SIDE OUT (RCA HOME VIDEO - 1990)

Those who passionately care for this film herald it as a sign of its times, and they might be right. After all, there is no other period in American culture as vapid and hollow as the 90s. There is virtually nothing salvageable here. It's not even so bad it's good. It's a total air sandwich. I know in the past I have said that very rarely are films born without a shred of redemption, and I still stand by that. However, “Side Out” is the anomaly that defies that standard. Almost every aspect of this movie is damaged. The story sucks, the characters are unlikable, and the soundtrack is horrible. Now, I understand, there are some people who will say, “You don’t understand. This came out right about the time I was getting big into volley ball.” To which I must reply with, “Shut the fuck up. No one was ever really into volley ball.” Seriously, was volley ball ever even a thing? I thought that was just some game that nudists played.

The seeds for this movie were most likely contained within that one oiled-up scene from “Top Gun.” In fact, they go so far as to crucify the connection to its audience’s skull by utilizing Kenny Loggins’ “Playing With The Boys” during a tournament montage. Way to jump on the 1986 phenomenon at the height of its momentum in 1990, dickheads. Sadly, this film never goes anywhere near the homoerotic apex of its source, which is one of the film’s main failings. Basically, it’s just not gay enough.

In “Side Out,” C. Thomas Howell plays douchebag Monroe Clark, a mid-western basketball player and law scholar, who’s in California for the Summer to work for his hot-shot litigator Uncle Max (Terry Kiser virtually reprising his Bernie Lomax role here). Monroe is immediately handed the shit task of serving eviction notices, which leads him to the slums of Venice beach. It is there that he becomes entangled with dead beat evictee/former king of the beach Zach Barnes played by Peter Horton, falls for tomato-headed Courtney Thorne Smith, and gets wrangled into playing volley ball on a semi-professional level even though he shows absolutely no inclination toward being good at it.

Initially, Barnes starts coaching Monroe’s team under the condition that he stall his Uncle Max from evicting him by conveniently misplacing paper work back at the office, but then a bunch of stupid shit happens which forces Zach and Monroe to team up for a big tournament.

You may be asking how a box that promises such a bounty of greatness could possibly come up so short, what with the huge ass and C Thomas Howell. There’s a load of potential that was screaming to be harvested, but they spiked the ball here. Instead of anything remotely entertaining, we get an overly complicated vanilla story-line filled with unlikable characters. Everyone is an asshole in this movie, and their failures are pretty much the only thing worth cheering. Each character is a hackneyed mess without integrity, and yet still so bland. No character utters any line of worth anywhere in this movie. A huge part of why they are all so despicable is because they are so goddamn banal.

 As mentioned before, Monroe never really shows any natural athletic ability, even though he is supposed to be some big-shit college basketball player. In fact, he gets his ass handed to him up until he teams up with Peter Horton’s thoroughly loathsome Zach Barnes character.

A little back story here: Barnes was at one time the king of the beach who no-showed a big league tournament, simultaneously destroying his career and fucking over some volley ball promoter who was in love with him I guess. I don’t really know. I really had no will to care. Anyway, at some point Barnes offers to coach Monroe’s team and lead them to victory. After an uneventful montage, Barnes sets up an exhibition game between the new kings of the beach and Monroe’s loser team. The new kings of the beach also happen to be sponsored by the promoter that Barnes fucked over years ago. For some reason, the promoter shows up at Barnes’ house before this big match that means absolutely nothing and fucks him to waylay him from showing up to support his team, thus costing them the match. Only, they would have lost anyway because they are fucking terrible. When Monroe confronts Barnes, the coach is completely apathetic to his plight. Hurt and angry, Monroe then says he’s going to make sure he screws Barnes in court and hands him a summons for his eviction hearing. The next day in court, Barnes is pretty much S.O.L. until Monroe has a change of heart and decides to burn his uncle Max FOR NO APPARENT FUCKING REASON by revealing some loophole that frees Barnes of his obligation to be a responsible, rent-paying adult! And all after his uncle gave him a job in his law office, let him use the company car, and even gave him the keys to his multi-million dollar pool house! Yeah, way to be a prick! I’m really excited to see you win and get the girl, you fucking piece of shit!

