Editorials
Low-Budget British Anthology ‘Screamtime’ Is Rich in Charm [Horrors Elsewhere]
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The anthology is a unique subgenre of horror. In addition to the offbeat structures and a predilection for the strange and unexpected, these films generally do as they please. There are of course specific traditions almost all anthologies adhere to, but there is no set rule for how they come together in the first place. Films like Creepshow are made from scratch, but the 1980s saw the rise of a new kind of anthology; the ones pieced together from preexisting material. An early example of this format, sometimes referred to as a “Frankenthology,” is a little-known British chiller called Screamtime.
Michael Armstrong and Stanley A. Long, who are collectively credited as Al Beresford, pooled their previous short films to make 1983’s Screamtime. They then linked them to an original segment filmed in Manhattan. This obscure gathering of the weird and unexplained takes place in New York in spite of its thoroughly British innards. The transcontinental setup only adds to Screamtime’s growing list of quirks. The wraparound begins with two loafers, Ed and Bruce (Vincent Russo, Michael Gordon), lifting three tapes from the Video Shack once located at 49th Street and Broadway, and prominently next to an adult theater. Ed and Bruce immediately barge in on a friend, Marie (Marie Scinto), who is in the midst of getting ready for a “date.” Until then, Marie allows her uninvited guests to watch their haul.
The first video is “Killer Punch”, a domestic disturber about a dejected Punch-and-Judy operator named Jack (Robin Bailey). When things at home become much too sad for Jack to handle, he seeks comfort from his Punch puppet. His refuge from the world is soon spoiled when embittered stepson Damien (Johnathon Morris) sets fire to the puppet stand. Wife Lena (Ann Lynn) then plans to leave Jack and take Damien along with her, but a force inside the house refuses to let them go.
“Killer Punch” is a short and sweet stab at the slasher formula so prevalent in American horror back then. In the subgenre’s early days, it was not unusual to see these kinds of films trade high body counts and indiscriminate carnage for psychological drama and deliberated tension. Jack’s simmering dysfunction finally boils over, and up until the hairy reveal and ending, the audience naturally wonders if the puppeteer’s unrest has in fact manifested as a murderous Mr. Punch.
Ed, whose only takeaway from the first video is, “Dem British movies; I can tell by the way they talk,” pops in the next tape. Although this segment was originally called “Dreamhouse” when it played in theaters back in 1981, here Armstrong’s short is called “Scream House” on the cassette box. Yvonne Nicholson and Ian Saynor respectively play Susan and Tony, newlyweds who move into what appears to be a haunted house. Susan is the first to pick up on the paranormal activity, which includes vivid visions of the home’s sordid history. In time the devastating truth comes out.
Anthologies can have a “get in and get out” attitude about themselves, but so far, Screamtime has been considerate with its pacing and plotting. The second slot, which is arguably the strongest of the pack, boasts appreciable scares and buildup. The outcome is also novel as well as surprising even by today’s standards. If this chapter has one glaring drawback, though, the production values run on the meager side. Nicholson’s character sports the same top in nearly every scene regardless of shifts in time, and the actual slaughter is limply executed. The story proved to be appealing enough to warrant a full-length adaptation; Reg Traviss directed a 2010 film called Psychosis. Anyone who has seen both versions can agree the short is more potent, seeing as the film’s padding only dilutes the big twist.
As Bruce gets to know Marie better back in her bedroom, Ed keeps the marathon going on his own. The last video, “Garden of Blood”, follows a motocross rider named Gavin (played by former pop singer David Van Day), who is in desperate need of money. After he accepts the job of handyman for two spinsters (Jean Anderson, Dora Bryan), Gavin breaks into his employers’ house in hopes of stealing the small fortune inside. If Gavin had been more mindful of the women’s stories about protective garden gnomes and naughty fairies, he might have lived long enough to find better employment.
In terms of segment arrangement, Screamtime could have exercised more thought. The empirical rule for anthologies is to expect inconsistency in the story quality. “Garden of Blood” is without a doubt the film’s weakest link, but Armstrong and Long could have easily remedied that by moving it to the front rather than saving it for the coveted last spot. Following it with the other two offerings, both of which are superior in every way, would have made up for this middling yarn had it played sooner than later. It is much too mild to be the ultimate tale in this otherwise delightful collection.
As is custom with nearly all anthologies containing a wraparound, the main characters are never safe regardless of their distance from the featured stories. Screamtime’s framing device has this in common with Amicus’ strand of portmanteau films. However, Armstrong and Long’s film takes an innovative approach to how Ed, Bruce, and Marie come upon these cursed videos and meet their doomed fates. It all feels like a precursor to more recent anthologies, such as V/H/S.
There is no denying this anthology feels like a quick money grab. Yet, even as low-cost as the film comes across, the content itself is for the most part entertaining and not as uneven as other slapdash compilations that cropped up later. What Screamtime lacks in budget it makes up for in charm.
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 be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.
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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