Masters of Horror-
"Jenifer"
(Showtime)
(2005)
review by Head Cheeze

Showtime’s series, Masters of Horror, has gotten off to a pretty rocky start. While critics have praised the show, I somehow doubt that any of these kudos have come from anyone who’s a true aficionado of the genre. Were they true fans, they’d have seen Don Coscarelli’s “Incident On and Off a Mountain Road” for the Jeepers Creepers/Wrong Turn retread it really was. As for Stuart Gordon’s snooze-inducing “Dreams in the Witch-House”, the less said the better. Both of these tales played out like the sort of short stories horror magazine editors reject outright due to the fact that they are either clichéd, rehashes, or tired (and believe me, I sadly know this to be true). So when I recently had the chance to watch Dario Argento’s entry “Jenifer”, I hoped that this series would finally show us what a true master was capable of. Sadly, that was not the case.

Frank Spivey (Weber, who also wrote the teleplay) rescues a deformed young woman from a seemingly insane man who, in his final breath, informs Frank that the woman’s name is Jenifer (Fleming). The girl, whose hideous visage is countered by a killer physique, becomes an obsession for Frank, and, as his obsession grows, so does Jenifer’s appetite. You see, Jenifer feeds on flesh. At first, she eats the family cat, but, after she devours the nosy neighborhood girl, Frank and Jenifer hightail it into the woods, where he hopes to be able to keep his mutant love doll’s appetite under control.

After the dismal “The Card Player”, I was really hoping for some semblance of the old Argento to pop up in this installment; however Jennifer looks every bit as flat and uninspired as that film did. While there’s a tremendous amount of gore, loads of nudity, and some fairly suggestive sex scenes, none of this can keep Jenifer from looking like made-for-TV stuff. With the exception of an extended overhead shot at the outset, this installment is devoid of the camera acrobatics and visuals that made me fall in love with Argento’s films in the first place, and could have just as well been directed by series producer Mick Garris (no offense, Mick…err…really). The story isn’t terrible, but, like the previous two Masters episodes, it’s one we’ve seen before in one incarnation or another. Steven Weber is something of a ham, but he does alright with the material he’s written for himself, here, even though I found the sex scenes a bit creepy and unnerving (for all the wrong reasons).

I’m holding out hope for John Carpenter and Tobe Hooper’s entries, but, from what I’ve seen thus far, I think this series needs another name. Disasters of Horror would be more appropriate.