Sinners | Comedy Film Review | Part 2
HECKLED With Jokes
To continue where we left off in part one, it was intriguing to me that the main vampire in the film hails from Ireland. Or to use the Irish tourist board phrase, the Emerald Isle, that’s right, come to the Emerald Isle, where every town is filled with friendly faces and warm smiles, apart from in the north where there’s been a decades long, brutal civil war. But many people don't realize that Ireland along with Scotland are the only two countries where vampires are actually able to function during the day. And this is not only because of the complete and utter lack of any sunshine whatsoever, but also because the seasoning of food is so extremely frowned upon, that there is very, very little chance of any of the dreaded garlic lurking around.
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It’s also much easier for the undead to hide amongst Celtic populations as a deathly pallor, pointy uneven teeth, and a general disregard for the safety of others is pretty much par for the course. In fact Van Helsing, history’s most famous vampire hunter, went on holiday to Largs on the west coast of Scotland and mistakenly drove his stake through the hearts of three holiday-goers before realizing they weren't the undead, they were merely from East Kilbride.
Anyways back to the film where it's opening night at the Honky Tonk. Unfortunately, gathered outside, the vampires are all having a hoedown and doing the Riverdance to banjo music. Imagine if Michael Flatley had teamed up with Bauhaus and the cast of Deliverance on a new interpretive dance piece. They’re all jumping around a hooting and a hollering but it seems they just can’t wait to get into the Honky Tonk. Perhaps the local vampire nightclub had a no trainers policy, or overpriced drinks or even worse it was 1980s night, who knows.
By the way, I must mention, throughout the film there does seem to be an underlying theme that one can become a minion of Satan himself just by listening to Country and Western music. And yes, indeed, listening to Country & Western music might transform you into an unemployed truck driver on his fourth divorce that’s caught in a motel with a male prostitute smoking methamphetamine. I mean, what can I say, It was a dark period in my life. But devil worshipper? Well probably, yes to that too. Country and Western, don't do it, kids. Unless it's Dolly Parton and her very large breasts. See part one of this review for the reference.
I’m assuming the vampires want to gain entry to the Honky Tonk to feast on the revellers but there might be other reasons too, it might be the allure of seeing people who actually know how to dance without looking like they’re having a myoclonic seizure. Either way the vampires start picking off and chowing down on the Honky Tonk staff and customers, one by one, like a cougar in charge of a male modelling agency. Yes, I’m referring to female on male sexual harassment. Incidentally, it doesn’t seem that the undead are really putting much effort into vampirising the living. Just a scratch or even a really forthright pinch seems to be sufficient. Standards really have decreased amongst the creatures of the night, I feel.
Of course, all this demonic conversion therapy really starts to irritate the twin brothers. And no wonder, if their entire staff are turned into the undead, that would mean they could only work at night and the overtime bill would be through the roof. So they need to devise a test to see who has been vampirised and who hasn’t, which they do by making people eat garlic, lots and lots of garlic. So much so, they must have ended up with worse breath than a geography teacher in a failing high school. As mentioned previously, vampires tend to react to garlic in much the same way that someone from Hull reacts to soap. Not well. Which is why, of course, there are no Italian vampires. If you see a vampire grabbing his testicles and pestering passing women, don’t be deceived, he’s just Puerto Rican.
As the evening progresses, more and more of the people in the Honky Tonk are turned into vampires, which, if we’re honest, does seem to have at least some benefits, such as eternal life. Imagine living forever but you’re still not eligible for income tax because, as you could say on the form, you're technically dead. I mean, there would be downsides also. Think of all the unlucky divorced vampires paying alimony for unending millennia and only seeing their demon-spawn children once a century.
Personally, I'm not sure if I'd actually really want eternal life. I find myself boring enough as it is. Give me just fifty more years of this rubbishy existence and I’d be gulping down cloves of garlic by the handful and impaling myself on the nearest toothpick. I would rather fancy spending some leisure time as a bat, though. That could be highly invigorating. I could fly anywhere and everywhere, avoiding the eastern hemisphere, of course and their rather bizarre recipes for soup. Perhaps I could make it all the way to Mars and give Elon Musk the finger. Dear Mr Musk, swivel on this. Yours sincerely, the only truly flying mammal.
Where was I, sorry, I’m rambling. But please, do go and see this film. As I said, it’s fun, there are large breasts and you get to see a more sensitive and introspective side of Nosferatu and the Ku Klux Klan. Something that’s sadly missing in many recent film productions, I feel.