Editorials
‘Ghostbusters In Concert’ Spotlights the Stealth Magic Behind the Movie [Event Report]
Nostalgia is a tricky thing, especially these days. What used to be a slice of escapism has since become the blueprint for Hollywood studios, who have seemingly molded intellectual property into a skeleton key to get projects off the ground. Indie filmmakers graduate into blockbuster reboots, veteran filmmakers stretch their limbs with unnecessary sequels, and listicles are made about all the Easter eggs and trivia and yadda, yadda, yadda. There are exceptions, sure, but this is the business today, and our rose-tinted lenses are feeling the wear and tear.
Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not.
Ghostbusters, to stay on theme here (there is a point to all of this), is no exception to this riff raff. Last year, Jason Reitman finally delivered the second sequel die-hard fans have been waiting for since the days of Chris Farley rumors. It was fine. Rather than attempting to capture the comedy of the first two entries, Reitman wisely sketched out a love letter to the franchise itself, speaking less to the critics and fans of ’80s comedies and more to those who grew up wanting to bust heads — in the spiritual sense, of course.
It worked. For the most part. Paul Rudd was charming as always. The ode to the late Harold Ramis was affecting. The kids were a riot. What didn’t work, though, was the film’s relentless attempts to make everyone go all Rick Dalton and point at the various callbacks, accoutrements, and story beats of the original. But, again, this is how franchising goes. Hell, it’s happening this very week with Halloween Ends as the marketing has made it very clear that you’ll be reminded of all the things you loved in John Carpenter’s original.
All of this only erodes the magic of the source material, and this is something that has come to mind this spooky season while revisiting many of the original movies that have since been mined and gutted by studios today. Well, except one. This past Saturday night at Chicago’s Auditorium Theatre proved to be an outlier in these rewatches. (Told you, we’d get there.) The venue played host to Peter Bernstein, son to the great and late composer Elmer Bernstein, who led the Chicago Philharmonic through a live score of Ghostbusters.
To be fair, the night was fueled by the same nostalgia that prompted Sony to greenlight Ghostbusters: Afterlife and its forthcoming sequel. Attendees were invited to wear their costumes, and many did, taking photos next to inflatable Stay Pufts and Slimers, not to mention our local folks in grey who arrived with all their dazzling props. The bar even served a cocktail themed to Hi-C’s Ecto Cooler, giving a little something to the adults. It was incredibly cute, and even the most stone-cold cynic would have smiled from the palpable energy.
But, here’s where the evening turned: Bernstein. After a short introduction by his son, which was accompanied by video introductions by Dan Aykroyd and the late Ivan Reitman, the lights dimmed, the film rolled, and that familiar twinkle and chorus exploded over the New York Public Library. Right below it was the Chicago Philharmonic, though, who hit every note under Bernstein’s guide. Needless to say, the talent on display was electrifying to watch, particularly the harpist, who was tasked with one of the first quiet moments of the night.
As the film progressed — there was a short intermission shortly after things go south for Dana Barrett and Louis Tully — it became quite clear that this wasn’t entirely a celebration of a widely celebrated film. It was a showcase for the kind of magic we often take for granted. The score. Hyperbole be damned, but Bernstein’s score is one of the more underrated gems in Hollywood scoring history. It’s an eclectic compendium that juggles all the weird tones within Reitman’s supernatural comedy, and this film is a lot weirder than its reputation suggests.
Because of this, it wasn’t an easy or even enviable task for Bernstein, who said as much to CinemaScore in 1985 (via Ghostbusters News): “It was probably one of the most difficult jobs I ever had to do just to, and I don’t mean this as a pun, but to find the right note. The score was not easy. It was extremely difficult. Ivan Reitman and I must have talked on the phone every single day while I was working on it, just trying to help ourselves find the right approach.”
Bernstein’s approach and all the complexities wired to his decisions were on full display at the Auditorium, and the excitement of seeing it unfold was admittedly tough to contain. Much to the chagrin of my girlfriend (and certainly the audience), I found myself pointing not at the screen, but sections of the orchestra as they conjured all the sounds that are a given on any other rewatch. A few snapshots come to mind (even days later): the heavenly swells behind “Dana’s Theme”, the haunting minimalism within “Halls”, the jaunty march of “Stairwell”, and the eerie pivot from the Carpenter synths of “News” to the funky sendoff of “Judgment Day”.
Staggering stuff.
Even more staggering was how magnetic it made the rewatch. One friendly fan behind me said it best: “It’s like I’m watching it for the first time again.” Who wouldn’t want that? Isn’t that the high we all chase whenever we pop in the tape? Isn’t that what studios are capitalizing on with these reboots? All true. The joy in this night, in this particular performance, is that it feels earned and genuine. And, more importantly, you’re not dropping your jaw at callbacks or remember-whens, but the raw ingenuity that captured your imagination in the first place.
That’s always been the magic word.
Photography by Anne Ryan. Click here to see if this show is coming to your town.
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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