forgotten like so many other of the decade’s horror bygones. However, putting some years between the past and now has benefited a number of horror movies. There has especially been a sizable turnaround for fellow aughts remakes like Black Christmas and Sorority Row. Movies once deemed artless cash-grabs are now underrated or unfairly maligned in retrospect. But can the same be said for When a Stranger Calls?
First off, the remake outright stuns with its main setting. The script included a more conventional-looking house, but Simon West wanted something different. Something modern. Inspired by sleek glass/wood homes from yesteryear, his crew constructed the stunning Mandrakis residence where evil would soon lurk. Sentencing a 16-year-old girl to such a remote location is ill-advised on any parent’s part. Nonetheless, the idyllic appearance of the lakeside house is understandably deceptive. The director utilizes every nook and dark spot. The atrium is a curious addition which manifests the theme of bringing the outside in. Menacing, obscured hallways and an assortment of eldritch décor masked as fine art await Jill on that hellish night. Thanks to the camerawork, it’s as if the house is alive and well aware of the crime at hand.
While it may seem like another opportunistic remake, When a Stranger Calls distinguishes itself from its source material in ways that have gone unnoticed. Before going any further, one has to revisit the movie that started it all. Almost exactly one year after Halloween was released, Fred Walton’s When a Stranger Calls opened in theaters. Opinions varied, but everyone agreed about one thing—the first act was killer. In his first major screenplay, Jake Wade Wall pays tribute while still sharing his own interpretation of the original film’s core idea. He favorably turns that unnerving opening sequence into the remake’s main attraction. It’s a bold choice seeing as Walton could only wring out so much terror from a cautionary tale whose strength is its immediacy. With all the complaints about the 1979 movie’s leftfield turn, removing the stranger’s side story — one that nearly sympathizes a murderer — is wise. In consequence, Wall offers the chance to better know the babysitter.
This new Jill (Camilla Belle) experiences marked growth throughout the remake. Early on, she’s at school, tackling adolescent concerns — she’s not cutting it in track, her boyfriend (Brian Geraghty) kissed someone else, she’s in trouble at home for going over her allotted cell phone minutes — that won’t appeal much to older viewers. Even so, making Jill so individualistic, not to mention fallible, is key to her development. She’s no longer a stock character in a campfire tale. Showing her in her natural environment before she steps foot in that ominous house is necessary. We now know Jill will do whatever it takes to maintain her well-being. Sure, her juvenile crises are of no concern to adult audiences, but they make her an approachable protagonist.
More akin to that era’s crime dramas, the 1979 When a Stranger Calls is not too traditional as far as golden-age slashers go. A sizable chunk of the film is devoted to Charles Durning hunting down the maddened killer. Ultimately, they’re both reunited with Carol Kane’s babysitter, who is suddenly married and with two kids of her own. No time is spent with Jill outside her ill-fated encounters; she’s ignored in favor of her attacker’s side story. At the very least, her closure comes better late than never in the more effective 1993 sequel, When a Stranger Calls Back.
The remake allows Jill more agency without scrubbing away the stranger’s loathsome nature. The madman’s greatest misdeeds still exist—but now, Jill has an active part in her own survival. The paranoia-laden waiting game finally pays off for those anticipating the inevitable. In a gratifying showdown between Jill and the man hiding upstairs, West’s experience with action movies is writ large. The stylized chase sequence that follows is high-strung. The house’s ill-boding arrangement and features are all put to good use as the babysitter fends off her harasser. It’s a stylized clash of good versus evil where the shocks are low, but the stakes are high.
A seasoned horror fan will write the remake off as frightless fluff. With its sterile veneer and seemingly bubblegum lead, this update is a far cry from its gritty, uncomfortable predecessor. Fred Walton and Steve Feke’s story was ultimately one about the inner workings of a deranged man. Whereas in Simon West’s movie, we journey with Jill as she enters unknown territory. We’re privy to her confusion and many mistakes. Again, this Jill is not a faultless character. Her errors solicit a vocal response from the audience, all of whom know what it’s like to be somewhere, alone and anxious. Overall, the remake lacks the potency of the original’s finer moments. It instead spreads its own dread more evenly. The 2006 movie has no effect on the most hardened viewers, but it’s left an impression on those still warming up to the genre.
If we can celebrate the original by its parts rather than its sum, the remake merits the same courtesy. The first film bears a white-knuckled intro that became its legacy. Yet, in spite of the late Tony Beckley’s rousing and raw performance as the villain, the remainder of that movie wears thin. The reimagining is not without its faults—fickle energy, plot contrivances, and an overstretched premise all mar an otherwise functional thriller for entry-level horror fans. The When a Stranger Calls remake doesn’t outshine the original’s brightest spots, but it’s definitely not the cinematic misdial everyone makes it out to be either.
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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