Tagline: There are 12 new reasons to be afraid of the dark…and every one of them is a killer.
Director: Joseph Mangine
Writer: Mark Patrick Carducci
Starring: Clyde Hayes, Leilani Sarelle, Donna Locke, Victor Brandt, David Muir, Marta Kober, P.R. Paul, Jeff Tyler
18 | 91 min | Horror
Budget: $ 1,500,000
At some point during the mid 1980s the whole world turned neon.
Every boiler room shootout or smoke-strewn alleyway inexplicably glowed with it. We had neon fashion, neon nightclubs and a relatively new phenomenon named MTV that would peddle neon like it was the planet’s fifth element. We even had a fifty-eight year old Roger Moore shooting Lasers at neon-painted women in one of the most underwhelming Bond movies of all time. Neon, it seemed, was on the verge of becoming passé.
Enter the Neon Maniacs.
In a year that was teeming with slasher movie sequels such as Jason Lives!, Psycho II and the interminable Texas Chainsaw Massacre II, Neon Maniacs was a breath of fresh air. That’s not to say that it was any good, at least not in the conventional sense, but it was at least original in the sense that it introduced not one, but twelve new antagonists to the horror lexicon.
The Neon Maniacs, as far as I can gather, are a mishmash of periodically ambiguous creatures reminiscent of the He-Man action figure range. With names such as Ape, Archer, Axe, Decapitator and Hangman, they are more Return of the Living Dead than The Hills Have Eyes, with an undercurrent of humour that is, at least in part, intentional. But don’t let their comical antics fool you. For every bumbling ape man there is a demented zombie doctor with a penchant for human organs, and the Maniacs make short work of a group of teenagers within the first fifteen minutes of the movie, hanging one kid from a tree and decapitating another mid-fellatio.
It’s a rather odd, if fascinating blend of slasher excess and downright idiocy, a charmingly cheap concoction that doesn’t exist in today’s regimented cookie cutter industry. It also features the kind of painstaking make-up that CGI has all but wiped out, but the movie’s true calling card is its infantile approach to horror, and a gaggle of colourful mutants who are ripping off heads one minute and giddily riding subway trains the next. Even the movie’s protagonist is distinctly juvenile, tackling the gore-laden mystery with the light-hearted pragmatism of a Scooby-Doo episode.
After the initial carnage settles, heroine Natalie (Sarelle) is the only remaining survivor, and since the brutalised bodies of her former friends have mysteriously vanished, the neon ooze the Maniacs left in their wake is the only remaining evidence of their existence, a toxic substance which is safely stored away in an easy-seal sandwich bag. Unfortunately, this just isn’t enough to convince the predictably dubious San Francisco police force, who for some reason find it hard to believe that a gang of grossly deformed mutants have been residing in a tower of the Golden Gate Bridge while they’ve been out eating doughnuts.
To be fair to the cops, the Neon Maniacs only seem to come out when the respectable adults of suburban America are tucked away safely in their beds, and reserve their bloodlust for loaded teenagers and vagrants who conveniently slip under the social radar. Why the Maniacs only have eyes for teenagers is never explained. Michael Myers longed to return to the scene of his first murder, Krueger and Voorhees sought revenge for being burned and drowned respectively, but as for the Maniacs…I can only assume that the movie’s producers managed to convince them that it would make a sound marketing strategy.
There are two people who believe Natalie’s wild tales of eclectic zombie killers: her classmate, Steven (Hayes), and a strange horror movie-obsessed girl named Paula (Locke), who looks about twenty-five but dresses and acts like a twelve-year-old. She is also a tenacious wee lass with an uncanny knack for presupposition, the kind that makes her a fearsome opponent for a gang of heavily-armed mutants who are approximately twice her size—although the Maniacs do have quite the debilitating weakness for a rabble who set about ravaging a planet which is made up of approximately 71% water.
Since Natalie is now firmly in self-denial, Paula decides to take matters into her own hands and follows the slime trail to the Golden Gate Bridge, where the aspiring cinematographer decides to film the Maniacs bumbling around like apes before the dawn of man. It is there that Paula discovers their Achilles heel, one that presumably played a part in their decision to frequent the rainy, water-strewn locale of the San Francisco Bay Area, and by the time Paula disposes of one of the Maniacs by means of the family shower, you begin to envisage a solution to her previously hopeless predicament.
With the cops still refusing to play hardball, Paula then decides to arm the students of her high school with fully loaded water pistols, presuming that the neon ones will show up to the annual ‘Battle of the Bands’, where local musicians rock like pussies and the pursuing ‘Maniacs’ pray for the rain to hold off.
Luckily for them, it’s a fancy dress party, but will our resident monsters take advantage of such a fortuitous predicament. History tells us No.
There are a few corkers here: a brutal spearing, the deranged doctor’s removal of a human heart and the desperately lewd blowjob decapitation to name but a few, but for pure absurdity I have to go with the oblivious subway engineer’s skull crushing, which somehow turns his head into a steaming kettle.
Most Absurd Moment
After the subway engineer is swiftly disposed of, one of the Maniacs takes his place as head of the subway train and is so excited by his new role that he becomes estranged from his murderous brethren. Even more excited is the director, who insists on frequently cutting back to a shot of the ‘Maniac’ jumping around in his seat like a hyperactive infant on a roller-coaster.
Godspeed, my neon friend!
Most Absurd Dialogue
Discussing the crime scene’s one and only clue, Detective Carson decides to get technical.
Devin: What is that?
Carson: Gook, slime…nobody knows yet. Forensics found it all around here.
Slashers are a notoriously predictable breed, but nothing will prepare you for this concoction—a movie which blends puerile murder mystery with brutal decapitations and blood rainstorms. Add to this one of the genre’s most blaring oversights in our eponymous villains’ Achilles heel and you have quite the oddity to feast upon. In space, no one can hear you scream, but when it rains in San Francisco screaming is just not that necessary.