Mirror, Mirror 2: Raven Dance (Jimmy Lifton, 1994)

"It's just wood and glass." Oh, movie nuns, why won't you allow there to be any wiggle room when it comes to believing in evil mirrors? Yeah, you heard right, I said "evil mirrors." Which can only mean on thing: The reflective surface that keeps on giving is back and ready to manipulate another attractive, young, socially maladjusted girl in Mirror, Mirror 2: Raven Dance, the unasked for sequel to the mildly campy 1990 flick about an outcast teen and her tumultuous friendship with a sinister piece of furniture. Taking the concept envisioned by Annette Cascone and Gina Cascone (I love it when sisters put aside their hair brush-related differences and team up to create mirror-based horror), writer-director Jimmy Lifton (he also produces and composes the film's music score) grabs the reigns and moves the action to a nunnery on the outskirts of a place where there aren't any nunneries. Unsatisfactory in terms of bloodshed, the second chapter of the glassy saga is missing the underlying menace of the first Mirror Mirror–where I recall many people being killed in a satisfactory manner. On top of that, it just happens to feature one the worst kiddie actors I have ever seen. Seriously, every line he utters was excruciatingly bad. Call me wrongheaded, but I kept wishing that the baneful mirror would straight-up murder his whiny ass every time he appeared on-screen with the seemingly inanimate object.

Of course, I'm not gonna let a couple of little things like awful child acting and a complete lack of mouth-watering gore ruin what is essentially a pretty good psychopathic mirror movie. No way, man, there's got to be something that merits a cockamamie tongue bathing. And I think I may found it floundering amidst the doctor-patient relationship that forms between Marlee (Tracy Wells) and Dr. Lasky (Roddy McDowall).

You see, the doctor is constantly trying to cover his patient's organic sexiness with blankets and sheets. Why he's doing this is a tad convoluted – it's got something to do with Roseyn (Sally Kellerman), her gaudy blazer-wearing stepsister, being left out of a will. But make no mistake, his desire to induce drowsiness is steadfast.

Now, I don't know if I've made this clear or not, but the sense of despair I felt every time Dr. Lasky rendered Marlee unconscious was palpable. I mean, to see her dainty frame repeatedly covered with nondescript nunnery linens was quite disheartening. However, the fact that Marlee would always resist the shady quacks "mild sedatives" was gratifying to say the least.

This defiance was expressed mainly through the majesty of dance, as Marlee seemed to feel most at peace while flailing around in a convulsive marrying of physicality and artistry. Take away her ability to dance, and you're dealing with one unhappy convent resident.

Only problem being that she owes a good-size chunk of her dancefloor prowess to the nondescript mirror languishing menacingly in the corner of her bedroom. A mysterious wild card named Christian (Mark Ruffalo) who shows up every now and then to act suave and give Marlee positive re-enforcement is also responsible for her new-found confidence. Not to sound paranoid, but I think the mirror and Christian might be in cahoots with one another. Either way, there's gonna be some serious consequences when all is said and done.

Everyone, with the exception of Tracy Wells (Mr. Belvedere), seems to talk to themselves in Mirror, Mirror 2: Raven Dance. Sure, I can see why William Sanderson (who was in the first film as a completely different character) talked to himself, as he was an alcoholic pantie sniffer with some intense mental problems. And I can see how Sister Aja (Veronica Cartwright - man, this film's got a pretty solid cast) might chat with herself on occasion, you know, because she's blind and might not realize the person she was talking to has left the room. But as for everyone else, shame on you.

Inheriting the making-out with a bloodstained mirror mantle from the alluring Rainbow Harvest, the resplendent Tracy Wells makes the transition between gamboling to being bedridden with an effortless rarely seen in straight-to-video horror films about malevolent mirrors. Whether searching for her cat (Pie-Whack-It), lying motionless, or pirouetting with spunk, Tracy takes not wearing pants to whole 'nother level of pantlessness.

To be honest, I tried my best not to notice that Miss Wells' lower extremities were never covered. Yet, despite the unscrupulous doctor's blanket-obsessed intentions, the film gave me no choice but to obsess over her stems. I'm not complaining or anything like that, I was just hoping to judge Tracy's performance from a non-leg-centric point-of-view. Which, as far as I could tell, was competent; even by Raven Dance standards.

