Tobe Hooper's "Night Terrors"

Times are a-changing, aren't they?  The moors of society continually shift in an unremitting masquerade of principle and metaphysics.  Philosophy, I guess you could call it.  I was gobsmacked by the parochial convictions held by my own generation just last night.  The Super Bowl halftime show, usually nothing more than tepid candy floss, jumped out at me as being vulgar and excessive.  Me!  And I'm the guy who listens to Cannibal Corpse.  Could it be that I have settled into my skin as a veritable, self-effacing adult?  Dear Lord, I hope not.  Even at thirty-eight years of age, I'm goofy enough to stream Tobe Hooper's "Night Terrors," a title so cumbersome, it doesn't know how to announce itself.

For the record, I'm using quotation marks as an act of rebellion against the late Hooper.  Is that disrespectful?  Good!  What nefarious malfeasance was he trying to perpetrate with this fever blister of a film?  It shouldn't surprise anyone who follows this website to learn that Robert Englund exerted his influence over the production.  No, I wasn't there, but come on.  Can't you see it?  "Tobe, I'm itching to play someone other than Freddy Krueger.  Any role in the world will suffice.  Sodomy!  I want the next character I play to have a predilection for sodomy.  God, I'm such a great actor."  Granted, Hooper wasn't brought in until a disinterested Gerry O'Hara abandoned the project, but my point remains...well, it remains.

It should have been an episode of Unsolved Mysteries, y'know.  Can't you see it?  "What happened to Tobe Hooper's career after the crackerjack splatter fun of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2?  Join me.  Perhaps you may be able to help solve a mystery."  By the way, Robert Stack is far more terrifying than the Marquis de Sade.  I doubt that "Night Terrors" began life as a fright flick.  An inconceivably attractive Zoe Trilling, fresh off the success of Dr. Giggles (top contender for best joke I've ever written), stars as Genie, a girl visiting her archeologist father in Egypt.  Between collecting both dust and boredom, she finds a way to be ensnared by a diabolical sex cult led by - dig this - a descendant of the Marquis de Sade.

At the behest of Robert Englund and presumably no one else, the scream king shoulders dual roles.  Of course, it's unnecessary, and of course, the spectacle is overblown.  "Hammy" doesn't do it justice, but I suppose I prefer this approach to a reserved, apathetic performance.  You can't claim that he isn't trying, God bless him.  I'm uvula-deep into the fourth paragraph and I haven't commented on the pacing.  What's wrong with me?  It's slow, if you're wondering.  Hooper strains to orchestrate some semblance of suspense, but it's all for naught.  I did appreciate the gratuitous nudity.  The charitable shots of Juliano Merr's floppy member I could do without, but it is what it is.

I can't help but think the part of the Marquis was made for Robert Z'Dar.  Can't you see it?  "I don't agree with that gentleman's stance on watersports and what-have-you, but that chin!"  Robert Z'Dar says, "Thanks, but no thanks."