When it comes to Hollywood vampires, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt did nothing to make me want to roll down the collar of my turtleneck sweater (What? Like you don’t own a turtleneck sweater? They are a wardrobe staple, you know).
Those pretty boy romantic seducers of the vampire genre never warmed my blood. There was only one blood-sucking creature of the night for me, with naturally curved lips, an extreme bad-boy persona, and a motorcycle no less: Kiefer Sutherland. Boo-yeah.
The year was 1987, the film was The Lost Boys and the thrill was all mine. Finally, a horror I could sink my teeth into, where the protagonist (Jason Patric) and the villain (my boy Kiefer) were equally worthy of a poster on my dusty-rose coloured bedroom walls.
I should also mention both of these men were also good enough for Julia Roberts, as she reportedly left one of these handsome fellows for the other – so clearly I was on the right path to my own Pretty Woman sequel.
I am not a fan of horror films. I never have been. This is because I am the little sister of a much older brother who got a sick pleasure out of introducing me to films like The Exorcist and Black Christmas, because that’s what siblings did in my generation – without consequences, I might add.
You know how my brother got away with it, kids? Easy. Because when my parents went out for dates they didn’t have mobile phones. We did not have the ability to text, call or track them with GPS to insist they return home immediately or risk years of paying for my therapy, thanks to a twisted sibling and his poor babysitting judgements (I hope that bowling league was swell, mom and dad).
The Lost Boys was the first horror film that wasn’t really a horror so much as a classic ‘80s film; a product of the time, with humour, actors with big hair and long earrings, and a soundtrack that included none other than The Doors.
When the vampire lair, tucked into the cliffs of the California coastline, has a giant painting of Jim Morrison as part of its creepy décor, well, these were so totally my kind of vampires.
And the leader of the pack was Kiefer. Mesmerizing eyes, deep voice, arrogance? What’s not to love when you’re a 17-year-old girl who can’t quite fill out a turtleneck sweater? In a vampire-victim scenario, even Keifer would take the bait. You have to have hope – that is the message here, people.
This weekend, I watched the film again. Vampire Keifer still warms my blood, but the Carpenter says the pink fluffy bathrobe I was wearing whilst snuggled up on the couch was worse than the turtleneck fashion of my youth and it would be sure to keep the vampires at bay.
The Carpenter would suck as a vampire. Just saying.