Before My Bloody Valentine has even had the chance to introduce the aesthetics and fashionable headwear of the killer at its heart, it is noted and showcased. Miners with helmets and gas masks, covering of the entire face, will always be particularly frightful. It shrouds any horror film killer in a state of reproach for their actions but a need to follow through with it. Jason Vorhees, Michael Myers and Ghostface all spring to mind when famed masks are spoken of. My Bloody Valentine has the benefit of being better than all of those, but not as culturally resonant because its fear is embedded in the everyday items of mining attire and protective face gear.
Much of the horror stems from seeing the pickaxe-wielding monstrosity wandering through the mines. Within that system is a series of horror tropes that can be picked up from the environment rather than the need to weld them into places they would not normally be. A mineshaft, how had it not been thought of before that? A perfect place to carry out a horror film, naturally the only issue is getting a concrete reason for people to head down there. George Mihalka manages to create a ghoulish story that preys on the small-town fears that come from holding dances and drinks on the eve of a fateful night that led to death and tragedy in small town communities. It has a very Carrie feel to it, a close-knit collection of characters that are acting against history and logistics they don’t understand.
Where it fails to carry much weight is in the aged tones of its violence. Less impressive than what was around at the time, with a bit of a low ebb from time to time. A shame too considering how wildly creative My Bloody Valentine can be with its kills, more through its lack of replication following. It has relationships at the core of it but ones that feel as though they matter. Characters that are the usual run of frat boys and trophy wives but one that has a level of real joy to it that manages to overcome the slasher issue of having lambs led to slaughter. There is active and frequent brilliance in the performances of this cast, which really leads to the issues found elsewhere in the slasher genre, which does not have the broadly hilarious and actively enjoyable cast of My Bloody Valentine.
Despite its sometimes lacklustre performance of violence at times, the end result and consistencies within are horrific and engaging. This is a community that feels not at all eerie and actively moving on from their history. With such incredible scriptwriting on display, there are frequent and often marks throughout My Bloody Valentine that lay out the typical slasher highs and lows and dismantles them well. They are done not out of disrespect for the genre but because Mihalka knows he can do far better than what was offered before or after. My Bloody Valentine is, true to form, a genuine example of just how great the slasher genre can be, even if it does wobble on the quality of its acts of violence. Its influences and examples of it, though, the hearts in candy boxes, are far more telling and frightening than butchered bartenders.
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