Editorials
New Zealand Creature Feature ‘Black Sheep’ Shows the Horrors of Baaad Science [Horrors Elsewhere]
Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not always be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.
Not a single one of Earth’s creatures is spared when it comes to casting nature’s revenge on humans. Joining the ranks of other unexpected critters in horror are those docile grazers who bleat and frolic to their hearts’ content. It’s not unusual to see sheep stippling the picturesque landscapes of rural New Zealand with white — after all, they outnumber the human population by almost six to one these days. In spite of their abundance, though, those fluffy clouds with legs are less than peaceful in Jonathan King’s 2006 film Black Sheep. As a result of bad science, woollies are about to become the country’s next top predator.
Set in pastoral Wellington, Black Sheep follows the fateful reunion between two estranged brothers. A prank deeply traumatized Henry Oldfield at a young age (Nick Fenton); his brother Angus scared him with a bloodied sheep carcass seconds before they both learned their father died in an accident. Years later, a hesitant and older Henry (Nathan Meister) returns to his childhood home to sell his half of the family farm to Angus (Peter Feeney). This is when he and an animal rights activist discover Angus’ horrific experiments on the sheep. With the hazard of countless people becoming prey to the flesh-eating livestock, Henry is now forced to confront his lifelong phobia.
Among all the things New Zealand is known for — including the Lord of the Rings trilogy, manuka honey, and rugby — sheep ranks the highest on the list. This factoid was part of the inspiration behind King’s debut. Producer Philippa Campbell didn’t normally work in horror, but she couldn’t turn King down after hearing his idea. She told Fangoria in 2007, “I hadn’t any ambitions to make comedy/horror films or to start hammering New Zealand, but Jonathan’s pitch was fantastic.” She adored the idea of playing with the country’s imagery and poking fun at herself and other fellow Kiwis.
The classic theme of corporate evil getting its comeuppance is alive and well in Black Sheep. Although knowledge of akin eco-horrors like Alligator, Frogs and Piranha isn’t required, it may add context. Those aforesaid titles are just some of the movies that helped lay the subgenre’s foundation; for stories of nature rising up when humans act recklessly. In King’s take on the topic, two “greenies” get wind of the disturbing goings-on at the Oldfield farm. Angus, the face of capitalism in these parts, has done the unthinkable and created an “uber” specimen that will forever change sheep farming. Progress doesn’t come without its setbacks as a wormy experiment escapes from the lab and accidentally turns Angus’ whole flock into voracious maneaters. Add in some were-sheep and the movie brings new meaning to the old saying “A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
When it’s not spoofing creature-horror movies of yesteryear, Black Sheep fires on all cylinders as a horror-comedy. Nearly every scene is punctuated with wry or physical humor, and King doesn’t shy away from lampooning New Zealanders, either. What helps the film tremendously is it plays everything with a straight face; there is no shameless winking at the audience or breaking of the fourth wall. The characters respond to their dilemma with sincerity, and for this reason alone, the many laughs come naturally. From greenie Experience (Danielle Mason) walking into a bloody murder scene and immediately complaining about the feng shui, to Angus letting loose a deadpan “baaa-stard” as his sheepish infection worsens, the jokes are well thought out.
When asked by Meister in the commentary session who among the Oldfield boys is the movie’s de-facto namesake, King claims there are no black sheep. However, either Henry or Angus could fill the role, albeit in very different ways. The youngest is an easy candidate for the title; he was a sheep-shearing prodigy until he developed a serious case of ovinaphobia. On top of that, he’s avoided his family and their legacy. Henry may be the odd man out simply because he doesn’t adhere to tradition. Meanwhile, Angus is the more obvious prospect. Something that didn’t pan out much to the director’s regret was explaining Angus’ antipathy toward nature. The leg brace his younger self (Eli Kent) wears was meant to hint at Angus’ bitterness and how he dislikes the natural order of things in life. This loathsome attitude is why he later becomes so open to science and allows the creation of the uber sheep. It only seems reasonable Angus is his family’s most disfavored member due to his unethical ways.
In the movie’s making-of featurette, producer Campbell said turning her homeland’s national icon into something it wasn’t was challenging from all sides. These fuzzy paragons of purity wouldn’t ordinarily strike fear into the average person’s heart, but the crew swore sheep were quite terrifying when up close and personal with them. Their sheer size and brassy baas were enough to unnerve the staff when live sheep were brought in for measurements. Turning them into daunting carnivores didn’t seem too difficult a task at that point. And once it came time to make the fleeced mutants, New Zealand’s Weta Workshop outdid themselves. Prioritizing tangible effects over CGI was in the film’s best interest seeing as the hands-on approach established a genuine connection between the cast and the faux sheep. The Miramar-based special effects and props company gets top marks here; their animatronics, makeup, and prosthetics are all exceptional.
The movie is often likened to Peter Jackson’s earlier genre works such as Bad Taste and Braindead, and after watching, anyone will agree the comparison is both accurate and flattering. Having Glenis Levestam from Jackson’s zombie comedy play the matriarchal housekeeper Mrs. Mac in Black Sheep only adds to the resemblance. King also cites The Evil Dead and An American Werewolf in London as inspirations. The were-sheep’s transformation is a reference to John Landis’ lycan classic, and the visual gags would feel right at home in Sam Raimi’s earlier films.
Black Sheep inhales and fully harnesses the spirit of schlocky comedy-horrors that came before it. King’s first feature has aged well all thanks to its earnest sense of humor, timeless practical effects, and humble satire. This unique eco-horror is a roaring good time that continues to stand out from the herd.
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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