Attempts by A-list studios and directors to make horror
films are almost always grueling disasters – except in rare cases like The Exorcist or The Shining where true auteurs were entrusted with the job. Nightwing
is not one of the exceptions. Helmed
by the play-it-safe journeyman who brought us Love Story and Plaza Suite,
it strives for dramatic and ecological profundity but only comes off muddled
and ponderous. The basic problem of
having to physically depict swarms of vampire bats attacking people can never
be overcome in a move that also insists on wearing its sober sub-text on its
sleeve. The premise and ideas are all
valid, but the execution is just dull.
You can actually feel Hiller’s discomfort as he labors through each
sequence deciding if he should take it seriously or not.
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