Night of the Demons (1988)
Angela is having a party, Jason and Freddy are too scared to come. But You'll have a hell of a time.
Year of Release: 1988
Genre: Horror
Rated: R
Running Time: 90 minutes (1:30)
Director: Kevin Tenney
Cast:
Cathy Podewell ... Judy
Alvin Alexis ... Rodger
Amelia Kinkade ... Angela
Linnea Quigley ... Suzanne
Hal Havins ... Stooge
Billy Gallo ... Sal
Lance Fenton ... Jay
Philip Tanzini ... Max
Jill Terashita ... Frannie
Allison Barron ... Helen
Kevin Tenney ... Customer in Convenience Store (uncredited)
Summary:
It's Halloween night. And a group of good-time teens has broken into an abandoned funeral parlor with plans to raise a little hell. And that's exactly what they do. For their intrusion has awakened an ancient, demonic evil whose hunger for human souls knows no bounds. And now, the monstrous predator is out to turn their Halloween party into an unending celebration of sheer terror.
Review:
Night of the Demons, remindin' us that beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but it only remains so at the discretion of the beheld.
And speakin' of blind spots, this may be a stupid question, but how many of you'd sign on if I started a petition to have the embargo on Halloween activities at the Grime Time lifted? Yeah, me neither. I guess that's what two hours' sleep a night for the last eleven weeks'll do to your judgment.
Still, I dunno about the rest of ya, but I feel like all my most cherished Halloween memories've been life-threatening experiences, be they passin' out at a bonfire and wakin' up to your hair catchin' fire, or bein' chased through sage brush by yuppie accountants turned savage. Makes ya feel old just sittin' around watchin' movies with a pellet gun waitin' patiently for groups of teenagers to come sneakin' into your yard with a backpack fulla toilet paper, ya know?
That's what happens though - one year you're young and possessed by the spirit of Halloween, and the next your friends hafta spring an intervention on ya when you're discovered interrogatin' a family of raccoons in the dumpster behind Mack's Stacks of Manly Snacks.
"You realize we're gonna hafta get you a rabies shot now, right?" Sadie Bonebreak sighed, grabbin' me by the patch of hair that survived the bonfire.
"I'm covered through February. And these sonsabitches know somethin'," I insisted pointin' to the mama 'coon who was tryna keep 'er kits outta my reach and eat a half-finished ear of corn on the cob at the same time.
"Alright, that's enough. You've got a date with the hose, my man-- OW! You miserable little bastard!" Duke Tankersley yelped after I gave 'im a warning nip.
"Maybe the emergency room'll be runnin' a two-for-one special," Roxanne Bigelow grimaced, inspecting Duke's hand.
"Piss on that," Duke snarled, headin' for the Sno Chaser.
"Wheow you goih?" Billy Hilliard hollered, grabbin' my right ankle and stuffin' a stick in my mouth.
"You saw Old Yeller, didn't ya?" Duke spat, reachin' for the .30-30 sittin' in his gun rack.
"Easy big fella, I'm sure that was just the psychosis talkin'--" Sadie started explainin' as my hand clamped down on a tit after grasping for, and missing, her dangly pumpkin earrings.
"Once you're back in what passes for your right mind, you're gonna pay for that. But for now, I think you could use a nap," Sadie growled, puttin' me in a sleeper hold and draggin' me toward the Ramcharger while Billy prevented me from spittin' the stick out.
"This ain't over!" I mumbled in the direction of the suspected trash bin terrorists, as the street light behind Mack's slowly dimmed and eventually winked out.
When I woke up I was zip-tied and folded into the rear floorboard of the Ramcharger with my face buried in one of Sadie's work shirts, and I don't wanna be a backseat director or anything, but after that experience, I've gotta seriously question Martin Brest's interpretation of Scent of a Woman.
"Feoweeg behow?" Billy asked, heftin' me off the floor and dumpin' me onto the bench seat.
"Cripes almighty, it may be strong enough for a man, but it clearly wasn't made for THAT woman," I gasped in search of breathable atmosphere.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Mrs. Sadie asked, inspectin' the shipping containers under my eyes that'd once been more manageable carry-on bags.
"Yeah, fine. Thanks. How'd you find me?" I asked, tryna get my foot outta my pocket.
"Mack was gonna call the cops but called me instead," Sadie explained, takin' an unnecessarily sharp left just to sling me into the window.
