Really Awful Movies

An odd mashup of Lifetime movie and travel vlog, the latest Road House tries to steer itself in a people-pleasing direction.

The Road House – so named by its owner, who also meta-named his watercraft, The Boat, is in a pickle. You see, the violence-plagued saloon’s going through bouncers like Italy does prime ministers.

The solution? Spending 20k in a month (!) on a bouncer/consultant. No wonder this bar is in trouble.

Anyway, the dump’s proprietor, Frankie visits an off-grid cage fight, approaching a sloth-eyed ex UFC fighter, Dalton (Jake Gyllenhaal), who’s proven his bad-ass bona fides by making another fighter (graffiti-faced rapper Post Malone), quit BEFORE the bell. This reviewer has heard of fighters ducking opponents to artificially inflate their records and “no mas” quitting on their stool mid-fight…However, waving the white flag after merely GLANCING across the ring? You know, because the star of Brokeback Mountain is so intimidating?

Soon, Dalton is introducing bikers and bar drunks to a special menu of knuckle sandwiches, equipped with quips – first asking, “do you have health insurance?” and the like.

You see, this Key West, Florida bar (you know, Key West, that haven of violence that’s comparable to the favelas of Brazil) attracts drunk degenerates who will throw down before even starting a tab. And a local condo maven, Brant, has the tavern – a holdout and obstacle to future development – in its sights. He’s looking to muscle in on the owner with help from lead henchman, Conor McGregor, who stupidly references his “Notorious” UFC handle in a bar fight and smartly quips about going “clubbing” with golf accouterments.

Road House is way more leisurely/casually paced and smarter and more charm-filled than the lunkhead Hallmark philosophizing we got in the first film. Plus, the doc / bouncer romance is played up in this one, to solid effect, thanks to a neat turn by Daniela Melchior (Guardians of the Galaxy/Fast X).

However, the two-hour runtime and star are debit strikes against: while McGregor, probably out of his mind from Peruvian marching powder and whatever other ahem, enhancements, is a welcome addition to the proceedings, Gyllenhaal, despite looking the part, is strangely miscast.

What’s also weird about Road House is how lush it is – seriously, the visuals of South Florida are absolutely stunning. It’s more like the Miami Vice retread in that respect. Also, instead of quintessential chicken wire bar acts like the Jeff Healey band, The Road House has zydeco, reggae, rock, blues bands gracing the stage, a metaphor for not knowing its audience, perhaps?

It’s difficult to see who this one is aimed at, but there have been bigger reboot misfires.

*** (out of 5)

Kiss of the Vampire – not to be confused with Vampire’s Kiss – is a lip-smacking good time.

Despite the absence of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, who alone or together were in nine Dracula Hammer Films (with Cushing also in the third installment of the Count Karstein trilogy, Twins of Evil) Kiss of the Vampire can “stake” its claim as one of the studio’s best and remains decidedly under the radar.

And that’s a shame: after all, it’s got all the warm blanket hallmarks of a good Hammer production: newlyweds, a dusky castle, ornate drawing rooms, lush oil paintings, sweeping staircases, candelabras, iron door knockers, suspicious villagers, and of course, a patrician sophisticate.

Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt are driving through a Bavarian forest. When their car runs out of petrol, they make their way to a local inn to get help, where they meet two of its idiosyncratic operators.

Par for the course, the place isn’t fully booked and hasn’t been for years. However, there is one fellow guest, a boozy professor theologian who resembles Coffin Joe and who’ll be called into service later.

As the Harcourts settle in, they’re invited to dine at the home of an upstanding gentleman, the one Herr Doctor Ravna, a Teutonic man of exquisite taste and refinement. They’re treated to weirdly stilted repartee and a truly oddly hypnotic piano recital by the doc’s son, Karl.

Soon, the Harcourts are waltzing about at a lavish masquerade ball, complete with a Viennese orchestra and fine French dining. With Mr. Harcourt indisposed by the drink, Karl dons his mask, and lures the misses up to Doctor Ravna’s bedroom.

As gorgeously colourful as fellow Hammer bloodsucking horror classic, Captain Kronos Vampire Hunter, Kiss of the Vampire bests that one with funnier, snappier dialogue.

Kiss sticks pretty close to the lore of the source material, save for the inclusion of a cult subplot, which actually works in its favor. The only thing that doesn’t, is the effects in the closing scene.

While not among the very best vampire films of all time (we can bestow that cape upon the likes of Nosferatu, Christopher Lee’s Dracula, Nosferatu the Vampyre and perhaps one or two others) Kiss of the Vampire comfortably sits among the “next best” tier of vampire horrors, alongside Near Dear and Martin.

**** (out of 5)

For a fuller discussion of Kiss of the Vampire, check out the Really Awful Movies Podcast.