I wanted to fancy 1982's The Slayer more than I did. I've been hoping to land it on VHS for the longest time, but I eventually caved in. Since I don't have throwaway money these days, I am acceding to the palpable reality that I'm going to be leaning on the Internet as I sideswipe adulthood. Goddamn adulthood. Hey, I don't feel wonderful when I hit up ossified slashers on YouTube. It is what it is. War-ravaged maroons in Gaza City couldn't begin to understand the special truss of Gehenna that my trunk is tied to. That's guilt, man. I'm pretty sure that I just misused at least two words and downplayed a grave conflict in the Middle East. That's pooh-pooh, man.
I'm going to take a break from jabbering inappropriate jokes to slay The Slayer. It's not bad per se. The vast majority of sicko cinephiles enjoyed the mulch out of it. I enjoyed bits of it. And pieces. The premise is spring-loaded with latent excellence. An artist named Kay is plagued with intense nightmares. Her husband prods her into vacating to a remote island with her brother and sister-in-law. The nightmares never cease, however. Kay sees her compeers dying in her dreams, and almost as if it were scripted (hahaHA!), they begin to die off in the waking world. Who or what is stalking these archipelago-bound motherfuckers? I'm scared!
To the film's credit, I was itching to discover the root of The Slayer's tumult, but the payoff did not varnish my snoopiness. I needed a better answer than that. Hell, the script barely gave me an answer at all. Was the toothy monster fellow supposed to represent Satan? How was he controlling Kay's night terrors? Did he broker a mutually beneficient deal with Freddy Krueger (or perhaps the dream demons)? We only get one glimpse of this toothy monster fellow, but I will say that he looks fucking cool. Why couldn't he play a more explicit role in the narrative? If you would like to meet him, his countenance "videobombs" the trailer.
The gore effects are ace. The version on YouTube is uncut, so I was able to catch the bloodiest of the bloody. I can't bitch about the acting either. Sarah Kendall is superb at portraying a jittery, ascetic manic depressive, although I wish she was allowed to explore her range. I met her yesterday at a Chinese restaurant (no, I didn't), and we discussed The Slayer for hours (no, we didn't). So this flick isn't horrid, but it's detained by a cadaverous pace. There are too many instances where nothing happens. Apparently, that's the calling card of a body count pic(ture) from the early 80's. It doesn't help that the body count is distressingly low.
My advice? Stick with the trailer, which I was kind enough to attach.
Posted by Dom Coccaro at 11:56 PM