Return of the Prince - SCREAM BLACULA SCREAM

Themes are important.  It’s nice to have something deeper to talk about than what silly movies I enjoy.  Don’t get me wrong, I love talking about silly movies, great and not so great ones.  I’m not knocking it.  Linking my love of silly movies to larger issues, though, lets me talk about what’s on my mind without getting too heavy.  I try to keep a light touch, although Mr. Trump might disagree.  Fox and Friends would have to bring up Schizocinema for him to ever find out, so I think I’m safe.

On the other hand, themes can be exhausting.  I always try to stick with the big ones, horror movies in October, women directors for March, highlighting African American actors in February.  Nowadays, though, we have more categories to honor than we have months.  We’re having to double or triple up.  Not only is February Black History Month, it has now been designated Women in Horror Month.  That means movie selection becomes narrower, but there is still overlap. It doesn’t stop there, because smack dab in the middle of February is Valentine’s Day.  I have to triple theme that week!

Last year, I found the perfect trifecta with BLACULA. The Blaxploitation classic covered all my bases and was more nuanced and dignified than seemed possible with a movie titled BLACULA.  Best of all, it had a sequel.  I had a built-in fall back in case I hadn’t found another film that hit all three marks by next year.  Good thing, since I forgot to look for anything else.  Now, I usually don’t write about movies on a first watch, because I don’t want to waste my time taking notes on a movie that I might not be into.  My success rate has been fair (DEAD KIDS) to delirious (CONQUEST), so I rolled the dice.  Besides, this movie already had points added for the crazy title, and because it stars PAM FUCKING GRIER!  There is a short list of people in this universe as cool as Pam Grier, and none of them are in a black themed romantic horror movie.  All in all, Bob Kelljan's SCREAM BLACULA SCREAM seemed like a sure bet.

Let me say now, sorry everyone.

The Capsule

When last we left Prince Mamuwalde, the titular Blacula (William Marshall), he was dead—really dead, not just vampire dead.  Rather than spending eternity without his beloved, he chose to rest in a pile of sun dried bones instead.  Wouldn’t you know, his rest gets interrupted when a spoiled voodoo priest wannabe, Big Willis (Richard Lawson) resurrects him to get revenge on his more popular sister, Lisa (Pam Fucking Grier).  Predictably, Mamuwalde doesn’t give a damn about Willis’ hurt feelings and promptly turns the fool into the first recruit of his new undead army.  The regal vampire lord has his own plans for Lisa, and if her ex-cop boyfriend, Justin (Don Mitchell) can’t piece together all those mysterious exsanguinations around town, the voodoo priestess could hand Mamuwalde his ultimate desire.

Let’s start with the good.  The very best thing about this movie can be summed up in two words, Big Willis.  Richard Lawson’s Willis is a loud talking, loud dressing, funky little weasel who chews up every scene he’s in.  The moment his voodoo queen mommy kicks it, he loudly announces that he is the rightful Papa-loa and would be a better leader than his “jive-ass bitch” adopted sister, Lisa.  Once angry Justin pins him to the wall, Willis’ righteous indignation instantly fizzles and he plays it off like it was all a misunderstanding.  He adds a smarmy “you good people take care” before slinking out from the funeral with his tail between his legs.

Willis doesn’t get any more respect after becoming a vampire.  The first thing he does is whine about not being able to see himself, or his fine threads, in the mirror anymore.  Then, Mamuwalde grounds him like a teenager and forbids him to go to the swank African artwork party.  As if to throw salt into his wound, Mamuwalde goes to the party in his place.  Afterward, he probably told Willis how much fun it was, and how all the foxy ladies were all over him.  

His new-found powers of darkness can’t score him any points, either.  His lady, Denny (Lynne Moody), laughs at his fangs when he’s going in to bite her.  That is the last thing an already insecure vampire wants to hear.  At least he managed to seal the deal.  I’m surprised he didn’t get blood sick and have to run to the bathroom halfway through.

The best bit is when he is boasting to Denny that he is going to get Lisa, even though Mamuwalde just announced that none of his vampire posse were permitted to harm her.  He goes on and on, making the dark lord out to be some chump who is just crashing at his pad. The entire time Mamuwalde is standing right behind him.  It’s like the black vampire version of an old Daffy Duck skit.  Oh, Willis!  In the end, he was probably happy to get shot in the heart by a crossbow.  It least it ends the humiliation.