Then there’s Courtney Thorne Smith, who is just god awful here. Her character has her fair share of illogical moments, but her performance compounds an already awful script. Pretty much every line she speaks in this movie is uttered in the tone one uses to convey sexual innuendo. Like, she might say “I’m going to go take a shit,” and yet she’d try to make it sound totally suggestive. Not that she ever says she’s going to go hit the brown note in the actual film. None of her dialog is actually that good.

I’ve already touched on this film’s lack of homoeroticism. Not only is this thing clean as a whistle on a surface level, but there’s nothing sleazy lurking beneath its cocoa buttered hide either. No fun at all ANYWHERE! In most 80s films, demonstrations of machismo or male bonding are so vigorous that they come off as totally queer. That’s what makes a film such as the 1987 classic “North Shore” so endlessly fascinating. I’ve seen that film almost fifty times, and I’m still mining homoerotic nuances from its depths. Another thing that “North Shore” also has is a much better subject – surfing. Surfing actually has a subculture of its own, much like skating. A surfer or a skater was distinct during this period because they dressed a certain way, they had jive, and they even had their own respective sub-genres of music. Volley ball on the other hand isn't attached to any particular culture, which is a major reason why this movie is so flavorless. The jargon, the fashion, and the music weren't considered very heavily, so ultimately we end up with a movie where a bunch of tanned douchebags listen to Paula Abdul while playing with balls. Yet somehow this movie still isn’t gay at all. What a paradoxical turd.

All you people heralding this as the greatest movie ever made, even if you’re just being ironic and funny, please, stop. You're only hurting yourselves.

VHS HALLOWEEN - DAY TWENTY-ONE: 976-EVIL (RCA HOME VIDEO - 1988)

So, this is what Stephen Geoffreys did instead of reprising the beloved Evil Ed role for "Fright Night 2." Even though I really love this movie, I'm still not sure it was the right career decision. Some of you may or may not know that Geoffreys later went on to star in a number of gay pornographic films, and I've also heard numerous stories regarding drug problems which probably helped propel his downward spiral. I'm no authority on the guy's life, but part of me believes that the Ed character had become iconic enough even at that point to have sustained a legitimate career through a potential franchise. I also think that a lot of people really WANTED to see Ed come back for the sequel, and the majority of fans were put off by his lack of involvement. I can't for certain say what would have been, but I can't help but think that both the "Fright Night" sequel AND Stephen Geoffreys would have been better off together. Nevertheless, I really appreciate Geoffreys' desire to work with Robert Englund, who directed this film. Geoffreys has stated that this was his primary motivation for wanting to do this film. I often get the impression that very few actors who work within this genre are actually excited about it, so this is a refreshing piece of trivia that makes me love Geoffreys even more.

The film follows a bullied nerd Hoax (Geoffreys) who develops a Faustian relationship with a voice on the other end of a 976 number. Hoax's frustration builds as he's rejected by his cousin and idol Spike, embarrassed in front of his crush by the creeps who routinely shove his head in the toilet, and berated by his fundamentalist nut of a mother. Vulnerable and isolated, Hoax grows more dependent upon a 976 "horrorscope" number, which helps him enact his revenge against his abusers. But vengeance has a price, and soon Hoax finds himself a host to a higher power. The plot is similar in nature to the 1986 film "Trick Or Treat," except here our protagonist winds up too far down the rabbit hole to turn back.

Geoffreys is a genuinely unique actor and the real treat here. Not only is he legitimately funny at times, but he manages to seem both sympathetic and lovable while maintaining this weird brown bag pervert aura. He's creepy and yet completely lovable at the same time, and I honestly don't think any actor has ever been able to accomplish something like that. Even once he's made his transformation you still feel a certain sadness for the character. You want him to be okay even though he's made some horrible decisions and been totally corrupted by power. He still manages to let a little bit of the Hoax you love shine through the hideous cracks. Geoffreys is a one-of-a-kind who deserves praise for and recognition for his main stream work. It's a shame things didn't turn out differently.

Beyond several great performances, the overall mood, production design, and photography are distinctly strong for a film of this scale. This was an admirable directorial debut, and leaves me to wonder why Englund didn't do more, as he proved to be far more capable than many of the other directors he's worked with over the years.

Douchebag Cousin Spike returns for a bullshit sequel that's hardly worth seeing. A lot of people who peruse my collection are often surprised to see this title and request to watch it out of an affinity toward the original. While I do possess this tape, I will never in good conscience allow it to be screened. Seriously, it would take a keg to impair my judgement on the matter.

