Take Two is a series from reporters (and movie buffs) Fritz Freudenberger and Isabelle Curtis to review entertainment options in the region. This week is made possible through the Cinema Clubhouse, a local film club featuring free monthly screenings of curated films at the Harbor Theater. Our movie is the Halloween-appropriate 1987 teen vampire thriller, "The Lost Boys" (Rated R), starring Jason Patric, Corey Haim and Kiefer Sutherland, directed by Joel Schumacher. 

Is: If 1987 was distilled down to its base elements, I think it would be this movie. It’s a fever dream of an eternal California-gothic summer that oozes MTV out of its pores, and those sheer vibes do a lot to counteract the script’s weaker moments and oftentimes stilted performances.   

As a first-time watcher and vampire-lover, I was prepared to latch onto the titular “Lost Boys,” the roving motorcycle gang of vamps who terrorize Santa Clara, aka the “murder capital of the world.” And don’t get me wrong; Schumacher’s vampires are cool, embracing the gnarlier lore that modern adaptations wouldn't touch. Schumacher said, “Yes, they will hang upside down like bats from their nasty creature toes!” and I love him for that.   

However, my highlight was the relationship between town newcomers, the vampire-to-be Micheal (Jason Patric) and his younger brother Sam (Corey Haim). I’m not sure if it’s Sam’s wisecracks in the face of Micheal’s teenage vampire angst (I too would threaten to tell our mom if my older brother got himself turned into a creature of the night), or the pair’s commitment to each other while disentangling themselves from this supernatural debacle, but I was thoroughly endeared.   

Endeared may be the perfect word to encapsulate my experience. I don’t think I’ll return to this film — barring when I inevitably force my friends to watch it next Halloween — but I will treasure the rollercoaster of viewing this time capsule with my fellow moviegoers.   

3/5 fangs   

Fritz: I wasn’t old enough to actively participate in the 80s, but I imagine the movie as a caricature of what they were like: Rad outfits, screaming rock guitar, and enough hair product for your mullet to weather a storm.   

Let's start with the bad. Save a few stellar one-liners from grandpa, the script is cardboard. The plot? Transparent. Character development? You'd have more success finding lobster in Adams Pond. Did I care? No. It doesn’t matter.  

The movie sets the scene with a chaos-fueled beach party more reminiscent of Thunder Dome than California (especially true for the glistening saxophone headliner who steals the show). There, our main characters become acquainted with their new home, wasting no time diving into its dark underbelly. With an unmatched “Yes, and?” attitude, they quickly make friends and enemies, efficiently advancing the plot.  

Like our protagonists, if this movie does one thing, it commits. The acting isn't great, but each character makes up for it with enthusiasm. The set artists lavished each scene with curated chaos, and costume designers left their neon-stained marks on characters’ trench coats, Hawaiian shirts, mullets, and gaudy jewelry. I can only imagine the director masterfully trusted the crew to run with it or was simply tied to a chair while they ran wild.   

Only the soundtrack and makeup departments had some self-restraint. The soundtrack was a well selected mix, and the theme (Cry Little Sister) is fantastically moody. The makeup department, on the other hand, waited patiently to reveal the creature-feature and gore part of a vampire flick. Once there, they made up for lost time with reckless abandon.  

And that's what camp is, isn't it? It's what makes a cult classic. Having a vision and unabashedly committing to it. This movie is all vibes, and it delivers.  

4/5 fangs