Few films wear their 'Video Nasty' badge with quite the same blood-soaked pride as 1980's Night of the Demon. This wasn't just a title whispered about in hushed tones amongst horror hounds browsing the dimly lit aisles of the local video shop; seeing that lurid cover art felt like handling something genuinely illicit. Directed by the enigmatic James C. Wasson (in what appears to be his sole feature directing credit), this ultra-low-budget Bigfoot slasher burrowed under the skin not through sophisticated scares, but through sheer, unadulterated, Cenozoic-era brutality. Watching it again now, that grimy, almost dangerous feeling lingers, a testament to its raw, backwoods power.
Into the Primitive Dark
The setup is classic B-movie fodder, tapping directly into the Bigfoot craze that lumbered through the 70s and early 80s. Anthropology professor Bill Nugent (played with earnest conviction by Michael Cutt) leads a group of his students deep into the wilderness to investigate local legends of a monstrous creature – and perhaps uncover the truth behind his own father's disappearance years prior. What follows is less an investigation and more a rapid descent into primal terror. The film wastes little time, establishing a damp, oppressive atmosphere thick with the smell of pine needles and impending doom. The grainy 16mm film stock (reportedly blown up to 35mm for some releases) only enhances the feeling of watching something unearthed, something gritty and real in a way glossier productions often miss. Shot somewhere in the wilds of California, the locations feel genuinely remote, amplifying the sense of isolation as the body count inevitably begins to rise.
Unflinching, Unforgettable Carnage
Let's be blunt: Night of the Demon is infamous for its gore. And rightly so. This isn't the slick, stylized violence that would come later in the decade. This is messy, visceral, and often startlingly graphic practical effects work that pushes boundaries with gleeful abandon. There's a raw, almost mean-spirited energy to the creature's attacks that feels genuinely shocking, even today. You likely know the scenes – the poor soul dispatched while zipped into a sleeping bag, swung against a tree like a grisly piñata. Or the moment that undoubtedly cemented its place on the UK Director of Public Prosecutions' hit list: that castration scene. It's ugly, it's crude, but wasn't that part of the forbidden thrill back then? Discovering something that felt like it shouldn't exist? The film's journey through the censors was predictably fraught, leading to its outright ban in the UK and various heavily edited versions elsewhere, only fueling its underground legend. The original tagline, "Human hunt... the ultimate horror!" wasn't kidding.
Making Monsters in the Mud
The creature itself is... well, it’s a guy in a suit. Let's not pretend otherwise. Yet, there's an effectiveness to its brief, savage appearances. Wasson wisely keeps the monster obscured for much of the runtime, relying on shadow, quick cuts, and the sheer ferocity of its actions to build menace. This is guerilla filmmaking, born of necessity. You can almost feel the limited resources straining at the seams, but that constraint paradoxically adds to the film's grim charm. The effects team, working with what was likely pocket change, delivered sequences designed purely for maximum visceral impact. They might look rough around the edges now, but in the context of early 80s drive-in and VHS horror, they were jaw-droppingly audacious. There's a certain respect due for that level of go-for-broke ambition, even if finesse wasn't the primary goal.
Legacy of a Nasty
The performances range from the committed (Michael Cutt trying to anchor the chaos) to the... less polished. But honestly, nuanced acting isn't why anyone sought out Night of the Demon. We were there for the monster, the mayhem, the feeling that we were glimpsing something forbidden. And it delivered. It’s a film that feels intrinsically tied to the VHS era – the grainy picture, the slightly muffled sound, the knowledge that you were watching something the authorities actively tried to suppress. Does it hold up as high art? Absolutely not. Is it technically proficient? Often, no. But does it remain a fascinating, brutal time capsule of exploitation filmmaking and a key player in the 'Video Nasty' saga? Undeniably. My own tape, rented countless times from a long-gone local store, eventually wore thin in certain spots – usually around those scenes, rewound and replayed in morbid fascination by teenage eyes.
***
Rating: 6/10
Justification: While technically crude, narratively thin, and hampered by its ultra-low budget, Night of the Demon earns its points through sheer, unadulterated audacity and its historical significance as a prime 'Video Nasty'. The practical gore effects, though dated, remain shockingly visceral and are the film's main draw. Its atmosphere of backwoods dread is palpable, and its cult status is well-deserved, fueled by its controversial history and memorable sequences of brutality. It's not 'good' in the traditional sense, but it's a potent, unforgettable slice of 80s exploitation horror that perfectly encapsulates the forbidden thrill of the VHS hunt.
Final Thought: Night of the Demon isn't a film you recommend for its artistry, but for its raw, untamed energy and its place in the annals of truly notorious horror. It’s a dirty, grimy, and unforgettable trip back to a time when Bigfoot wasn't just a legend, but a slasher waiting in the woods.