Vampire's Kiss (Robert Bierman, 1988)

According to the unofficial film criticism handbook, there are precisely two options you can choose when attempting to construct a review for Joseph Minion's Vampire's Kiss (a.k.a. Поцелуй вампира). The first, and most obvious one, involves feigning mock disbelief over the sheer zaniness of Nicolas Cage's performance as an unhinged yuppie named Peter Loew. Here's an example of what you might stumble across in a review of this type: "The film's biggest surprise comes in the form of Nicolas Cage, whose go for broke performance as mid-level literary agent Peter Loew is a thing of over the top beauty." While I would love to extol the many virtues of Nicolas Cage's "go for broke performance" (it's features Nic Cage at his most Nic... Cagey), I think option number two is more my style. What's that? I haven't said what option number two entails yet. Isn't it obvious? Oh, wait. I said number one is obvious, and both can't be obvious, can they? Actually, option number two is pretty obvious, but only if you're in any way familiar with how my brain works. If you are, then you know what I'm about to say next.

Option number two revolves around Stephen Chen, who plays "Fang Vendor," i.e. the man who sells Nicolas Cage his vampire fangs.

Now, you're probably thinking to yourself: How does one construct an entire film review around Stephen Chen's "Fang Vendor"? Well, you can't. In fact, no one can. That's because I'm kidding (despite my reputation for being ultra-serious, I like to kid around every once and awhile). Anyway, all kidding aside, option number two involves black stockings. I know, what a shocker.

With the exception of Maria Conchita Alonso, every female character who appears in this film wears black stockings. Hell, I bet even Debbie Rochon, who plays Bar Girl #2, is wearing black stockings, and I don't even think I saw her (she apparently appears somewhere in one of the nightclub scenes). But let's be realistic, no woman would be caught dead at a nightclub without black stockings attached to her legs... in 1988.

Nowadays, you're lucky if they're wearing shoes (part of me dies whenever I see someone at a nightclub wearing shorts and flip-flops).

You know what else the film is? It's a feminist allegory, or maybe it's an anti-feminist allegory? It's hard to say. The film is very schizophrenic that way. Nevertheless, keen observers will notice that Nicolas Cage rarely interacts with men in this film. His co-workers are women, his psychiatrist is a woman, his girlfriend is a woman... his "imaginary" vampire lover is a woman.

I don't know why I put the word imaginary in quotes, as it's clear that Rachel (Jennifer Beals) only exists inside Peter Loew's head. I guess part of me kind of wishes she was real. I mean, who doesn't want a biracial woman, whose legs, don't forget, are never not sheathed in black stockings, to come over every once and awhile to suck blood from your neck? Actually, now that I think about it, maybe it's not such a good idea after all. No, not the biracial woman in black stockings part (I'm in favour of both), the blood sucking part. It sounds painful. Of course, maybe pain is your thing.
   

It wasn't always like this. There once was a time, believe it or not, when Peter Loew dated women who simply wanted to have no-nonsense sexual intercourse at the end of the day. And one of these women, Jackie (Kasi Lemmons), seems quite taken with Peter Loew. So much so, that she agrees to go home with him. Unfortunately, the sexual intercourse they engage in when they get there is anything but no-nonsense. And, no, I'm not referring to speed in which Jackie removes her black stockings, I'm talking about the bat that flew into Peter's apartment as they were getting it on. Yeah, a bat. Talk about nonsense.

While most people would lose their wood during an incident like this, Peter tells his shrink, Dr. Glaser (Elizabeth Ashley), that he was turned on by the bat confrontation. She tries to tell him that his erection was simply a hold over from being with Jackie (residual hardness, if you will), but Peter quickly points out that his aroused state was strictly bat-based. In other words, it was a brand-new boner.

Meanwhile, at work, Peter is having a different problem all-together. You see, there's this contract that he can't seem find. Not wanting to waste anymore time looking for it himself (he's got stocking clad vampires to shag), he assigns a woman named Alva (Maria Conchita Alonso) to look for it instead. I think most of you will agree that this subplot probably shouldn't take too long to resolve itself.

So, did you hear? A mid-level literary agent finds bats to be a turn on. Isn't that crazy? I mean, talk about your... Wait a minute. It would seem that Alva is having trouble finding the contract. That's odd. Did she check the right file? (I wasn't gonna say anything, but it could have been misfiled.) Misfiled? How does someone misfile something? What could easier, it's all alphabetical. You just put it in the right file... according to alphabetical order. You know, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z! Huh? That's all you have to do! I wanted to watch a movie about female vampires in black stockings, not one about misfiling.

To take his mind off the whole filing fiasco, Peter heads down to a nearby bar to unwind. There he meets Rachel, a sexy vampire. Of course, he doesn't know she's a vampire. But he gets a clue that she might be when she bites him on the neck during clothed coitus. The cool thing about Rachel, besides being a vampire, is that she never takes her stockings off. Her stockings, by the way, are like her heart, black as the night sky.

