Review: NIGHT OF THE REAPER is an Unpolished Halloween Slasher

Filmmaker Brandon Christensen has quietly—or, in the right circles, not so quietly—become a stalwart indie horror creative. Since Still/Born, followed by Z and Superhost (lest we forget The Puppetman), Christensen has maximized the potential of smaller (by comparison) genre productions. That streak continues with Night of the Reaper, although it’s one of Christensen’s rougher-around-the-edges titles. A modest homage to 80s babysitter murder flicks, Night of the Reaper is a store-brand variety of Halloween thrills that never tastes as tantalizing as the dependable name brands.

Brandon and his brother Ryan Christensen keep their story bite-sized. Jessica Clement stars as Deena, your prototypical left-the-nest college student visiting home. Her bestie Haddie (Savannah Miller) catches a stomach bug and can no longer fulfill her impending babysitter duties. Deena tags in as Haddie’s replacement, reporting to Sheriff Rod Arnold’s (Ryan Robbins) isolated woodland home. Rod’s son Max (Max Christensen) poses no problems, easily manipulated by sugary candy bribes, but Deena’s night soon turns into her own living horror serial when a masked “Reaper” appears ready to claim their next victim.

Night of the Reaper is the spunky little sibling to forever classics like Halloween and contemporary favorites like The House of the Devil. A young girl enters an unfamiliar home, sunlight fades to ominous darkness, and a malevolent presence appears to hunt the deceptively defensive babysitter. Familiarity provides screamy-queeny comforts, but there’s also a slightness to the Reaper’s haunts that downplays Christensen’s execution. Night of the Reaper wears its influences on its sleeve, whether specific titles or the entire late-80s horror canon, right down to a “Don’t Fear The Reaper” needle drop.

The problem is, Blue Oyster Cult’s licensing fee presents itself as Christensen’s highest expense.

Cinematographer Clayton Moore tries to elevate shots that claw under our skin, but there’s little leap-off-the-screen value to suburban households and police stations. Moore’s shots echo sunkenness and bareness that, when not benefitting from midnight fog rolling behind the Reaper’s shadowy figure, lacks an immersive Halloween festivity. Christensen manipulates footage with VHS tracking fuzz at times, replicating that blurry 80s tape recording vibe, but unlike Dude Bro Party Massacre III’s commitment to the same bit, it’s impersonation versus authenticity. The Reaper’s “outfit” (black-cloaked hood and a skull mask, very Fear Street: 1994) is off a drugstore costume rack, supporting characters are all stereotypes (the jock, the cinephile), and the mystery … well, not horribly mysterious.

Deena’s “predator and prey” standoff against the Reaper disruptively splits screentime with an ongoing string of hometown murders. As Clement struggles against Bargain-Bin Ghostface, Ryan Robbins’ gruff lawman leads an investigation to bring a local psychopath to justice (the Reaper). He’s motivated by the death of his wife and other slain young girls under his jurisdiction, which spirals into a vengeful, red-faced quest that’s very cheesily “renegade.” Christensen tries to buck expectations through Robbins’ inability to leave personal matters off the clock, but the shifts in focus diminish Deena’s home invasion excitement. Night of the Reaper flip-flops between true crime facilitation and squeamish slasher brutality, only to sell both angles short.

Although the Christensens don’t lose control until the third act. In a desperate attempt to pull a narrative switcheroo, Night of the Reaper becomes infinitely less interesting due to the minimized scope. It’s hard to explain what fails without dropping major spoilers, which we won’t do, but yeah—the grand climax-ramping reveal took me out of the story at hand. There are only so many red herrings available to choose from, and not enough time to build a violent legacy for the Reaper. Christensen nails some gnarly practical effects as body parts literally explode, but the screenplay’s ingenuity is distracting and overcomplicated. It’s very unlike Christensen, who’s previously turned “simplicity” into his superpower.

Disappointingly, Night of the Reaper is an underwhelming autumnal treat that packages a few moments horror fans will especially enjoy, but it’s lacking an overall polish. That could be generic set dressings without much personality, or characters that present like cookie-cutter townsfolk off a horror movie assembly line. Clement gives a promising performance as a babysitter in peril, and one particular death scene earns its viewers' howls, and yet the film is hardly a five-course fright meal. Night of the Reaper boasts indie charm, but not enough to overcome its unrefined and imperfectly molded first draft of a feature.

Movie Score: 2.5/5