The Josh Hartnett Horror Show

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Granted, Josh Hartnett is as stiff as that other wooden board Keanu Reeves, but even he should not be saddled with the entire blame of the dismal boredom that is 30 Days of Night.

I was enthusiastic about this Alaskan blood fest, especially after 30 days of Night had been glowingly compared to Neil Marshall’s “The Descent”, a chilling portrayal of a woman’s debilitating breakdown. I especially noted the numinous rollcall (David Slade “Hard Candy”, Sam Raimi “Spiderman” fame) but their latest offering has all the uncharacteristic hallmarks of a pension-work.

Some unforgivable lapses in the show:

1. It’s hard to enjoy horror when your lead Vampire looks exactly like Sam Allardyce, the manager of Newcastle FC, on a losing streak.

2. It’s also hard to enjoy horror when the other vampires, while savagely entertaining at first, begin to demonstrate the same stale grimaces, postures and hissy-fits after a while. Like warmed-up cabbage served at each repast, the repetition kills the wretch at last.

3. Your other characters are inert extras for the rest of the show, largely mumbling inconsequential one-liners like “No!”, “What?”, “What do we do now?” The viewer is stunned by the profundity of their thoughts.

4. Not related to the show: The woman sitting next to you screams each time a vampire appears.

The litany of sins for “30 nights” is too long, and I was thoroughly disappointed with it. To be avoided scrupulously… Now for real (Western) horror, may I suggest a disturbing cocktail of reading Jean Rhy’s Wide Sargasso Sea, followed by a close watching of Neil Marshall’s The Descent. Then let madness reign…

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