Editorials
‘Spelunky 2’ Kills Me Over and Over…and I Love It
This time, I tell myself. This time I’ll see the arrow traps before I jump into their path. This time I’ll time that step and not end up impaled on spikes. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get through the opening stages with all hearts intact and a bag full of bombs.
Then a mole rat tunnels out of the ground and knocks me into the path of a large lizard that looks a lot like a certain Presidential figure, only a bit less abhorrent, and that then punts me into the wall over and over, my lifeless body now in some grim game of squash.
That was the 15th attempt at beating the roguelite adventure Spelunky 2 on that particular evening. I had previously scraped and clawed my way deeper into the ever-evolving moon caves, almost tasting victory. This time I’d fallen at the first hurdle, merely 20 seconds into the run. I would have to start from the top yet again. I couldn’t count how many times since the game released that I’d had to restart, but it was certainly a lot. In some cases, that would warrant a shout of angry frustration.
But I laughed.
I laughed because there’s a dark comedy to the constant, random, and almost unfair, manner in which Spelunky 2 kills you. As with the original Spelunky, you pick an adventurer, and try to get to the bottom of an increasingly difficult set of changing caves without perishing, all in the pursuit of some lifting a strange curse that afflicts anyone who sets foot in the caves. If, sorry, when you die, you come back to life at the entrance again and again until you finally escape the curse. It’s sort of like Raiders of the Lost Ark meets Happy Death Day.
The Happy Death Day comparison is especially apt as the cycle of jumping in with a bit more knowledge each time, hoping to break out of this deathloop, is similar, as are the initial results. Just when you think you have it all figured out, Spelunky 2 hits you with some absurd variation on what you know, and there’s your twitching corpse slowly sliding down a set of spikes because you didn’t see that spider drop down from the ceiling.
Never has a game had such wonderful comedic timing for my imminent failure. Sometimes it’s a surprise scorpion in an item box. Another time it could be a misunderstanding at the item shop that leads to the shopkeeper coming for murderous vengeance with his shotgun. The beauty of Spelunky 2 is that you genuinely never know what your next cause of death will be, no matter how many times you go through it. That should be a clear route to frustration and annoyance, but there’s a grisly curiosity about what fate has in store for you this time that almost matches the desire to ‘win’.
There are times it seems like Spelunky 2 can read my mind. One time, on a rather successful run, I think ‘I’ve got loads of bombs, extra life hearts, and this snazzy jetpack. I’m gonna breeze this next stage’, only for my casual jet-fueled descent to be bludgeoned coldly by a fire-breathing dog that sets off a chain reaction of calamity.
The fireball from that hellhound’s maw knocked me back, thankfully onto solid ground. I get up, and move just in time to avoid a menacing metal cudgel that drops from above on a long chain, and drives through the floor next to me. A near miss! My luck is surely in?
In a split second, I notice that there’s lava now pouring through the gap below me, covering the floor. That will make any escape to the exit tricky as just touching a dollop of it means instant death. So I move in the opposite direction, hoping to blow my way out elsewhere with my plentiful supply of bombs.
Unfortunately, I don’t see that one of the game’s neanderthal-like enemies had clocked my less than gracious landing, and is now barreling toward me like a meaty battering ram. I panic, fumble with the button input, and fling a bomb in his direction without thinking about the consequences. The bomb hits him, stunning him briefly, but it puts him and the bomb in close proximity to me. Either I risk rushing past into potentially unseen danger before I blow myself up, or I risk trying to find a way to the exit in the increasingly lava-filled floor in the other direction.
I choose the latter because there’s no time to think beyond ‘I can at least see what I’m getting myself into’ and I leap to a platform just the other side of the lava spill. That’s when the bomb explodes and sends the caveman’s corpse my way at speed. He knocks me off my perch, and onto the floor below. I lose some health from the impact and the subsequent drop, but I’m still alive and as it turns out, not far from the exit.
A brief moment of relief as I once again feel confident of pushing on deeper into the caves. Then another cudgel drops and obliterates me just before the exit. All that happened in seconds. I sit slack-jawed at the ridiculous nature of my brutal demise. Final Destination’s Grim Reaper couldn’t have set up a sillier set of circumstances leading up to that death.
But I hit restart almost immediately, eager to begin the cycle once more. This time I might make it all the way, but if I don’t, I know there’s a good chance I’ll be dying a very dishonorable, and likely hilarious, death. Spelunky 2’s loop means I don’t really fear death and failure. Instead, there’s a morbid fascination with what untold bastardry it will throw at me in order to prevent my escape. Strangely, the only fear is that I’m going to escape the death traps, the monsters, the cavemen, the lava, and those bloody mole rats for good one of these days, and when I do, the wonder of an unknown fate that makes me love Spelunky 2 so much might vanish.
But really, I believe my eventual victory lap will probably end up with me doing something masterfully stupid in the opening level, as the game concocts another of its devious schemes to help dispose of me in the most humiliating, but amusing, way possible.
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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