Okay, fellow tapeheads, dim the lights, maybe crack open a Tab if you can find one, because tonight we're digging into a bona fide Halloween party gone straight to hell: 1988’s Night of the Demons. This one felt like forbidden fruit plucked right off the horror shelf at the video store, didn't it? That lurid cover art practically dared you to rent it, promising demonic mayhem and exactly the kind of sleazy, spooky fun that defined late-80s horror. And boy, did it deliver, in its own wonderfully grubby way.
The setup is pure 80s gold: a group of high school stereotypes – the jock, the good girl, the prankster metalheads, the shy guy, and the requisite goth outcast, Angela – decide the perfect place for a Halloween party is Hull House. Not just any house, mind you, but an abandoned funeral parlor sitting on cursed land, complete with a convenient underground stream and a history soaked in tragedy. What could possibly go wrong? You know the answer, I know the answer, and that predictability is part of the charm. The script, penned by Joe Augustyn, doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it knows exactly what kind of party it's throwing.
### Welcome to Hull House, Don't Mind the Demons
Director Kevin S. Tenney, fresh off the surprise success of Witchboard (another video store staple!), leans into the atmosphere here. Hull House itself feels genuinely creepy, a decaying relic filled with shadows and secrets. Fun fact: the exterior shots were filmed at a real house in South Central Los Angeles, lending it an authentic, rundown vibe that studio sets often lack. Inside, the teens do what teens in 80s horror movies do best: drink, attempt awkward flirtations, crank up the music (more on that later), and generally make terrible decisions. The catalyst, of course, is Angela, played with gleeful weirdness by the undisputed queen of 80s scream queens, Linnea Quigley. Her bizarre séance-mirror dance is an early highlight, setting the stage for the demonic invasion to come.
Our final girl-in-waiting is Judy (Cathy Podewell, who many might remember from her run on Dallas around the same time), sweet and sensible, paired awkwardly with the film’s ostensible hero, Jay (William Gallo). But let's be honest, the non-demonic characters are mostly sketched-in archetypes designed to become possessed cannon fodder. Alvin Alexis as Roger, the perpetually terrified voice of reason, gets some decent moments, but it's the demons we came to see.
### When Makeup Effects Were King
And this is where Night of the Demons truly shines, especially watching it through VHS-tinted glasses. Forget subtle CGI transformations; this is the era of gloriously grotesque practical makeup effects, masterminded by Steve Johnson and his team. When Angela undergoes her first full demonic possession, it’s a genuinely striking and unsettling sequence. The distorted features, the claws, the chilling voice – it felt raw and physical in a way digital effects rarely capture. Remember how real those transformations looked back then, even with the slight flicker of a CRT screen?
And then there's that scene. You know the one. Spoiler Alert! for the uninitiated, but Angela's infamous lipstick trick involving Mimi Kincaid's character, Stooge (Hal Havins' doomed girlfriend), is pure 80s horror audacity. It’s shocking, weirdly inventive, and unforgettable. A little behind-the-scenes magic for you: the effect was achieved practically, using a prosthetic chest appliance that actress Mimi Kincaid (who played the possessed Angela in this sequence) pulled the lipstick into. The footage was then simply reversed, creating that stomach-churning illusion. It's the kind of go-for-broke practical effect that defined the era – born perhaps from necessity (the film had a modest budget of around $1.2 million) but resulting in something truly iconic. The gore effects throughout, while sometimes feeling the pinch of potential MPAA cuts, still pack a visceral punch – the eye-gouging, the possessed partygoers, it all feels tangible.
### Sound, Fury, and Cult Status
The film’s energy is further amplified by its soundtrack. Dennis Michael Tenney’s synth-heavy score sets the mood perfectly, but the inclusion of Bauhaus's goth anthem "Stigmata Martyr" during Angela’s initial dance sequence? Inspired. It instantly roots the film in a specific time and subculture, adding another layer to its grungy charm.
Upon release, Night of the Demons wasn't exactly a critical darling, but it found its audience where it mattered most: on home video. It became a perennial Halloween rental favorite, eventually grossing over $3 million and cementing its status as a cult classic. Its blend of T&A, surprisingly gnarly effects, dark humor, and that irresistible haunted house party premise proved enduring. It even spawned a couple of sequels in the 90s (Night of the Demons 2 is surprisingly decent!) and an inevitable 2009 remake, none of which quite captured the specific lightning-in-a-bottle sleaze of the original.
Rating: 7/10
This score reflects its undeniable status as a top-tier piece of 80s horror cheese. The acting is variable, the plot is thin, and some of the humor hasn't aged gracefully. However, the sheer energy, the fantastic practical demon effects (especially Angela's), the atmospheric setting, and Linnea Quigley's iconic performance elevate it significantly. It delivers exactly the kind of spooky, gory, slightly trashy fun promised by its VHS box art, making it a near-perfect slice of demonic nostalgia.
Final Take: Night of the Demons is a glorious relic from a time when horror didn't need subtlety, just latex, Karo syrup, and a willingness to get weird in an abandoned funeral parlor. Fire it up and party like it's 1988 – just maybe skip the séance.