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Mirror Mirror (Marina Sargenti, 1990)

A mirror normally provides nonjudgmental feedback to those who look upon its surface. Whether it be a causal glance or a more purposeful glare, the mirror will not lie to you. No matter the level of your self-esteem, the information retained will be coming from a totally unbiased place. On the other hand, if, say, the mirrored surface, the one that just happens to be creepily sitting in the corner of your newly acquired bedroom, is the gateway to a demonic netherworld, the reflections it furnishes may not be the most trustworthy. I'd recommend keeping it turned against the wall in the back of a barely opened closet. I mean, other than throwing it in the ocean or shooting it into space, this is probably the best, and the least expensive solution to curbing its wicked behaviour. Unfortunately, the complete opposite occurs in Mirror Mirror, Marina Sargenti's creepy teen horror extravaganza that owes a large debt to film's like, Carrie, Heathers, Beetlejuice and Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael. The mirror is promptly awoken from its fifty year slumber, by someone who has little or no experience fighting epic battles with possessed furniture, and is ready to once again inflict harm on those who dare to look in its general direction. What is essentially a Goth survival guided masquerading a supernatural thriller, the film follows the shy misadventures of one Megan Gordon (Rainbow Harvest), who has just moved into a new house with her recently widowed mother (the always awesome, always wonderfully deranged Karen Black) and her two dogs. As expected, the not-so perky student repeatedly finds herself at odds with her overly chipper classmates. (The looks of derision she gets will ring true for anyone who has selected sullen stripling as their subculture of choice.)

Sporting a healthy penchant for dark clothing, the black-eyed newcomer defies the odds and befriends a non-Goth named Nikki (Kristin Dattillo), much to the chagrin of her athletic, sandwich-loving boyfriend. (I wish I had lived in a 1990 where Goths had friends named Nikki.)

The friendship with the kindhearted Nikki eases Megan's awkward transition and gets her used to new surroundings. However, nothing can seem to stop the constant harassment she faces at the hands of Charleen Kane (Charlie Spradling), a catty wench who bullies Megan with the help of her sycophantic friends. In fact, it's gets so bad, that the oppressed outsider resorts to, like the majority of aggrieved teenagers, employing the malevolent assistance of the bloodthirsty mirror in her bedroom.

Her single-minded intention? Exact some painful vengeance on those who dare to agitate her Gothic integrity. Of course, things start off small: a vicious nose bleed here, a heart attack there. But soon the acts of retribution increase in their ghastliness, as Megan begins to slowly succumb to the mirror's evil allure.

The morbid splendour that is the performance and wardrobe of Rainbow Harvest as the glum Megan is what constantly elevates Mirror Mirror from being your standard mirror gone awry flick. Obviously emulating the stellar work of Beth Gondek as Jess Browning, the doomed new waver in Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II, Miss Harvest manages to excrete a graceful elegance as the troubled mirror owner.

Which is something you wouldn't normally expect from someone who spends a great deal of time lurking around in a black Boy George style cowboy hat. But that's just it, despite these apparent roadblocks, Rainbow comes off as sexy and mysterious. So much so, that even her impromptu make out session with her blood covered mirror comes across as mildly titillating.

Also an eyeopener was the film's unique take on goths and physical education. Now, as a rule, the two usually don't mix. But, like its kooky premise, this film isn't about doing what's conventional. I can't count the number of times I saw Goths, or as they were called in my day, "Freaks," fleeing phys-ed for darker, less structured pastures. Yet, to see the ashen skinned Megan partaking in tennis and water polo was not only an illuminating spectacle, but a bewitching treat for the goth/freak senses.

I'd like to comment more on the merits of Mirror Mirror as a horror film; you know, things like gore, atmosphere and Yvonne De Carlo. But since I didn't really pay much attention to that aspect of the film, I'm gonna have to pass.

I will say that I did enjoy the editing of the water polo-shower sequence. Cutting back and forth between shots of a bodacious Charlie "Take a bite of peach" Spradling in the shower and underwater footage of her classmate's legs frantically kicking during a heated water polo match, the tension of this particular bit was just smidgeon behind Rainbow Harvest's mirror molestation scene in terms of perversion and overall entertainment value.

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