Writer-director Tom Holland's 1985 film Fright Night—aside from being a cheerful blend of comedy and horror and a perfect microcosm of '80s guilty-pleasure cinema (cue the synthesizers)—is also memorable to queer audiences because its chock-full of gay subtext.
The movie features a fun, over-the-top performance from the late gay actor Roddy McDowall as horror-TV host Peter Vincent; and a cute-as-a-button Amanda Bearse, who later came out of the closet, as the love interest of young hero Charley Brewster (played by William Ragsdale). In turn, Brewster suspects that his new neighbor—the elegant, scarf-wearing Chris Sarandon—is a vampire (complete with a hunky, woman-hating assistant played by Jonathan Stark).
Then there's Stephen Geoffreys as Charley's adorable best friend, "Evil," who becomes a victim of the vampire in a scene in which Sarandon enfolds the spiky-haired teenager into his cape with the promise, "No one will ever laugh at you again"—hinting that at a life of homophobic taunts and gay bashings is about to be exchanged for eternal life. In this case, the subtext is twice as powerful, as Geoffreys later turned to acting in gay porn (though of late he's returned to the horror genre).
Now director Craig Gillespie and screenwriter Marti Noxon (using Holland's story as a template) have given us a remake of Fright Night for a new generation and I am happy to report that, although the homoeroticism isn't nearly as palpable, the remake has the same jokey, snarky tone of the original mixed with plenty of genuine, delicious scares.
The action has switched to Vegas, which gives the script a plausible basis to spin the story of a vampire moving in next door. (In Vegas, for example, it's no surprise to have your windows painted over, you see, because a lot of folks work all night and sleep all day.) This time out it's not Charley (played by Anton Yelchin, who recently gave a remarkable performance in Jodie Foster's The Beaver) who gets on to Jerry, the vampire with the stupid name (an assured, uber-sexy Colin Farrell); it's his former best friend, Evil (Christopher Mintz-Plasse). Taking a page from Heathers, Charley has ditched his nerdy past with Evil and moved on to the cool kids (one of whom is played by James Franco's brother Dave) and Amy, his super-hot babealicious girlfriend (Imogen Poots).
However, when Evil disappears, Charley becomes suspicious and soon the game's afoot and everyone—from Charley's mom (Toni Collette) to David Tennent (channeling Russell Brand) as an over-the-top Goth magician to Sarandon in a nice cameo—is engaged in trying to kill Jerry.
The original movie isn't exactly a classic, which might be the reason this new Fright Night doesn't feel like its treading on sacred territory; also, on the plus side, it still has its own "gay" moments. ("I'm feeling a little homoerotic now" Evil comments, tongue in cheek, during his vampire encounter with Charley.) In addition, just like the first version, this Fright Night is a perfect little date movie. As we wait around for the inevitable sequel, we can also wonder who in this cast might come out, giving the movie that extra gay undercurrent kick for subsequent generations.
This Time: A Music Documentary, from out filmmaker Victor Mignatti, is a fascinating, entertaining, inspiring and heartbreaking record of a group of music professionals trying to hang on, return or find a place at the table in the tough, tough music business.
Mignatti (who directed, shot and edited the movie) tracks the attempts of L.A.-based producer/performer Peitor Angell to carve out new recording careers for The Sweet Inspirations (longtime backup singers for Elvis Presley as well as backing vocalists for Frank Sinatra, Dusty Springfield, Aretha Franklin, Barbra Streisand, etc.) and one-time disco diva Pat Hodges (who is homeless as the film begins).
Angell's passion for his initially cautiously enthusiastic divas is palpable, and his willingness to try and put these singers back on the recording map is laudable. The enormous amount of confidence and optimism he exudes as he goes about making this happen is alternately contagious and, when faced with the waning enthusiasm of the objects of his passion, very sad. Faced with disinterest from a youth-obsessed market in the midst of technological change as well as increasing impatience from his divas, Angell forges ahead until realities force him to make some tough decisions.
Concurrently, we follow Manhattan-based Bobby Belfry as he goes about trying to make a name for himself in the world of cabaret (while holding down a job as a singing bartender). Like Angell, Belfry's optimism is constantly tested. "Maybe this will be the gig, the recording; the magazine interview that will make the difference" is the mantra everyone in the film seems to repeat endlessly in variation. (The title of the film couldn't be more ironic.)
As the performers and producers work on new projects, they relay their stories and we see and hear a glorious assortment of sensational songs (from a soundtrack available on iTunes). Everything is here—from kitschy cabaret to sizzling dance music to blistering gospel infused soul. This Time: A Music Documentary is a testament to the faith and endurance of talented performers born to make music and to the producers who believe in them, no matter the personal cost. This movie is highly recommended. www.thistimemovie.com
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