"Remind me to thank him," I grumbled leanin' down to rub my face on the armrest.
"He didn't do it for you. He was afraid he was gonna get booked for runnin' an illegal gambling operation 'cause everyone in the place had their faces mashed up against the back window bettin' on who was gonna leave the dumpster alive," she chuckled.
"How was I doin'?" I asked.
"Debbie Pogue was givin' 3:1 on the raccoons," she replied.
"Yeah, well, it was five on one. Buncha shady trash pandas anyway, you get anything out of 'em?" I demanded, tryna chew through the zip tie around my wrists.
"Geh wah ow of 'em?" Billy scoffed.
"They know who's been in the house screamin' like a banshee every mornin'. 3:30am, like clockwork, every day... one of 'em must know somethin'," I began trailing off as we pulled up to the house where Duke and Roxanne were waitin'.
Roxanne managed to convince Duke that it'd be traumatizin' for Apollo to hafta witness me bein' beaten to death with a tire tool, and so Duke contented 'imself with eatin' every scrap of sustenance I had and polishin' off the last of my beer. I suppose I got off easy, but I really coulda used a few Pole Cats to help digest what was to come.
"This may sound a little strange, but--" Mrs. Sadie started to say.
"God forbid things get weird," Duke sulked, rubbin' his paw.
"Like you never bit anybody. I can see the hickeys on Roxanne's neck from here," I fired back, makin' things awkward enough to give Mrs. Sadie another opening.
"You said before that the scream was just like Shankles. Well, what if it was?" she posited.
"See, that's gonna be an issue considerin' Cleave wired his jaws shut and stuffed 'im fulla styrofoam!" I yelled, pointin' to the Colortrak where Shankles's husk had been enshrined in its place of honor.
"Yes, but his *spirit* may still be here, trying to break through; trying to tell you something," she persisted, picking Shankles' immortalized carcass up off the TV and scratchin' behind his ears.
"Ya know, I gotta hand it to ya," I said, taking Shankles away from 'er and starin' into his beady, marble eyes.
"What do you mean?" she replied, beginning to look a bit nervous.
"I know where you're goin' with this, and it's so stupid that it makes my rootin' around in a dumpster with diseased rodents the SECOND most insane thing to happen today," I answered emotionlessly.
"It may give you closure. And besides, it's officially Halloween, it'll be fun!" she squealed, holding up her phone to reveal that it'd passed midnight.
"Oh come ah!" Billy objected, having put the pieces together.
"The hell's she talkin' about?" Duke whispered to Roxanne who'd begun to giggle and snort uncontrollably.
"I'll be right back!" Mrs. Sadie beamed, running out to the Ramcharger.
"Why couldn't you people've just left me to conduct my investigation in peace? You don't see the cast of Sesame Street buttin' in tryna counsel Oscar the Grouch just 'cause he lives in squalor," I groaned, passin' Shankles to Apollo, who'd been patiently waiting on my foot.
"There is one bit of silver lining in this," Sadie smirked, gesturing toward the Ramcharger where her missus was preparing.
I'll give 'er this much - Mrs. Sadie definitely fills out a "Sexy Gypsy" costume, which, from what I could make out, consisted of five sheer bandanas and a pair of hoop earrings that were so big Robert Z'Dar could pass his entire head through 'em.
Mrs. Sadie then explained that it would be necessary to wait until 3:30 (the moment at which the departed had previously manifested), so we shifted our attention between the first two Halloween flicks and what lurked beneath Mrs. Sadie's bandanas until it was time to start the seance.
"This's the stupidest thing I've seen since Rocky Pogue dared Talon Higgle to tar seal his own ass crack," Duke remarked as the five of us got down on the floor in a circle around Shankles' mounted remains.
"Can't we at least use the table? I'll never be able to get up when this's over, and I don't wanna live the rest of my life from the perspective of shag," Sadie complained.
"It has to be down here so we can include Apollo. Come here, beebee," Mrs. Sadie called, enticing Apollo with a handfulla popcorn.
"Uh.. fo.. wha' we do?" Billy asked, eyeballin' Shankles like he didn't quite trust the coroner's report.
"Everyone join hands and..." Mrs. Sadie was sayin'.
"With these two 'confirmed bachelors?' No thanks," Duke recoiled.
"Suck balls, Chewbacca," I barked, twistin' a handfulla Duke's neck beard.