Now, granted, Jackie always wears stockings, too. But she takes hers off occasionally *gasp!* and she isn't a vampire... so, Peter literally ditches her. At an art gallery, no less. He tries to make it up to her, but the lure of a woman who never takes off her stockings is too much for Peter to ignore.

While Nicolas Cage, the cockroach scene, and the glut of black stockings have always gotten the bulk of the attention over the years, I think New York City is the real star of the show. Director Robert Bierman (a Brit) manages to make the city seem more alive than usual. Yeah, I realize that it being 1987-88 (the height of the city's power of as a cultural mecca - The Tunnel is featured in this movie, yo) has a lot to do with it. But I have to say, Vampire's Kiss is definitely up there with movies that make me love New York City.

On a sort of related note, I used to despise the modern, Bloomberg/Giuliani/Fallon corporate cesspool version of New York City (I blame  shows like, Girls, Friends and Sex and the City), but Broad City has softened my contempt for the place somewhat, the "St. Marks" episode in particular.

Fear City (Abel Ferrara, 1984)

If a retired boxer, one who currently runs a talent agency that hires out strippers to the city's strip clubs, meets a psychotic kung-fu master in a dark alley, who would win? Okay, first of all, you have to ask yourself: What's at stake? I mean, the victor has to come away something, or else the contest is meaningless. Well, if the former wins, he gets to continue dating a heroin-addicted Melanie Griffith. As for the latter, he gets the opportunity to finish his literally masterwork. Just curious, what might that masterwork be called? It's called "Fear City," which just happens to the title of my latest cinematic foray into the depths of stripper-adjacent misery. And secondly, how did these two men, who, besides being trained fighters, end up at odds with one another? That's simple, their lifestyles don't mesh. The former boxer makes his living exploiting women for monetary gain, the material artist, on the other hand, while he doesn't exactly "make his living" doing this, enjoys doing bodily harm to the women the former boxer is trying to exploit. You're probably thinking to yourself: An ex-boxer who exploits women (he's basically a pimp with an office) and a deranged weirdo who wields nunchucks after dark (he's basically Joe Spinelli in Maniac, you know, without the mannequin fetish), these are the guys I'm supposed to root for? It's true, they're both scumbags. Nevertheless, I found the film's lack of judgment towards them and the rest of its characters to be its greatest strength. Whoa, hold on there, buddy. Let's not get carried away, shall we? You're right, the film's greatest strength is actually the authentic New York City flavour, specifically, the scenes that take place on 42nd Street, it puts out there on a semi-regular basis. But the fact the lead characters were deeply flawed individuals was very appealing.
 

 

The film, directed by Abel Ferrara (The Driller Killer), might not judge the characters, but that doesn't mean Al Wheeler (Billy Dee Williams), a cynical homicide detective, is going to let them off so easily. You think I'm kidding around? If it's your job to provide the strip clubs that dot the Manhattan landscape with able-bodied strippers, Al Wheeler doesn't like you. If it's your job to provide the strip clubs that dot the Manhattan landscape with able-bodied strippers, and you happen to be of Italian extraction, Al Wheeler straight-up hates your ass.
 

 

Now, I was going to add an Italian slur before the word "ass," but I don't want to appear to complacent about Al Wheeler's intense dislike for Italian-Americans. Having said that, I thought Al Wheeler's anti-Italian stance added yet another layer to this morally complex tale about pimps, strippers, and lowlifes. You see, Al Wheeler, who presents himself as a champion of justice, is basically a reprobate with a badge.
 

 

You'll notice that I called the guys who run the "talent agency" that provide the strippers, or, as they're sometimes referred to, "exotic dancers," for the city's strip clubs as "pimps." The reason for that is I have no idea what to call them. In my mind, if you make money off the exploitation of women, you're a pimp. Not that there's anything wrong with being a pimp. It's just that I don't feel comfortable calling them, oh, let's say, talent agents.
 

 

Looking at the sheer extravagance of the film's opening scene, you might be inclined to think that the producers of Fear City  paid millions of dollars to capture of the seedy charm of 42nd Street in the early 1980s. But I'm sure it didn't cost nothing at all. What I think I'm trying to say is, the director simply has to turn on his or her camera and the energy of the street does the rest. 
 

 

After the opening montage, which included as a dizzying array of garish billboard lights and a steady concourse of thong-ensnared undercarriages gyrating in time to the beat, has finished, the film begins to focus on a blonde stripper named Loretta (Melanie Griffith). Oh, and before you let out a groan. Remember, this is Body Double Melanie Griffith, not Shining Through Melanie Griffith. (The reason I didn't reference Working Girl Melanie Griffith is because I like Working Girl.) Anyway, Loretta, who is wearing full-length blue sequined number with a massive, and I mean, massive, slit down the side, has the audience eating out of her hand.
 

