Witty, wild, groundbreaking, heartbreaking, and scary, Fright Night is a triumph of mid-80s filmmaking and a movie that, no matter how many times you watch it, never ceases to offer something new.
Groundbreaking, visually stunning, expertly written, and proudly queer are just a few of the words I could use to describe Tom Holland’s Fright Night, a movie that still outshines many modern comedy horrors 41 years after its release. Taking inspiration from Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window and Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot, while adding lashings of B-Movie charm and some truly stunning practical effects, Fright Night is a movie that on paper shouldn’t work, yet in practise knocks the ball out of the park.
Charley Brewster (William Ragsdale) is a confessed horror nut who has all the frustrations of teenage life. He has been going steady with his girlfriend Amy (Amanda Bearse) for a year, but can’t get beyond second base. His wild friend ‘Evil’ Ed, the fabulous Stephen Geoffreys, is outperforming him at school and his mum seems determined that he get married as soon as possible. But for all the tensions and frustrations eating away at Charley, it’s a new neighbour, Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon), and his partner, Billy Cole (Jonathan Stark), who are about to become his biggest ball ache.
One night, as Charley and Amy make out while washed-up horror movie actor Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowall) presents his ‘Fright Night’ TV show on the box, third base is suddenly interrupted by the new neighbours moving a coffin into their house. Completely distracted by the events next door, Charley ignores the fact that Amy has taken off her top and is sitting on the bed waiting for him, instead turning to his binoculars. It’s the kind of neighbourly curiosity that could get a teenage boy into trouble, and it’s not long before Charley sees far more than he should. While his mum is worried the new sexy neighbours might be gay, Charley knows the truth… they’re fucking vampires, and they need to be ‘outed’ immediately!
It’s at this point that Fright Night morphs from a Rear Window tongue-in-cheek horror to an enthralling and devilishly entertaining game of cat and mouse, as Amy and Ed, believing Charley has lost the plot, call up the now-cancelled Peter Vincent for support in getting their friend back on track, not knowing that Charley is far from mad.
To say Tom Holland’s movie is a watershed moment in ’80s cinema is an understatement. Like John Landis’ An American Werewolf in London four years earlier, Fright Night re-energised the classic monster flick for a new mid-80s teen audience and paved the way for The Lost Boys (1987), The Monster Squad (1987) and a whole lot more. While many look back at ’80s horror as the golden age of the teen slasher, Fright Night made classic monster flicks cool again, and suddenly Vampires, Werewolves, and Mummies came out of the closet. And since we are talking about closets, let’s address Fright Night’s proudly queer subtext.
Much has been written over the years about the clear relationship between Jerry and Billy, and the inherent bisexuality of Jerry, a vampire who has had many relationships with both sexes throughout his immortality. In many ways, there’s nothing new here; the Vampire has long been associated with queer intimacy and sexual liberation. However, less has been written about Stephen Geoffreys’ ‘Evil’ Ed and his journey toward liberation. From the outset, Ed is an outsider, someone who is bullied at school, ostracised and laughed at. Charley is his only friend, yet even Charley keeps Ed at somewhat of a distance. When Jerry offers Ed the opportunity to embrace a man and promises he will no longer be bullied, tears run down Ed’s cheeks as he hugs Jerry tightly and waits for the sting of Jerry’s bite.
For me, Ed is the queer character at the heart of Fright Night, and his story is both heartbreaking, humorous, and bold. For many queer ’80s kids, the idea of sexual freedom was a distant hope, as they firmly shut the closet door and attempted to pass unseen, often using humour as a cloak of defence. The scene where Jerry recruits Ed is heartbreaking as Ed finally succumbs to his internal need for sexual freedom. And that’s not the end of Ed’s heartbreak. I defy anyone not to shed a tear upon him encountering Roddy McDowall’s Peter Vincent for a second and final time.
Finally, that brings me to the performances, screenplay and practical effects that made Fright Night an instant cult classic. While William Ragsdale may brilliantly lead the cast, Fright Night is an ensemble film, with every character allowed to bathe in the spotlight throughout the picture. From the seductive charm of Chris Sarandon’s Jerry to the nervousness and impatience of McDowell’s fantastic ageing actor, the stunning transformation of Amanda Bearse’s Amy, and the tragedy of Geoffreys’ ‘Evil’ Ed, every performance is pitch-perfect. Add a screenplay that shines with wit, charm, and horror, and practical effects that build on the foundations of An American Werewolf in London and The Howling, and Fright Night becomes one of the finest comedy horrors ever to grace the silver screen.
Forty-one years after its release, Holland’s movie continues to draw in new fans, and while some aspects may have dated, the effects look fresher than those of the ’90s films that embraced early CGI. Witty, wild, groundbreaking, heartbreaking, and scary, Fright Night is a triumph of mid-80s filmmaking and a movie that, no matter how many times you watch it, never ceases to offer something new.
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