(1982)
Dir - Norman Thaddeus Vane/Elly Kenner
Overall: MEH
A vampire-adjacent work in exploitation, The Black Room explores both extramarital shenanigans and a sibling duo who siphon the blood from unwilling hosts due to some weird ailment that necessitates frequent transfusions. Arriving just at the cusp of the AIDS epidemic, shots of hypodermic needles and a story revolving around a married scumbag renting out the black room of the title so that he can fornicate with as many prostitutes and college girls as possible behind his wife's back, (safe sex, what's that?), give the movie a timely agenda. This may be unintentional, but it adds some weight to what is otherwise just a grim and sleazy genre flick, be it one that maintains a serious tone. Co-director Norman Thaddeus Vane's script leans heavily into voyeurism and fantasy, with characters achieving unwholesome satisfaction both vicariously and through physical indulgence where a married couple face their insecurities and knee-jerk justifications all while syringe murders are happening right under their noses. Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" is frequented on the soundtrack, and Robert Harmon's cinematography mixes unassuming domesticality with garish dread. Too flimsy in its plotting to recommend, but it packs a nasty punch all the same.
(1983)
Overall: MEH
Not to be confused with Pete Walker's 1974 movie of the same name, Frightmare, (The Horror Star), pokes fun at the campier aspects of horror cinema while adapting a slasher framework that was concurrent with the era. Released anywhere between 1981 and 1983 depending on the source, this is the first solo venture behind the lens from screenwriter Norman Thaddeus Vane, who pits a ham-fisted horror thespian against some eager fans that crash the funeral home after his death, pulling off some Weekend at Bernies shenanigans with his corpse. A young Jeffrey Combs appears as one of the said genre aficionados who does his own cornball posturing while mugging his way through cliched Dracula quotes, and The Fearless Vampire Killers' own Ferdy Mayne portrays the Vincent Price stand-in, having some postmortem fun with his hoodlum fan base after killing two film directors in the first act. Everyone on screen is an annoying and over-acting asshole, plus the pacing is surprisingly languid for such a ridiculous premise that seems to be going for laughs yet only awkwardly achieves them, if it achieves them at all. It has plenty of macabre window dressing done in a tongue in cheek fashion, but Vane's screenplay seems to be missing key information, and it becomes more of a meandering mess than an effective spoof in the process.
(1988)
Overall: MEH
For anybody who wants to see Lynn Redgrave do an Elvira impression for eighty-five minutes, writer/director/producer Norman Theddeus Vane's Midnight has you covered. What Redgrave may lack in the chest department compared to Cassandra Peterson, she more than makes up for with overacting pizzazz and some of the most groan-inducing quips that any screenwriter ever concocted. Speaking of overacting, Tony Curits also gives it his all as a sleazy TV station head, and any movie that throws Frank Gorshin, Tommy Lister, and Wolfman Jack into the mix as well is worth something at least. Watching Redgrave deliver macabre "jokes" as her on screen horror host persona where her audience yells them back at her is insufferable, but her wild costumes, embarrassing mugging, exaggerated hand gestures, and overall goofy enthusiasm is still admirable. Unfortunately, the movie makes the gravest error that a comedy can in that it is hardly ever funny when it is trying to be and try it does. Unfocused at best, Vane's screenplay never catches its footing as either a Hollywood send-up or a macabre spoof, even as the bodies start piling up. The cheap production values hardly help, and it is more awkwardly tacky than anything, but this may also be exactly what entices some viewers to it.
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