Editorials
‘Firestarter 2: Rekindled’ – Unearthing the Ashes of a Forgotten Stephen King Sequel
Of all of Stephen King’s literary children, none burns as brightly as Charlie McGee. She is the main character in his 1980 novel Firestarter and arguably his most powerful protagonist. The child of participants in a college experiment run by a government agency known as The Shop, Charlie was born with the unique ability to light fires with her mind. Hoping to earn some quick cash, her parents volunteered for injections of a serum called Lot 6 designed to increase or even create psy powers in human subjects. Their daughter inherited their genetic modifications leading to her amazing power, an ability The Shop would do anything to get their hands on.
King’s novel is set solely in her childhood years, but one character speculates on how her powers will increase as she ages. Dr. Wanless, creator of Lot 6, theorizes that at some point in her life, Charlie may amass the power to cause a nuclear explosion with the sheer force of her will. It’s an exciting prospect and though King has returned to the stories of a few of his child characters, most notably Danny Torrance (The Shining) and Jack Sawyer (The Talisman), he has never written about Charlie as an adult. But 2002 saw Dr. Wanless’s theories explored in the sci-fi series Firestarter 2: Rekindled. Directed by Robert Iscove, this two-part miniseries features an adult Charlie (Marguerite Moreau), hunted by the Shop and still searching for a normal life while struggling to manage her impressive powers.
Airing on back-to-back nights in March of 2002, Firestarter 2 catches up with Charlie roughly ten years after she burned down The Shop. Now a young adult, she lives a solitary life under an assumed name and spends her days researching Dr. Wanless’s work. Her nights are spent in fiery nightmares reliving her escape from the Shop and the deaths of her parents. But the shady agency, now known as Systems Operations, is still hunting her. Under the guise of a class action lawsuit, a young office drone named Vincent (Danny Nucci) is sent to track her down and inadvertently turns her into malevolent agent John Rainbird (Malcolm McDowell). A character in King’s novel, he betrayed Charlie’s trust when she was a child and suffered devastating burns as a result. Rainbird has spent the last decade nursing his wounds and obsessing over the girl he views as a daughter. But he’s also been busy creating a new generation of firestarters. The Lot 6 experiments have continued with batch 23 eventually spawning a gaggle of young boys with terrifying powers of their own. In order to save Vincent, Charlie must return to the place of her creation and face off against Rainbird once and for all.
It’s an intriguing premise and the story of an adult pyrokinetic with an ax to grind promises to be spectacular. Unfortunately Firestarter 2 is anything but. Despite a strong cast giving it their all, the series is a misfire in nearly every way. Premiering in the early days of TV’s golden age, Iscove’s episodes competed against hit dramas like CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and E.R. and the emergence of reality TV. American Idol, Survivor, and Joe Millionaire dominated the airwaves in 2002 leaving little room for a science fiction film with a TV Movie style. Both episodes are filled with clumsy dialogue, sterile sets, and melodramatic musical cues, embracing the worst tendencies of the Network TV style. These effects are interspersed with an abundance of flashbacks that stop any kind of narrative momentum dead in its tracks. Some of these sepia-toned memories are so cheaply made that they’re essentially unwatchable. When compared with other dramas of the time, including premium channel hits like The Sopranos and the Wire, Firestarter 2 feels like a relic.
Moreau gives a strong performance as Charlie, though her emotional arc is often vague and confusing. King’s original character is a precocious little girl who struggles with problems much too big for her nine years. She is pushed around and manipulated by nearly everyone she meets, her trust betrayed time and again until she finally unleashes her destructive powers. A companion website hints at the trouble she’s had in the years between her encounters with the Shop, moving from place to place, occasionally starting fires that burn out of control, and suppressing her need for human companionship for fear that revealing her true identity to anyone will put them in danger. Iscove tries to explore the weight of this isolation with a scene in which she attempts a drunken one-night stand in the alley behind a nightclub. But her arousal leads to a massive fire, further reinforcing her belief that she is dangerous. Having grown close to Vincent, she makes another attempt at physical intimacy, but once again winds up running unfulfilled from his burned hotel room.
Charlie’s relationship struggles would be intriguing to unpack, but this complex emotional arc is handled rather clumsily. In perhaps the most egregious fumble, Iscove presents her painful trust issues, then essentially abandons the story arc to focus on other things. She once again becomes a pawn for the male characters, a target of Rainbird and his group of psychic boys who see her as more of an object of fetishization than an actual human being. Though Charlie says she’s conquered her demons at the end of the final episode, there’s little evidence in the plot to actually back this up. Her final line to Vincent’s family, “I guess you could say he taught me to trust again,” is ridiculously on-the-nose and a frustrating way to conclude what could have been a rich emotional journey.
