Review of My Bloody Valentine (1981) by Charlie H — 19 Aug 2007

In the wake of the box office success of Halloween (1978) and Friday 13TH (1980), a slew of identikit slasher films splattered the big screen throughout the Eighties in a bid to cash in on the winning, simplistic narrative formula of their gruesome mentors.

Every available urban legend, holiday date and festive celebration went through the metaphorical celluloid meat grinder in increasingly desperate attempts to hack and slash the willing punters from their money.

My Bloody Valentine is no exception, though it is undoubtedly the cream of the crop from the first cycle of slasher films that were released back in the early 80?s. It differs from its counterparts in that it is particularly mean spirited (the trademark creative death scenes are devilishly inventive), lacks any on screen sex scenes, is beautifully shot with a genuine sense of brooding menace and is a highly atmospheric and potent shocker.

The film is also notorious for shedding a lot more blood off camera than on it, being as it is one of the most self censored films released by a major studio in the last thirty years. Over nine minutes of footage was allegedly excised by Paramount (at the behest of the director) prior to being rated by the MPAA and, unfortunately, it plays merry hell with any notion of continuity the film might have otherwise maintained in its un-tampered form.

What remains is a sadly diminished though still eminently watchable cult classic that frequently gets name checked by the fans- in particular one Quentin Tarantino- as being one of the best slasher films of all time.