American Nightmare
Writing the first post in a brand new blog is an imposing task. You feel obligated to say something momentous, or memorable, or at least vaguely useful. I’ll avoid all that and just review a horror movie instead.
American Nightmare (2002) is a serviceable independent entry into the modern post-Scream slasher genre. The movie doesn’t tread any new ground, but we get good performances from a mostly unknown cast, and the production values are high. Writer/director Jon Keeyes obviously cared about what he was making, even though the low budget shows through in the mostly off-camera gore.
It’s a shame, then, that the plot is so derivative: On Halloween night, some kids were murdered in the woods. The killer was never caught. It’s now one year later. Will the killings start again? (Answer: yes.)
Scream queen Debbie Rochon steals her scenes as the killer, Jane Toppan (no mysterious whodunits here). Jane, unhinged even by serial killer standards, careens wildly through the gamut of emotions, being sexy and sultry one moment before veering into a screaming rage and finally breaking down into sobs.
Histrionics aside, though, we hardly learn anything about Jane. We learn some of her history but her motives largely remain a cipher. This, somewhat surprisingly, works in the movie’s favor, as it gives her a little bit more freedom to be an implacable force of nature, and it gives Rochon yet another great opportunity to chew the scenery. There is, of course, a requisite scene in which Jane is asked why she’s killing all these people, and instead of giving a straight answer she just throws another tantrum. “Why? Why? Everybody wants to know why!” All in all, it’s really quite a memorable performance, especially in one particular scene in which Jane gets up to some business with a knife, the likes of which I’ve never seen before (the business, not the knife). I won’t go into any further detail, but trust me, you’ll know it when you see it.
The aforementioned business, it should be said, takes place in the context of an on-air phone conversation between Jane and “Caligari,” a pirate radio DJ who hosts the titular radio show American Nightmare. Caligari makes for an interesting device, as he never leaves his studio or has any evident direct impact on the movie’s events, but the sound of his voice and his indirect involvement (at times he’s something of a puppet for Jane) help add to the atmosphere. Caligari is played by Chris Ryan, a Dallas DJ with a smooth, professional baritone. It’s a pleasure to listen to him.
As for the non-villainous characters, they exist largely as fodder for Jane’s games. You’ve got your usual cast of stock victims, most of whom aren’t even worth describing. The gem among them, though, is our redheaded Final Girl. Jessie McClain (a nod to Die Hard, perhaps?) is the archetype to the core, traumatized by the loss of her sister (one of the previous year’s victims, naturally) but with an inner strength that comes out in the final confrontation. Brandy Little nails the role, too, reminding me just a bit of Molly Ringwald back in the day.
So what do we have in the end? If I wanted to be uncharitable, I could call American Nightmare a pedestrian, by-the-numbers slasher with largely unimaginative kills, but it’s saved from utter mediocrity by some good performances, careful production and a nicely ambiguous ending. If you’re looking for something new but familiar, you could do worse.
Oh, and welcome to my blog.