BLOODSTALKERS (1983)

TOM’S REVIEW (cont'd):

Sadly, whether arguing about the amount of household dust that could possibly accumulate during an undisturbed eight-year stretch, reminiscing about Mike’s accidental-murdering-of-innocent-children-during-the-Vietnam-War days, or detailing Danny’s “fatal fascination for stairways,” these guys do nothing but provide evidence supporting my theories of cinematic Darwinism. (See my essay near the end of this book for an in-depth discussion of this groundbreaking theory.)

One conversation in particular exemplifies the inanity that dominates the Bloodstalker dialogue. With the crew ranged around a stiff wooden table recounting the good old days, Danny starts up a tactless discussion of Mike’s troubled stint as a Marine. Glancing longingly across the table at his friend, Danny begins:

Hey Mike, there’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you. You know we’ve been friends since high school, you were so hot on the military; I was wondering why you got out? I know you were, what, halfway to retirement?
Mike answers:
You know Dan, I really don’t have an answer for you. Remember how I could hardly wait to join the Marines? Protect the faith. Be a man. Wow. I still believe that.

What? Does this answer mean anything? Are we to think that Mike wishes he didn’t quit the Marines? Or that he’s glad he did? And does it matter either way? The fact that Danny later highlights in graphic detail exactly why Mike did quit (the aforementioned murdering innocent children thing) renders the conversation above irrelevant and just plain cruel. I suppose a tenuous argument can be made that such talk serves to develop character, but to my mind, it’s just filler material, eating up time until the Bloodstalkers can get their act in gear.

Finally, after a skinny dipping adventure that was thankfully aborted, and a grandiose soliloquy on the glories of friendship, we get a taste of what it means to be a Bloodstalker, as someone, or something, crashes through the vacation home window, snatches at Jeri, and puts a good scare into the gang. Although no one is hurt during the incident, the scene nevertheless serves as an effective jump-start to the plot, yanking us out of our boring-conversation stupor, and reminding us that we are watching a horror movie after all. Determined not to let anything ruin his vacation, Mike ignores his compatriots’ pleas to abandon the trip and dashes across the darkened Florida countryside in search of help, barricading the women folk inside the cabin, and entrusting the spineless Danny with their protection.

What follows is one of the most inexplicable and wonderful scenes I’ve yet to come across in all my days of watching horror. Spotting a lighted church pulsing with the strains of a gospel choir at work, Mike races to the spot. Near the entrance, he meets with the director of the choir and begs the man for help. Despite employing wild, flailing gestures in the pleading of his case, Mike fails to move the stolid churchgoer, and is forced to continue his search for assistance. What makes the scene endure in my memory, and endows it with historical genre significance, is that Mike’s conversation with the director is entirely inaudible. Yes, we see Mike’s lips moving, the camera inching close enough to the conversation that a practiced lip reader might decipher the enigmatic dialogue. But of actual spoken words, Mike is mute.

Whether this astonishingly amateurish scenario was an attempt at some ill-conceived cinematic artistry, or whether it was due to a mangled audio track, I cannot say, but we at ShockMarathons wholeheartedly endorse such ill-advised inclusions and applaud whoever is responsible.

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