My Bloody Valentine 1981

Time for a history lesson, children. Way back when, a fascist organization that we know as the MPAA were beginning to crack down on horror films they deemed were offensive to the very morals of the American people. Obviously the entire country was unable to get off its high horse at the time... Then along comes a little Canadian production called My Bloody Valentine. What followed was the classic tale of David vs. Goliath. Except this time, Goliath won. Featuring ads run in newspapers and magazines that were apparently enough to make everyone sputter and drop their monocle into their tea, the director, George Mihalka, was forced to cut 9 minutes of material all relating to the murders. The result? A good deal many horror fans who were...perplexed, to say the least, when the mouth-wateringly gory stills promised to them by Fangoria were nowhere to be seen, leaving a film that while better then the rest, still felt curiously dry. Which brings us to now, where after 28 years of waiting, fans of the original will finally be able to see the film as it was meant to be seen with the Special Uncut Edition, which as the title implies, restores the scenes thought to be lost. Which brings us to the review...

I want to state this now: I am against large dances. Despite me being a curmudgeon before my time, I have a handful of good reasons: there's always the one guy who doesn't find someone to shuffle with, resulting in them brooding in a corner. This often results in them either killing themselves, killing those who spurned his affection, or he ends up being the guy who you read about in the newspapers; you know, "the guy who breaks into a daycare and turns the kiddies into mulch before being brought down by rhino tranquilizers". Or, the urge to dance can lead to explosions. You heard me. Explosions. Back in 1960, two mining supervisors left their post in order to attend a Valentine's Day dance. Their negligence resulted in an explosion that claimed the lives of four miners. The only one to survive was Harry Warden, via the cannibalization of his fallen friends. He later donned a miner jumpsuit, gas mask, and slaughtered the two responsible, ripping their hearts out, warning he'd return upon subsequent Valentine's Day dances. His future endeavors are then crushed when he's forcibly sentenced to a mental health hospital, where he remains to this day. Or does he...?

Flash forward 20 years later, and the small town of Valentine's Bluff is once again preparing for the holiday festivities. Hanniger Mines remains the lifeblood of the community, and the young men are obviously looking forward to shedding their protective outfits, washing away the grime, and having a night of fun, and in many cases, the prerequisite pre-marital sex. Unfortunately, its not all sunshine and butterflies. T.J. Hanniger has a problem, you see. When he left Valentine's Bluff some time back, presumably to do some soul searching, he came back to find his girlfriend has fallen into the arms of his rival, Axel (bearing a truly eerie resemblance to Aaron Eckhart) in his absence. Trouble is, he can't stop loving her. Of course, this leads to much butting-of-the-heads between the two men. Even more troubling, a series of violent murders has fallen upon the town, the wounds suggesting Warden has somehow returned. As the Valentine's Day dance draws near, and each new body bearing cryptic messages warning what fait awaits those who celebrate the holiday. Unfortunately, the best efforts of the police are hardly up to the task of competing with the sex drive of rambancious miners. Then does the blood truly begin to flow...

The first thing that makes this film immediately stand out from its ilk is the level of writing on hand. The relationships are portrayed here as being quite realistic, and as it is in real life, love is often a good deal more complicated then 'reel life' would have you believe. The love triangle between T.J., Axel, and Sara is realized extremely well; all three involved come off as suitably sympathetic, and there is no reall fault to be laid at anyone's feet. The characterizations are stronger then usual as well; instead of opting out for a yet another batch of fresh-faced teens who's main priorities are to smoke pot, drink beer, and get laid, the characters here are all well into their 20's and working class, and as mentioned before, bear actual burdens on their shoulders. Surprisingly, there aren't many characters that we long to have obliterated, with the exception of one guy who likely is a SCTV character who was left on the cutting room floor. The acting here, for the most part, is what we generally expect from a slasher film, though again, most of the principal players do a good job with what is required of them.

Story wise, the maniac-from-the-past-with-a-grudge-to-settle is hardly original, but Mihalka is able to wring a good deal of suspense from what may seem to be a cookie-cutter storyline. The cliches are firmly in place, such as a screeching old guy who gravely tells the frolickers of Harry Warden, only to have his warnings go unheeded. As well as a killer who seems to be in possession of ESP and the apparent ability to teleport around. One of the film's main strengths is its setting. Shot in the Maritimes, the film has a flavor that is uniquely Canadian, with the obvious maritime accents all the actors possess and more Moosehead Beer then you can shake a fist at. I lost count around the half-hour mark as to just how many Mooseheads were proudly in display. The mine that comes into play by the climax stands out as one of the most intensively claustrophobic setting ever seen in such a movie, and the fact that it was all location shooting adds to the realism of it all. And realism is what perhaps set this movie off the most. unlike almost every other slasher in existence, there is no 'Final Girl' as we know it; there are no improbable acts of heroism, and the killer is not a supernatural force of vengeance, just a man.

On to the kills. Lets just say, the wait was definitely worth it. Even though the new footage is slightly degraded, it really doesn't matter al that much, and seeing Harry Warden's uncensored rampage was more than enough to make up for the poorer quality. The kills are as brutal as anything I've ever seen, and a few contain extremely striking imagery. I'll just say one word: 'showerhead'.

Almost all slasher films live or die by the strength of their killer, and MBV sports what is undoubtedly my favorite slasher. Warden is the very definition of 'menace': clad in the work boots,, the black suit, and the helmet/gas mask ensemble, he truly is a force to reckon with, and coupled with the heavy, Darth Vader-esque breathing, he easily stands as one of the most frightening killers ever to stalk the screen, and it is truly head scratching to know that he hasn't joined the ranks of slasher royalty along side the likes of Voorhees, Myers, etc.

So, is this film art? Hell no. Does it stand head and shoulders over what is generally a sea of mediocrity? You better believe it. So take these words to heart: come Valentine's Day, cuddle up with a loved one, turn the lights out, and watch the blood fly.