Editorials
Sin and Damnation – How Scott Derrickson’s Underrated ‘Hellraiser: Inferno’ Rises Above Expectations
At the recent Silver Scream Con, I was surprised to hear Hellraiser star Doug Bradley remark, “The only one in the series I feel doesn’t work is Inferno, for various reasons.” I had always considered the 2000 effort one of the franchise’s stronger offerings, but it had been a while since I revisited the series, so I thought it may not hold up as well as I remembered.
As I’m working my way through the series ahead of David Bruckner‘s reboot, which drops October 7 on Hulu, I can confirm my support for the fifth installment. I have no doubt that Bradley has his reasons for disliking the film – it being the first installment to be released straight to video no doubt required adjustments, not to mention his minuscule screen time as Pinhead – but, even with its shortcomings, I think Hellraiser: Inferno is better than he gives it credit for.
Contrary to rumors, Inferno was not an existing script retrofitted with Hellraiser elements. That would become the norm for the franchise going forward, but this one was pitched as a Hellraiser sequel by writer-director Scott Derrickson – making his feature debut before helming the likes of The Black Phone, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Sinister, and Doctor Strange – and his then writing partner, Paul Harris Boardman (The Exorcism of Emily Rose).
Inferno was the first Hellraiser installment with no involvement from Clive Barker. In an interview that appeared in his fan club newsletter after the film came out, Barker actively warned people against seeing Inferno. He went on to say, “It’s really terrible and it’s shockingly bad, and should never have been made.” While it’s not difficult to see why Barker didn’t connect with a drastically different direction for his creation, I respectfully disagree with his denunciation.
Inferno doesn’t bother trying to compete with the operatic transgression of the first two Hellraiser films or even the over-the-top fervor of the third installment. Derrickson delivers a Seven-esque psychological thriller with a supernatural twist, peppered with Lynchian surrealism and film noir elements. While this approach often supersedes the franchise’s cornerstones, the tenuous connection is still more organic than in many of the sequels that would follow.
The film centers on Joseph Thorne (Craig Sheffer, Nightbreed), a corrupt Denver police detective with an affinity for puzzles. When a mysterious puzzle box is discovered at the scene of a homicide, Thorne takes it upon himself to solve it, resulting in nightmarish hallucinations. He traces the murder back to The Engineer, an enigmatic figure tied to a kidnapping. The closer Thorne gets to solving the crime, the more implicated he becomes, while his grip on reality loosens.
The premise is intriguing, even if the resolution isn’t wholly satisfying. Tonally and aesthetically, Inferno shares more in common with Jacob’s Ladder, Angel Heart, or Silent Hill than Hellraiser. Derrickson, working with cinematographer Nathan Hope (The Fog (2005), CSI: Crime Scene Investigation), focuses more on atmosphere than gore – but the franchise’s signature blending of bloodshed and eroticism is intact.
Derrickson’s evangelical upbringing (from which he has since distanced himself) made him an interesting candidate to play in such a philosophical sandbox. In a 2002 article written for Christian Century, the filmmaker explains that the movie was a personal rebellion against Christian art’s discomfort with tension and ambiguity. “I wanted to make a movie about sin and damnation that ended with sin and damnation. After all, isn’t that the experience of many people?”
Despite Barker’s lack of support, casting the star of Nightbreed in the lead role was a sign of good faith. Sheffer’s character becomes increasingly distasteful as the plot progresses. Bradley’s screen time is limited, but the use of Pinhead as a neutral judge among humans is more harmonious with the character’s original intention than the previous two entries. James Remar (Dexter, The Warriors) appears as Throne’s therapist, largely serving as a Hellraiser lore exposition dump.
Nicholas Turturro, having just wrapped his seven-season run on NYPD Blue, plays Thorne’s partner who attempts to be a moral compass. Nicholas Sadler (Sometimes They Come Back) has a memorable turn as a drug-dealing ice cream man. The supporting cast also includes Michael Shamus Wiles (Breaking Bad), Alexandra Barrese (The Hangover), Kathryn Joosten (Desperate Housewives), and Carmen Argenziano (Stargate SG-1).
Although he initially didn’t feel he was right for the project, Derrickson is proud of the film. “I still have a soft place in my heart for that film, but the script was really great. The script was better than the movie that I directed,” he divulged during a recent interview on Post Mortem with Mick Garris. The film was green-lit on the first draft and then “highly developed” through various drafts before shooting began on a modest $2 million budget.
Perhaps genre fans would have been more inclined to embrace Inferno had it been made independent of the Hellraiser banner, but that double-edged sword would have meant an uphill battle for discovery in the crowded home video market. In a time when “direct to video” was considered a red flag – often connoting a lack of quality, budget, studio confidence, or some combination therein – Hellraiser: Inferno rose above expectations to deliver something different.
Horror was thriving so well in the 1980s that movies like Pen Densham’s The Kiss (1988) would understandably get lost in the shuffle, only to then gain their fans later on in life. Even still, this one Canadian-American curio has had a more challenging time than others, as far as contemporary reevaluations go, which is very likely due to the movie’s limited availability—at least as of this write-up.
However, the scarceness of The Kiss, while a bit annoying, makes it like catnip for ‘80s horror completists everywhere. Hopefully, a lot of them will walk away satisfied after watching this hidden gem.
Even though The Kiss was intended as the first of several horror collaborations between Astral Pictures and TriStar, as well as the first feature produced by Densham, Richard B. Lewis and John Watson’s Trilogy Entertainment Group, it ended up being the only one produced from that former union. Once the movie was released, TriStar’s distribution jitters—they opted for a regional rollout—did the $6-million flick no favors. TriStar’s cold feet toward horror releases have been well noted, but The Kiss still did a tad better than Night of the Creeps (1986), another genre outing that flopped due to its regional opening.