"Okay, fine, Billy, switch with me, I'll hold his hand," Mrs. Sadie compromised.
"Now yer talkin'," Duke grinned, before catchin' an elbow in the ribs from Roxanne.
"We are here to commune with the spirit of our departed friend, Shankles. Shankles, if you can hear me, give us a sign," Mrs. Sadie instructed, real spooky like.
"Sorry, false alarm," I smirked.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, whaddya been eatin' glue?" Roxanne gagged, scootin' away from me.
"Hey, have a little respect for the dead," I snickered.
"Whatever it is, I'm not convinced it's dead," she gasped, pullin' her shirt up over her nose.
"Concentrate!" Mrs. Sadie scolded, attempting to restore order.
"Shankles, if you're here, please, speak to us--" Mrs. Sadie pleaded.
"Alright, that's it. I'll be damned if I'm spendin' the night with Ms. Cleo and the Incredible Stinking Man, this's bullsh--" Duke stood up and began to rant, raising his last bite of jerky up to the hole in the ceiling where I'd seen the eye watchin' me sleep a couple months back, only to have a tiny snout pop out and latch onto his snack.
"You gotta be shittin'--" he managed before the jaws started tryna pull the jerky up through the ceiling.
'Course, if you know Duke, you know he's not a man easily separated from his heavily-salted animal flesh, and rather'n just let go, he reached up with his other hand and yanked as hard as he could (which's real goddamn hard) and jerked the perpetrator clean through the ceiling tile.
"Ih cah be," Billy puzzled, looking down at our guest.
"Shankles?" Sadie muttered, extending her hand to the P.O.'d possum that was working to regain its footing in the midst of an insulation-induced sneezing fit.
We all just stared for the better part of a minute tryna work out what was goin' on until finally Apollo got up and licked the little booger's face and led it over to his dish, where he stood vigil while it devoured his kibble.
"Thanks a bunch, pal, just let me think I'm losin' it for months on end! That's why he never woke up when it screamed every mornin' - he KNEW what it was, and he knew it was up there!" I raged in Apollo's general direction as he smiled contentedly.
"So it's not--" Mrs. Sadie squinted.
"'Course not. Look - no gondolas," I demonstrated, hoisting the hissing (but still chewing) critter's rear end.
"Well I'll be greased and fried," Duke cackled, polishin' off the jerky he'd wrested from the possum's teeth.
"Some shitwich musta bought 'er and ditched 'er when the novelty wore off. I was wonderin' why there weren't any mice skitterin' around up there," I shrugged.
"Aww, what're we gonna call this pretty lady?" Mrs. Sadie asked, kneeling down to test the possum's level of domestication.
"Oh, hell no! Not again! YOU take 'er and find 'er a..." I began ramblin' till I turned my head to observe the new arrival belch and curl up next to Apollo's belly.
"God damnit," I groaned.
I've taken to callin' 'er Snaggle as a commentary on 'er dental alignment, and I just wanna make somethin' clear - she ain't MY possum, she's Apollo's possum. I'm not gonna pitch 'er out in the cold and let 'er disgustin' little tail freeze, but whatever she eats is comin' outta Apollo's food ration, and if she needs vaccinations he's gonna hafta get a job and pay for 'em himself.
Woulda been nice to solve the mystery without havin' a partial skylight installed, but just knowin' I'd finally be able to get some shut-eye made it worth it, and since we'd all called in to work on account of Halloween, everybody decided to hang out a while and check out Night of the Demons since it's the kinda flick where you can leave the room for minutes at a time to baby-talk a sleeping possum without missin' any plot points because there aren't any.
Still feels weird not reviewing a flick from the Halloween series, but I'm sure that after a few years somebody'll write a check big enough to entice Mike outta retirement. In the meantime, all I've got left to tell ya about is the best Halloween *party* movie ever made, and one that features some of the gnarliest creatures of 1988; made possible by the filmmakers' decision to devote all their money to the special effects department and Linnea Quigley's lipstick requirements (though to be fair, there is a bizarre degree of overlap).
I don't wanna get real heavy and make a lotta crazy promises about how this flick is gonna change Halloween as you know it; that's not what I do here. Alls I'm gonna do is offer a glimpse into the life you stand to lead once you've borne witness and taken its message into your hearts. I'm still a little hazy on what exactly that message is, but if these three salient points are any indication, rest assured that a mind-altering experience is close at hand.