VHS HALLOWEEN - DAY ELEVEN: FRIGHT NIGHT (RCA HOME VIDEO - 1985)

Considering the phenomenal success of the "Twilight" franchise, I understand why this film got remade. In fact, the idea of a "Fright Night" remake had been floating around for some time. Several years ago, I groaned when I was told that the remake script had something to do with teens stranded in a carnival funhouse fighting vampires. Thank god that never came to fruition. There was even some rumbling that Sony was going to produce a "Fright Night" TV show closely patterned after the two original films. There was hope of striking gold with a "Buffy" for boys. But once again, there were some key elements in the way. And then the 2011 remake got off the ground. Like always, the people behind this "re-imagining" just didn't have a keen understanding of their source material's bones. While the original movie stands as an effective horror film, there are numerous tribunal nods which pay tribute to vampire cinema. It is a smart and well-studied homage. The film's antagonist Jerry Dandrige is shades of Barnabas Collins, having just recently surfaced in a run down Victorian home just next door. And much like Collins had a Cerberus-like familiar in Willie Loomis, Dandrige has Billy Cole. Then there is Peter Vincent, whose name and character are both an amalgam of horror stars Peter Cushing and Vincent Price. Our hero, the horror film obsessed Charley Brewster, played by William Ragsdale, even bare resemblance to Roman Polanski's bumbling, love-struck Alfred from "The Fearless Vampire Killers." Brewster's best friend Evil Ed even falls into the Renfield role. There are numerous other references to the cinema of the blood sucker, which is a tremendous part of this movies appeal. Probably 98% of the original "Fright Night"'s purpose was lost on the producers of the remake, so what they wound up with was a very shallow and direct retelling of the original film with some pointless alterations that add nothing to the proceedings. They do go to the trouble of retaining the actual "Fright Night" title font, because they want to assure people that there is some connection to the original film. However, what Hollywood continually fails to realize is that the original film's cult following sees these re-imaginings as entirely blasphemous. The very concept of a remake alienates the core fanbase because it is seen as tampering with something that is nearly perfect to begin with. And if you're going to go to such extreme lengths to maintain the identity of the original films, why not just make a sequel? Seriously, they couldn't just trot out Ragsdale as a dad and pit his kid up against a similar threat?

At any rate, this film has actually aged remarkably well, though I have seen some people call it dated. Not exactly sure why or how. Some people say it's corny, but a lot of it is intended to be sort of campy as it is largely a tribute to an era of horror that was bygone at that point. Besides, it has Sparks on the soundtrack, so it automatically wins forever.

The plot: Charley Brewster suspects his neighbor Jerry Dandrige is up to no good when he recognizes the photo of a murdered prostitute on a local news report as the woman he saw next door. So, naturally Charley gets nosy and while spying discovers his neighbor is actually an unholy bloodsucker. Interestingly, Dandrige initially tries to reason with the teen, but Charley is far too terrified to consider his proposal. Naturally, this leaves Dandrige with only one choice: to silence Charley forever. The story's great twist occurs when Charley approaches Peter Vincent, a washed-up horror star who hosts the late night television show "Fright Night," which incidentally has just been canceled due to the declining interest in more traditional horror. Vincent utters a great line about how the new generation prefers killers in ski masks hacking up young virgins. But not Charley. Charley believes in vampires. In fact, there's one living next door to him, and he needs Vincent's help to kill him. Charley comes off as pretty delusional, which scares Vincent away. Charley's friends, Amy and Evil Ed grow more concerned that he's experiencing some sort of break down, and so they approach the destitute Vincent with cash and arrange a fake test where Vincent will prove that Dandrige is not a vampire in front of Charley. Unfortunately, things don't go quite like they planned, and soon Charley and his friends are running for their lives.

Virtually everything about this movie continues to work. The script and direction by the uber-talented Tom Holland are top notch. The effects are strong. The photography in particular is beautiful. Each member of the cast is an absolute jewel to boot. Roddy McDowall as horror host Peter Vincent demonstrates a fairly wide range, from hilariously self-obsessed to terrified and eventually confident in his identity as a true vampire killer. Chris Sarandon is absolutely magnetic and likable as Dandrige. However, Stephen Geoffreys as the immortal Evil Ed might just turn in the most memorable performance of the lot.

Trailer courtesy FoundFootageHorror.