We are in the grips of a phenomenon in Hollywood that can only be called the “Stranger Things” effect. Because of it, everything from the ‘80s is being returned to us with new affection either by remake or genre passion. As part of the fallout from this circumstance, We Summon the Darkness is an ode to the slasher films of yore but poses an advancement on the horror subgenre of which director Marc Meyers and screenwriter Alan Trezza clearly have a passion.
The movie begins in 1988 on an Indiana highway. Alexis (Alexandra Daddario), Val (Maddie Hasson) and Bev (Amy Forsyth) are three young ladies driving to a heavy metal concert. On the way they discuss music, sex and Val’s weak bladder. While making a pit stop for gas and Twinkies, they overhear the news broadcast the man at the counter is listening to. There have been a series of ritualistic, satanic murders and the announcer says heavy metal music is to blame. The man behind the counter tells Alexis and company to be careful because there’s so much evil in the world, but they shrug him off and buy fireworks. They return to the road only to be stalked by a mysterious van. It quickly rushes past their car and something is hurled from it. The object explodes, covering the car’s windshield with a brown liquid. The young women appear rattled until Alexis realizes they’ve been attacked by a chocolate milkshake.
One character’s accident is another’s catalyst, and they happen upon the van and its occupants in the parking lot of the concert venue. Kovacs (Logan Miller) and Ivan (Austin Swift) are locals and devotees of the film’s fictional metal band. Their buddy, Mark (Keean Johnson), is about to leave them to pursue his musician’s dreams in Los Angeles, so this is something of a last hurrah for the trio. It feels like fate that the three young men should meet three young women for a casual hookup once the last encore has played, but the specter of those murders looms in the background. Mark, for one, carries a switchblade and seems extremely well-versed in the details of the killings, but what is real and what is red herring? The only way to find out is to head to the after party at the McMansion owned by Alexis’ parents.
It becomes difficult to talk further about plot since Trezza has applied a few twists that feel obvious to veteran watchers of horror films but are best experienced unspoiled. He has a good sense for dialogue and the actors look like they’re relishing their performances with Daddario and Hasson standing out. The villains bring a maniacal panache once they are revealed. Scenery gets chewed but well in service of the characters. Unfortunately, due to homage or laziness, the third act relies on the same sort of coincidence, dumb luck and characters not hearing gunshots for the sake of plot that has plagued slasher films since the inception of the formula, but you won’t care too much because the performers have you invested in who lives and dies.
Like any entry into this genre, enough thread has been leftover for sequels. While it would be possible to follow the survivors after their escape, the movie that is begging to be made would involve Pastor John Henry Butler played by former “Jackass” star Johnny Knoxville. Tall, thin, skeletal and graying, Knoxville’s role clocks in at mere minutes of screen time, but his physicality, intensity and general weirdness make him an ideal movie monster in a less death-defying part of the entertainment industry. In a just world he is our sinister Bruce Campbell.
In terms of direction, Meyers is an adept broker of eeriness and misdirection, keeping our eyes following one character while a knife bears down on another. He has put together a film that is more visually coherent and enjoyable than many bigger horror films like the latest Halloween. You can feel a future where Netflix hires him for a project. It will likely have Stephen King’s name on it and feature cigarette machines and VHS tapes as plot points, or a reimagining of Maximum Overdrive. If we’re going to dive this deeply into nostalgia, we might as well grab the good stuff.
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