First, every successful Halloween party must feature a lighting system that doubles as a free epilepsy screening. Second, the exact circumstances may vary, but coffin sex always begins and ends with a stiff. And third, when Linnea Quigley wiggles 'er fanny in a convenience store, the cleanup in Aisle 1 will require a haz-mat suit.
The movie begins on Halloween night, where the weird high school goth girl who can't get a date 'cause everyone's afraid of contractin' a hexually transmitted disease (Angela) is hostin' a party at an abandoned funeral parlor, but before the festivities can begin, she hasta get Linnea Quigley to bend over and do an impression of an executive desk toy with 'er butt cheeks so the teenage dirtbags workin' the 7-Eleven night shift won't notice Angela makin' off with Aisles 2, 3, and 5. Elsewhere, two separate carloads of guests (Stooge, Roger, Helen / Judy, Jay, Max, and Francine) converge on the mortuary, only when Jay tries climbin' into a casket to scare his fellow derelicts, Judy's ex-boyfriend (Sal) pops out and causes a party-wide plumbin' leak that strikes the entire guest list. Next thing, the kids crank their tunes, set up the kinda festive mood lighting typically reserved for the basement at Kodak laboratories, and begin preparing the refreshment stand until the guys movin' the beer chest get mesmerized by Linnea's wazoo voodoo. Then Angela suggests they attempt to contact any stray spirits that never mustered the courage to leave the cadaver halfway house and Helen ends up seein' some kinda devil crustacean in a mirror that causes both she and it to go to pieces until the schlock lobster's essence materializes inside the cremation chamber in the basement and possesses Linnea while she's lookin' for a putty knife to apply more makeup. Having become possessed by the horny spirit, Linnea goes and slips Angela the tongue and causes 'er to get this look on 'er face like she just sat down to drop a deuce and heard somethin' splashin' around in the toilet tank, and while that's goin' on an unseen demonic contractor summons in a crew of black mass masons and orders 'em to wall up the driveway and send the bill to Saint Peter. Then everyone starts rootin' around like Amityville Whores except Rodger and Helen, who try to leave until Helen vanishes and ends up splattered like a June bug on the windshield of a '62 Volvo where Rodger's holed up prayin' for divine intervention to the god of Nordic automakers.
Back inside, Angela now wields the awesome power of tape deckromancy and uses it to resurrect Stooge's dead boom box so she can turn all 'er bones into Silly Putty and perform an invertebrate mating dance until Stooge offers 'er the tongue, which she accepts along with his tonsils and most of his lower lip. Elsewhere, Jay ditches Judy once he realizes she's not gonna give 'im a sip of 'er pumpkin spice twatte and ends up gettin' his eyeballs squished into creamed cornea after makin' the sign of the spasmatic trog wobbler with Linnea even though her makeup looks like one of the guys from Demolition came down with Parkinson's. Then another homeless demon squatter pops into Stooge's corpse while Max and Frannie're doin' a little coffin boffin' and he turns Frannie's neck into a slinky and proceeds to satisfy the requirements for a Casket Match victory a coupla dozen times until Max's arm breaks off and he smothers to death beneath Frannie's immaculate mammaries. By this point it's just Judy, Rodger, and Sal, only they get separated and Judy ends up gettin' chased onto the roof where she finds 'erself hangin' by 'er fingernails until Sal shows up and belly-to-belly suplexes Angela two stories to the ground below, givin' Judy enough time to drop into Rodger's arms before Stooge finds and corners 'em downstairs in the crematorium and starts launchin' his demon ponch at the door. As you can see, there's a lotta intricate set pieces here that hafta be unpacked carefully so as to keep the plot accessible to the layman, so rather than risk confusing anyone at this critical juncture, I think I'ma just zip my lip and leave the conclusion untainted by my personal interpretation. If you're thinkin' about skippin' out, though, just be advised that you'll be depriving yourself of offscreen skateboards simulating levitation, and if that's something you can live with, why're you even here?
Alrighty, well, if you've worked your way through the seemingly endless timelines of the Halloween franchise but crave additional Halloween mayhem, look no further than Night of the Demons, because what it may lack in originality, it makes up for in inspiration; having combined the premises of Bava's Demons (characters being walled in while otherwise occupied) and Raimi's Evil Dead series (everything else). To be clear, there is no question regarding Halloween's superiority, but for parties where attention spans are limited and the guests rowdy, you can do no better than Night of the Demons, which plays equally well with or without sound and includes next to no plot to lose track of between chugging sessions and/or fist fights.
