The sweet smell they adore, I'd rather smother: Ron Link's Zombie High (1987)

While its title suggests a cheesy Grade-Z horror film, Zombie High (1987) is in reality an extremely smart and savvy look at the disturbing conservative-streak that swept through much of America's youth in the Reagan-ruled eighties. Featuring a wonderful cast, including the always dazzling Virgina Madsen and a pre-Twin Peeks Sherilyn Fenn, Zombie High is one of most surprisingly topical and resonate horror-satires from the eighties in existence and has always been deserving of a much larger audience.

Young Middle-class liberal Andrea has been given the seemingly golden-opportunity of being one of the first female attendees at a posh up-state boarding school, Ettinger Academy, previously only filled by upper-class males. Andrea's initial excitement turns more and more to dread when she begins to notice a robotic conformity sweeping over her fellow students, including the once free-thinking and free-wheeling friends she had made upon her arrival.

Zombie High was the first, and final, film from Ron Link, an artist who worked for most of his life in the theater. The late Link (who passed away in 1999) was in his mid-forties when he shot his low-budget, but ambitious, film, which has much more in common with Invasion of the Body Snatchers and The Stepford Wives rather than Night of the Living Dead or Zombie. Link's direction is hampered by his budgetary limitations but Zombie High still stands as an impressive first-feature and it's a shame he didn't direct for film again.

Zombie High was the brainchild of troubled USC film school graduate Aziz Ghazal, an aspiring filmmaker who committed suicide in 1993 after murdering his wife and daughter. Ghazal wrote the savvy script for Zombie High while he was a student at USC and would end up producing the film along with several others including Elliot Kastner. Even though Ghazal's life ended with a horrific tragedy, his script (which featured some additional pre-production input from television writer Tim Doyle and relative novice Elizabeth Passarelli) has a real spark to it and shows him as a talented man with a real flair for topical humor and clever dialogue.

While it is so incredibly clear today that Virginia Madsen was one of the great American actors to come out of the eighties, when she shot Zombie High she still had almost two decades to go before her skills were properly recognized (via a much-deserved Oscar nomination for Sideways). It was mostly Madsen's stunning looks that were focused on in 1987, but she was always much more than a pretty face with a luscious figure and she actually gives one of her best performances as the young liberal looking to keep her spirit and sanity in Zombie High. Her work as Andrea is incredibly strong and stands among the best genre performances of the period and is certainly the equal to her more popular performance in Bernard Rose' Candyman about five years down the road.

The entire cast of Zombie High is quite notable with special mention going to the equally charming and creepy Richard Cox (who had been so memorable in Friedkin's Cruising earlier in the eighties) and, of course, young Sherilyn Fenn (sporting a huge eighties hair-style) seen here a year before he break-out role in Zalman King's Two Moon Junction. Fenn is granted some of the film's wittiest dialogue and it's clear that really special things are just around the corner for her.

Zombie High is far from a perfect production but most of the problem's on hand can be correlated back to ambition exceeding its budget. The film's final act, which features a few too many chase sequences, doesn't measure up to the sly first-hour and the film's soundtrack by Daniel May dates it much more than the clothes or Fenn's enormous hair. Regardless of its shortcomings, there is a lot to love about Zombie High and anyone who felt disheartened by the creepy conservatism that affected so many youths in the mid-to-late eighties will probably feel more than a little affinity with the film.

Zombie High has a had a troubled release history to say the least. Very briefly released in a few theaters in 1987, where it would gross less than $25,000 the film would appear on VHS in 1988 where it would gather dust on the shelves of many mom and pop stores for years after. Never released on disc Zombie High is now available thankfully for rediscovery streaming on Netflix. I must admit, despite the fact that Virginia Madsen is one of my favorite actors, I only recently saw the film for the first time due to my mistaken belief that it was just going to be a schlocky cheese-fest. The title Zombie High might have been the film's undoing as it's misleading on a number of levels. Title be damned though, Zombie High is a really perceptive film and still stands as a great message for young people to embrace individuality and open mindedness, and to not become just another one of America's conservative douche bags whose only motivating factor is the almighty dollar.

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Operation Screenshot (Films of the Eighties) Zalman King's Two Moon Junction (1988)

While his work was almost always unfairly maligned, Zalman King was one of American cinema's most distinctive voices. King, who sadly passed away after a long battle with cancer on Friday, made erotic-films that were bold, provocative and visually-striking. An accomplished writer and director, as well as a fascinating actor, Zalman King was an artist who did whatever the hell he wanted to, no matter how much it might piss off the critical community or hurt his chances at popular success. He also had a wonderful eye for talent and he helped kick-start the careers of everyone from David Duchovny to Milla Jovovich to, perhaps most notably, Sherilyn Fenn. I love much of his work but my favorite remains his first film as a director, the unforgettable Two Moon Junction. King's 1988 debut, which could be described as Tennessee Williams meets Just Jaeckin, remains one of the most resonate films from one of the worst periods in American film history.
I send out my best wishes to the friends and family of Zalman King, during this difficult time, and offer up this selection of stills from Two Moon Junction as a tribute.

