Different Places

Let's get one thing straight: Vampire In Vegas is not the same movie as Vegas Vampires, though both are about vampires that are in Vegas (or Vegas vampires, you might even say). 

Vampire In Vegas, which I watched on Peacock, has a 2.8 out of 10 rating on IMDB. Having watched Vampire In Vegas and put together this far too long writeup below, I can pretty safely say that 2.8 is a fair score. 

So...how bad can the even LOWER rated Vegas Vampires possibly be? 

And what does it say about me that my new top goal of the summer is to watch it because I NEED TO KNOW.

But that's a story for another day.

Quick Plot (of Vampire In Vegas, not Vegas Vampires): We open with what feels like a 20 minute narrative monologue by Tony Todd. I get it: you've probably (hopefully) spent most of your budget on locking down one of the genre's best voices, so why not lean in on your greatest strength?

Well, maybe because you still need compelling writing when it goes on...and on...and on.

Eventually, we get action in the form of B-roll footage for a tourism commercial selling the perks of Las Vegas. It's one of the more visually aggressive credits sequences I've survived. What starts as panning over popular landmarks quickly turns into unreasonable zoom-in and zoom-outs on the same landmarks. It's upsetting. It kind of hurts. But then there's a brief shot of a cat, and what do you know? I'm suddenly back on board.

No wonder why this is .4 points higher than Vegas Vampires, which, I have to assume, does not include a cat, much less a shot of Tony Todd holding said cat.

And now, a quick rundown of our players (of which there are way, way too many):

- Tony Todd as a vampire who as noted above, in one scene, holds a cat

- The cat. The cat only has one scene. No wonder why this couldn't crack a 3

- A lady scientist charged with developing a sun-blocking serum for Tony Todd vampire 

- The lady scientist's cleavage

- A pair of campers who witness a lot of self-combustion as lady doctor tests out serums in the Vegas desert. If you're thinking, "what are their names and should we invest any energy in learning more?", I'm here to tell you, "No."

- A male detective whose thing is bowties

- A lady detective whose wardrobe, I warn you, may lead me into a 1000+word essay on why men should not..just, should not

- The lady detective's cleavage

- Renfield! In this case, Tony Todd's campaign manager because what more could a 300 year old vampire want but the US presidency?

- An engaged couple who rudely have their morning sex run late as the groom's friends wait outside to drive him to their camping trip

- His terrible aughts bro friends who are actually going to take him to Vegas for a full bachelor party hell

- A lady vampire 

- The lady vampire's cleavage

- The lady vampire's torso

- A vampire doorman 

This is a LOT of characters for a very, very bad film. There's also such a messy story at play that I beg your forgiveness with my very confused summary. I won't even try to call out a single character's name. I'm already doing a lot of work here, and considering this movie's opening credits assaulted me, I feel like I owe it very little. 

At some point, our characters end up in one place: a vampire night club.

It's a strip joint where no one actually takes off their clothes, possibly because the budget couldn't afford it. One stripper dressed as a naughty schoolgirl gives a speedy lapdance, rushes through her lines in the style of the Micromachine Man, grabs a pencil and notebook out of her skirt to land a punchline and hurls it off to the side so quickly that I'm convinced this woman was charging the production by the minute. 

I haven't even gotten to the homemade CGI or incredibly confusing rules about vampirism that this movie seems to change every time a new character shows up. At one point, our hero (it takes a really long time to figure out we have one) drinks a vial of Tony Todd's blood, sprouts vampire bat wings, and can teleport across town...in broad daylight. Is that a thing? 

Vegas Vampires is directed by Jim Wynorski, a legend of low budget cinema who made everything from the underrated Chopping Mall to CobraGator and dozens--seriously, dozens--of movies with some variation of "breast" in the title. A sampling:

Despite helming something called The Hills Have Thighs, I think, and this is purely conjecture, that this man likes boobs. Not that you actually SEE any naked boobs in Vampire In Vegas. Just cleavage. Cleavage pushed up higher than the high heels that our lady detective wears on the job...while hiking through the desert to investigate a homicide. 

