MIDNIGHT-icon

John Russo never quite became a brand name in the hor­ror world but it wasn’t for a lack of try­ing.  He’s best known for his co-screenwriter credit on the orig­i­nal Night Of The Living Dead but he has devoted much of his life to the genre, both in print and on screen.  He wrote a lengthy string of paperback-original schlock hor­rors start­ing in the mid-1970’s and occa­sion­ally adapted these nov­els as fea­ture films.  Midnight was the first of these adap­ta­tions and it’s far from a great hor­ror film — but it’s an inter­est­ing one, for rea­sons dis­cussed below.

The plot of Midnight revolves around Nancy Johnson (Melanie Verliin), a teen who flees her home when her alkie cop step­fa­ther Bert (Lawrence Tierney) attempts to molest her.  She hitch­hikes out of town, find­ing a ride with Tom (John Hall) and Hank (Charles Jackson).  These two are trav­el­ing cross-country and keep­ing their expenses low by sleep­ing under the stars and shoplift­ing at gro­cery stores.  Nancy falls right into the swing of things, despite Hank being uncom­fort­able with her run­away status.

Unfortunately, the trio’s schemes are upended when they are awoken from one of their cam­pouts by a pair of nasty cops (one played by a post–Martin John Amplas).  Nancy man­ages to escape and begs the denizens of a nearby home for help: unfor­tu­nately, said house is home to a Satanist fam­ily gath­er­ing vic­tims for a series of rit­ual sac­ri­fices — and the “cops” are part of this fam­ily.  In short order, Melanie finds her­self locked in a dog cage as she awaits the next sac­ri­fice.  Her only hope lies in her step­dad, who has come to regret his actions and has set out to find her.

In terms of qual­ity, Midnight is a far cry from Russo’s Night Of The Living Dead past.  The visual style is prim­i­tive, the story is padded with throw­away dia­logue scenes, the dia­logue is loaded with clink­ers and most of the act­ing is awful in that painfully earnest way unique to regional low-budget films.  Russo just isn’t a nat­ural when it comes to film­mak­ing and the end result feels like a par­tic­u­larly thread­bare film-student project.

That said, Midnight remains oddly watch­able despite these many prob­lems.  For one thing, the cheap­ness and ram­shackle qual­ity of the film give it a sort of down-and-out vibe that enhances the grit of the hor­rific moments.  The dingy rural locales are used to good effect and lend it the Yankee ver­sion of a “Southern Discomfort” feel.  More impor­tantly, Russo doesn’t tread lightly when it comes to the hor­rific bits.  His tech­nique might be crude but the black-mass and mur­der scenes have a cold, cruel qual­ity that packs a punch.  It also helps that Tom Savini lent a few minor but con­vinc­ing splat­ter effects for these scenes.

Better yet, Russo adds one unique and fas­ci­nat­ing ele­ment to the film: instead of laps­ing into the expected shock-coma, Nancy gets in touch with her inner reli­gious zealot when she finds her­self trapped in the cultist’s dog cage.  She recites every bit of Catholic-school dogma she can muster and the scenes where inno­cents are slaugh­tered as she fer­vently prays for their depart­ing souls carry a real charge.  There’s even a brief scene where the priest­ess of the coven engages her in a philo­soph­i­cal debate about how a lov­ing God could allow her to end up in such a ter­ri­ble situation.

Ultimately, Midnight is dif­fi­cult to make a case for but if the sell­ing points described above intrigue you, it’s worth a look for curiosity’s sake.

(One final word of warn­ing: Midnight boasts a soft-rock theme song that is used end­lessly in vocal and instru­men­tal ver­sions between the open­ing and end cred­its.  Once you hear it, it’ll be stuck in your head for the next week or so and any thought about the film will bring it rush­ing back to your mem­ory.  If that kind of thing dri­ves you crazy, approach this film with extreme caution.)