When it comes to ear catching titles, “Lesbian Vampire Killers” is certainly up there. The question then is whether or not a film could possibly live up to a title like that, and the short answer is if you think reading Maxim for an hour and a half is a satisfying use of your time, then yes, it lives up. Well, to be fair, make it British Maxim.
Essentially a vehicle for British comedy duo Horne & Corden of “Gavin & Stacey” fame, “Lesbian Vampire Killers” is a lighthearted and silly take on Le Fanu’s Carmilla that is heavy on cheesecake and light on horror. Which would all be well and good, were it not also predictable and somewhat light on laughs. Avoid these two, and the film could elevate above the standard festival ghetto of most horror-comedies.
The plot concerns best friends Jimmy (Matthew Horne) and Fletch (James Corden), who, being the broke losers they are, opt to go on a hiking holiday after Jimmy is dumped yet again by the evil shrew-like Judy (Lucy Gaskell). As fate would have it, the backwoods town they find themselves in happens to have been cursed centuries ago by the lesbian vampire queen Carmilla (Silvia Colloca). As a result, all the women in the town turn into lesbian vampires the day they turn 18 and only a descendant can put an end to the curse.
Conveniently, Jimmy, the slim lovable one, just happens to be of the correct lineage, a fact imparted to him by the hilariously foulmouthed Vicar (Paul McGann), whose daughter just happens to be on the verge of turning 18. Meanwhile, Fletch, the crass, overweight one, is more concerned about making time with the van load of Swedish hotties who also just happened to pull into town. Luckily the townsfolk have set them all up in a cabin in the woods together, a courtesy they extend to all the fresh meat – I mean, tourists – that come to visit.
While containing enough deadpan laughs to sustain the 88-minute running time, “LVK” never quite goes far enough in its exploitation to justify the outrageous title. There are some inspired touches, such as the fact that the vampires spurt white goo when slain, but for the most part it feels like it was written by particularly verbose twelve year old boys.
A pleasant enough way to pass a drunken weeknight, but far from a cult classic, “LVK” comes somewhere between “Shaun of the Dead” and a ’70’s “Confessions of…” comedy. Juvenile, occasionally clever, but mostly forgettable.
