Review: Darkness (1993)

Directed by: Leif Jonker
Starring: Gary Miller, Randall Aviks, Mike Gisick
Written by: Leif Jonker
Music by: Michael Curtis, Leif Jonker
Country: United States
Not currently available on physical media
IMDb

Leif Jonker’s vampire splatterfest is the fallout when Cannibal Corpse’s “Butchered at Birth,” Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark, and the impenetrable nihilism of puberty collide in an angst-strewn supernova. The story is simple: Teenage Tobe is on the run from a vampire lord of some kind, Liven, and his mindlessly bloodthirsty hordes. There are other characters and other events, but Darkness is primarily an extended chase morbidly decorated with shotgun-blasted skulls, chainsaw-ripped limbs, gurgling gobs of liquefying flesh, and blast beats.

Jonker, as part of a maniacal predestination to combine all his favorite shit into one 8 mm devilish dervish, harnesses the savage emotions of adolescence more purely than many filmmakers working with much, much larger budgets and pools of talent. When your parents’ throats are shredded and your small corner of the world is drenched in gore and chaos, all you need is a fucking machete and some down-tuned riffs. This flick isn’t a ton more than attitude and viscera, but it doesn’t need to be.

The VHS box art makes gruesome promises, and Darkness keeps its grisly word. The special effects, by Jonker and star Gary Miller, are a little backloaded thanks to a climax featuring an abundance of gooey corporeal meltdown. But they’re remarkably effective, especially with funding commensurate with a fifth grader’s allowance. The vast volume of corn syrup at Jonker’s disposal would make Peter Jackson a giddy little kiwi.

Jonker’s approach is way more self-serious than Jackson could ever muster, though. To some, the dearth of (intentional) silliness might be a wet blanket, but fun isn’t really the aim of this feral heavy metal manifesto. This is the on-screen incarnation of ditching sixth period, blasting “Reek of Putrefaction” in your headphones, and reading issues of Gore Shriek well into the night. That’s not to say there’s no artistry to the gut-spilling. Darkness possesses an admirable flair for gothic atmospherics, assisted in its imaginative blitzkrieg by an industrial-tinged synth squall that conjures The Terminator, the shredding of the band Apostasy, and Super 8 grain-haze.

This is about as authentic in intent as horror gets, unclouded by pomp or pretention, straight to its goddamn crimson-doused, low-budget/high-octane point.

Overall rating: 7 out of 10