Thinking man's horror it ain't, and from a technical perspective, there's absolutely no way to explain its cultural endurance; it is, as the kids once said, and are apparently saying again, all about the vibes. The late '80s atmosphere is palpable, from the production design, music, setting, fashion, and lighting, it's the kinda flick you can show to a stranger and they'll be able to guess the year of its production by +1/-1, and it is these things (in conjunction with its many cliched tropes) that will ensure it remains in the rotations of genre fans for decades to come. Consequently, this revelation renders every review of the movie irrelevant, as it simply must be seen to be understood, and though I have never let a thing like irrelevance stand in the way of my rambling, I will acknowledge that any attempt to describe why it is essential viewing is doomed to failure, and get down to the nitty gritty a bit quicker than I might otherwise. Just one more intangible positive, I suppose.
The plot is an "eye of the beholder" situation where detractors will call it "tired" while fans would say it's "classic," and both descriptions are accurate. Coming into this expecting anything inspired or fresh (save perhaps who survives) would be a grave error, and while that's the kinda thing that is easily conquered by nostalgia, its formulaic approach will be brutally dissected by a younger audience experiencing it for the first time. Our cast drinks, splits up, and fornicates, and only those pure of spirit will survive to the bonus round when it's time to get *really* nasty. One could point out that in Demons you get to see the theater patrons being walled in as the film within a film plays, whereas here you've got a bonafide gripe when the entrance to the property magically vanishes with no explanation, but the vibes care not for reasoning, and were you to ever point this out, you would be summarily dismissed for failing to receive the flick in the spirit in which it was intended. I dunno what that spirit is, exactly, but I do know that subjecting it to scrutiny is tantamount to critiquing the artistic abilities of a child who spends as much time gnawin' the end of their crayons as they do colorin' with 'em, so between the vibe armor in which the flick is enveloped and the Ten Little Indians plot structuring, you'd do well to just shrug and give it a C-.
The acting is underwhelming, with awkward performances coming from half the cast - the most unfortunate being that of Cathy Podewell as the final girl, who, reasonably enough, quit her day job as a waitress upon being cast in the role. Because there are so many weak performances, I'm inclined to heap most of the blame on Tenney, on the basis that he can't possibly have been giving meaningful direction when the finished product turns out like this. It's not all doom and gloom though; Hal Havins is brilliant as the monosyllabic slob Stooge, Amelia Kinkade shines as the freak turned demon (particularly in the strobe light dance sequence that she choreographed and performed herself), Billy Gallo is cool as a cucumber as the slimeball ex-boyfriend with the clutch scruples, and Alvin Alexis does a nice job as the only character with a hint of depth, as courage and cowardice battle for supremacy within his psyche. Credit for keeping Gallo and Alexis alive the longest to cover the inadequacy of Podewell, but it's just such a bizarre decision to cast her in the lead when every other woman in the cast demonstrates a higher degree of acting talent. Even Linnea Quigley seems rudderless despite brief flashes of world-class weirdness, which, thankfully, redeem her overall performance. I don't have an answer - call it inexperience on the part of the actors, writer (some of the dialogue would be clunky and unnatural for adults, let alone teenagers), and the director. It's as good an explanation as any.
Here's who matters and why (besides Linnea Quigley, 'cause she's Linnea Quigley): Hal Havins (Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama, Witchtrap), Allison Barron (A Nightmare on Elm Street II, The Haunted 1991, Blood Nasty), Alvin Alexis (The Brother from Another Planet), Cathy Podewell (Reunion from Hell), Karen Ericson (The Return of Count Yorga), Donnie Jeffcoat (Ghoulies II), James W. Quinn (American Satan, Forgotten 2022, Visible Scars, Endangered Species 2002, Night of the Demons 2 & 3, Lurking Fear, Pinocchio's Revenge, Witchtrap, Witchboard), Amelia Kinkade (Night of the Demons 2 & 3, My Best Friend is a Vampire), Jill Terashita (Sleepaway Camp 3), Kevin Tenney (Endangered Species 2002, Arrival II, Witchtrap).
And the renegades: Billy Gallo (Francis Lottabucci on Boys Will Be Boys), Cathy Podewell (Cally Ewing on Dallas), Donnie Jeffcoat (Joey Buchanan on One Life to Live, and as himself on the immortal Wild & Crazy Kids), Philip Tanzini (Jeremy Hewitt on General Hospital).