Images From My All Time Favorite Films: David Lynch's Twin Peaks: The Pilot (1990)

Celebrate the 20th anniversary of David Lynch's timeless series over at the essential Twin Peaks Archive.
For my own personal memories of the show and one of its stars, please click here.

Also, check out Radiator Heaven's terrific tribute here and vote in his special Twin Peaks poll.

Starring Betsy Russell

While her career never reached the heights many fans hoped it would, the work of Betsy Russell in the 1980s remains enduring for her devoted following of admirers. Her welcome and surprising return to the screen in the past few years in the Saw sequels have served as notice that she has lost none of the charisma, or looks, that distinguished her when she made her screen-debut more than twenty-five years ago.

Born in San Diego in the late summer of 1963, Betsy Russell’s interest in acting was sparked early in her life, and her teenage years were marked by many memorable appearances in various high school stage productions. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been surprising that something in Betsy sought after the limelight for it was in her blood, as her Grandfather was none other than controversial syndicated columnist Max Lerner.



After graduating high school she left home and ended up in Los Angeles, where her natural good looks instantly began to land her work as a model and as a commercial actress. She immediately began landing auditions for various low budget films around Hollywood, and just before her 19th birthday she was cast as Kittie in the sexploitation comedy Let’s Do It for cult director Bert I. Gordon.
Let’s Do It (1982) failed to distinguish itself among the many teenage sex comedies that crowded theaters in the early to mid eighties but Betsy proved instantly memorable, showing a resonate charm and a warm sexuality that few of her young contemporaries could even hope to match.

Betsy’s debut film role didn’t immediately lead to more film roles but it did land her some television work throughout the next year or so. Head turning spots on everything from T.J. Hooker to Family Ties appeared during this period, each marking Betsy as one to watch and it wasn’t long before she would make the big splash many felt she was destined for.

Pretty Poison’s director Noel Black’s Private School (1983) might not be able to claim itself as a great film, but with a cast including Phoebe Cates, Sylvia Kristel and Matthew Modine it has become an undeniable cult favorite. Stealing the show is Betsy Russell, whose performance as bitchy, sometimes nude, horseback riding Jordan Leigh-Jenson immediately seemed to enter into the realm of eighties pop culture and the heart of every teenage boy watching.



Private School was a hit and it remains a mystery (at least to me) why Betsy wasn’t able to capitalize on it, and yet it would be a full two years (outside of a one shot on The A-Team) before she appeared in front of the cameras again. 1985 would prove to be the busiest for Betsy Russell even though the films were mostly less than distinguished.



First up was Avenging Angel, the trashy but fun follow up to 1984’s Angel, which Betsy had not appeared in. Sporting bigger and blacker hair and a harder edge than she had shown previously, Betsy is extremely solid in Robert Vincent O’Neill’s revenge flick. One of Betsy’s most enduring films immediately followed, Herb Freed’s Tomboy, a flawed but still delightful work that is among the most memorable comedies of the eighties. As mechanic and wanna-be race car driver Tommy, Russell delivers exactly the kind of energetic and witty performance that should have led her directly to better material. Unfortunately it wasn’t to be as mostly silly little teen comedies like Private School and Tomboy remain chiefly what Betsy Russell is remembered for.



The teen action flick Out of Control (a film which also featured a young Sherilyn Fenn) followed as did more TV work but it was quickly becoming apparent that the career of Betsy Russell wasn’t going in the direction it should have been, and by 1987 film roles were getting further and further apart.

Arguably the last really memorable role of her career before her recent appearances in the Saw sequels came in 1987 with another horror film, the cult slasher favorite Cheerleader Camp (Bloody Pom-Poms) for director John Quinn. Few would argue that Quinn’s film ranks as a good one but it has its charms (chief among them Betsy’s lead turn as Alison Wentworth) and its dark humor pre-dates Wes Craven’s Scream by nearly a full decade.



Betsy Russell would scrape through the rest of the eighties with more TV work and a handful of mostly forgettable films. I remember one particular viewing of the Anthony Edwards-Lance Henrikson film Delta Heat in the early nineties, in which Betsy had a co-starring role as essentially ‘the girl’, when a friend I was watching it with pointed out that she deserved better…she certainly did.



All but retired from films by the mid nineties to care for her children, Betsy Russell seemed like some sort of distant dream before she suddenly (and rather magically) appeared in 2006’s underrated Saw III. A much larger role followed in last year’s disappointing Saw IV and she can currently be seen in Saw V.

Betsy Russell’s surprising and welcome comeback should continue. She has wrapped another horror film, Chain Letter, and hopefully more roles will continue to come her way.
Personally speaking, I have always admired Betsy Russell and think of her as one of the most memorable icons of a decade that just didn't have enough good material to offer. To quote my friend, 'she deserves better' but how marvelous that she still managed to prove so memorable in the relatively few quality films she appeared in.