Shot in Montreal, but set in Albany, New York, The Kiss—which was still called The Host just a few months before its October premiere—concerns an average middle-class family and their forthcoming situation. The uncanny problem in store for them was, in fact, set in motion some years earlier. As that hot and dusty flashback to the Belgian Congo shows, a familial curse was set upon the two Dunbar sisters well before Meredith Salenger’s teenage character was born.
Meredith Salenger, Nicholas Kilbertus and Mimi Kuzyk in The Kiss
The Kiss, which was based on a story by co-writer Stephen Volk (Ghostwatch) and penned by both Volk and Tom Ropelewski, has the outward appearance of The Stepfather (1987). This movie, though, is anything but a gender-flipped retread of that classic domestic disturber. For starters, The Kiss is far less grounded in reality—that much is clear from its unsettling opening scene. There, a trusting girl (Priscilla Mouzakiotis) is the victim of her own deceptive aunt (Céline Lomez); the movie’s titular act, and the story’s first shock, becomes the means of transferring an ancient evil from one host to another.
In the present day, Salenger’s role of Amy Halloran, a religious schoolgirl, is dealt a harsh blow in life once her mother, Hilary Halloran née Dunbar (Pamela Collyer), suddenly dies in a freak accident. But rather than a complete stranger sweeping the Halloran widower (Nicholas Kilbertus) off his feet some months later, Joanna Pacula’s character is that chosen temptress. Here, Pacula plays the grown-up version of the afflicted girl last seen in the movie’s opener. Since Amy’s mother is insistent about there being no reunion between estranged sisters, and she even contemplates buying a gun shortly before her tragic demise, it’s presumable that Aunt Felice poses a threat to her family.
The Kiss isn’t a movie ever too concerned about its own predictability. The audience is indeed often one step ahead of the story here, but also keep in mind how every one of those steps is loud. Take, for instance, the death of Amy’s mother; the Halloran matriarch goes out in garish, gruesome fashion, as a supernaturally commandeered truck sends Collyer’s character through a store window first, then leaves her one leg short. The directorial enthusiasm truly comes out in horrific moments such as these.
The Kiss is always sure to revel in its characters’ ills and misfortunes. So if the plot doesn’t impress, then its lurid parts should. Amy’s mother’s exit scene was proof of an eager, first-time horror director proving his worth. Then, bestie Heather (Sabrina Boudot) survives to tell the tale of a bizarre escalator mishap that, despite showing relatively less gore, spikes viewers’ empathy meter. The wilder bits of this movie, however, commence with that inevitable hookup between Felice and Amy’s bewitched father; their kitchen coitus is paralleled by Amy’s feverish classroom terror. The outcome there is a disquieting cross-cut of sex magic and a young woman’s menstrual onset plus hallucinations.
Sabrina Boudot in The Kiss
From foam appliances to bladders, that parade of special effects in The Kiss casts its own spell on the audience. Felice’s familiar, a visibly malevolent cat, was realized here with several models, some more articulate than others. Admittedly, the demon cat’s not as convincing as most of the effects here, but accepting that artifice, as opposed to fighting it, will make the whole experience way more enjoyable. As for the makeup used to manifest Felice’s inner villainy, it is more minimal and subtle than one might like; yet the work done to turn Pacula into an antithesis of herself is nonetheless compelling.
The otherworldly perils and dreadful goings-on wouldn’t work half as well as they do in The Kiss without the story’s contrast effect. Finding frights in picturesque, extremely ordinary settings was something that took off in the ‘80s, thanks to that sweeping shift to locales like the suburbs. And Amy’s home, a replica of a real Montreal suburban house, is the ideal battleground for any proper good-versus-evil story. It’s also prime real estate for this movie’s satanic panic-inspired horrors.
Because of their ostensibly similar plots, The Kiss has been compared to The Exorcist (1973). Except in Densham’s movie, the sinister, non-Christian entity targeting a teen girl lies within something less apparent and, perhaps, more devastating upon its exposure. To an outsider, Pacula’s Aunt Felice is too beautiful and unobjectionable to ever suspect of being a monster. More suspicious is how quickly she rips into the fabric of the Halloran home. Felice’s mere presence upsets the “texture of family life,” according to the director.
The demon cat in The Kiss
Taking out Amy’s mother and best friend, and distracting her father, would suggest The Kiss is playing by a different set of rules. It is initially leaving its adolescent target unsupported in a rather grim scenario. In contrast, though, this story offers up a surrogate parent who does her best to fill in the holes of Amy’s eroding home life. Mimi Kuzyk does good work as that family friend and doctor, Brenda, who guides the lost child without also steering her in any one direction; she is naturally skeptical of Amy’s accusations until it’s almost too late to do anything about them. So although The Kiss does an admirable job of undoing the main character’s support system, it never leaves her without a lifeline. This dark movie, in spite of everything that’s transpired, doesn’t deprive itself of light and hope.
The Kiss is a potent mélange of familiar ideas. If not for the director’s surprise flair for horror, though, the movie would have been less effective. What a shame that Pen Densham didn’t continue with the genre. As for Joanna Pacula, she is, too, owed credit as the wicked vixen opposite Meredith Salenger’s pitiable Amy; she never fails to be unsettling in her role. Pacula makes Aunt Felice a sexy yet intimidating character.
For horror that steadily doles out madness and menace, while also delivering a flashy and ghastly conclusion, The Kiss is certain to please. Yes, it’s cheesy all the way, but most favorably, everyone involved plays everything straight. That kind of commitment goes a long way with this movie.
The Kiss
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