Horror remakes, eh? What are they like? When they’re not shot-for-shot photocopies, they’re busy fucking with well-established mythologies. Either way, they’re destined to piss off a good percentage of their target audience. Craig Gillespie’s retelling of Fright Night at least succeeds here, as it spectacularly fumbles pretty much everything that made the reasonably-enjoyable 1985 original worth watching.
Essentially Rear Window (or Disturbia, if you’re not old enough to do your weekly shop at Bargain Booze yet) told with vampires instead of boring human murderers, Fright Night (old version) coasted along on a certain goofy charm and a quiet homosexual subtext that seemed rife in horror movies of the time (I’m talking about you, Nightmare of Elm Street Part 2). Fright Night (today version) eschews said charm and subtext, and instead offers you Colin Farrell with a shark mouth and a former Dr. Who swanning around in leather pants and saying “fuck” a lot (settle down, Tom Baker fans – not him).
Anton Yelchin plays another tonally-blank every-teen (despite the fact the wrinkles in his forehead suggest he’s actually 46), who has to deal not only with a hot girlfriend who wants to do sex with him (OH NO TRAUMA), but also the fact that his next door neighbour might be a snarly vampire who’s preying on the teen and/or stripper populace of Las Vegas. Come to think of it, there’s no “might” at play here – it’s established ridiculously early on that Farrell’s slick sex-pest is indeed a blood-sucking creature of the night. This negates any of the tension from Fright Night (old version) that saw William Ragsdale’s horror movie-loving Charlie desperate to convince those around him that Chris Sarandon liked to drink blood. And possibly man-fat, judging from the muscle-headed bodyguard he kept hanging around his abode (also absent from this version). But definitely blood.
Yelchin seeks out the help of David Tennant’s Vegas magician (a poor substitute for Roddy McDowell’s brilliantly-doddery TV host), whose show specialises in “demonic magic.” This makes little sense – why seek out a charlatan like Tennant when surely a priest would be much easier to convince – but then sense, or character logic, isn’t really something that troubles Fright Night (today version). Witness Yelchin’s instant one-eighty from jittery teen to crossbow-wielding badass – how? Why? Even Farrell’s villain is a damp squib – in the original, Sarandon’s bad guy uses his sexy menace to seduce Charlie’s girlfriend into his arms. Here, Farrell simply deploys the vampire equivalent of a roofied drink, making him less of a feral predator and more a date rapist.
Sluggishly paced, Fright Night (today version) is content to plod along almost at peace with its own dullness; the movie often seems to forget that its protagonists are in mortal peril. There’s a couple of neat flourishes – a one-take attack on a moving vehicle; Yelchin testing vampire lore as Farrell lingers at the back door – but nothing substantial enough to elevate the tedium. And to add the final insult to injury, the 3D is utterly atrocious. Save yourself the effort and money, and go watch the original (and its underrated sequel) instead.
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