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Movie
Review - Blade
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When
the nightwalkers take over the streets, pray he's
out there…somewhere. The original Mad Max used
a similar tag line to successfully market its hi-octane
celluloid product and accelerate Mel Gibson from highway
rebel-with-a-cause to stardom. The laws of copyright
prohibit Blade from adopting any such opening but
it could so well have applied.
Humourless,
leather clad and revenge-driven, Blade (Wesley Snipes)
dons the Mad Max persona and attempts to eliminate
as many bad dudes as possible within a two hour abattoir
of slashed throats, lost limbs and exploding bodies.
As with the bikie gangs who foolishly precipitated
the metamorphosis of Max from loving husband and father
to a cold-bloodied killer hell-bent on V8 retribution,
the fanged nasties don't have a chance in hell against
the human-vampire hybrid known and feared as Blade.
Delivered
by Caesarean section, his mother expiring from the
jugular impression of a vampire, Blade survives hospital
food, orphanism and the pretentiousness of body beautiful
California. Having visited a gym or two during his
rise to adult-hood, a pumped-up Blade undertakes a
self-imposed mission to rid society of the evil bloodsuckers.
In doing so he slays enough vampires to fill a morgue.
Possessing the darkly powers unique to the night brethren,
yet able to withstand deadly UV rays and enjoy the
taste of garlic, he is unique and able to carry the
fight like no one else. Notwithstanding his uniqueness,
the inimitable Blade has other means to eradicate
the undead.
Armed
to the teeth, Terminator style, his Errol Flynn swordplay
wielded from biceps the size the loaf of bread and
Jean Claude Van Damn reverse-back-kicks complete the
offensive package. Yes, he may even be capable of
stopping Rambo.
The
one-man arsenal leaves the viewer in little doubt
of his capabilities; put to the test during the opening
scenes. A poor unsuspecting mortal, led by a sexy
vampire (Traci Lords) into a dance-club den of bloodsuckers,
is about to experience the fanged wrath of the thirsty
mob. The arrival of Blade sees the vampires scatter
like frightened bats.
Assisting
the night avenger in his reanimated corpse cleansing
crusade is the once leader of Convoy, Kris "the
Rubber Duck" Kristofferson. Leaving his rig at
the wreckers, Kristofferson steps out of his trucker
attire and into the garments of Whistler; an angst
ridden soul with painful limp, lengthy grey hair and
even longer memories filled with Vlad hatred. To appease
his loathing for those who rise from coffins, Whistler
designs and supplies an arsenal of high-tech armoury
and weaponry to the natural born killer, Blade.
The
obligatory attractive female lead, Karen (N'Bushe
Wright), is conveniently into blood. A practising
haematologist, she falls victim to the attack of a
vampire and is saved from a life of death by our hero.
Grateful for the gory intervention, she uses her medical
know-how to help clot Blade's slide to a dark place
occupied with a legion of already lost souls. A dark
place teeming with Jerry Springer fans no doubt.
Like
action flicks of the time viz. Cliff-hanger, Die Hard,
the villain provides the starch and acting 'umph'.
Blade follows suit. Snipes nemesis is the icy cool
Deacon Frost (Stephen Dorff).
Cold
in name and nature, Frost leads a band of rogue vampires
- bitten rather than born to the condition - on a
quest to raise the granddaddy of all vampires: La
Magra. Ignoring the council of vampire elders, with
their rigid conservatism and pure blood, Frost embarks
on a bloody-minded plan to usher in a new era of vampire
dominance; his dominance. Sexy and suave, the malevolent
Frost plays the undead with living realism. His megalomaniac
appetite matched only with his hunger for life fluid.
All
muscles and corpuscles, Blade is fast and furious.
Tearing along with deadly speed, it leaves behind
a vampire body count that not even a hundred Van Helsing's
could hope to match. Never to be a classic of the
sub-genre, and yet its gothic overtones and sexy feel
interspersed with limb-detaching energy almost left
this viewer with a red glow of satisfaction.
Rating:
Three bites outta five
Bloody but not brilliant
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