I think it’s about time we had some more fun with vampires, don’tcha think? Even better, this particular vampire has a profession: If you couldn’t tell by the title, I mean, get help, but, yeah, he’s a police officer. Why not?
Vampire Cop tells the story of Lucas, pushed by his vampirism onto the force’s night shift, where he hunts down crooks as both an officer of the law and a creature of the night. He soon runs afoul of Newhouse, a local crime boss (…I guess…), who sets his sight on hunting the beefy man down. With the help of a reporter suspicious of his odd nature, Lucas has to take Newhouse down once and for all. Or something like that.
See, the plot of Vampire Cop isn’t all that involved, honestly, it’s just presented poorly. Let’s start with the visuals, as they’re omnipresent and overt. I’m not entirely sure what sort of camera was used to film this thing, but the whole affair often feels like one of the better examples of a “shot-on-shitteo” picture, the distinct smell of cheap cameras in the air, the existence of film only a possibility, a guess. Couple this with some artless editing, some extremely dodgy blocking, and a painful dearth of style, you can understand how some could find the film difficult to watch.
And then there’s the acting. Front and center is Ed Cannon as our titular fanged beefsteak, who can’t help but sound kinda dumb and ridiculous at all times. Like many of the women involved, I assume he was hired for his looks, all hunky and whatnot, his acting abilities obviously not intended to be the selling point of the film (that honor rests squarely with the title and cover, natch). Big ups to Allison Pregler for pointing out this frame of hm looking particularly doofy.
He’s not at all helped by the makeup people, who, in an effort to make his teeth more vampiric, wound up making him look like an amalgam of man and piranha, always derpy and never the least bit scary. Again, though, the film wasn’t looking to be a true horror movie, just riding its gimmick and some gratuitous nudity and sex to a hopeful video windfall. Melissa Moore, showing up as the reporter, does well enough, but the direction and lines she’s given are abysmal. Kinda like in true classic Samurai Cop (yup, she was in two ridiculous cult flicks about gimmicky cops, the lucky minx!), she’s forced to lean on her looks and half-formed improvisational abilities, and it’s just not enough, man. I definitely felt bad for her at the end, when she’s stymied from moving out of frame yet has to try to make it look like she’s searching the apartment, only to be surprised by an assailant from apparently right in fucking front of her. Tsk. Finally, there’s Don Tilley as the big bad, over-pronouncing his words and strangling his fake accent (or is it just an overactive affectation?) while hamming it up with his cool demeanor. Everyone else is likely to be obnoxiously awful, but that’s just part of the fun.
Indeed, the film overall is best enjoyed as one of those examples of so-bad-it’s-good cinema. Pretty much nothing about this oddball derivative of early-‘90s softcore porn with a minor horror twist is done well, least of all the sex, but it all winds up being deliciously hilarious in its inanity and ineptitude. Plus, it’s hard to hate a film with an opening theme song so damn hilarious (it’s a slow kiiiiilllllll!!!) Shit, you don’t even need much booze for this, just round up some friends and have a ball, kids.
Allusions of Grandeur 