[Related] Failure to Burn: Revisiting the Original ‘Firestarter’ Movie
One of the biggest flaws of King’ original novel lies with its central villain, Rainbird. He is a paternalistic murderer who becomes obsessed with watching the light in Charlie’s eyes go out. But Rainbird is a stereotype. King describes him as a preternaturally silent killer evoking harmful stereotypes of indigenous people as savages and treacherous murderers. While uncomfortable on the page, Mark Lester’s 1984 remake doubles down, casting a cartoonishly styled George C. Scott in the role. Iscove’s Rainbird is played by horror legend Malcolm McDowell, another caucasian actor. While the charismatic actor is arguably the most interesting part of this series, a wiser decision would have been to leave this controversial character in the past and write the role for a different villain. Dr. Pynchot would be the obvious choice. As the doctor who once oversaw Charlie’s time at the Shop, he would conceivably carry the same grudge as his covert counterpart.
But authenticity is not the only glaring issue with the character. This iteration of Rainbird has an uncomfortable obsession with Charlie that ranges from mildly creepy to outright pedophilic. The original Rainbird wanted to kill her and absorb her powers, but Iscove’s version alternately implies that he wants to kill her, adopt her, have her join his team of psychic boys, or allow her to kill him as part of a muddled way to “create god.” Though his motives are unclear, the ick factor is plain as day. The fact that Charlie kills him by channeling her fire into his body through a kiss is just icing on the cringeworthy cake. That said, McDowell is clearly having fun twisting his metaphorical mustache with the ridiculous role. Covered in prosthetic burn scars, he chews up the scenery with lines like, “He’s an accountant. That means he occasionally kills people for me.”
Charlie finds another father figure in Richardson (Dennis Hopper). An addition to King’s story, he was a member of the Lot 6 experiment with Charlie’s parents and has been keeping tabs on the girl since her birth. The mysterious serum gave him the ability to know the past, present, and future all at once, a power that sounds intriguing, but mostly just leads to him deadpanning lines like, “You’re about to get everything you’ve always wanted. I feel sorry for you.” Meant to be profound, Hopper is given almost nothing to do and could easily be lifted out of the story entirely. Unlike McDowell, he plays this role with stoic determination, a choice that could be intriguing if the character were at all interesting. But as written, he serves mostly as exposition and plot device, a shameful waste of a talented actor.
All of these gripes could be overlooked in comparison to thrilling special effects, but unfortunately Firestarter 2 fails in that regard as well. Most of the fire is clearly CGI, and though the final showdown does contain impressive explosions, they’re immediately negated by the clumsy effects mixed into the frame. Rainbird’s death is particularly egregious. After receiving a fiery kiss from Charlie, his body disintegrates into a smoking skeleton. This is likely a reference to King’s novel which gruesomely describes Charlie’s ability to instantly incinerate human flesh. But though this may work on the page, it reads as comical and bizarre on screen. His new bunch of psychic kids could provide another opportunity for visual interest, but their powers are also unexciting. One boy can detect lies, while another has a creepy obsession with anatomy. The most powerful of the bunch is known as an Energy Sink, capable of stealing the powers of others. But even this is rather bland and he ironically sucks most of the excitement out of the scenes in which he appears.
Firestarter 2 could conceivably be so-bad-it’s-good fun, but the nearly three hour run time eventually wears thin. There are interesting sub plots that essentially go nowhere and bland characters who quickly wear out their welcome. The episodes feel like a failed pilot that realized half-way through it wasn’t going to get picked up. Had this been an intentional series, it’s possible to see showrunners eventually finding their footing midway through the season. Alternately, given some heavy editing, this could be an intriguing TV movie event. But what we get falls somewhere between too much and not enough with a convoluted plot that just feels exhausting. Charlie concludes the series hoping to start a new life and forget about her time with Systems Operations. Viewers followed suit and this sequel has been almost completely forgotten.
Firestarter 2 makes a noble attempt to reignite a fascinating story, but winds up a mere footnote in a long history of Stephen King sequels.
Editorials
Neon-Soaked Cult Classic ‘Vamp’ Starring Grace Jones Still Has Bite 40 Years Later
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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