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Plot: who or what lurks within the darker bowels of the English countryside?

The 1970s were a decade of constant and grand innovation in horror and exploitation. No other subgenre went through greater evolution than the vampire movie. Hammer, the British film studio that once led the charge in revitalizing classic horror, found itself falling behind the times. Continental Europe and Latin America were pushing the envelope by infusing the old-fashioned gothic horror with a healthy dose of blood and boobs. The earliest example of the form probably being monochrome shockers as The Slaughter Of the Vampires (1962), Emilio Vieyra’s Blood Of the Virgins (1967), and Roger Vadim’s Blood and Roses (1969). What really led to a veritable deluge of erotic vampire horrors were two little genre exercises from France and Spain, respectively. It were Jean Rollin's The Nude Vampire (1970) and Jesús Franco’s Vampyros Lesbos (1971) that introduced some of the most enduring innovations to classic vampire lore. Their impact was so profound and immediate that it compelled Hammer to respond with the Karnstein trilogy of Vampire Lovers (1970) (with Polish bombshell Ingrid Pitt), Lust For A Vampire (1971) (with Danish ditz Yutte Stensgaard), and Twins Of Evil (1971) (with marvelous Maltese minxes and Playmate of the Month for October 1970 Mary and Madeleine Collinson). Rollin and Franco were fringe filmmakers who could appeal to an arthouse audience if they were so inclined. The Nude Vampire (1970) and Vampyros Lesbos (1971) not only were beautiful to look at, above all and before anything else they extolled the virtue of the female form, preferably disrobed and gyrating.

When he came to make Vampyres José Ramón Larraz had perfected his female-centric, sexually-charged formula to its most poignant form. While his debut Whirlpool (1970) and Deviation (1971) showed the occasional limitations in budget it was with Scream… and Die! (1973) and Symptoms (1974) where Larraz found his footing. Vampyres was hardly the first of its kind. It was preceded by Daughters Of Darkness (1971) and The Velvet Vampire (1971) (with Celeste Yarnall) on each side of the Atlantic and by Paul Naschy’s Count Dracula’s Great Love (1973) and The Dracula Saga (1973). It was consummate horror enthusiast Amando de Ossorio who had truly kicked open all the doors with his delightfully old-fashioned Malenka, the Vampire’s Niece (1969). Vampyres was a culmination of everything that Larraz had done at that point and the added benefit of experience allowed him to execute his vision in the ways he desired. Vampyres deconstructed the vampire film as much as it innovated upon it. The anemic premise was more of an excuse to work around limitations in budget and locations. What it lacked in production value it made up with acres of skin and lesbian histrionics courtesy of professional nude models Marianne Morris and Anulka Dziubinska. Larraz was as much of a provocateur as he was a businessman. He filmed where the money took him and what was fashionable on the market. In case of Vampyres the money took him to the pastoral, fog shrouded English countryside for an erotic vampire romp. Vampyres made no qualms about what it was and neither did Larraz for that matter. Against impossible odds Vampyres would become the quintessential Spanish vampire epic. In other words, Vampyres was, is, and forever will be, a stone-cold classic of European weird cinema and there was no immediate need (or want) to have it remade.

How often does a remake attain the level of the original? Practically never, a few rare examples notwithstanding. Regardless, Víctor Matellano has done just that and it conclusively proves that remakes, especially if they arrive some forty years after the fact, are as futile and pointless as these things usually tend to be. Which doesn't take away from the fact that Vampyres gets most of everything right. Perhaps the biggest difference is that this Vampyres opens with the quote, "she sprang from the bed with the force of a savage animal directly to my wound, sucking my life's blood with indescribable voluptuosity” from the short story La Morte Amoureuse (or The Dead Woman in Love) by Théophile Gautier. If nothing else it immediately sets the tone for what you’re going to get. Boasting two hot new stars, a swathe of young talent and half a dozen ancient Iberian horror icons Vampyres has its black heart in the right place and never is afraid to claw for that nostalgia itch. Regardless of one’s own feelings about the necessity of remakes of beloved classics the good thing is that Matellano obviously has a deep love and kind appreciation for the 1974 original. His well-intended and lovingly crafted remake of it is an enjoyable enough homage if you come to it with metered and measured expectations. While we hold the original as an untouchable and unsurpassed highpoint of nudity-laced Spanish fantaterror Matellano happens, by design or by happenstance, upon a few improvements by tweaking a few minor variables in his modern treatment. Is Víctor Matellano the Álex de la Iglesia or Alejandro Amenábar of the Instagram and Tiktok generation? Only time will tell.

