Dennis Christopher plays Eric Binford, an awkward and isolated film geek who is obsessed with the movies. He spends his free time obsessively watching the classics of Hollywood's bygone era, chain-smoking and ignoring the nagging of his abusive aunt. After meeting an aspiring actress/Marilyn Monroe lookalike, Eric falls deeper into his delusions of cinematic grandeur, and begins executing his enemies just like he sees in the movies.
Confused social commentary or perhaps just a cleverly written meta-narrative for modern horror cinema, "Fade to Black" is an all around treat that caters to anyone who considers themselves a cinephile. Part horror film and part psychological drama, the film oscillates between Eric's day-to-day life struggles and the grim re-enactments he begins making of his favorite film scenes.
Although a low budget picture, the cinematography here is classy and the camera picks up on the glamorous facade of Los Angeles and juxtaposes it with its underbelly of working class citizens, which parallels with Eric's internal struggle. Dennis Christopher's neurotic performance is key here, as he exemplifies the role of the excessive dreamer. Part of the film's success in connecting to the audience is the ways in which Eric reminds us of ourselves— we are all dreamers, some more than others, but his internal struggle as it manifests into real life theatrical performance reveals a bit about our own dreams and how they square up with our realities— hopefully with not quite as horrific of consequences. An innocent and plucky performance by Linda Kerridge as the Marilyn Monroe lookalike/object of affection is a memorable counterpart to Christopher, and unfolds as a postmodern Marilyn phantasm of Eric's delusions. The understated and downbeat conclusion does not lend the film a "feel good" tag by any means, but is there any other way for it to end?
"Fade to Black" is a film made by dreamers, for dreamers, but its protagonist's plight is universal—we all have the makings of the perpetual underdog. Although the vast majority of us have the better sense and dignity to not act upon our destructive fantasies, there is a cathartic and appropriately voyeuristic element to watching someone live out that which is internalized in a free society. After all, we are not the owners of our fantasies or our desires; they are the owners of us—and there's a little Eric Binford in all of us, too, whether we want to admit it or or not. 9/10.
Confused social commentary or perhaps just a cleverly written meta-narrative for modern horror cinema, "Fade to Black" is an all around treat that caters to anyone who considers themselves a cinephile. Part horror film and part psychological drama, the film oscillates between Eric's day-to-day life struggles and the grim re-enactments he begins making of his favorite film scenes.
Although a low budget picture, the cinematography here is classy and the camera picks up on the glamorous facade of Los Angeles and juxtaposes it with its underbelly of working class citizens, which parallels with Eric's internal struggle. Dennis Christopher's neurotic performance is key here, as he exemplifies the role of the excessive dreamer. Part of the film's success in connecting to the audience is the ways in which Eric reminds us of ourselves— we are all dreamers, some more than others, but his internal struggle as it manifests into real life theatrical performance reveals a bit about our own dreams and how they square up with our realities— hopefully with not quite as horrific of consequences. An innocent and plucky performance by Linda Kerridge as the Marilyn Monroe lookalike/object of affection is a memorable counterpart to Christopher, and unfolds as a postmodern Marilyn phantasm of Eric's delusions. The understated and downbeat conclusion does not lend the film a "feel good" tag by any means, but is there any other way for it to end?
"Fade to Black" is a film made by dreamers, for dreamers, but its protagonist's plight is universal—we all have the makings of the perpetual underdog. Although the vast majority of us have the better sense and dignity to not act upon our destructive fantasies, there is a cathartic and appropriately voyeuristic element to watching someone live out that which is internalized in a free society. After all, we are not the owners of our fantasies or our desires; they are the owners of us—and there's a little Eric Binford in all of us, too, whether we want to admit it or or not. 9/10.