(You'll never open a Valentine's Candy box without hesitating ever again.)
CAST: Paul Kelman, Lori Hallier, Neil Affleck, Keith Knight, Alf Humphreys, Cynthia Dale, Helen Udy, Carl Marotte, Don Francks, Larry Richards, Patricia Hamilton.
DIRECTOR: George Mihalka
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and lots of Valentine's Day desecration right up ahead...
In 1978, an independent low-budget film titled HALLOWEEN became a huge box-office smash, grossing something to the tune of $45 million, which - given HALLOWEEN's miniscule budget - was practically an AVATAR-level achievement. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating slightly, but it was still a huge deal. Especially for a film that everyone was sure would tank, given its rather hoary premise of three babysitters terrorized by an escaped mental patient on the titular holiday.
All that by way of saying that HALLOWEEN's unexpected success basically spawned the Slasher genre as we know it. Sure, Alfred Hitchcock planted the first seeds in 1960 with PSYCHO, and his Italian equivalent, Dario Argento, further stoked the fires with his own baroque and artful thrillers like DEEP RED (1975) and THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE (1970). Canadian director Bob Clark also laid more groundwork with the brilliant BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974).
The fact remains, however, that it was HALLOWEEN that set the slasher-movie tropes which would be imitated repeatedly: (1) a masked killer terrorizing (2) a group of teens/college students who are (3) partying in some isolated location during (4) a significant event or holiday, and who (5) get killed one-by-one in often gruesome fashion, until (6) only one character - usually a girl - is left to battle the killer.
These films had lovely titles like PROM NIGHT, THE BURNING, FRIDAY THE 13th, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, THE PROWLER, FINAL EXAM, MADMAN, THE DORM THAT DRIPPED BLOOD, TERROR TRAIN, NEW YEAR'S EVIL, VISITING HOURS, and CURTAINS - to name just a few. Most of these films were decent, but only one or two were good enough to even stand in HALLOWEEN's immediate proximity. One of those films is MY BLOODY VALENTINE.
Taking place in the isolated mining town of Valentine's Bluff (seriously - the town is called that), the story involves a tragedy that caused the town to stop celebrating the holiday for 20 years. If you're wondering what the hell could be so bad that such a tiny community would give up some solid potential revenue, allow me to regal you with the saga: see, on Valentine's Night 1960, two irresponsible mining supervisors were in such a rush to get to the annual Valentine's dance that they deliberately left behind half-a-dozen miners still working in the tunnels below. An accident occurred, causing a cave-in that buried the poor sods. Ooops.
After weeks of trying to dig through, the rescuers finally broke through to the men. What they find is enough to make you switch to mixed greens for the rest of your life: only one man survived, and he did so only by - here's the lovely part - eating his buddies. Right, then. Would anyone care for a second helping of Hamburger Helper? Anyway, the man's name was Harry Warden - and he promptly went nuts and was committed. But not for loooooooong...
The following year, Harry Warden did the following: (1) escaped from the asylum, (2) put on his old mining garb complete with helmet and lamp, (3) visited the two surpervisors, and (4) ripped their hearts out and (5) placed them in Valentine's Candy boxes, with a (6) warning to the townspeople to never - ever, ever, ever - have another Valentine's Day dance. Otherwise, he'll come back and make like Darth Vader infected by the rage virus from 28 DAYS LATER. Needless to say, the townspeople politely agree.
Flash forward to the present, which is 1981. Evidently, the townspeople of Valentine's Bluff have grown the cojones to start planning the first Valentine's Day dance in 20 years. Either they think that: (1) Harry Warden is dead and buried and is no longer a concern, or (2) they think he is still alive but have a death wish, or (3) they all got really stoned one night and completely forgot about the mining cave-in and the subsequent killing spree and Harry's deadly warning. If the latter is the case, they're about to get a reminder. Yes, sir...
Sure enough, a vicious killer in a miner's helmet and suit starts decimating the townspeople. The first victim is some hot blonde chick who gets shoved into the business end of a pickaxe. The second victim is the organizer of the dance, Mabel Osborne (Patricia Hamilton), who gets her cavalier ass tossed into a dryer on high heat for defying Harry's ultimatum.
