FRIGHT NIGHT - The Least Offensive Movie Review

What is Fright Night? What exactly is supposed to be so frightening about it? Do we really need another emo, glittering vampire movie? No, we don't, and luckily Fright Night doesn't give it to us. This vampire certainly does not  care about your stupid human feelings - I was pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, if this is not the role that Colin Farrell was born to play then I'm a jackass: hunky, suburban, working class Joe who moonlights as a serial rapist. He saunters freely around people's houses leering at moms and underaged teens alike, smiling and exuding the kind of confidence that a frat boy displays once you start feeling the roofies. There is just something about Colin Farrell that absolutely screams out: "I'm a rapist!" and what fantastic work on behalf of the casting director to tap into that natural rapey energy for this villainous role.

To fulfill his unholy desires, Jerry, the handy, do-it-yourself vampire in Fright Night, constructed his own impressive modern and innovative take on the classic rape dungeon. It's a rape dungeon in function, but in appearance it is merely the second floor of his inconspicuous suburban home. And staying under the radar isn't the only thing it has going for it! The sturdy framework, clean sheetrocking, and secure design really showed that Jerry  studied and honed his loathsome craft seriously over the past 400 years.  Though Bob Villa certainly is not a vampire rapist, he could appreciate the efficient, clean work of Jerry's little upstairs project.

And do you know how hard it is for a vampire to make a trip to Home Depot? Oh my God! First of all, he had to wait for winter so that it gets dark before they close, then, once inside, he was surrounded by tons deliciously retarded people that he couldn't eat. Willpower alert! Seriously, who at home depot knows their ass from their elbow, let alone a dovetail from a lap joint? When you're a serious rape dungeon craftsman, like Jerry, it must be absolutely infuriating to watch these foolish humans bungle their hard and softwoods. And who would ever miss them? Some degenerate, half-wit selling paint isn't going to be missed, that's for sure. He needs to be eaten! Spill that blood! NO! That's where Jerry's true dedication to the craft takes over. Despite his near overwhelming urge to devour everyone at Home Depot, Jerry withholds gratification, politely pays for his lumber, sheetrock, and screws, and goes home to build the most awesome suburban rape dungeon in Nevada.

Now, Jerry isn't just a one dimensional rapist. He's not just a "invite them over and imprison them in my rape dungeon" rapist; where's the challenge in that? Only a stripper would fall for that, and I'm not even sure they count. No, he's gotta a go bigger, more ambitious. A real proactive raper. Jerry brings his raping skills to the club where he is considerably aided in his pursuits by his super hunky exterior and his ability to move swiftly and cling to ceilings with superhuman ability. As if super hunky wasn't enough! P'shaw! And if that isn't proof that this guy is the wonderkin of raping, his blood is like pure GHB! The date rape drug! Crazy! I know! Just one taste and women fall in to a easily manipulable stupor. If some raging frat boy was bitten by a radioactive, rapist spider, you'd have Jerry; and if that radioactive frat boy moved next door to you, then you'd be in Fright Night!