Bloody birthdays! I don’t know, I spend all my housekeeping on presents for you, and what do I get? Not even a bleedin’ thankyou! Well, OK, so you gave me a thankyou, but that’s not gonna buy me a bottle of gin and a game of bingo, is it? Jesus Christ, sometimes I wish I’d kept my drawers on! If I ever find out who your dad is, I’ll kill ‘im!
Yeah, I know that isn’t a particularly original opener but, then again, this isn’t a particularly original film, is it? If I didn’t use my brain watching it, then I sure as hell ain’t gonna use it to review it. Basically, this slasher flick (Oh, didn’t I mention? It’s a slasher!) tells the story of three little bastards who share the same birthday going on a killing spree – although on reflection I suppose it’s better than having them vandalising phone boxes and playing truant. You could be forgiven for thinking that this sudden killer instinct has something to do with all the genuine snuff movies and patriotic video games these sick sprogs have been exposed to, but in fact you’d be wrong. It’s all to do with their star-signs. Russell Grant’s got a lot to answer for!
As slashers go, this is particularly generic, not much different that about ten other movies from the same era. The nice, clean suburban setting means that sleaze is at a minimum, and its polished look makes it look like a TV movie – nothing to be proud of by any stretch of the imagination. One cannot deny that there is never a dull moment in Bloody Birthday, but all the exciting ones are pretty run-of-the-mill. There’s no gore either, with most victims being either strangled or beaten to death which is a bit of a con being as variety is the spice of flicks like this. And worst of all, there’s the “good-luck” aspect, where every five minutes or so someone comes within inches of being slaughtered only for somebody else to butt-in at the last minute and save them. It’s almost as if their futures were written in the stars....
But the real stars of Bloody Birthday are those bloody kids. They’re the most horrible set of anklebiters I’ve ever seen. When they look mean, it sends a shiver down your spine. When they start smiling it’s like a jellyfish has just crawled onto your grave and died there. If they were mine I would have put them in a sack and thrown them into the canal yonks ago! In fact, moral guardians everywhere will probably think all their bloody birthdays have come at once with this – definitely one for the Good Christian Shopping List…
