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Roberta Findlay
Christine Moore
Gary Warner
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 First and foremost…Cathy’s mom is one ugly bitch. Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s the dialogue, but it’s probably just who she is…scarier than the Wishmaster and looking like Freddy Krueger’s prom date. For starters, Cathy and her mom don’t get along so well, so we see in a flashback intro with the younger getting choked by a jump rope after her mother sent her out to play. She then has nightmares as a bunch of guys from the old Sting videos reach out for her in her sleep.
Okay, maybe I’m belittling the introduction here, but for starters, the movie’s visual effects are hugely underwhelming. It’s not long (well, not long after the gratuitous sex scene) that Cathy’s mother kills a Woody Allen look-a-like, then chases a kid to the mini Casio keyboard soundtrack that defines horror.
Soon after, Cathy meets up with her brother, the Father, who says that he can’t help her since he’s got his own life with God. She continues to be haunted by the image of a little blonde girl as the dreams of her parents’ bloody murder returns. I think it’s just cause she continuously plays ominous Emo-type music on her cello all the time. It’s like Smashing Pumpkins without the nasal lead vocals and really cool guitar sounds.
There’s no telling what Cathy will do when she loses it. Bob, her fiancé’, is cheating on her, and she should have known this ahead of time…he’s a musician. Instead, she remains blissfully ignorant. I don’t mean typical ignorant, I mean “fall asleep in the bath tub” ignorant. Again, her mother appears, and this time I can’t get Buckcherry’s new single, “Crazy Bitch” out of my head. Thanks, Mom.
In a word, the movie is, well, Blue. So many of the shots are done in blue light that I began to think I was in an amusement park house of mirrors. The exception, of course, was the dark room, which was shot in so much red, I thought the Four Horsemen were coming.
As for the actors, most of the cast are carried over from Prime Evil (also directed by Findlay), most likely shot in succession to Lurkers. Moore is very pretty as a poor man’s Tawny Kitaen (if such a thing exists), and with his current coif, Warner could be Jeff Conaway (Taxi, Grease). Instead, they’re just an interchangeable, sappy white couple waiting to get wrapped up in the horror and suspense of a late 80’s budget flick.
The host and hostess of the party were so badly acted, my liver picked me up and moved me to the bar when they spoke. One was trying to be posh and the other was trying to be Riff Raff from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and my goal was to get to the point where I couldn’t decide which.
One trend among Findlay movies; she loves to make priests say really apathetic things. In both this film and Prime Evil, the men of God decide someone else could use some help, but not them. Effectively making Cathy’s brother, the Father, come off like he is a guy in a priest costume, not really a priest. So, in effect, you have an actor playing a priest but appearing as an actor playing a priest. It’s a strange theme, but it seems to work for the lady.
Lurkers tries pretty hard, but relies on too many tired tricks for pop. Leaning too strongly on the scary nature of kids and fetish images too tame to make it into a My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult video, Lurkers come up a little short. The story is pretty interesting once it all wraps up nicely, but stays loosely on the tracks in several places.

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