Harriet (Verónica Polo, as Veronica P. Bacorn) and John (Anthony Rotsa) have travelled to the English countryside for a vacation and to shoot a documentary of local superstition concerning forest-dwelling witches. Harriet is the most pro-active in regards to the documentary while John just sees it as a convenient excuse for a little relaxing getaway. The young couple has brought along their mutual friend Nolan (Víctor Vidal) who hopes to make amends with his jilted ex-girlfriend Ann (Alina Nastase). In another part of town Ted (Christian Stamm) has checked in in his hotel, and decides to explore the environs. The receptionist (Lone Fleming) and hotelier (Caroline Munro) wax philosophically about what fate awaits him. Ted spots Fran (Marta Flich) wandering along the road, and offers to drive her to wherever she’s going. Fran directs him to a nearby mansion, offering him a drink to relax and immediately starts to seduce him. When he wakes up the following morning he has a nasty gash on his arm. Bewildered he stumbles into the tent of John and Harriet who take to looking after his injury. The following night he runs into Fran again, but this time she’s in company of her friend Miriam (Almudena León) and a man called Rupert (Luis Hacha) and his lady friend Linda (Remedios Darkin). When he wakes up the next morning Ted finds it odd to discover the lifeless and naked body of Rupert in what appears to be a car accident. This prompts him to investigate the darker bowels of the aristocratic mansion and somehow he manages to get himself locked in the cellar.

The next night Fran and Miriam bring in another victim to exsanguinate. When they are done with him they discover Ted locked in the cellar, and their weakened guest doesn’t mind the prospect of a potential threesome, even if the two women end up draining him of more than just his seed. After they’re finished with him and he’s in a dazed and confused state of phlebotomized stupor, Fran and Miriam feast on each other. Harriet has experienced going-ons at the mansion, mostly in the form of a mysterious scythe-wielding man (Antonio Mayans) skulking the environs, and decides to investigate. Her curiosity leads to her to mausoleum beneath the mansion, and the crypts wherein Fran and Miriam reside during the day. John returns from his morning excursion to find Harriet investigating the mansion, and leads her back to their tent moments before she’s bound to find the captive Ted. Fran and Miriam surmise that Harriet and John are posing too much of a threat and zone in on them. It might just be enough for Ted to plan his escape. The morning after his escape Ted is woken up by a real estate agent (Hilda Fuchs) and a senior couple (Conrado San Martín and May Heatherly) and learns that the mansion has been abandoned for decades.

In what turns out to be a very respectable remake this new incarnation follows the story faithfully and loving re-creates all the signature scenes and moments. Perhaps its faint praise but by changing a few variables around and slightly altering the lead character dynamic somehow has managed to improve on the Larraz original. The most important change here is that this Vampyres focuses on the kids first and only then introduces the motorist as a more abstract secondary viewpoint character. It also helps that the kids are actual young adults and not grown-ups like in the original. Less original is perhaps the reason why these kids are on their little excursion. They are out camping on a quest to document a tale of witches in local superstition in what can only be described as the umpteenth retread of The Blair Witch Project (1999). Reflecting the drastically lower budget the camper has been downgraded to a simple tent. And then there are the two incredible leads, Marta Flich and Almudena León. If you want to nitpick, Matellano has not kept the blonde-redhead duo intact. Perhaps there’s a point to be made that the supposedly aristocratic homestead isn’t sufficiently palatial and time-worn enough. What considerably bogs down Matellano’s homage is that it’s shorn of that vivid color palette and warmth of old-fashioned 35mm with hard/soft lighting and in its stead is that desaturated color scheme and washed out grey cinematography of digital video. It’s surprising how much this looks like the median Rene Perez indie or Arrowstorm Entertainment feature but these are truly minor criticisms.