Just like in the first one, the heroic boyfriend is pals with an oblivious white police chief, in this case Sheriff Dunlop (Michael Conrad).  Against expectations, he isn’t particularly racist (by 1970s standards), but he´s super down on voodoo.  In fact, when people start ending up drained of blood, he wants to arrest Lisa, because he has literally mixed up voodoo with vampires (‘that’s something they do, right?).  Voodoo in general gets a bad rap in the movie.  Even Justin calls Lisa’s congregation a cult, to her face, and he’s part of the congregation!  Dunlop must keep an open mind, though, because despite laughing at Justin for handing out stakes to the cops before the raid on Mamuwalde’s mansion, the movie cuts to him a few minutes later immediately staking a dude without a second thought.  Maybe he was just excited to try out a new kind of police brutality.

They are only there for a second, but I have to give props to the random old white couple sitting awkwardly in the middle of the hip African Studies college party.  No explanation about who they are or why they are there.  My guess is they owned the house and just wanted to be in the movie.

It's nice to see William Marshall back as Mamuwalde, bringing an unexpected nobility to what should be a very exploitive role.  His African prince is suave, charming, and just as irresistible to the ladies as last time (chicks still dig a man in a cape).  That familiarity is part of the problem, though.  The sequel follows the original plot a little too closely.  Mamuwalde returns, becomes obsessed with one woman, the woman’s boyfriend works with the cops to find him, there is a big cops vs. vampires confrontation, etc., etc.  The voodoo angle doesn’t add as much as it could have (more on that later).

Plus, Mamuwalde is less sympathetic here.  He is a tragic figure in the original, cursed by Racist Dracula, imprisoned for centuries, deprived of his one great love.  Most of that sorrow is missing here, so there is nothing to soften his image of being a bully and a rampant cop killer (incidentally, the surest way to kill cops back then was to throw them through doors, even louver doors work).  And you can’t help but see the hypocrisy when Mamuwalde berates a couple of pimps for behaving like slave masters to the sisters.  It’s a fine sentiment, except that he has a half-dozen vampire toadies waiting back at his mansion who are forced to obey his every command.  Glass houses, dude.

It’s not until we find out his plan in the last act that he is redeemed, somewhat. [Spoiler]  Mamuwalde doesn’t want Lisa to be his bride or to increase his power, he wants her to cure him of being a vampire.  He just wants to return home and live out his life as a normal, cape loving human being.  And she almost succeeds, until her lunkhead boyfriend busts in on them at the very last moment, ruining the whole ceremony and sending Mamuwalde into a rage.  Nice timing, Justin.  A few minutes later and you could have just arrested him.  All those cops and doors could have been saved.

The unforgivable sin, however, is utterly wasting Pam Grier.  Her ass kicking boots are nowhere to be seen.  The knock down voodoo power struggle hinted at in the opening goes nowhere fast, and all Lisa is left with is a bit of charming party banter and cringing with fear at the first sign of horror.  Pam Grier does not cringe, unless it’s at what a mess she made with her shotgun.  I guess she portrays a voodoo priestess in a positive light, despite what that jerk Dunlop might think.  She is compassionate enough to try to free Mamuwalde from his demons, but she rejects him after witnessing his bloodlust (or cop throwing lust).  This leads to the most tragic moment, when a dejected Mamuwalde gives up and tells Justin, fuck it, call me Blacula.

Lisa saves the day, maybe.  Right before he can kill Justin, she stabs an arrow into the chest of her ceremonial Mamuwalde voodoo doll, causing Blacula—as promised—to scream.  What he doesn’t do, however, is die.  In perhaps the most confounding horror movie ending ever, the film just stops on the frame of his anguished face and the credits roll.  Is he dying or just uncomfortable?  There were no more sequels, so we’ll never know.  He might still be roaming the streets, badass cape billowing behind him, with his eyes on Jada Pinkett Smith or Angela Bassett.  Hopefully someone can make that movie before next Valentine’s Day.

C Chaka