Problematic
90s Women in Horror
by
Kristin Battestella
The
classy ladies in this suspenseful trio of nineties horror suffer from
dated problems, scary disservice, and shit men. Quelle surprise.
Angel of Death – Ominous
windmill blades, rattlesnakes, and perilous farm equipment lead to
creepy Rumpelstiltskin sketches and 4 a.m. phone calls from Attica as
ever lovely mom Jane Seymour (Live and Let Die)
is terrorized by an escaped convict in this 1990 TV movie. She's
frazzled before the call – over protective, fighting with
neighbors, late for work. The car won't start, money's tight, her son
wants a bike for his birthday, and our art professor is passed over
for a promotion thanks to her competition moving in on the department
chair and her ex-husband. Rather than build this story, the action
goes back and forth to an obviously small scale prison riot, terribly
over the top thugs, and beatings punctuated with crescendos meant to
be more shocking then they really are. The obsessed escapee read her
children's book and fell in love with her author photo, but a
vengeful prison guard is in pursuit in a dreadful tangent when none
of the prison elements need to be shown. The convict moves in next
door, watches them from a shady van, and signs up to be the nude
model in her art class before beating a man with a hammer while the
annoyingly friendly kid knocks on his door. He's just misunderstood
mixed signals negate any too good to be true suspicious as family
picnics and bedtime stories lead to romantic rooftop steamy. Our
pathological liar tearfully tells her his family is dead – while
leaving out how he murdered them! The expedited relationship is paced
for commercial television breaks and the logistical leaps are
preposterous, but it's uncomfortable how it all happens so fast and
that today's tech makes such stalking even easier. It's also sad that
she's so desperately stupid to let a stranger so close and wonders
how he appeared right when she needed someone. We should have not
known he's the killer until he bludgeons the slutty rival professor
with her own sculpture amid campy feigned seduction, opera music, and
blowtorches. Of course misogynistic detectives suspect our innocent
mom thanks to frustratingly banal contrivances, and the dated paint
by numbers padded with conflicting characterizations to meet the
ninety minute movie of the week format does a disservice to Seymour.
Supposedly romantic red flags moved toot suite however gunshots,
confessions, and kids in peril turn laughable – dragging on
alongside predictable car chases, fake deaths, pitchforks, and a
fiery farm finale. Those Rumpelstiltskin passages he recites back to
her? LOL.
Fear
–
Sirens,
police chatter, and pulsing Henry Mancini music (Romeo and Juliet) jump
right to the chase as psychic Ally Sheedy (The
Breakfast Club) remotely
traces
a serial
killer and detectives come to the rescue thanks to her vivid details
in this 1990 thriller from writer and director Rockne S. O'Bannon
(Farscape).
She feels the disturbing killer urges and the terror of the bound
victim in the backseat, doubling the discomfort despite the success
on high profile cases, book tours, and talk show appearances.
Although the VHS quality print is poor, old fashioned news bulletins,
big televisions, and retro phones invoke nostalgia. The onscreen
interviews let the aptly named Cayce explain her telepathy, but she
wants to move on from true crime and strenuous killer
manuscripts in favor of her own fiction. However, when another
murderer strikes she offers police her services by revealing the
hitherto unknown titular calling card written in blood. Paranormal
eerie, choice gore in the refrigerator, and body shocks that don't
dally like today's in your face aesthetics pepper the realistic crime
scenes and straightforward procedural. Solitary moments in a new
house with plastic still on the furniture lull viewers into a lonely
routine before the mental connections strike again. We feel her
strained, overwhelmed recounting of the crime because he wants his
victims to be afraid. He knows what will scare them most, realizes
Cayce can see him, and telepathically croaks out her name. The
restaurant ambiance at the fancy publisher's dinner fades as the
unseen killer intrudes on Cayce – taking her along for a fly on the
wall view as he selects his next victim. He taunts her and uses “we”
amid heavy breathing, mirrored actions, screams, and terror. She is
unable to break his impression, and the mind's eye seeing herself
from his perspective is meta provocative. The killer is one step
ahead, the camera is behind, and the victim is our point of view
thanks to blue lighting, zooms, and gauze focus that lets the
performances carry the pain, fear, and violence. This is an abusive
relationship and he won't let her leave as decoys and airport
consequences raise the suspense. The so-called Shadow Man sends her
perfume, shoes, and lingerie, but rather than take control of the
fearful head games herself, Cayce falls back on a neighbor cum
potential boyfriend to take action. Diverse Black and Asian
detectives disappear from the pursuit even after their families are
threatened, and power suit but kind and seemingly in love with Cayce
book agent Lauren Hutton (Once
Bitten) is underutilized. Chilling
who's chasing whom realizations degrade into Hall of Mirrors
hackneyed and a poor physical confrontation as the last half hour
loses steam. What started so well if Eyes of Laura Mars backs
into a corner with anticlimactic Strangers on a Train copycatting
– unable to resolve the cat and mouse with psychic strength and
sophistication.
Mary Reilly – Titular maid
Julia Roberts (Pretty Woman)
and Jekyll and Hyde John Malkovich (Dangerous
Liaisons) lead this 1996
Stevenson inspired adaptation with rain, thunder, cobblestones, and
nighttime dreary setting the gothic mood. Moonlit rooftops and sharp,
from the window skylines provide a whiff of German Expressionism as
the master of the house stays up all night in his laboratory across
the courtyard. The cramped, shabby downstairs is busy with aprons and
vintage cookery while above shines with polished woodwork and silver
trays. Footsteps on the staircase and screams in the night, however,
suggest something afoot. Mary is squeamish over anatomy books, bloody
linens, and bashing eels for dinner yet this is the safest, kindest
place she has been since entering service at twelve. She lets Jekyll
examine her scars and recounts an unemployed father turned drunkard
who locked her in the pantry with a rat. This delicate touching and
faint caressing is iffy not romantic, and we don't need to see the
abusive flashbacks to realize the violent, changed man, Hyde
parallels either. Implications of how nasty Mary's father was are
better suggested when she cries in her sleep, but her anguish and
candor with Jekyll is downplayed in favor of her characterization as
a nosy, talkative maid who doesn't want the other servants to think
she goes above her station. Of course, she repeatedly breaks their
tedious protocols and wastes time planting a garden when there's no
sunshine – a foolish girl fixating on her flaky master. Bloody
brothel bed chambers after the unseen lusty Hyde nights and over the
top blackmailing madame Glenn Close (Albert Nobbs) brighten the drab
back and forth as Mary becomes the go between repeating the hear tell
while both men toy and manipulate her in a predatory, but ultimately
nothing burger love triangle. Jekyll tells her to go the Hyde, Hyde
talks as if Jekyll is also present, even ordering tea for two that
Jekyll cancels when Mary brings it. Despite a sympathetic score
accompanying the foggy kisses with Hyde, he verbally harasses Mary
complete with a “Look what you made me do” non-apology. Roberts
is miscast with a poor accent and period piece plain that doesn't
suit her, yet the frustrating framework must remain in her point of
view even as the Clark Kent/Superman lack of recognition becomes
unbelievable. She lies to the police to protect Hyde, but Mary never
learns or investigates, remaining a reactive character in overlong,
uncomfortable relationships leading to knife play and an
anti-climatic revelation with an almost comical transformation.
Laboratory jars, creepy chains, and screams as Mary is nearly caught
snooping aren't suspenseful because we're always aware the real story
is elsewhere. This would have been better as an original gothic
piece, but the crux as is isn't enjoyable for romance audiences or
horror fans.
