Cirque du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant Movie Review

Darren knew better.

After all, the boy has all the tools he needs to make good, solid decisions for himself. He's tight with his parents. He gets good grades. He's got a decent sense of right and wrong. 

And he's mostly responsible.

That's why it'd be tempting to blame the whole convoluted adventure on Steve, Darren's slightly delinquent best friend. Steve--a guy with a bad home life, a worse attitude and an unhealthy fixation on the undead--really wants to go to a shady performance called Cirque du Freak. Darren, grounded, tells Steve he can't go. But Steve goads him, telling him he's a big Mama's boy.

"You do care about what [your parents] say," Steve sneers. "You do whatever they say."

Darren gives in. And that evening he and Steve find themselves "entertained" by a menagerie of "differently abled" people. There's the man with two stomachs who constructs a small bicycle inside his belly, vomits it up and rides it off the stage. There's a wolf-like creature who tears the arm off someone in the audience. (The spectator's a planted "freak" who's able to grow limbs back in the space of a standard commercial break.) 

And then there's the mysterious spider charmer Larten Crepsley and his largish eight-legged co-star, Madame Octa. Steve swears this guy's not simply a Siegfried & Roy wannabe. He's sure he's seen Crepsley's picture before--in a book about the undead. 

Steve and Darren linger after the show. And Darren takes a liking to Octa. He decides to "borrow" her, but before he can spirit the spider away, he hears some very bizarre conversations--including one in which Steve begs Crepsley to turn him into a vampire. 

No dice, Crepsley says. He says Steve's blood "tastes of evil," and if there's one thing Crepsley can't stand, it's an evil vampire. So he sends the disappointed lad away. And Darren, seeing his chance to escape, runs off with Octa.

Alas, Darren takes the highly poisonous spider to school with him. And, naturally, the critter escapes. Next thing you know, Steve's been bitten and plunges into a coma. 

There is an antidote, but Crepsley won't give it to Darren unless the lad leaves his life behind and becomes his assistant. Oh, and he'll need to become part vampire, too. 

"It's a lonely life," Crepsley admits. "But there's lots of it."

Our culture has been on vampire overload for the last few years now. From Twilight to True

Blood, these undead charmers haunt our media in epidemic numbers.

Why? I credit most of the infestation to the fact that vamps make such versatile vehicles for metaphor. Through the undead, authors, artists and directors can explore themes as diverse as sex, bigotry, the nature of good and evil and--in the case of Cirque du Freak--adolescent alienation. 

But most of these stories, like the mythical creatures they incorporate, come with a coffin full of dirt. Namely, bloody violence, grotesque feedings, dank spirituality and bad behavior.

And then there's this:

Exhibit 439-C (the film I'm reviewing) pokes fun at Darren's staid, conservative parents as they tell their son he's on a good path toward a "happy, productive life"--a path that includes college, a job and a family. If you're lucky, Darren's father bellows after Darren gets in trouble for skipping class, you'll be yelling at your teenage son just like this one day. 

But we're given to understand that Darren's "destiny" lies outside this confining path. And to reach it, he'll have to disobey his parents and "die" to them forever.

And yet, Darren's supposed destiny includes Crepsley, who tells the boy where he can go, what he should do and how he should eat (feed)--and all of his advice, onscreen at least, is deemed to be dead-on right. Crepsley (we're told) erects common sense hedges for Darren's own good--just as (if one's thinking clearly on the matter) Darren's parents tried to do.

Hey, it's great that Darren has a father figure in Crepsley, but the goodness of their relationship is seriously diminished by the reality that Darren already had a perfectly fine dad--one who doesn't drink blood for sustenance and charm spiders for a living.

Not that there's anything wrong with making spiders do tricks. Still, it sounds like a classic case for Social Services, if you ask me.