A great horror movie makes more of an impression on the psyche than any other kind of film. Hell, even a bad horror flick can scar you for life. There’s a phrase that every seasoned horror fan loves to hear: “Have you ever seen . . . ?”

For the next 31 days, John E. Meredith will unearth some of his personal favorites that fell through the cracks, that are not so obvious, the kind that might even sneak up on you while you’re trying to sleep.

Near Dark 1987, USA. Directed by Kathryn Bigelow. Written by Bigelow and Eric Red. Starring Adrian Pasdar, Jenny Wright, Lance Henriksen, Bill Paxton.

The night that Oklahoma boy Caleb first sees lovely Mae, he stakes his claim before any of his back-slapping buddies can make a move. Stalking up on her in his shit-kickin’ boots and cowboy hat, he’s smart enough to note, “I sure haven’t met any girls like you.” She does seem to be an intriguing swirl of both delicate and feral. Up the road beyond the small-town lights, she drags him from the pickup truck to writhe about in the dark and explain that the night out here is deafening.

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They drive around together, quickly falling in love in a way that only happens in movies. She suddenly panics. He has to get her home right now, wherever that is. The distant edge of the horizon is glowing red with the coming sun. Caleb insists that she kiss him first. Despite the growing urgency, Mae takes the time to make out with him pretty intensely, taking a pretty intense bite out of his neck before she’s gone.

Then Caleb’s truck won’t start. The sun is coming up faster now, and it seems brighter than usual. Matter of fact, it’s damn near burning his skin. Smoke is rising off Caleb as he stumbles across the plain toward home. His father and little sister are outside to start the morning chores when she sees her brother in the distance. She says he looks sick, and we wonder if he can get to the house before he just bursts into flames.

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That’s when the darkened RV swoops up the road toward Caleb. As his family watches helplessly, a door swings open and heavily-clad arms scoop him into the escaping vehicle. With this, Mae introduces Caleb to his bloodthirsty new family, which includes film veterans Lance Henriksen and Bill Paxton.

Kathryn Bigelow’s sophomore effort is a vampire movie where the word is never once spoken. In a script co-written by Eric Red (THE HITCHER), they wisely scrap the crosses, fangs and coffins for the desert psychosis of wide-open spaces and an ambient guitar score by Tangerine Dream. Caleb’s new family never say exactly how old they are, but they talk about a great fire they once set in Chicago and Henriksen’s Jesse says he fought for the South in a losing battle. Most things are implied rather than explicitly stated, such as when Caleb tries to get back home, getting stranded, starving, in a bus station. That Zagnut tastes terrible, but, damn, the blood-soaked bandage on this cop’s hand sure smells good . . .

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There are a few gaps in narrative logic, from a blood transfusion that feels a bit sketchy to the way that daylight seems to frequently sneak right up on these ancient creatures of the night. Mostly, though, we have some very memorable moments: Spears of daylight in a darkened bungalow that are more dangerous than the bullets that made them. Flesh that chars and ignites in the sun as the main characters make a final showdown. And one of my favorite Bill Paxton scenes ever as he goes completely bat-shit in a honkeytonk bar.

This fresh drop of cinematic blood was a precursor to other vampire Westerns, like FROM DUSK ‘TIL DAWN and John Carpenter’s VAMPIRES, but in 1987 everyone was going to see THE LOST BOYS instead. Apparently there’s no accounting for taste.

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