The vampire mythos has taken a bit of a hit in recent years, and it is in no small part down to Stephanie Meyer, the semi literate, gay bashing, Mormon, phenomenon that has sold sex to pre teens, in such a way that Walt Disney and every self respecting paedophile would be proud of. Of course, Meyer would deny this, seeing as though in her saga of poorly worded gushing romance, the act of sex is treated as so heinous, with consequences so dyer, that she’s probably managed to carve mental scars into a whole generation of sexually dysfunctional future adults and suicide victims with her shameful penmanship.
Ironic then, that it is a well publicised theory that the vampire is in itself a metaphor for sexual repression, but whatever …
Not to mention the fact that she clearly views women as inferior to the male gender, unable to function and falling into near catatonia when a man leaves her, until, she is scooped up into the bestial arms of another Y chromosome who she happily allows him to wrap her in unhealthy stereotypes until her previous suitor bothers himself to offer his attentions once more.
Take that feminism, you useless antiquated ideal! Swooning and being protected is all us skirts are good for!
Although, let us never forget that the most vile product of the literary sewerage produced by this disease of an author is without doubt, the vampire that sparkles.
What film makers seem to have forgotten is that vampires are not cute. They do not model for Ambercrombie and Fitch in their spare time, they do not try to woo girls 1500 years their junior or drink microwavable synthetic plasma from bottles like infants. They are scary, they smell bad (because of the death), and you would not want to meet one, because they would rip out your jugular, play misty on your ribs and throw your innards in the bin. Think less Nordic god and more Nosferatu – that is a mythology you can respect.
Vampires suck blood, NOT face or monkey balls.
Stake Land is a welcome little post apocalyptic road movie with the added threat of vampires that are not all about trying to get on your jailbait teenage daughter, so phew. Although this land isn’t all roses and dartboards with Cedric Diggory’s face plastered all over, there’s some bad times too. Food is scarce, the toothy ones are bad ass, and the far religious right, as always are ruining what little civilisation is left. There are no heroes, just plenty of misfits trying to find a place to get by in this new world.
I had low expectations when I sat down to watch this film, but I ended up pleasantly surprised. It was an intelligent and very well written plot, and the enigmatic Mister was one of the most engaging leads I’ve seen in a while, stunningly performed by the co-writer himself Nick Damici. Connor Paolo was extremely believable as the orphaned and understandably subdued Martin, and modern scream queen in the making (and personal favourite of mine) Danielle Harris was excellent as the heavily pregnant Belle. It wasn’t a perfect movie by any stroke of the imagination, but it was a good one, a damn good one, and in spite of myself I thoroughly enjoyed every second. It was human, and brutal, and quite dismally intense for a horror film, but it worked for me, and I think this may just be a future cult classic in the making.