Lorenzo Lamas as Master Nosferatu in a vampire film? Which takes place entirely in an industrial nightclub? With an invocation ritual of Belial unearthed in the “Necronomicrone” (sic)? Directed by a specialist in Christmas films and romantic wedding comedies? And you don’t even need to sign with your blood to make the film exist, because here it is, all beautiful, hot, directly before your eyes, dried out by lack weird products? But yes, it’s possible, with the Nanarland card! Thank you bibi!
And thank you Thrallsalias Blood Angelsalias Blood Angelsalias Slaves of a Vampirealias Failure to vampires. It’s always nice to have a profusion of titles for a single film, it gives a candy fair feel where everyone can go and grab the candy they prefer. Personally, I really like the last one that could win the trophy for the best and only draculito-chessploitation title.
Version soft.
“No more canines, please” version.
But this skillful generosity should not make us forget that there is only one work behind this marketing armada, that of Ron Oliver. As I said, the film of this brave man appears to have been sentenced to forced labor on W9 one month of December. Judge by titles: In Pursuit of Christmas, Christmas Wishes, Mischievous Denis’s Christmas, The Christmas Parade, The Christmas Getaway, The Christmas Angel, A Christmas That Mends Wounds, Christmas at the Palace, Christmas at the Enchanted Mansion , Operation Christmas, The Christmas Surprise Trip, The Christmas of my dreams, My best Christmas enemy, Love at first sight at the Christmas hotel, The Christmas Train, A Christmas so British, Christmas is just in time…Don’t throw any more away! Note a small Gulli sentence reduction with Beethoven and the Pirate Treasure (no, but in reality, it’s on this channel that I came across it… a stunt that I don’t recommend, by the way).
Ron Oliver is also a regular on TV series, especially for children (we always come back to sugar), and this is how he even worked to erect the pedestal of L’Invincible alias The Immortalshooting two of the rare almost good episodes of this place of cinema-television perdition where he met Lorenzo Lamas to better convince him to join him later in his project of the day. Machiavelikos! In Blood Angelsour favorite rebel plays Mr Jones, an alpha vampire who has reduced to transfusion slavery a harem of pretty young women, transformed by these tortures into unfinished sub-vampirettes, a sort of ghouls under teats. Tired of this unfair situation, the young ladies organize their escape and start a new life as self-entrepreneurs in a discotheque for partygoers fans of neon necklaces and fancy colored straw on loud music; surprisingly, everyone talks about the place as a rave party, without anyone daring to question in song what that means. The little sister of one of them quickly leaves her country and her family torments to join them, and thus discover the life of a woman freed from patriarchy; but is she ready to accept all the sacrifices that such a decision entails?
You are sagacious, dear public, and you have therefore understood that the blood angels use the place to feed on the livestock that frequent it, using an eco-responsible approach which aims to take only what is strictly necessary from the available resources, in an Ecolabel approved atmosphere. of the Carpathians. With this specific criterion which sees them targeting in particular virilistic assholes and dance floor harassers, who are quick to have their faces beaten with sabers (in public, yes) then taken back to the back room for a session very special pacifier.
And they don’t risk the diet because the film is particularly rich in macho people: it’s VSS in the street, VSS on the dance floor, VSS in the toilets… A bit like in real life, that is. Even the two main male characters struggle to escape this system of oppression: if Jimmy has the advantage of being a good country boy stuck in the stereotype of the defender of the weaker sex (in vain because he always ends up being to screw up, or even be nothing more than a burden for these ladies), this is not the case for his fantastic cousin, Thuneboy! Self-renowned as such because this great expert in seduction certainly knows what pleases women: money, therefore, but also being described as “poof”, a compliment which serves as punctuation to each interaction with an interlocutor. Finally, between two “yo!”, a truly vital interjection which adorns the slightest of his words. The combination of these linguistic manias, associated with a haughty confidence that absolutely does not mask his obvious stupidity, quickly grants him the status of a favorite character, like a chibi stuffed animal that we would like to crush while giving him a hug.
But wouldn’t this film have a point, in fact? And clearly yes: 20 years ago #MeToo and the re-emergence on the social scene of feminist thought finally heard, Blood Angels tells us about martyred and exploited women, prey to control (hence the original title, Thrallsof which this is the literal meaning) exercised by a dominant and toxic male, and from which they only manage to extricate themselves through the sorority that unites them. They thus gain psychological, financial and sexual autonomy, which they must nevertheless continue to defend against the attacks they constantly suffer, and especially against the threat that Mr Jones continues to pose by tracking them. As for the young sister, the script implies that she is the victim of incestuous violence by her father, hence her search for emancipation that the symbolism of the vampire will undoubtedly bring her. A form of superpower, therefore.
And there, I feel the question coming, sharp as a stake in my heart: but why chronicle Blood Angels on Nanarland? So already, because I wanted to, wanted to talk about this little-known film that I discovered completely by chance during our collective viewings, tireless exploration of our inexhaustible stocks of DVDs which often turns into Russian roulette. Despite all his outward signs of broke zeal, he was able to amaze me with the skill of his script and his willingness to try to make something of it; where many disillusioned directors would have given up any artistic desire to simply apply the meager specifications to the letter, Ron Oliver energizes his few fight scenes with a slightly punchy production, makes the most of his unique location, manages often to hide misery, assumes a subtly meta positioning (the plastic teeth of Jones’ valet) and directs his cast well enough for him to maintain a certain humorous distance, well served by a very correct VF for this kind of productions. And the music, very present, is rather great!
Another argument for obtaining his Nanarland passport: my fight for the rehabilitation of Blood Angels cannot ignore the fact that all the good will of the film does not prevent it from being regularly overwhelmed by its budgetary limits and its sometimes too cheerful enthusiasm, to the point of frankly turning into nonsense on several occasions. The rotten snags of the vampirettes and the transformations of Lorenzo Lamas into bats already tickle the zygomatics. But it’s impossible to hold back the bursts of laughter during the indescribable fall from the sister’s balcony, not to mention the attack of the killer masto-serpents, and above all, the grand finale of nawak with the invocation of Bélial thanks to a CD magical against the backdrop of Mr Jones yelling”more power!“. The kind of sequence to be found directly in the cuts of Nanarland Night.
Blood Angels thus has all the trappings of the broke B series with a very 2000s aesthetic, and if some are authentic rags that will make you laugh, they ultimately hide a heart in the right place, to quote the man of letters and podcasts. With more money (and especially Thuneboy), I’m sure that Ron Oliver would have produced a little underground classic of his time (he ultimately preferred to dig into the Christmas movie vein). But as it is, you will have to love it with all its faults. That’s good, that’s what we do on this site.
Thanks to the discord team for its existence and for the support with stupid puns.
Ron Oliver is a Canadian director. He began his career in horror cinema, writing The Horror Ball 2: Hello Mary Lou of which he will ultimately shoot reshoots to save the film from its quagmire. He continues with The Horror Ball 3 then moves towards a fantastic younger audience with the series Scare me! et Goosebumps of which he writes and directs numerous episodes. Far from being confined to this genre, Ron Oliver enjoys being versatile, shooting for both TV and cinema and tackling more family-oriented subjects, even assiduously working on romantic comedies and Christmas films for the network. Christian Hallmark, specializing in this area. But he is also a director who assumes responsibility for instilling his homosexual sensitivity in his works, in a diffuse or explicit manner (Memory on borrowed time), with a caring LGBTQ approach that explains the view of Blood Angels. Intrigued by this film, little mentioned in his various interviews, we contacted him to find out more and he gave us the great pleasure of accepting an interview, which you can read here.
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