This is a movie universe where a powerful vampire who survived three centuries is ultimately bested by a skinny dude with a tree branch. I shouldn't expect much. At least I get the exact closing line I hoped for when I saw the title:

High Points

We will never have another Tony Todd, and while I'm a little sad to think of him bringing his classically trained skills to this mess, it's never a bad thing to see him onscreen

Low Points

Picking the worst thing about a very bad movie isn't easy, but you know what? You've got legendary Tony Todd and you dress him in a Kmart Dracula Halloween costume? That's cruel

Lessons Learned

One does not smoke LSD

O-negative blood is very rare, and that's why city blood bank facilities keep their limited selection stored at unregulated room temperature in shoddy ziplock bags

Doorman 101 curriculum does not overlap with Vampire Doorman 101 Curriculum

Careful where you lean in a laboratory. Some are equipped with exposed high voltage indoor fences

Rent/Bury/Buy

As you might guess by the dissertation I've now written on Vampire In Vegas, I found far more to this movie than I ever expected. Folks: it's reallllllly bad. Bad in that way that demands a LOT of introspection. 

What am I doing with my life?

What's the Opposite of an "Urban" Legend?

As someone born in 1982 who therefore spent the bulk of filmgoing in the '90s, it's fascinating to see the current pendulum swing on genre cinema of that era. I had a big moment of reevaluation when I revisited Disturbing Behavior, and ever since then, I've found myself not just charmed, but sometimes surprisingly impressed by movies that I as a surely teenager wrote off 20+ years ago. Would Campfire Tales, a rare anthology, have the same effect?

Spoiler alert: no.

Quick Plot: After a quick teaser starring Amy Smart and vampire James Marsden (not a vampire in the story, just a human celebrity vampire who doesn't age) as a couple encountering the urban legendary hook man, we meet our storytellers: two young couples with very familiar faces drunkenly speeding late at night. They crash in the woods, start a fire, and indulge in their titular routine. 

The first tale follows a pair of newlyweds on an RV trip through the woods. A mysterious mechanic stops by and warns them of a murderer on the loose, but they brush that away as the ravings of a mad man. Naturally, they soon find themselves mysteriously out of gas. Rick (Ron Livingston, savoring the chance to push a Long Island accent on innocent cinema goers) discovers the mechanic brutally murdered, and tries to get back in time to warn his wife. Things don't end well.

Up next is a standard chat room PSA about being catfished before we used the term 'catfish.' A young girl is excited to be left home alone with her dog (don't get attached) and soccer ball, but she makes the mistake of telling her online pal. Things...don't end well.

Last up is the saga of an aimless motorcyclist (Glenn Quinn) who runs into mechanical trouble just outside the sprawling horse farm of a beautiful, mute young woman who's adequate enough at charades for them to quickly fall in love. The only thing standing between them is her abusive father and choker necklace. Things, you know, end as they do.

Back to the campfire, our youths are finally found and - 

you know.

Campfire Tales was made right before Scream exploded the market for mostly mediocre teen slashers. On that front, I can appreciate its almost old school charm. Urban Legend would do a better job of this a few years later, but Campfire Tales is still watchable. The stories move quickly. They have to, since there's not much to any of them. 

The first is the best, probably because Livingston and Jennifer MacDonald carry it well and it moves at such a brisk pace. The second goes the other route: it can't be more than 20 minutes, but the story just doesn't really move in one direction. It ends on a classic urban legend beat, but takes such a convoluted route there that I can't imagine anyone caring. Then again, I spent the entire thing telling myself, "you know they're gonna kill the dog and spare the kid," so in fairness, that might have been my own problem. The haunted farmhouse has a little bit of poetry to its soul. That doesn't mean it's good...just that it clearly tried. 

Directed by the trio of Matt Cooper, Martin Kunert, and David Semel and written by a slightly different trio of Kunert, Cooper, and Eric Manes, Campfire Tales is probably most interesting as a taste of the '90s seasoned by a heaping tablespoon of before-they-were-famous stars. It's fine. Never scary and not particularly funny, but considering how few horror anthologies the '90s gave us, it's an interesting relic.

High Points

Anthologies should fundamentally be about comeuppance, making the final reveal of Campfire Tales feel very right

Low Points

The more I think about that poorly paced second segment AND the fact that it ended with a lovable golden retriever massacred, the angrier I get at everything

Lessons Learned

Don't promise M&Ms before you've evaluated your surroundings

Crows only squawk at night if stirred

Everyone needs to learn what it means to be free, which is the kind of thing someone with a broken down motorcycle would say

Rent/Bury/Buy

There's a particular nostalgia people of a certain get now when we think back to the '90s, and Campfire Tales, with its dial-up tech and choker fashion, will certainly fuel it with Diet Snapple. This isn't a very good movie, but the stories are short, and the wraparound has a rewarding payoff. Watch it on Peacock if the mood strikes. 

