By Ben Bussey
Oh dear, 2016 really isn’t off to the best start for me. Here we are almost one whole month into the year, I’m only my second new release review, and it’s another tedious, uninventive, unendearing, badly executed, been-there done-that, no-budget, would-be neo-retro slasher snoozefest. Well, okay, credit where it’s due, by comparison with the subject of my first 2016 review (Serial Kaller) it’s Citizen bleeding Kane, but that’s faint praise if ever I gave it. Presented as a lost horror movie of the 1980s, Lost After Dark aims to capture the vibe of a bottom shelf video store favourite, and in some respects doesn’t shoot too far of the mark; but then, let’s not forget, the slasher era spawned literally countless movies with a bunch of kids in a single location getting picked off one by one, and while we remember the best of them with joy, a great many more of them have long since been wiped clean from the popular consciousness because – well – they were crap. So even if we were to play along with Lost After Dark’s forgotten-80s-slashers conceit, it would clearly belong on the list of slashers that were forgotten for good reason.
It’s your standard set-up: small bunch of teens in 1984 skip out on the high school dance, hot-wire a school bus, and head out to some remote location to party. Why they would go to such risks and travel such distance when there’s literally only 8 of them, a few of whom don’t even seem to like each other; well, that’s one of those ageless questions slasher movies always put before us, which never seem to be answered. Anyway, they’re in trouble sooner than they realise, as hard-assed Vietnam vet vice principal Robert Patrick (tick box marked ‘celebrity who production can afford for 2/3 days of filming, then plaster his name all over the marketing’) is hot on their tail, with the central good girl’s father in tow. Back on the bus, after about half an hour of incessant and painfully uninteresting conversation, they – gasp! – run out of gas. They’re still miles from their designated party venue, but wouldn’t you know it, there’s a creepy old abandoned-looking farmhouse just within view. They decide to check it out – at which point, we cue the bloodshed. Or a bit of it, anyway. With still way, way too much painfully uninteresting conversation bridging the gaps between the badly-needed kills. And a bit of those pointless Grindhouse affectations of image grain, discolouration and one of those ‘reel missing’ bits thrown in (which, of course, makes no sense in a VHS context) in the hopes of keeping things interesting.
There are those, no doubt, who would do a spectacular spit-take at the mere suggestion of the Friday the 13th movies being prime examples of their craft. But damn it all, I wonder sometimes if the people making psuedo-80s slashers today ever really paid attention. Consider this: the teen ensembles, in almost every instance, were camp counselors there to work at Crystal Lake for the summer; there, a simple and logical reason for bringing together a bunch of mismatched youngsters who might not generally socialise with one another. Other key lesson to be learned: the young actors might not have been that good, the scripts rarely gave them decent dialogue or interesting character arcs, but they always ensured that they got up to things that were NOT BORING. Maybe there’ll be five minutes at a time of dull conversation: then there’s either a kill, or a skinny dip/sex scene. You know – the things the viewer paid to see. Is that really so hard to get right? Throw in as much tedious plot and character stuff as you like, as long as something exciting happens at least once every ten minutes.
Lost After Dark, alas, fails miserably at this. We’re pretty much halfway through before the killing starts, and when it does all the teens are aware of it at the same time, immediately leaping into that panic mode that should really only set in around the last twenty minutes or so. Again, to give some credit where it’s due, the order in which the ensemble meet their demise is unexpected, and this leads to character developments we didn’t necessarily see coming: but this again punctures that ‘lost 80s movie’ vibe, as the film winds up feeling more like it belongs to that post-Scream wave of painfully self-aware slasher movies (most of which are even more forgettable than the 80s ones). The kills themselves aren’t bad exactly, but they’re pretty forgettable; the only one that really lingers in my memory is a pointed homage to Zombie Flesh Eaters, sullied by weak CGI. Equally forgettable is the killer himself, yet another hulking bearded yokel sputtering across the screen haphazardly like a Rob Zombie brainfart. And as regards sex and nudity – forget about it. I don’t know why it is that modern low-budget slashers insist on being so damned chaste, but a few brief glimpses of underwear is all we get here. Are today’s young directors too shy and polite, or are today’s young actors too modest? Are all and sundry too anxious about political correctness? Come on, indie horror filmmakers, don’t delude yourselves: if you make a slasher, you have to understand that people watch these movies to be titillated. Say what you want about the actors in 80s slashers, but they at least understood that showing some skin was part and parcel.
I’m beginning to understand why 2015’s The Final Girls – a film I wasn’t that impressed with, but many other horror fans seemed to love – attracted so much adulation: it may have misguidedly watered things down for a PG-13, but it was at least largely true to the spirit of the first wave slasher era, and brought to life considerably better than most such films we see today. Lost After Dark may be made with the best intentions, but ultimately it just doesn’t achieve what it sets out to. Miss it, and you will not miss out.
Lost After Dark is released to UK DVD on 29th February, from Metrodome.