John Carpenter's Vampires review

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On 31 December 1989, the decade known as the '80s finally died. We put it six feet under, confident that it had well and truly expired, and looked forward to what the next 10 years would offer. Now, ironically, while the '90s lies on its deathbed, a certain Mr Carpenter has sneakily dug the '80s back up. He's pushing its shambling, decaying remains towards an unwitting moviegoing public. No wonder he calls himself "The Master Of Terror".

The most insulting thing about Vampires is that it promises to introduce you to "A New Breed Of Evil." Yet Carpenter's `new' idea is to present his creatures of darkness as black-clad gothy-types with hairspray-stiffened mops hovering above their china-white, over-eye-shadowed faces. Lead artery-nipper Valek looks like a cross between Marilyn Manson and that Laurence bloke off Changing Rooms...

If you were mad about the Tex-Mex blood-suckery of Near Dark or From Dusk Till Dawn, you might drag some enjoyment out of this festering pit of a movie. Woods offers momentary relief, but that doesn't stop Vampires being sad, uninventive clag.

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