May I Have This (Grave)Dance?

Ever watch a film that was made when you were an adult--legal to vote, legal to drink, college degree long in hand--and realize that was almost 20 years ago? That 2006, which I swear was just last week, was actually not one, but nearly TWO decades in the past? 

Children have since been born, gone through puberty, released pop albums, learned technology far better than us elderly ever will. You can watch The Gravedancers and flinch at the weird blue gray pallor that coats your frames and cackle at the CGI not because it's a fairly low budget horror movie, but because it's actually from a DIFFERENT AGE.

This is important. Maybe it's my way of not making this all about how old I feel, but remembering that this was a completely ancient ERA of genre film really helps frame your watch. 

Quick Plot: Harris is a successful lawyer trying to start a family with loving wife Allison. Life is interrupted by the death of a college pal, which reunites Harris with his two best pals from back in the day: Sid, whose primary post-university high point seems to be maintaining status as a functioning alcoholic, and Kira, who has clearly never stopped loving the very moved-on Harris. 

The trio go out for drinks and decide to continue their mourning at the gravesite of the deceased. Any worries that this is in bad taste are quickly pushed away when Sid finds a black envelope conveniently resting on a nearby stone. In it contains a poem all about living in the moment and what a joy it is to dance upon graves. Surely it's a sign that they should, you know, gravedance!

Harris returns to a rightfully displeased Allison and understandably does NOT tell her about his evening festivities (especially since they enjoyed a kiss or two with Kira). Very soon, that becomes the least of their problems as the couple begins to experience ghostly activity. Kira and Sid have similar experiences, leading them to a pair of pre-Ghosthunters being a thing ghosthunters Vincent and Frances to help stop the haunting before it becomes deadly. 

Frances is thrilled with the chance to gather real evidence of paranormal activity (note: we're still several years away from Paranormal Activity). A little digging turns up the obvious: dancing on graves will unleash the ghosts of those inhibiting said dance floor. Naturally, these particular ghosts were homicidal maniacs: pyromaniac child, rapist judge, and axe-wielding piano teacher. 

Directed by Mike Mendez, The Gravedancers is a film that ages oddly...even as you watch it. For the first act, I found myself cackling at the typical aughtsness of fairly awful, very dumb young(ish) people making terrible choices with every breath. The ghosts seemed silly, the dialogue even siller. But at some point, something started clicking into place. Mendez has since gone on to make some successful outright horror comedies, and while The Gravedancers isn't a laughfest, the film has a sly sense of humor. The cast is far sharper than they initially seem, and even the Beetlejuice by way of Bava-y monster makeup becomes, at times, kind of creepy. 

The Gravedancers grew on me. It's a standard ghost story with some specific twists, executed with deceptive intelligence by Mendez and his screenwriters Brad Keene and Chris Skinner. I don't know that I'll ever watch it again or work hard to recommend it, but I ultimately enjoyed myself. This is VERY far from great, but it's never boring, and more importantly, never takes itself too seriously. 

High Points

Once our cursed dummies gather in one place, The Gravedancers really hits its stride in terms of timing and momentum. The finale is both funny and scary and yes, looks pretty terrible at times, but really helps to up the energy

Low Points

I know, I know: CGI did not look very good on a low budget in 2006. But I'd forgotten just HOW not good it was. Pair that with the weird gray-blue tint this streaming version has and it makes for a fairly ugly watch

Lessons Learned

I have yet to heed this, but The Gravedancers is just one more reminder that in any supernatural disaster, the ability to drive stick may save your life

Yes, it's irresponsible to be in your 30s and drunkenly party in a graveyard, thus inviting murderous spirits onto your trail, but the REAL culprit in this haunting is the wife who decided to not spend time with your awkward college love triangle and went home, thus opening the door for you to drunkenly party in a graveyard in the first place

Setting your film in a graveyard is a great trick for directors looking to take home a prop that includes their name

Does the Cat Die?

