Destroyer (Robert Kirk, 1988)

Destroyer is no great shakes visually and the characters aren't as developed as they should be, but its charismatic cast, punchy edit, and offbeat approach to the slasher film kick it up a couple notches from the standard late '80s cheapo horror movie. It's hard to recommend to anyone who's not already into low-budget horror, but if you are, I give it my lukewarm approval. It doesn't suck, but it won't blow your mind.

Set in an unnamed small city (a blend of filming locations Newark, New Jersey, and the small Colorado town of Brighton, three hours from my rural Nebraska hometown), Destroyer is about a Hollywood movie crew shooting a cheapo women-in-prison movie in the unnamed town's recently abandoned prison, which closed after a horrendous riot resulted in the deaths of several prisoners and guards. The prison's handyman/janitor Russell (Tobias Anderson) is retained by the film crew to maintain his old job and also serve as a consultant, but the facility is otherwise deserted, though a local urban legend maintains that executed serial killer Ivan Moser (Lyle Alzado) survived his ride in the electric chair and is secretly living in the building. Non-spoiler alert: the urban legend is true.

Our main characters from the film crew include a couple, stuntwoman Susan Malone (Valley Girl's Deborah Foreman, now mostly retired from acting and currently teaching yoga and Pilates in my adopted city of Austin, Texas, though she still takes on the rare acting gig) and screenwriter David Harris (Clayton Rohner), director Robert Edwards (Anthony Perkins, a last-minute replacement for Roddy McDowall), absent-minded electrician/pyrotechnic expert Rewire (Jim Turner), and lead actress Sharon Fox (Lannie Garrett), who is pining for past glories, phoning in her performance, and clashing with Edwards. Foreman and Rohner are reunited from the previous year's meta-slasher April Fool's Day, in which Rohner played smarmy rich prick Chaz Vyshinsky and Foreman pulled double duty as rich socialite twins Buffy and Muffy St. John. In Destroyer, Foreman and Rohner earn the Decapitated Zombie Vampire Bloodbath Award for Onscreen Couple with Tallest Hair, 1988 Edition.

Most of the cast and crew know they're making schlock, but they want it to be reasonably professional, entertaining schlock. Sharon, meanwhile, makes trouble by deliberately giving bad performances and fighting with Robert, and David causes behind-the-scenes trouble by digging too deep into the causes of the prison riot and attempting to include elements of that true story in the screenplay or possibly a future screenplay. 

He blames the former warden, Karsh (Pat Mahoney), in a local television interview about the production, angering Karsh, who visits the set hopping mad. Robert calms him down with some smooth talk and introduces him to Sharon, who he's a big fan of and who shares his low opinion of the production. Unfortunately for him, he also meets Ivan during an ill-timed bathroom visit.

The rest of the movie alternates between the ups and downs of the low-budget filmmaking process (mistimed pyro, melting dummies, negotiating the shower scene, etc.) and slasher-movie kills from Ivan. It's a fun time, and I like the setup of a movie crew being picked off one-by-one in an abandoned prison by a 'roided-up maniac, though first-time filmmaker Robert Kirk gives it a perfunctory, TV-movie-ish look (the remainder of his career would be spent making edutainment documentaries for cable TV) with the occasional flashy shot. I'd love to see a take on this same material by a more experienced filmmaker with a strong visual personality. The edit really flows, however, and has a momentum and energy that the directing lacks.

The cast makes everything more watchable, too, despite the thinness of the writing. Alzado is a fun, campy killer who can also be intimidating and threatening, Perkins is excellent at getting a lot from a little, Jim Turner brings most of the successful comedy, and Foreman and Rohner are likable screen presences. Foreman also gets to do a lot of physical stuff in the final third, and she successfully pulls it off. I wish she'd had a longer career with more leading role opportunities. She's so great in Valley Girl, truly one of the best American movies of the '80s.

I couldn't end this post without mentioning the titles of the two songs played in the movie that aren't part of the instrumental score. I believe these two songs encapsulate the human experience: "Never Say You'll Never Fall in Love" and "Kiss My Stinky White Ass."