The special effects are superb, and no doubt feature prominently on the film's itemized list of production costs. Strong though they are, vibes alone are not enough to overcome the flick's shortcomings, but thankfully, the production values are bolstered mightily by the work of Steve Johnson (who would go on to marry Linnea Quigley after taking her body cast for the infamous lipstick/breast sequence) and eight additional members of the effects crew. There really is no substitute for experience, and mercifully, the effects department is one of the few areas (David Lewis also had a respectable cinematography resume) where experience was not lacking, as Johnson had already cut his teeth on flicks like The Fog, Humanoids from the Deep, An American Werewolf in London, Videodrome, and The Howling II by the time he was hired for Night of the Demons, and it is my belief that he and his crew saved this movie from the dustbin of history.
Specifically, the opening sequence (animated by Kevin Kutchaver and Kathy Zielinski) is endearingly cheesy and puts you in the perfect frame of mind for a goofy, gory Halloween flick; the matte painting of the mortuary is charming (but unconvincing); Linnea Quigley's fake boob that absorbs the lipstick dispenser is pretty slick; the crispy fingers on Amelia Kinkade are excellent; Linnea Quigley's demon makeup is suitably gross if not particularly frightening; the eyeball bursts are phenomenally repulsive; Lance Fenton's facial appliance (post eyeball-smoosh) is decent; the meat of the severed arm is as good as the arm itself is bad; and the demon makeup applied to Havins and Kinkade are killer, both before and after their respective charbroilings. This aspect of the movie is its saving grace, and to whomever was working lighting for this flick and went uncredited - I see you, and I respect your game.
The shooting locations would rate good to great had they set the story in a haunted house, the home of an executed serial killer, or maybe the scene of a massacre, but wheeling a few caskets into a house does not a funeral home make, and with the exception of the basement crematorium (not bad), the house is wholly unconvincing at being anything more than what it is despite the best efforts of the prop master. There wasn't much dressing up to be done, as the house was reportedly in pretty rough shape at the time of filming (some of the furniture had been left by its previous tenants). The setting is a great one for a horror flick, with fine cinematography and sharp lighting, but the decision to designate it a defunct mortuary remains a major unforced error that, on a technical level, is a failure. The only other location is the convenience store that Linnea and Amelia rip off before arriving at the party, and it's an excellent slice of '80s Americana, complete with an arcade cabinet featuring Pac-Man gameplay sound effects ripped from the Atari 2600. True, the setting and the specifics surrounding its identity will not affect the viewing experience one iota, but from a "delivering what's being advertised" standpoint, it doesn't.
The soundtrack is equal parts synth scoring and Headbanger's Ball, with both halves being composed and performed by Dennis Michael Tenney, who would frequently score films for his brother in a Band-esque arrangement. For fans of '80s rock you can't do much better, as Tenney's three contributions ("Computer Date," "Victims of the Press," and "The Beast Inside") are all kick-ass tunes that suit the tone of the flick to a tee; though the standout track is probably Bauhaus' "Stigmata Martyr" that accompanies Amelia Kinkade's devil dance. The instrumental portion is equally effective, and does a nice job setting the stage right outta the chute with a catchy, melodic title track that combines a synthesizer and harpsichord (maybe it's an organ, I'm not sure) to great effect; earning it the #42 position on my list of the Top 100 Horror Movie Scores of the 1980s. Tenney would go on to score Witchtrap, Witchboard 2, Leprechaun 3 & 4, Grim, and Night of the Demons III, but this soundtrack remains his greatest achievement to date, and his musical contributions foster an atmosphere so perfect that you'd have to be a total curmudgeon to complain about the inaccuracy of the flick's setting upon seeing the effect the music has on the film's mood. Top-notch stuff.
Overall, Night of the Demons is near the top of the heap for non-Halloween franchise Halloween titles, with a festive mood that mitigates most of its technical shortcomings. The lazy writing and mediocre acting can't suppress the movie's vibe, and fans of '80s horror who haven't had the pleasure will wanna check it out this and every Halloween season, as it fits the part of both party favorite and background flick - allowing a person to put it on any time and enjoy its waves of nostalgia in rapt attention, or enamored inattention. A must for any October lineup, definitely check it out (again).
Rating: 74%