I suppose I just should have gone with my instincts and put Near Dark back on the shelf. It's a vampire movie, and as a rule, I don't watch 'em. (OK, Hammer Draculas, but they're something else entirely.) But, I got hooked on the box copy - it looked kinda indie, the quotes were promising, and the art was gruesome enough - I thought it might be a big make-up FX film. Instead, it was everything I hate about the modern vampire. Did'ja ever sit through an entire film just because you hate it so much you refuse to let it beat you?
Near Dark is the worst sort of Anne Rice pastiche. A small group of vampires wander the Southwest in a series of stolen vehicles, wantonly killing rednecks during their nightly hunts. The youngest of the lot, a tiny little short-haired blonde chick with big anime eyes, accidentally turns a hunky young Oklahoman guy (our Hero). Why? 'Cause he's so nice she can't bear to kill him (not so nice, however, that his blatant attempts to bed her don't come across as sleazy and manipulative). Hero spends the rest of the film agonizing over his undead state, refusing to kill or feed off humans and feeding on Blondie instead (codependence, anyone?), thereby pissing off the rest of the pack, until he returns home and is cured by a simple transfusion (!) from his father, Tim Thomerson. (Bad Dad of the vampire pack is played by Lance Hendrickson - battle of the craggy dads!) He then kills the rest of the vampires, except for Blondie, who is likewise cured by the life-giving blood of Dollman. Happily ever after, amen.
So much is wrong with this film, but the thing that's got my blood boiling is the inversion of the monster motif. The victims are all ciphers, mostly obnoxious, aggressive rednecks or women of loose morals. The vics only get sympathy when they're supposed to be Hero's prey, and then they just go all soft and squishy and puppy-eyed. Only the moral purity of our Hero - a vampire, let me remind you - matters. Even Blondie's redemption only serves to further demonstrate his virtue. Aaaargh.
Near Dark is the worst sort of Anne Rice pastiche. A small group of vampires wander the Southwest in a series of stolen vehicles, wantonly killing rednecks during their nightly hunts. The youngest of the lot, a tiny little short-haired blonde chick with big anime eyes, accidentally turns a hunky young Oklahoman guy (our Hero). Why? 'Cause he's so nice she can't bear to kill him (not so nice, however, that his blatant attempts to bed her don't come across as sleazy and manipulative). Hero spends the rest of the film agonizing over his undead state, refusing to kill or feed off humans and feeding on Blondie instead (codependence, anyone?), thereby pissing off the rest of the pack, until he returns home and is cured by a simple transfusion (!) from his father, Tim Thomerson. (Bad Dad of the vampire pack is played by Lance Hendrickson - battle of the craggy dads!) He then kills the rest of the vampires, except for Blondie, who is likewise cured by the life-giving blood of Dollman. Happily ever after, amen.
So much is wrong with this film, but the thing that's got my blood boiling is the inversion of the monster motif. The victims are all ciphers, mostly obnoxious, aggressive rednecks or women of loose morals. The vics only get sympathy when they're supposed to be Hero's prey, and then they just go all soft and squishy and puppy-eyed. Only the moral purity of our Hero - a vampire, let me remind you - matters. Even Blondie's redemption only serves to further demonstrate his virtue. Aaaargh.