***Some of the stills used in this piece are taken from this Yahoo group dedicated to Betsy.***

The Last Crush (Memories of Sherilyn Fenn as Audrey Horne in Twin Peaks)

Every teenager deserves at least one magical crush on someone whom will always be completely out of their reach. The intoxicating kind of crush that seems all consuming, and at times downright supernatural, is necessary for anyone’s most awkward and yearning years.
The first time I saw Sherilyn Fenn is forever etched in my mind. It was late on a school night of my sophomore year of high school, around 1989, and I was flipping around the television looking for another reason to stay awake. I came across a film set obviously in a humidity scorched South and, unable to find anything else worth watching, I settled on this mysterious offering to close out my night…
The film, an under-rated Tennessee Williams meets David Hamilton romp from Zalman King called Two Moon Junction, introduced me to the wonderful world that is one miss Sheryl Ann Fenn. Thinking on the film now, I honestly don’t even remember how much of it I watched that night, I just remember the effect her extraordinary face had on me. It was kind of like that feeling you get when you come up from air after you’ve been under water a bit too long…a mixture of relief and excitement and the feeling that you can finally…breathe…again.



That face, those eyes and those slightly arched eyebrows, that seemed to be eternally in on a secret no one else would ever know, haunted me for months afterwards. This was before the internet and the IMDB, it was before information was so easily accessible. I managed to acquire who she was and according to a film book I found I realized I had actually seen a couple of the films she had made before (Just One of the Guys and The Wild Life) but I didn’t remember her. Essentially, for months after, she was just like a vision I had and I found my thoughts often drifting to her face during classes that year and wondering if I had just simply dreamed her.



I discovered her again on a warm April night in 1990 when I tuned in for the Pilot episode of a new series from David Lynch called Twin Peaks. I didn’t know Sherilyn was in the show but I noticed her name in the opening credits and remembered my heart jumping. Watching that Pilot that night was extraordinary, it was as though David Lynch had a private view into exactly the kind of show I needed to see in that period and I just fell in love with it. To this day, I still include that initial entry into the strange and oh so beguiling world of Twin Peaks one of the great films of the nineties, never mind great TV...this was great art and that 100 minutes or so will stand as one of the most perfectly realized statements of intent of the decade.



Sherilyn Fenn, of course, played the unforgettable Audrey Horne and she was just so exquisite in the role. Regardless of my fevered teenage crush on Sherilyn, I always considered Audrey to be one of the secret hearts to the show. Specifically the sweet relationship she develops with Agent Cooper I though stood as one of its most resonate aspects…a perfect little rose surrounded by the tangled weave of cycling abuse that circled the series…



As Audrey Horne, Sherilyn is just breathtaking and totally unforgettable. Honestly, I recall thinking as I was watching the series that Sherilyn was the only actress I had ever seen who truly reminded me of a young Marilyn Monroe. It wasn’t the look necessarily and it wasn’t the more iconic blonde Monroe she made me think of, but it was instead the strange and lonely photos of Norma Jean Baker on the cusp of stardom that struck me watching Sherilyn…there is something so isolated in her work as Audrey, some supernatural solitude that separates her from everyone else around her.



I wrote Sherilyn, what was probably, a gushing fan letter a few episodes into Twin Peaks and I was thrilled a month or so later to get a note from her, along with a beautiful black and white autographed photograph that immediately found itself lovingly placed in the nicest frame I could find. Occasionally I still pull out that envelope the two originally came in and remember the wave of joy that came with it, and smile sadly as I realize soon that it will be almost twenty years since I received it.



Watching Twin Peaks today after all these years, Sherilyn Fenn’s Audrey Horne is still as captivating and as alluring as ever. Perhaps even more so in knowing that she never topped the role, that the stardom many of us thought was an inevitability for her never developed for whatever reason. Personally speaking, that fact gives the show an extra layer of bitter sweetness now that wasn't there for me before, as ultimately Sherilyn wasn't the only one who didn't get to the place I thought she would, as my own life didn't end up equalling the dreams I had for it either.



Which isn't to say Sherilyn Fenn wasn't great after Twin Peaks...certainly her extremely moving one scene performance in Wild At Heart (tragically the last time she would work with David Lynch) is one for the ages...and I love her caustic turn as the recovering addict Billie Frank in Showtime's brutal Rude Awakening (Seriously if anyone has copies of this show, please email me), a series that ran for a few seasons in the late nineties.



There have indeed been other good roles in film and television, but I will go to my grave thinking that for whatever reason Sherilyn Fenn got ripped off. Perhaps it was her reputation as a loner unwilling to play the Hollywood game that did it, or perhaps it was the fact that, with the exception of Audrey Horne and maybe Billie Frank, she always felt too big for the roles she was given. I think maybe she belonged in another era...perhaps from fifty years ago or maybe even fifty years from now.



There is a story that David Lynch's Mulholland Drive originally got its start as some sort of Audrey Horne spin off story, but Sherilyn never got to play the part of Rita (Laura Harring ended up playing it) that Lynch might have meant for her. It's a tragic little footnote to a baffling should have been career.

I miss a few of the dreams I had for myself back in 1990, but for the most part I am okay dealing mostly in memories and tributes these days. Please consider my memories of Sherilyn Fenn among my sweetest and my tribute to her as my most sincere.