These two incidents are enough to make Chief Newby (Don Francks) turn to Mayor Hanniger (Larry Richards) and go: "Dude, this reminds of that shit from, like, twenty years ago when that one dude got stuck in the mine and ate all those other dudes, then killed those two dudes with a pickaxe, cut out their hearts and stuck 'em in a box, and then warned us not to hold another Valentine's Day dance ever again, or else he would totally... Oh. Fuck."
Long story short, Dumb and Dumber decide to, ahem, cancel the dance - but they don't say it's because of Harry Warden. They say that Mabel had a heart attack (uh, I guess you could say that) and it would be disrespectful to continue with the festivities. Yup, they decide to keep the murders under wraps, for fear of "starting a panic." I guess it's better to leave the populace in the dark about the pickaxe-wielding psycho miner lurking among them. All the better to cause more murders, you know? If you're starting to think that Chief Newby got his training from the same academy that matriculated Barney Fife, don't worry - he did. Good news for unintentional comedy. Bad news for the good citizens of Valentine's Bluff.
Naturally, the young folk of Valentine's Bluff don't take kindly to either the dance being cancelled - or the Chief's lame-ass explanation for it. So, being young and willful, they do what young and willful kids do the world over when specifically told not to do something: they fucking do it, anyway. If you're thinking that the dumb-asses go ahead and have their Valentine's Dance, but in secret, then you clearly have had to put up with a few of them in your time.
Needless to say, this is a supremely bad idea. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that Harry Warden is going to crash the party and make mincemeat out of most of the guests. The "who's-who" of the walking dead are: (1) T.J. (Paul Kelman), brooding and sexy prodigal son recently returned to Valentine's Bluff after not making it on "the West Coast"; (2) Sarah (Lori Hallier), winsome and sweet blond chick who is torn between T.J. and (3) Axel (Neil Affleck), surly blonde guy who looks like Aaron Eckhart's hick cousin; (4) Hollis (Keith Knight), fat bastard who has an inexplicably hot girlfriend named (5) Patti (Cynthia Dale), who is obviously psychic because right before the party she says, "My dress is cut down to here! Slit up to there! I may not get out alive!"; (6) John (Rob Stein), a pal of T.J and Axel's who is, uh, hung like a horse; (7) Sylvia (Helene Udy), a petite chick who is after John because of, um, obvious reasons, and (8) Howard (Alf Humphreys), the kind of dumb shit who is neither cute enough nor funny enough nor smart enough to get away with the pranks he's constantly pulling. Needless to say, he dies - painfully. As well he should.
Anyhow, there are others who also get targeted by our pickaxe-friendly killer, but the above 8 folks are the main players. Who among them will live? Who will get skewered? Who is wielding the pickaxe? Is it Harry Warden? Or someone else from the past? Or from the present? Is Neil Affleck really Ben Affleck's love child with Aaron Eckhart? Why do I find that strangely erotic? Do I need help?
Find out if you dare...
BUT, SERIOUSLY: While it's no HALLOWEEN, MY BLOODY VALENTINE comes with a whole attitude and atmosphere all its own. The script cleverly tweaks some of the standard slasher tropes - and makes them almost fresh. For example, instead of suburban teenagers or sophisticated college students, our main characters (and victims) are blue-collar workers who look to be in their mid-20's - at least.
Also effective is the bleak small-town atmosphere hanging over the proceedings. If I lived in that town, I'd get the hell out just like T.J. did. It also helps that MY BLOODY VALENTINE was obviously not filmed in a studio or anywhere in California. The settings feel authentic and look real, evoking the true ambiance of a humble, anonymous, northern mining town. This distinctive flavor sets the film apart from many others in the genre.
As far as the cast, they are all believable as imperiled victims - with each of them turning in reasonably vivid performances. The standout is Lori Hallier as Sarah. She makes for an engaging heroine - both strong and human at the same time. The likability of the cast is key in many of the scares. We become reasonably involved with them to the point that we don't want them to cross paths with the psycho miner. One sequence in particular near the end, involving a chase through the mine along moving rail cars, is particularly harrowing and rivals anything in HALLOWEEN.
In the end, MY BLOODY VALENTINE is more than a HALLOWEEN-ripoff because it bravely tries to tweak some of the slasher conventions in an effort to produce something that's, at least, a little different - but still a lot scary. It succeeds.