Marta Flich and Almudena León throw themselves into the roles made legendary by Marianne Morris and Anulka Dziubinska and do so convincingly and completely. Whereas Morris and Dziubinska were professional nude models that allowed Larraz to use their bodies – contorted, exposed and otherwise - as canvas, Flich and León are acting professionals up for a challenge. To their everlasting credit (and like their predecessors some forty years earlier) they are absolutely not shy about baring their skin and getting covered in blood. Also not unimportant is that Matellano was wise enough to change the age brackets of the vampires around. Marta Flich is the youngest of the two and her seduction of the motorist makes more sense in that regard in contemporary times. When Almudena León finally joins in the whole thing becomes ever so more potent. Vampyres also gives Eurocult fans something to chew on with a host of familiar faces from Mediterranean pulp cinema. Caroline Munro, Lone Fleming, Antonio Mayans, Conrado San Martín, Hilda Fuchs, and May Heatherly represent several decades’ worth of some of the finest Spanish exploitation. It’s great seeing beloved old screen veterans paid respect to with major or minor supporting roles.

The prominence of La Morte Amoureuse (or The Dead Woman in Love) gives Vampyres a beautifully poetic undertone rendering it broadly French, narrowly fantastique, and specifically, Jean Rollin with its hazy oneiric atmosphere and very minimalist premise. As far as remakes go Vampyres is one of the better examples of why such an exercise occasionally yields worthwhile results. For one, it gets the tone right and stays very close to the original with only minor deviations here and there. Marta Flich and Almudena León have some obvious chemistry on-screen and are separately (and together) as beautiful as actresses like them come. Yet how hard they might throw themselves into their respective roles and the filth and the sleaze they get to partake in they never quite attain the same sizzling sensuality as the original duo of Marianne Morris and Anulka Dziubinska. Is this remake perfect? No, obviously not. It would be folly to expect such a thing. Something like this was never going to be able to capture that impossible to explain sweltering atmosphere of dread and sleaze that the 1970s as a decade so perfectly encapsulated. Yet the last thing Vampyres can be accused of is not trying to channel the spirit of the original. While it may not quite get there exactly it’s never for a lack of trying.

Plot: lone officer stands between terrorists and apocalyptic annihilation.

Interceptor makes exactly zero qualms about what it is. Described by director Matthew Reilly as a throwback to the late 1980s/early 1990s American action movie Interceptor replaces the retrograde and regressive machismo of the 1980s with progressive and socially conscious (or woke, a pejorative to some) sensibilities of the current day. Savaged by critics and review-bombed into oblivion by irate legions of anti-SJW hordes for all the obvious and not-so obvious reasons the dour reputation Interceptor has managed to garner in record time is entirely (and richly) deserved. Expelled from Hollywood's ever-shriveling creative colon to little fanfare and even littler positive press Interceptor makes Gods Of Egypt (2016) look sophisticated. Contra rationem and all expectations it clocked in a mind boggling 50 million hours viewed almost overnight. Netflix, understandably, immediately greenlit a sequel. Meanwhile, Netflix remains ever silent on long overdue sequels to BuyBust (2018), Furie (2019) and Maria (2019).

A labor of love on part of director Matthew Reilly, producer/writer Stuart Beattie and actor Chris Hemsworth (who executive produced and cameos) Interceptor is as blatant, obvious and naked a homage as, say, Blast (1997). At the very least this one has its heart in the right place as it liberally borrows the central premise (and entire scenes) from Die Hard (1988), the military setting of Under Siege (1992) while lifting a crucial plotpoint wholesale from The Rock (1996). Filmed over a brief 33 days in New South Wales, Australia on a modest budget of just $15 million Hemsworth installed his wife Elsa Pataky as the lead (Netflix would probably have gone with Katee Sackhoff) and was able to attract action director/choreographer Sam Hargrave to the project. And just like Vincenzo Natali’s infinitely superior Cube (1997) everything was filmed on a single set. Needless to say Interceptor often looks like a videogame due to an overabundance of blue/green screen composition and digital post-production effects. Lest there be any doubt, this is a low to mid-budget action movie on a tried-and-true formula; one that Hawaiian trash specialist Albert Pyun and Cirio H. Santiago perfected several decades ago.

