On My Bloody Valentine - A Review

My Bloody Valentine (1981) is another one of my all-time favorites and I'll tell you why:

My Bloody Valentine

It was the early '80s and I had one of my first sleepovers at my friend, Denny's. His parents were out for the evening and his brother, who was probably 15-17, babysat us and he loved these slasher flicks, which were still kinda new at the time. Like mine, Denny's family had a laserdisc player, which predated the VCR (you couldn't record anything and the discs were plastic, album-sized beasts). He'd rented some great movies for us to watch, including Flash Gordon, My Bloody Valentine, and I want to say April Fool's Day (though I may be wrong on that last one). My Bloody Valentine was the first slasher flick, and horror film in general, that I ever saw.

As for plot, story direction, character development, and the like -- move on; there's nothing to see here. My Bloody Valentine was among the first wave of true slasher flicks and followed what would become the standard formula: Local guy goes homicidal, kills a bunch of folks on Valentine's Day, is neither caught nor heard heard from again, and the town stops throwing parties on Valentine's Day because they like it that way. Of course, a bunch of young whipper-snappers say, "Fuck uh-That," and the killer shows up to tell them to get off his lawn.

[NOTE: I don't do synopses, because synopses are not reviews, however that one was necessary to discuss the plotz. I cannot promise not to do synopses in other reviews, but I refrain from doing so in general. General restraint is my key to victory.]

The acting isn't bad, but it isn't award-worthy, and the dialogue is pretty bad. As for gore, My Bloody Valentine says it all. While not as spectacular as some contemporaries, such as The Prowler or Friday the 13^th, My Bloody Valentine has its share of nastiness. It has a perfect opening sequence which could have stood on its own for the rest of the film, which is instead bogged down by far too much useless exposition.

The tension and pacing is largely handled by plot points and story beats, but the director brings his talent to the fore as well. The true failing lay in the movie's last 10 minutes or so, when tension is oddly absent.

The reveal makes little sense and continuity errors are sure to send more ardent viewers into fits, but I still enjoy this movie. It is not as good as I remember it, and you could say that nostalgia taints my perceptions, but then I would just make fun of you for saying "taint."

Certainly not the best the field has to offer, My Bloody Valentine has one distinct, saving grace:

Best. Shower scene. EVAR.

© C Harris Lynn, 2010