VALERIE ON THE STAIRS

The most philosophically ambitious of the second series of 'Masters of Horror,' Valerie on the Stairs is in many ways also the most disappointing. This is both a shame and a surprise, as author/director Garris has proven himself capable of startlingly complex storytelling skills and an emotionally charged vision in such classics as Ride the Bullet and The Stand. Here Garris evokes a powerful drama of creation and desire, need and metaphor, only to loose his narrative drive (and our empathy) in the last act. The uneven if invigorating result is frustrating.

The plot is exceptional in broad conception and archetypal resonance if lazily constructed, commenting on such universal and philosophically rich ideas as the conflict between creator/creation, the emotional price of art, and the very real yet metaphorical sacrifices that writing reaps from its practitioners. Rob Hanisey (Tyron Leitso) is a struggling young author with a checkered past and no prospects who is accepted into a writer's retreat after 'Highberger House's' last occupant killed himself. In search of a place to finish his new (fifth unpublished) novel, Rob is your prototype 'hard luck' author burning the midnight oil to make his words live. This concept takes on a terrifying meaning after he finds himself haunted by visions of a seductive woman called Valerie. Highberger is an emotionally charged archetype of the 'bad place,' and fits the story well, from its wall banging hysterics and shadowy corridors to its blood-stained bathtub. Valerie (Clare Grant), the fem fatal on the staircase, is accompanied by a demon who she appears attracted to and repulsed by in equal fashion. When Rob attempts to find out who she is, he finds himself in the middle of a writer's tale -- one wherein the events have already been plotted, and the ending is far from happy. His fellow writers soon begin dying in terribly bloody ways, ravaged by the woman and beast their collective imaginations unleashed from the pits of imagination, as Rob struggles to discover his own role in this inventive if lop-sided tragedy.

A cinematic shaman spinning literate, emotionally poignant dark miracles in the ghost-light of the silver screen, Mick Garris has earned his literary and cinematic success. If this isn't his best work, the source material from Clive Barker (another genre maverick whose work is usually both poetic and mind-bending) is as much to blame as Barker's adaptation of it. Whereas the author's Chocolate episode was one of the first series finer literary moments, focusing as much on subtle nuances of character as on sexual titillation and terror, the story for Valerie is disjointed, suffering primarily from characters who don't quite convince and a last quarter that begins to waver in terms of believability and pacing and quickly descends into the ludicrous. Taking a riff from the classic surreal play Five Characters in Search of an Author, which also explored literary characters and their 'real' world authors, the premise is excellent, anchored in the mystical relationship between scribe and fictional personas. The struggles of writing are dealt with in both a painful naturalistic fashion and used as metaphors for the supernatural angst throughout. All this is achieved quite well until the final confrontation between author and demon. Suddenly an artful modern myth becomes a trash talking exercise in the ridiculous, as man and monster trade one-liners. Things only get worse when the ending (a neat if not entirely unexpected idea) is made to feel both cliché and unconvincing as a result of poor effects work and too many plot inconsistencies. All this adds up to a terror tale filled with intriguing ideas and stark moments of wonder but lacking the collective glue necessary to keep all such elements together.

The picture is in anamorphic 1.78:1 widescreen. Image quality is sharp and clean, with colors vivid and compelling. No grain or speckling is evident. Audio is graced by composer Richard Band, which is delivered without interference or distortion on the 5.1 and 2.0 tracks.

Extras consist of Mick's "Audio Commentary," where the director speaks about several aspects of the production, including searching for Canadian actors, the Vancouver location, and the story itself. "Spine Tingler: The Making of VALERIE ON THE STAIRS," is next, and features actors Tony Todd, FX men Nicotero and Berger, the editor, and, finally, Barker. Not as meaty as one would expect, the discussions are nevertheless instructional. "Jump Scare: Editing Valerie" is not as series as the other extras but is certainly more fun as we're shown how crucial editing is to the creation of scary moments in film. Lastly is a "Bio" section for Garris, a small "Collection of Stills," and the usual "Screenplay (DVD ROM).

Review by William Simmons