Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: L. Van Dyke Siboutszen
Starring: Noah LaLonde, Jay J. Bidwell, Arthur
Cartwright, Josh Dominguez, Tina Manera, David Lautman, Paul Wilson
Over the past decade we've seen lots of horror movies either set in the
1980s or heavily evoking the neon visuals and synth scores of that
decade. The main motivation is usually to evoke nostalgia in horror fans
who came of age at that time and discovered the thrills of all the great
genre franchises down their local video store. But sometimes it's just a
convenient way of avoiding the storytelling obstacle of the dreaded
cellphone.
L. Van Dyke Siboutszen's directorial debut
Deer Camp '86 is set in its titular year, but I'm baffled
as to why it's a period piece. The action takes place deep in the woods
of Michigan, where there's probably no cellphone coverage anyway, and
there's practically nothing to mark it as taking place in the mid-80s.
Its protagonists wear the sort of hunting clothes that have been
fashionable for the past 80 years, and likely for budgetary reasons
there are no synth pop hits on the soundtrack.
It does however evoke the sort of action-horror hybrids that became
popular in the mid to late '80s, with Predator a
particularly notable inspiration. Its "heroes" aren't a squad of
musclebound action figures however, but rather a bunch of goofballs who
like the ill-fated lads from Deliverance, have left the city for a weekend of hunting in the Michigan
woods.
The city boys in question are douchebags of the highest order, with
only pretty boy Wes (Noah LaLonde) and Simon (Arthur Cartwright, who gets the movie's best line, "I'm going back to Detroit where it's
safe!") coming close to being likeable. The former makes googly eyes at
Star (Tina Manera), the pretty Native American bartender at the
roadhouse where they stop off for drinks, and she seems to reciprocate.
After a brawl with some stereotypical racist rednecks (Another nice line
– "Aren't we over racism yet, it's 1986!") the lads head off to their
hunting lodge. Wes is disappointed he didn't get to say goodbye to Star.
Well, he couldn't, because unbeknownst to him she was stabbed to death
by an unknown assailant in the alley behind the bar.
Courtesy of the local sheriff (Paul Wilson), we get some
exposition about how every time a young Native American woman is
murdered, a nearby hunting party is massacred, and the slaughter is
dismissed as a bear attack. Along with our non-heroes, we quickly learn
that a restless Native American spirit takes revenge on the white man
whenever one such murder occurs. Our out-of-depth protagonists find
themselves fighting for their lives as the tomahawk wielding terror
chases them through the woods.
Like so many of these films, it takes an awfully long time for the
action to kick in, spending an inordinate amount of time on character
building. This would be fine if the characters were in any way nuanced
and interesting, but they're just a bunch of stereotypes. What is
interesting is how the film is at least aware that these guys are
assholes, priming us for the enjoyment of seeing them get their
comeuppance. Unfortunately the movie lets us down with a series of
unimaginative kills that will leave gore aficionados particularly
disappointed. Once the ball gets rolling it does at least zip along at a
nice pace, and it boasts one of the more striking horror antagonists of
recent times in the skull-masked spirit. A little more innovation and
some more nuance in its characters and this could have been an engaging
throwback to the VHS era, but it's simply another attempt to cheaply
mine nostalgia for that lost time.
