Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on June 23, 2006, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
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Just the other night, I attended this year’s U.S. Air Guitar Championships in Manhattan and was treated to an opening-act performance by an old-school-style hair-metal band called Satanicide. With tune titles such as “Pussy and Ice Cream” and proclamations like “This song is about how fire is hot…hot like fiiiiiire!”, it was hard to tell whether they were kidding or not—a reaction that took me back a few days to my first viewing (thanks to Synapse Films’ new DVD) of Rock ’n’ Roll Nightmare, a 1987 horror flick/vanity project for writer/producer/star/heavy metalist Jon-Mikl Thor. A riot of big hair, bad acting, rubber puppet monsters, cheesy but undeniably energetic song performances and lots of padding (of the running time, not the actresses, most of whom show off their natural assets on one point or another), this is a primo “what the hell?” movie-watching experience.
Right from the opening scene, where a family is terrorized by killer kitchen appliances, through to a scene with a very odd caretaker and beyond to the toy-monster attacks, you have to wonder just how seriously you’re supposed to take it all. Apparently, Thor and first-time director John Fasano took it quite seriously at the time, but an early exchange on the disc’s commentary makes it clear their opinions have diverged over time. “We had a lot of suspense in this movie,” the star says over a would-be ominous moment, to which Fasano replies, “It doesn’t work for me at all.” It’s hard not to agree with him as Thor, his bandmates and their significant others go to an isolated house (well, not really—cars pass by on a highway throughout the story) to work on a new album, and are possessed and/or picked off by the resident demons. The straight-faced silliness of it all is good for a number of unintended chuckles—but nothing will prepare you for the jaw-dropping climax, which you wouldn’t believe if it was described here, and may still not believe once you see it.
Rock ’n’ Roll Nightmare is one of those cases where the movie seems almost undeserving of the care that has been lavished on its presentation. It somehow feels wrong that such hokey material and FX and rudimentary filmmaking have been graced with such a fine 1.78:1 transfer—sharp and polished with fine colors, backed by a rockin’ Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtrack and accompanied by a generous batch of extras. One of the best is Revelations of a Rock ’n’ Roll Warrior, a featurette by Michael Felsher that delves into the man and the myth that are Jon-Mikl Thor. After informing us that he started out playing the accordion as a kid (scary!), this segment treats us to footage of the singer performing on The Merv Griffin Show (!) and clips from his other film vehicles Zombie Nightmare and Recruits (though none, sadly, from his own youthful production Power Man vs. Kong). Ian Jane contributes idolatory liner notes about Thor, whose music is further celebrated in a pair of music videos; “Energy” simply edits together clips from R ’n’ R Nightmare, but “We Live to Rock” also incorporates footage from one of his recent tour performances—and there’s something kinda touching about seeing the man still giving his all these many years later.
Getting down to the nitty-gritty of Nightmare’s production, Rock ’n’ Shock Memories is a collection of behind-the-scenes video providing a first-hand peek of the sort you don’t often get into this kind of ’80s B-picture. Yet it might still leave you with a couple of questions, e.g., how did a production with such chintzy-looking creatures afford a camera crane? Creating a Child-Wolf is a more specific making-of peek, in which little actor Jesse D’Angelo patiently deals with the process of having his head cast for a makeup effect—and, even more traumatic, Fasano browbeating him for “ruining the shot” by looking into the camera during his big scene.
Fortunately, the commentary is there to shed light on these and other concerns. It turns out that director of photography Mark Mackay owned that camera crane himself, and that D’Angelo is actually Fasano’s stepson, which explains why the director felt comfortable scolding him, even if it doesn’t excuse it. Apparently, Nightmare was a high-pressure shoot, exacerbated by the tiny budget ($53,000) and the fact that Mackay departed a week into the 10-day schedule, leaving Fasano and co. no choice but to pack three days’ worth of filming into one. Dirt is dished—one actor suffered from “Canadian body odor,” and an associate producer took it upon himself to audition topless actresses before telling them they didn’t have to disrobe for the movie. Fasano, who somehow moved on from this flick to a career in major Hollywood productions, insists, “It was more fun to make Rock ’n’ Roll Nightmare” than those bigger pictures, and reveals all the family and friends he pressed into service as actors.
And through it all, there’s Thor, seemingly playing the part of the rock ’n’ roll god as much off screen as on. Not that he takes a pretentious attitude, but he sure seems convinced of the enduring power of this silly little movie that he claims fans “are still going crazy for.” Then there are his commentary quips, like one during his nude shower-sex scene where he says, “Cold water or not, I still have the hammer.” You may take the disc out of your player still wondering: an act, or not?