No! because apparently, the feline actor was a jerk who scratched Clare Kramer (AN ACTUAL [BUFFYVERSE] GOD) and was fired from production. So don't worry!

Rent/Bury/Buy

If you can forgive the fact that this movie looks like it was dropped in a puddle and brushed off, there's a fair amount of fun to be had with The Gravedancers. It's dumb, but in a smart way. It's currently streaming on Amazon Prime in its muddy glory. 

Screen Your Contestants

 

I'm notoriously not someone who savors a genre film ripped from the headlines. I like to revel in the horror of fictional creations, not watch a retelling of a real person's pain. 

That being said, Woman of the Hour held a certain appeal for two reasons: 1) as the directorial debut of Anna Kendrick, an actress I've always found to be particularly fascinating onscreen and 2) this is a damn weird story.

Quick Plot: Sheryl is a struggling actress trudging through disappointing audition after disappointing audition in LA. When her agent books her a fairly thankless spot on The Dating Game, she reluctantly fluffs her hair and ekes out a charming smile to take on her bachelors. 

Bachelor #3 is Rodney, a free-spirited photographer who easily trumps his fellow contestants by showing a quick wit and sensitive side. It's ironic because, you know, Rodney also happens to be a serial killer who targets vulnerable young women. 

Throughout Woman of the Hour, we see Rodney over the course of several years in his murder spree. As a photographer, he has a quick in for many aspiring models. As a fairly nondescript, good-looking man, he can also find his way in the right place at the right time. There are brushes with the authorities over the years, but even an audience member named Laura recognizing the man on stage as the last person seen with her dead friend can be written off by dubious male detectives. 

Meanwhile, Sheryl finds some form of strength on live TV when she decides to give the horribly sexist cue cards an on-the-fly rewrite. It doesn't please the host, but it brightens the female hair and makeup team's day. After the show, she grabs a drink with Rodney and gets a glimmer of just what kind of man he might be.

Woman of the Hour has a lot on its mind, but its primary theme is incredibly strong. We live in a patriarchal society, and with that comes horrors both great and small. You're usually the person with the least power in any room. Oh, and if you're alone in the room with the wrong man of power, he might do some terrible things. 

In discussing her directorial debut, Anna Kendrick referenced the famous Margaret Atwood quote that sums up quite a lot of her film: men are afraid women will laugh at them, women are afraid men will kill them. 

In Woman of the Hour, we see both happen, and more importantly, we see intelligent, quick-thinking women save their own lives by being incredibly cautious to not laugh (or scream). It's not a great place to live. Earlier in the film, we see how Sheryl's people-pleasing puts her in the wrong situations. She sleeps with a neighbor she clearly doesn't care much for simply because she feels bad for leading him on. It's not comparable to Rodney brutalizing his victims, but there's a straight line to how he's able to put himself alone in an apartment with one who has to nicely ask him to leave before meeting her death.

These are lines we toe, and Kendrick shows a lot of skill in bluntly putting it out there without directly saying the quiet part out loud. Ian McDonald's script was clearly on the blacklist for good reasons, and Kendrick seemed to be the perfect match. Much like The Shining Girls, the emphasis is ultimately on the women, never reveling in Rodney's violence. We see what we have to in order to understand the weight of this man. But this is not his story.

High Points

This kind of dead girl narrative can be rough, but there is a key light to some of the interactions between the female characters that helps lend the film a certain heart. It's a tiny moment, but a small nod between Sheryl and a waitress helps to remind the audience that you're not always alone

Low Points

While I think the sideline story of Laura recognizing Rodney and dealing with her own frustrations does a lot to fuel the gaslight, it also never quite gels with the rest of the film

Lessons Learned

Always know the fake number you're giving out to creeps

When moving into an NYC walkup, do everything in your power to make sure you hear that mover ring the doorbell. It's literally the difference between life and death (in this case) or life and a very strained back

Rent/Bury/Buy

I'm sure there are multiple documentaries about Rodney Alcala, and I'll never watch any of them because much like this film, I don't care about this man. Woman of the Hour probably plays with the facts to make its narrative move, but it does so to explore the way women navigate the violence of men. It's thoughtful, dark, and weirdly entertaining in ways that I'm still kind of playing around with in my head. This is another movie that I'll likely revisit with a different lens sometime down the road. Find it on Netflix.