 

Just as we're about to get a close-up shot Loretta pulling down the zipper of her dress, Matt Rossi (Tom Berenger) and Nicky Parzeno (Jack Scalia) arrive at the strip club with much fanfare. If they're not cops, and don't own the joint, what is their connection to this place? I'll answer that question in a minute, Loretta is about to pull on her zipper. Yeah, baby. Great shot, Abel Ferarra; very sleazy. Okay, where was I? The connection. It would seem that Matt and Nicky run the Starlite Talent Agency, the city's premiere stripper emporium. If you need a stripper, these are your guys. Obviously, the owner of this fine establishment, Mike (Michael V. Gazzo), thinks they're his guys, as all his strippers come from their agency. If only he could pay them on time.
 

 

Collecting their weekly commission might be the primary reason they showed up at Mike's club this evening. But judging by the preoccupied look on his face, it's clear Matt's mind is elsewhere. He's thinking about Loretta. You see, the two used to date, and from where I was sitting, they were going at it like bunny rabbits. When their attempt pick up the earnings goes nowhere, Matt decides to pay Loretta a visit in her dressing room. Only problem is, a fellow stripper named Leila (Rae Dawn Chong) has gotten there first; he catches them making out. Leaving in a huff, Matt grouses about what he saw to Nicky, who basically tells him to forget about her.
 

 

It's a good thing Matt has a friend like Nicky he can lean on for support. But more importantly, the actor who plays Nicky, Jack Scalia, also does an excellent job of placating Tom Berenger's non-Italian-ness. I'm serious, if Jack Scalia wasn't in this movie, I wouldn't have bought Tom Berenger as an Italian-American ex-boxer haunted by his past for a second.
 

 

As Loretta is finishing up her performance, and believe me, it's a performance (the crowd reacts to her like she's a disco star), another stripper, Honey (Ola Ray), is dragged into a nearby alleyway by an unknown assailant; who stabs her repeatedly and cuts some of her fingers off.
 

 

Surprisingly, Matt and Nicky are the first to visit her in the hospital. Maybe I was a little harsh on them when I called them pimps. Sure, you could say they're just worried about their property. But they seemed genuinely concerned about her well-being. And I don't know any pimps who can pull off the genuinely concerned routine. In fact, Honey's trauma causes Matt to reflect on an incident that occurred when he was a boxer. In order to help us understand where he's coming from, a flashback sequence is implemented that details the time when Matt killed a fellow boxer in the ring.
 

 

"Get her ass off the bar." And with that line, Billy Dee Williams makes his presence felt in the Fear City universe. Walking into the Metropolitan A Go-Go, a seedy strip club with a wonderfully sleazy atmosphere (much sleazier than Mike's establishment), Billy Dee's Det. Al Wheeler is there to bust Matt's balls and to hurl anti-Italian ethnophaulisms. Getting back to the club for a second. It's true, the waitresses can't seem to get your drink order right (what part of the phrase "no ice" do you not understand?), but the joint is crawling with the right kind of scuzziness. The club's owner, Frank (Joe Santos), a scumbag who loves his new JVC speakers, tries to confront Al Wheeler, who's getting all up it Matt's grill. Big mistake. A visibly annoyed Frank tries to interrupt Al's "conversation" with Matt, to which Al responds, "Am I talking to you, wop?" Frank answers his question with a question of his own, "Then who the hell are you talking to? Al, without missing a beat, says, "I'm not talking to you." It's a great exchange. As it not only does it expose Al's over the top dislike for Italians, but also shows that the people who work in the strip club world don't much care for the cops either.
 

 

The linguistically aware will notice that Al Wheeler has used to words, "wop," "dago," "cesspool," and "greaseball" (a slur he uses twice) during his time at Frank's club. The word "guinea" is uttered, but he unleashes that hateful chestnut later on in the film: "There's nothing I hate more than guineas in Cadillacs."
 

 

With animosity between the victims and the police at at all-time high, it's no wonder the "New York Knifer" (as the local press dub him) seems to have been given free reign to do whatever he pleases. Played by John Foster (though, there's been much discussion about the actual identity of the actor of who plays the killer), the New York  Knifer attacks strippers who look like Rae Dawn Chong (subway platform), Maria Conchita Alonso (apartment), Janet Julian (sidewalk) and Get Crazy's Lori Eastside (the park). If you want to know why the New York Knifer is stabbing his way through the stripper community, look no further than the pages of his manifesto, which, of course, is titled "Fear City." 
 

 

If I had to pinpoint a single moment in Fear City that encapsulates the film's overall appeal, I'd have to say the scene where a heroin-addicted Melanie Griffith enters Metropolitan A Go-Go looking to score some quick cash does the job. Standing in sunglasses in front of a wall of lights that spell out the word "girls" over and over again, Melanie is, in that moment, the poster girl for urban desperation. A state that Abel Fererra manages to capture multiple times over the course the film, but no more so when Melanie is jonesing for a fix. The other thing that made Fear City stand out was the fact that the strippers stopped going to work when the killer started chopping off their heads. I can't tell you how many films of this type that feature clueless characters who continue going about their daily routine despite the fact that there's a killer on the loose. In other words, I appreciated it when they showed the clubs were practically empty.

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