Fright Night 2011: You Can't Run From Evil Once It's Playing in All the Theaters

It was bound to happen, and I really tried to avoid it.  After I penned “Why I Didn’t and Won’t Be Seeing Piranha 3-D”, I said to myself that I would try and have a more open mind. I shouldn’t judge things sight unseen as it only made me look like another ranting fan boy, and as they say “judge not lest ye be judged” or something to that effect. Well, I’m here to say I’ve forsworn all the forgiveness stuff and I mean to give Fright Night what for. Hrmn, that doesn’t really convey how I want to start this off at all. Let me try again.  Fright Night (2011) can fuck itself in its ear. Nah, that’s too nice. I would rather go to a packed screening of Stephen “Evil Ed” Geoffrey’s later “erotic” films than have to sit through a single moment of whatever it is they’ve done to Tom Holland’s 1985 classic. At this point it’s probably needless to say, but welcome one and all, kids of all ages, to the (Editor's Note : Why I Haven't Wont Be Seeing) Fright Night rant.


Let me start right at the top, and by the top I mean the director’s chair. Many people have good things to say about Craig Gillespie because he started off his career with the creepy/cute feature Lars and the Real Girl. I thought this film was alright, but I’ve seen similar fare done better elsewhere. Gillespie threw out whatever indie darling cred he might have garnered immediately by turning around and making the inane Mr. Woodcock starring Billy Bob Thornton in the crassly titular role. If you’ve never seen the film, think about how terrible you think it would be, go find a brick, and smash yourself in the knee. If your knee still hurts more than how bad the film might scar your soul, then you didn’t think nearly bad enough.

Many people (my wife included) would say that his next project, directing the majority of Showtime’s The United States of Tara, would prove a return to form. The brainchild of Diablo Cody, that maven of the most unbelievable dialog this side of Tarantino-land, stars Toni Colette as does Fright Night, but more on her in a moment. Gillespie has directed fourteen out of the show’s 36 episodes so far, and I can guarantee you I’ve seen most of them, and no, I don’t care for it. Now what really ties all these projects together is not a single one of them sounds like preparation for remaking a beloved 80’s horror classic. This is the point where I could probably dig up a quote from Gillespie about  how he’s always loved this movie or he respects the original, but it would smack of Hollywood bull crap and just make me want to punch him in the throat (as if I didn’t already).

Now before this gets too far out of hand on the credentials behind the camera, let me move around front where I will move from slightly incensed to totally flames shooting out my skull bat-shit insane. Who is going to tell me that you can in any way compare Colin Farrell, the biggest Irish dud since the IRA bought their fuses from the Acme catalog, to the animal magnetism and Vampiric charm of Chris Sarandon? Because whoever might try will find that get a handful of not having it for their trouble. Next up Toni Colette. You know she came in 2nd in a contest recently that both Sarah Jessica Parker and Celine Dion also competed in. It’s true. It was called the Kentucky Derby. ‘Nuff said. Moving onto Nü Chekov himself, Anton Yelchin. I had nothing particularly against him, but I do now that he’s been in this film. Chris “McLovin” Mint-Patties, I seriously hope that you don’t keep on the Evil Ed career track. If you make a 976-Evil remake, I will hunt you down Hard Target style (a.k.a with an unwieldy one-shot gun).

When I first heard of the Fright Night remake, I wondered what they would do about the role of the horror host embodied in the 1985 film by Roddy McDowell. What they did was go and cock it all up. They cast former Dr. Who David Tennant, which in and of itself would be good thing, if he was going to be in the same role. Instead they rewrote the character as a Chris Angel style magic huckster. By they, I mean of course the writer. So while I’m going to give Tennant a pass, Marti Noxon, you and me, we’re going to have a little come to Jesus meeting right here. I see you have horror on your résumé having penned a number of Buffy episodes, but I don’t see any of the classic episodes among them. Then you went on to write episodes of Gray’s Anatomy and Private Practice not to mention the opus I am Number Two…sorry, Number Four. If you hadn’t written two episodes of Mad Men, I would assume you had to be someone’s close friend. Whatever mutated dying thing you made of Fright Night, may it follow you like a specter for all of your life. I mean I hope I form’s a Jacob Marley the Jeweler dookie rope of shame to weigh you down throughout the years, and I’m being nice.

To wrap this up, there is no way that I am ever going to possibly see this film. Okay, if Salma Hayek came by the house, it was the only movie that she wanted to go see, and my wife said it would be fine if I went, then I would go. Otherwise, I would rather go see Larry Crown twice. I would rather go see the Smurfs with the reels out of order, dubbed into Finnish and subtitled in yellow right in the middle of the screen, to ever go see this flick. So I urge you all, boycott this crap, and before someone says it, I don’t hate on remakes, check out the Halloween Top 13:2010 for proof. This year, as I turn the Presidentially appropriate age of 35, I find the first issue I can really get behind. If we really want to solve the nation’s debt problem, threaten to export this film around the globe. The UN will be clamoring to pay a Dr. Evil size ransom for that kind of world strife not to ensue. Oh and Fright Night, you can still fuck yourself. Thanks. End of rant.

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