Christmas had “Black Christmas” (1974) and Halloween had “Halloween” (1978), so amid cinema’s first slasher boom it was inevitable that Valentine’s Day would get “My Bloody Valentine” (1981). Fortunately it’s pretty watchable. Though extremely stuck in its time, today this plays as charming more so than off-putting.
Possibly the only movie featuring thick Canadian accents where hockey is not mentioned once, this movie shot in real Nova Scotia mines is among the most extreme examples of age-blind casting. As with most slashers, the targets are young people — not high schoolers here, but it’s suggested they are just out of school and many have landed their first job in the mines.
It’s particularly hard to stifle a laugh when Axel (Neil Affleck) and T.J. (Paul Kelman) bicker at their junkyard hangout spot over who is the rightful owner of Sarah (Lori Hallier). The scenes are clearly written for early 20-somethings, but the male actors are around 30. (Hallier was in her early 20s.)
“My Bloody Valentine” (1981)
Director: George Mihalka
Writers: Stephen A. Miller, John Beaird
Stars: Paul Kelman, Lori Hallier, Neil Affleck
Hello, fellow kids
Police Chief Newby (Don Francks) refers to this group as “kids.” At one point, a handful of the revelers run from their secret Valentine’s Day party at the mine to track down Newby for help. Presumably in the script by Stephen A. Miller and John Beaird, it was early 20-somethings running to a middle-aged authority figure. But because of the casting and the fact that people age differently today, it now looks like fully capable 35-year-olds running to a 70-year-old for assistance.
“MBV” is an amusing step back for gender equality, as Sarah and her bestie Patty (Cynthia Dale) are damsels in distress. Before the carnage begins in earnest, Patty jokes that with her revealing Valentine’s party dress, “I may not get out alive!” (Nice double meaning from the audience POV, granted.) And without irony, someone later announces that women aren’t allowed in the mines.
Director George Mihalka and cinematographer Rodney Gibbons maximize production value. The mines look great: dark yet lit well enough that we can see what’s going on. In a particularly well-devised shot, two corridors run parallel (a wall between them) and the camera is positioned so only the viewer can see who is in each corridor before they meet.
The killer’s method of delivering real hearts in Valentine’s chocolate boxes is deliciously cheeky, and several kills are quite creative. One kill gives a whole new meaning to “shower scene” and unfortunately features one of the few young people who is sympathetic (Helene Udy’s Sylvia). It turns out a pickax is a quite versatile tool in the hands of the killer, who the townies half-seriously suspect is Harry Warden, who had been trapped in a cave-in 20 years ago and resorted to cannibalism to survive.
The local bartender, basically the “Camp Blood” guy from “Friday the 13th,” is convinced Harry seeks revenge because the town was caught up in Valentine’s revelry while he was trapped in the mine. (I hate to say it, but I can see why Harry might be peeved.)
Creative kills, but mediocre staging
In one of Miller and Beaird’s hoarier contrivances, Newby can’t find out from the asylum if Warden is still present and accounted for, simply because of shoddy record-keeping. When we eventually learn the answer, it doesn’t track that residents of the town wouldn’t have already known that answer.
“MBV” is one of those mysteries that’s mysterious without the writers doing anything. It’s simply a case where someone is the killer, and we’ll find out at the end who it is. But if you’re looking for clues, you’re wasting your time, and you can’t even use the process of elimination because the killer (no dummy) attacks victims when they are alone.
While the gore is creative, and nicely achieved with practical effects, “MBV” seems to have spent no money or rehearsal time on choreography or stunt work. In a climactic action sequence on a mine-car train, it’s clearly moving slowly and the pickax-versus-shovel battle is done with slowness for safety’s sake.
Perhaps the most surprising part of “MBV” is that it blatantly ends with sequel bait amid an era of easy-money slashers, yet no sequel was made! (“Black Christmas” also falls into this odd category. That classic film would get remakes, though, and “MBV” would get one in 2009.) I guess mines are nicely creepy places to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there.
If you’re looking for the endearingly cheesy trappings of Eighties slashers with a touch of serious mood and atmosphere, “My Bloody Valentine” is worth a date, but not a long-term relationship.