Ah, the old now-you-see-him-now-you-don't bathroom medicine cabinet mirror gag! Edgy! Ooh, the prom-date-making-her-grand-descent-down- the-stairs-in-her-best-teenybopper- regalia shot! Innovative! More than any other remake of late, Prom Night aggressively reaches out to the shopping mall multiplex crowd -- kids who are too young to notice its pervasive clichés. In fact, it feels more like a Scream clone than a standard remake, thwacking us over the head with airy dialogue about boys, hair, and dresses (one character exclaims, "Oh my God, you guys!!!~~~" in a cadence that somehow demands the use of tildes) and milking a slew of ever-so-hip musical re-appropriations (including a drab and downright funereal cover of The Zombies' "Time of the Season").
There is zero style in the cinematography, editing, story, or sound design here. It's all warbly booms, balanced soap opera lighting, and quick cuts framing a hackneyed, lazy, and dubious plot. It's hard to believe that J.S. Cardone, who wrote and directed the phenomenal 1982 slasher The Slayer, penned this pile of sugar-laced garbage. It's a prom for platitudes.
If anything, Prom Night shows us how out-of-touch these nouveau slashers are with their forefathers. By spelling everything out for us and rigidly expressing its killer's motives and sentiments from the very beginning, it strips away any potential intrigue -- it makes no attempt at the mystery angle that was somewhat palpable (if not altogether effective) in the 1980 Prom Night. And, because it's firmly planted in PG-13 slasher-lite territory, it doesn't even have geek show appeal.
Despite the fact that such practicalities as the killer's name, identity, and wrap sheet are completely revealed to us early on in the first reel, Prom Night is surprisingly tight-lipped about his origins. He is a former high school teacher -- that much I ascertained -- but under what circumstances did he become obsessed with our platinum blonde Final Girl? Simply put: what is the point? And what's with that boring baseball cap he wears? The scariest thing about this guy is his level of banality.
Even inferior slashers tend to raise the octane in the last 20-30 minutes or so, when the Final Girl has spotted all her dead friends and encountered the killer and the cat-and-mouse game ensues. Prom Night, however, is interminably boring in its latter quarter. We tediously follow the cops around the hotel as they make austere discoveries of bodies we've already seen slain. We also watch the Final Girl laze around her bedroom a lot, with nary a bag of tricks in sight. It all leads up to a matter-of-fact and unceremonious climax that actually has you thinking, "That's it?"
Perhaps the only good thing about this tepid junk is winsome newcomer Dana Davis, who, unfortunately, doesn't last long enough to make a complete impact. I guess I should have prefaced that last sentence with a spoiler warning. Oh, who cares?
There is zero style in the cinematography, editing, story, or sound design here. It's all warbly booms, balanced soap opera lighting, and quick cuts framing a hackneyed, lazy, and dubious plot. It's hard to believe that J.S. Cardone, who wrote and directed the phenomenal 1982 slasher The Slayer, penned this pile of sugar-laced garbage. It's a prom for platitudes.
If anything, Prom Night shows us how out-of-touch these nouveau slashers are with their forefathers. By spelling everything out for us and rigidly expressing its killer's motives and sentiments from the very beginning, it strips away any potential intrigue -- it makes no attempt at the mystery angle that was somewhat palpable (if not altogether effective) in the 1980 Prom Night. And, because it's firmly planted in PG-13 slasher-lite territory, it doesn't even have geek show appeal.
Despite the fact that such practicalities as the killer's name, identity, and wrap sheet are completely revealed to us early on in the first reel, Prom Night is surprisingly tight-lipped about his origins. He is a former high school teacher -- that much I ascertained -- but under what circumstances did he become obsessed with our platinum blonde Final Girl? Simply put: what is the point? And what's with that boring baseball cap he wears? The scariest thing about this guy is his level of banality.
Even inferior slashers tend to raise the octane in the last 20-30 minutes or so, when the Final Girl has spotted all her dead friends and encountered the killer and the cat-and-mouse game ensues. Prom Night, however, is interminably boring in its latter quarter. We tediously follow the cops around the hotel as they make austere discoveries of bodies we've already seen slain. We also watch the Final Girl laze around her bedroom a lot, with nary a bag of tricks in sight. It all leads up to a matter-of-fact and unceremonious climax that actually has you thinking, "That's it?"
Perhaps the only good thing about this tepid junk is winsome newcomer Dana Davis, who, unfortunately, doesn't last long enough to make a complete impact. I guess I should have prefaced that last sentence with a spoiler warning. Oh, who cares?