Once Bitten (Howard Storm, 1985)

One of the few films to properly examine the obscure affliction known as "Waking Up Goth," or, as it's called in the stranger parts of Manitoba, "Irritable Bauhaus Syndrome," the erudite Once Bitten playfully probes the overnight pale phenomenon with the warmth of over-lubricated dildo. Gently poking infrequently traveled confines is one thing, creating an avant-garde tribute to luridness that both conservative families and W.U.G. suffers can enjoy is quite another. A herculean challenge to be sure, but I thought the lighthearted film by Howard Storm was able to balance this heady criteria rather deftly, as it entertains and illuminates in an equal and evenhanded manner. Whether it's being a no-holds barred vampire comedy, or an enlightening glob of synergistic trumpery, the film never once panders or talks down to its audience. Which is weird for something appears to be so stupid on the surface. However, the surface is just a thing's outer coating, to really understand the nitty-gritty of something, you have to look deep into its inner core to be able to extract its true essence. And that's exactly what I did with this film. Oh, you should have seem what I managed to extract; the mess was out of this world. I couldn't help but feel an odd kinship towards this film, as the situation of high school senior Mark Kendall (Jim Carrey) mirrored my own. Now, I wasn't bitten on the thigh by some Countess (Lauren Hutton) in search of the rejuvenating blood of an unsullied teen. I would have liked to have been, but I wasn't. No, what I connected with was Mark's sudden bout with W.U.G. You see, like Mark, I, too, came down with a severe case of Goth when I was a teenage person. Unlike Mark, however, it wasn't exactly an overnight thing; I gradually found myself wearing a lot of black clothing and shunning the light of day.

Also, the manner in which Mark had to keep denying that he was dressed like a vampire really rang true with me, as I remember having repeatedly inform people that I was just going through a phase. Of course, it wasn't a phase, as proven by the fact that the mere sight of footwear not adorned with three or more buckles still manages to make me violently ill. (Seriously, why would anyone wear shoes without buckles? It doesn't make any sense at all.)

Anyway, watching the pasty dilemma of Mark Kendall in this film was like an energizing breeze gently caressing not yet gaping asshole of a lower tier porn star.

Now that I got all that mildly irrelevant nonsense out of the way, I want to focus on the actual ingredients that went into making Once Bitten the minor masterpiece that it actually is. Which is going to be difficult, because it doesn't actually possess the elements of your atypical masterpiece (sweeping camera angles, portentous dialogue, or an Italian American wedding). However, that's where my affinity for digging deeper comes in. And surprisingly, I didn't have to dig that deep to find it.

The montage where Jim Carrey's Mark and his dorky friends Jamie (Thomas Ballatore) and Russ (Skip Lackey) drive through Hollywood, much the same way Heidi Holicker, Nicolas Cage, Deborah Foreman and Cameron Dye did in Valley Girl, is the film's first standout scene. Capturing the garish vitality and upstart spirit of the mid-new wave period, this sequence is filled with shots of neon signs and the funky fashions of the day, and perfectly sums up the glorious era. If only every film had a late night driving montage through Hollywood circa 1981-85.

The other scene that ushers Once Bitten into the uncrowded realm of the masterpiece was the Halloween dance sequence to the strains of "Hands Off" by Maria Vidal. Now, Jim Carrey and Lauren Hutton have already proven their merit in the film: Jim's physicality during the showdown in the clothing store change room and Lauren in the seduction scene of Jim at her palatial home. So I wasn't shocked by their flair on the dancefloor. I was, on the other hand, completely taken aback by the sheer foxiness displayed by Karen Kopins as Mark's frigid girlfriend, Robin Pierce. You see, up until then she was bland and mousey (and not in a hot librarian kinda way). But when she sees that a forty-something vampire, her long legs encased in black pantyhose, is making an aggressive play for her suddenly Goth boyfriend, the previously dowdy Robin unleashes a firestorm of sexual artistry and taupe pantyhose at the grievous state of affairs, and begins to thrust and contort her previously unused organic structure in all sorts of arousing directions.

Dressed as Jill sans Jack, Miss Kopins somehow manages to hold her and then some with the statuesque Hutton and the nimble Carrey, as the motley threesome engage in a mind-blowing dance off for the ages. I liked how none of them seemed to use body doubles. Which was quite impressive considering how advanced some of choreography appeared to my neophyte eyes.

After the dance scene is over, I noticed a change in Karen Lopins' character; she seemed more confident, more comfortable in her own skin. Speaking of which, the amount of leg Karen shows during the finale at Hutton's mansion was unequivocally awesome. I adored the way she had her legs crossed as she sat bound and gagged, and plus she got tell Lauren Hutton's character, an aging vampire who needs to consume the blood of a virgin male in order to remain relatively youthful in appearance, to "fuck off" in a forthright manner.

Stealing scenes without the benefit of having shapely legs (though I'm sure their nice in their own peculiar way), the film is held together by Cleavon Little, who earns the majority of the film's intentional laughs via his seemingly utter disdain for the material. Playing Sebastian, Hutton's chauffeur/butler/makeup artist, the deadpan Little injects the film with a liberal amount of snide comments and bitchy one-liners.

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