Reassigned to a remote interceptor launch site somewhere in the Pacific Ocean after the conclusion a high-profile and much-publicized case of sexual misconduct by a five-star general (Kim Knuckey) disgraced captain J. J. Collins (Elsa Pataky) is deployed to be less of a nuisance to the top military brass. After being welcomed aboard and briefed by captain John Welsh (Paul Caesar) J. J. is given her chambers while lieutenant colonel Clark Marshall (Rhys Muldoon) takes the time introduce her team in the command center: signal analyst corporal Rahul Shah (Mayen Mehta) and outwardly bigot corporal Beaver Baker (Aaron Glenane). When she lays eyes upon former military intelligence officer Alexander Kessel (Luke Bracey) and Fort Greely in Alaska is overtaken by enemy forces and 16 nuclear warheads are simultaneously seized from Russia she senses something is afoot. Her worst fears are confirmed when Kessel hijacks the platform and Beaver is revealed to be the traitor in their midst. Kessel threatens to annihilate 16 American cities if his demands are not met. Collins first tries to reason with Kessel but when he sends in his goons and second-in-command Kira (Ingrid Kleinig) to kill her, all bets are off. With the warheads set to deploy in 12 minutes, Collins wages a desperate war of attrition to avoid a mass nuclear holocaust.

JJ strips down to a white wifebeater just like John McClane in Die Hard (1988) and like Casey Ryback in Under Siege (1992) she too is a disgraced military operative. Kessel’s threat of nuclear annihilation is identical to that of Francis X. Hummel in The Rock (1996) and Beaver’s ultimate demise echoes that of Karl in Die Hard (1988) and that of a Russian heavy enemy combatant in Rambo III (1988). As a nostalgia throwback this ticks all the required boxes without any grave deviations from the established genre conventions. It’s the sort of thing that Steven Seagal used to make a living at before he descended into direct-to-streaming hell. From the opening scene the plot unfolds exactly the way you think it will and every character conforms to its designated archetype. Naturally there are no real surprises at any point. History seems to be repeating itself as Interceptor is exactly the kind of thing that production companies and distributors shat onto the booming home video market 40 years ago, except now it’s Netflix dumping it unceremoniously onto its once-leading streaming service. If this is any indication of the quality in the future of the service it looks like their best days are now well and truly behind them. Netflix once was better than this.

Not too make too much of a point of it but everything is a bit rough around the edges here. For one the choreography and direction is a lot more fluent and graceful than usual in American action, but it’s still far too clunky and brawly. Pataky does the best with what she’s given and there’s an absolute minimum of cutting during the routines. Can Sandra Escacena, Nicole Bilderback, Ella Hunt or Analyn Barro finally get their big action movie now? The edgy writing is about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the temple (or groin) as it duly checks off just about every hot-button issue and controversial political event. It’s all here: #MeToo, the American elections, Russian nuclear armageddon, bigotry, willfull ignorance in the Information Age and right-wing grifters and conspiracy theories. No wonder the MAGA blockheads and anti-SJW crowds went absolutely ape-shit over this. The proselytizing is so much on the nose that it borders on shit-posting. While we’re sympathetic (and very much in favor) of the politics that Interceptor espouses there are more elegant and subtle ways of doing this sort of thing. Pataky’s thick native Spanish inflection occassionally makes her unintelligible and in the tenser scenes Bracey will regress, wittingly or otherwise, back to his Oz accent. Considering the brutally unnatural circumstances under which was filmed, it isn’t half bad. The special effects are a mix of practical and digital which is admirable in and of itself.

What there’s to say about what basically amounts to a direct-to-video mid-budget actioner that’s utilitarian and by the numbers? Well, that. Interceptor is utilitarian and by the numbers. Not once is Interceptor touched by the sacred flame of inspiration. There’s something admirable about doing on a feature on one location and when in the third act JJ does finally break out of the bridge/command center and ventures to the exterior of the platform, it makes you wonder why Reilly didn’t use it more. In Die Hard (1988) and Under Siege (1992) every enemy kill represented a milestone within the larger story. Not so here. While the initial kill of Machale is at least halfway promising the rest of the goons are uneventfully and matter-of-factly killed in close-quarter combat. JJ’s facing off with Kira and finally Kessel feels so underwhelming that it makes you wonder why these two were made out to be supposed formidable adversaries. And that’s the thing with Interceptor. It’s good for what it is, but it never aspires to be anything more than a sum of its parts. Perhaps the proposed sequel will build on what’s set up here – but as a stand-alone feature it leaves something to be desired. Time will tell whether Interceptor will be remembered as the surprise hit of 2022.