A group of young miners and their dates look forward to
their little town's Valentine dance. Twenty years before,
two supervisors neglected their duty, leaving early to attend
the dance. An explosion caused a cave-in and a handful of
men were trapped. Five days of digging uncovered one survivor.
Turned insane by his ordeal, Harry Malden sought his revenge
by attacking those responsible with a pickaxe. Now, two decades
later, his calling card of placing a victim's heart in a heart-shaped
chocolate box is being repeated. Fearing Malden has returned
from the asylum, the mayor cancels the Valentine dance; however,
the youngsters decide to plan a party of their own and then
explore the mine. Bring on the mayhem...
Clearly,
a follower of the Friday The 13th movies decided to
emulate the format here. All of the elements are in place.
We have the teenage kids, ripe for the slaughter, participating
in drinking, smoking illegal substances and gratuitous sex
(outrageous!). There is a crazy old man, this time in the
form of a bartender, warning them of their folly. Yet another
theme-masked killer makes an appearance (more of that in a
moment). All of the classic lines and moments are rehashed
so that nothing comes as a surprise (we all know by now that
if someone says, "I'll be right back." they will be the next
to be gruesomely dispatched). There's even a cry wolf practical
joker. Oh, and not forgetting the copied head in the fridge
moment.
Nevertheless,
even following a tried and tested formula this closely, there
is something intrinsically third-rate about this movie. There's
neither the attempt to play it straight, or the spoofing of
the genre; instead it falls somewhere between the two, with
no real conviction from the actors or indeed the script. The
dialogue has the feeling of being somewhat forced, and I wouldn't
be surprised if many of the spoken lines were ad-libbed. In
crowd scenes, such as the illicit party, background conversations
are not carefully scripted out as should be, but rather are
spontaneous incoherent and unrealistic mutterings.
The
killer, resplendent in rubber miner's suit and full darkened
face-plate gas mask with twin pipes, has audible breath which
immediately makes you connect with Darth Vader ("Give in to
the dark side. I am your miner!"). And talking of which: Why
do so many film treatments feel an obligation to blame everything
on the father? The pickaxe-weilding maniac, briefly unmasked
at the film's end, suffers a flashback to his childhood, when
he witnessed his father being killed at the hands of Harry
Walden. This explanation is shoehorned into a scene lasting
no more than ten seconds.
My
Bloody Valentine does have its merits, and they are the
faults which I've addressed above. Being so familiar with
the slasher movie formats, it makes for some wry moments watching
this attempted emulation of a popular classic. This is how
you would expect a Lenny Henry Show or French and
Saunders sketch to run. You could adapt the Star Wars
drinking game to this, tipping one down your throat every
time a Friday moment is copied. You would be drunk
as a skunk by the end. So, not a totally wasted experience
then.
Ty
Power
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