The Midnight Horror: 'Demon Hunter' (2016)

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As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting eerie shadows across my living room, I slid the plain case of Demon Hunter from the stack of dollar DVDs I'd hoarded for my 31-day movie marathon. The cover art projected an adventure that promised grave mischief: a fierce-looking female warrior, bathed in the cool hues of twilight, brandishing a sword as she readied herself to face a horde of menacing CGI demons. I felt a buzz of excitement, as if I were a child once again, anticipating the ghost stories shared around a campfire. However, oh, the cruel irony!

What followed can only be described as a cinematic bait-and-switch that even the craftiest trickster would marvel at. Sure, there’s a demon hunter, but instead of a leather-clad heroine ready to rain hell upon her adversaries, we get Taryn Barker—a young Irish girl whose supernatural exploits would have even Buffy rolling her eyes. And those demons? They didn’t possess the intimidating charisma of those striking creatures adorning the box. No, they were more akin to bad Halloween costumes found in the clearance bin of a dimly lit thrift store.

At its heart, Demon Hunter presents the grim tale of Taryn Barker, a girl haunted by the dark tragedy that befell her sister, who was claimed by a monster of flesh and blood, or at least, that’s what she claims. Detective Beckett, a man shaped by the regrets of yesteryears, grapples with the haunting visage of Taryn—a mere child in a terrifying tale where innocence meets unspeakable horror. As the story unfolds and the brave girl warns him of a nefarious figure named Falstaff, we brace ourselves for a descent into madness. When Falstaff snatches Beckett's daughter, it sets off a race against time, compelling this unlikely duo to confront both demons of the flesh and those lurking within their pasts.

About twenty minutes in, a wave of nostalgia washed over me like an old friend’s embrace. I squinted at the screen, realizing this was the whimsy of late-night programming from the 90s—a fever-dream of a syndicated pilot that likely never found its footing. Lo and behold, Demon Hunter was born not from a movie studio but as a web series. My intrigue piqued as I uncovered that the lead role had once been claimed by a different actress, whose departure led to a hasty reimagining of the character, and all those previous scenes with her had to be reshot like a smoke-and-mirrors act.

I admit, I felt a twinge of frustration at the misleading cover art. After all, it promised gore-laden action and elicited thoughts of epic battles. Yet, as I ventured deeper into Taryn’s world, I found myself bizarrely captivated, pulled into a mishmash of low-budget insanity that was undeniably charming in its own right. The film screamed low-effort; it tiptoed around filmmaking conventions, as if they were booby traps in a haunted house. Yet, director Zoe Kavanagh poured her passion into every frame, and perhaps that’s what kept me from turning it off and binge-watching another series about more digestible horror.

Demon Hunter might be a cringeworthy mess—a haphazard concoction of poor lighting, laughable effects, and dialogue that stings the ears like a telemarketer's pitch. Yet, between the cringe and chaos, it sparked an odd sense of entertainment. The film has that ineffable vibe of being so bad it circles back into the realm of good. With enough word of mouth—and perhaps a bit of a cultish resurrection—this little flick might just find its audience, casting an unlikely spell of nostalgia on the unsuspecting viewer. Strangely enough, I’m looking forward to where Taryn’s tale swings next, as rumors swirl of an impending sequel lurking in the shadows. All in all, it’s a film I won’t soon forget—even if that isn’t necessarily a compliment. A bizarre, twisted tribute to the odd corners of the genre, indeed! ╌★★½✰✰

〜B.J. Burgess