Among the roster of 'Masters' (Dario Argento, Tobe Hooper, etc) showcasing their knockoffs for this anthology one name may leap out as glaringly unfamiliar. William Malone? Who he? Well, among other things, Malone directed 1999's The House On Haunted Hill remake and 2002's FeardotCom. Oh, and an episode of 'Honey I Shrunk The Kids: The TV Show'.
Not impressed? Really, give the guy a break! When you consider, say, Argento's laughable Jenifer from the same series, perhaps we ought to give this rank outsider and his Fair-Haired Child a chance.
Now, unfold those crossed arms because, aside from Malone's uncredited perfromance as George Harrison in Robert Zemeckis' superb debut I Wanna Hold Your Hand, he's also way more influential in the horror game than you might think, having helped to create dozens of movie monster masks - along with Michael Myers' 'Shape' visage for John Carpenter's Halloween (admittedly, that one was easy - he simply sprayed a William Shatner mask white, but still).
A riff on WW Jacobs' Edwardian classic 'The Monkey's Paw' (and latterly, Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser'), Fair-Haired Child sees two eccentric classical musicians, Judith (Petty) and husband Anton (Samples) attempt to bring their son Johnny (Haddock) back from the dead after he accidentally drowned on his fifteenth birthday. And, through black magick, they do - after a fashion.
Trouble is, their waterlogged offspring now resembles the result of some giggling gangbang between Dan Dare's Mekon and HR Giger's Alien Queen. To keep him in anything vaguely resembling humanoid form they must sacrifice a dozen teenagers, one every year, on the boy's birthday. With each virgin's blood spilled, Johnny morphs a little closer to complete restoration. As the half-crazed Anton figures, "the dead shall live again - new blood for old."
The couple's twelfth candidate for sacrifice, class outcast Tara (Pulsipher), is kidnapped from her local high school; knocked off her bike, chloroformed, and bundled into a van - as the funereal adagio from Beethoven's 'Seventh' saws ominously away on the soundtrack in its sly, elitist and deeply untrustworthy way.
Flung into a basement, graffitied with the pleas of previous blood donors, Tara encounters a cupboard full of severed heads that would make Jeffrey Dahmer blink, a bathtub spattered with human vino, and what she at first imagines is another sacrificial lamb; a mute, guilt-ridden Johhny - who's having a little trouble keeping his skin on. It's a distressing process for both parties.
As that great 1980s bard El DeBarge put it, "Who's Johnny, she said, and tried to look the other way." Shockingly, given our emotional investment in Tara thus far, the now transformed cellar-dweller goes to work on her like Fanny Craddock with a dead chicken. Further shocks - and a predictable twist - will be along in a minute.
The worst you can say about The Fair Haired Child is it looks and feels pretty much like what it is: an anthology movie in the 'Tales From The Crypt' vein, with an extra helping of giblets. It's also a touch repetitive towards the end and, despite its expectation-confounding turns, once you've spotted the twist stomping over the hill, even a little draggy.
Oddly, given the director's pedigree, the rubbery-looking monster's not much cop either. That said, Malone makes a virtue of his dark fairytale's budgetary constraints, offering lashings of atmosphere, creepy flashbacks and unnerving dream sequences (shot in the now-familiar monochrome style), while the cast put it some believable and sympathetic performances (particularly Lori Petty who, as a mother driven mad with grief, at least has something better to work with here than in Tank Girl).
Not impressed? Really, give the guy a break! When you consider, say, Argento's laughable Jenifer from the same series, perhaps we ought to give this rank outsider and his Fair-Haired Child a chance.
Now, unfold those crossed arms because, aside from Malone's uncredited perfromance as George Harrison in Robert Zemeckis' superb debut I Wanna Hold Your Hand, he's also way more influential in the horror game than you might think, having helped to create dozens of movie monster masks - along with Michael Myers' 'Shape' visage for John Carpenter's Halloween (admittedly, that one was easy - he simply sprayed a William Shatner mask white, but still).
A riff on WW Jacobs' Edwardian classic 'The Monkey's Paw' (and latterly, Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser'), Fair-Haired Child sees two eccentric classical musicians, Judith (Petty) and husband Anton (Samples) attempt to bring their son Johnny (Haddock) back from the dead after he accidentally drowned on his fifteenth birthday. And, through black magick, they do - after a fashion.
Trouble is, their waterlogged offspring now resembles the result of some giggling gangbang between Dan Dare's Mekon and HR Giger's Alien Queen. To keep him in anything vaguely resembling humanoid form they must sacrifice a dozen teenagers, one every year, on the boy's birthday. With each virgin's blood spilled, Johnny morphs a little closer to complete restoration. As the half-crazed Anton figures, "the dead shall live again - new blood for old."
The couple's twelfth candidate for sacrifice, class outcast Tara (Pulsipher), is kidnapped from her local high school; knocked off her bike, chloroformed, and bundled into a van - as the funereal adagio from Beethoven's 'Seventh' saws ominously away on the soundtrack in its sly, elitist and deeply untrustworthy way.
Flung into a basement, graffitied with the pleas of previous blood donors, Tara encounters a cupboard full of severed heads that would make Jeffrey Dahmer blink, a bathtub spattered with human vino, and what she at first imagines is another sacrificial lamb; a mute, guilt-ridden Johhny - who's having a little trouble keeping his skin on. It's a distressing process for both parties.
As that great 1980s bard El DeBarge put it, "Who's Johnny, she said, and tried to look the other way." Shockingly, given our emotional investment in Tara thus far, the now transformed cellar-dweller goes to work on her like Fanny Craddock with a dead chicken. Further shocks - and a predictable twist - will be along in a minute.
The worst you can say about The Fair Haired Child is it looks and feels pretty much like what it is: an anthology movie in the 'Tales From The Crypt' vein, with an extra helping of giblets. It's also a touch repetitive towards the end and, despite its expectation-confounding turns, once you've spotted the twist stomping over the hill, even a little draggy.
Oddly, given the director's pedigree, the rubbery-looking monster's not much cop either. That said, Malone makes a virtue of his dark fairytale's budgetary constraints, offering lashings of atmosphere, creepy flashbacks and unnerving dream sequences (shot in the now-familiar monochrome style), while the cast put it some believable and sympathetic performances (particularly Lori Petty who, as a mother driven mad with grief, at least has something better to work with here than in Tank Girl).