How does a drunk with no idea of age appropriate music, who is so wasted that his neglected, pre-pubescent son can somehow overpower and kill him, muster up the steady hand required to sew aforementioned son’s lips together? I’d wager a nostril full of cocaine is the answer, but we’ll never know.
SLEEP STALKER: THE SANDMAN’S LAST RITES (1995)
Genre: Drama/ Horror
Director: Turi Meyer
Buy the DVD
The murderous child grows up to become a murderer, which I’ll bet no one saw coming. Like Jesus, he spent his teenage years doing who knows what, and conveniently pops back into our collective awareness when he’s all growed up and making a name for himself – except he chooses to make his mark by slaughtering families, rather than hanging out with lepers and whores. Well, lepers anyway.
However, he ultimately ends up with the same fate, and gets thrown in jail and sentenced to death when the cops put down their donuts for long enough to figure out his M.O. – killing couples with 7 year old boys in a concentrated neighborhood.
They show up at the scene of his latest crime in time to save a young, curly-haired tyke called Griffin, but too bad for him, his annoying parents are already dead at the hands of “The Sandman,” who likes to sprinkle a dusting of unusually sparkly sand into his dead victims’ eyes whilst belting out terrible renditions of children’s nursery rhymes.
Before he gets carted off to the gas chamber some 17 years later, The Sandman is allowed to see his priest, who is one creepy-looking son of a bitch. Despite this, he’s let in to see the prisoner, whereupon he presents him with a glass crucifix and waffles on about the powers of evil rather loudly, before telling Old Sandy that he has three nights following his death to track down and kill Griffin. He then summons the guard, who inexplicably hears his call, and yet didn’t even bother coming to investigate when all of the evil chanting was going on.
Meanwhile, a much older Griffin is carving out a career as a struggling writer and 90’s fashion victim. His waitress friend Megan is trying to set him up with her new roomy Dana, whose cringe worthy love of the occult sets Griffin on an embarrassing trip down memory lane during a dinner at his apartment, at which point he starts singing. Luckily, his flatmate Kenny decides to slice open his own finger in an attempt to stop this impromptu musical number and soppy crying.
Griffin doesn’t stay miserable for long as the contact for the biggest interview he’s ever done calls and tells him he can go downtown and meet with the infamous gang leader Dog. Being a caring, sensitive, young man, Griffin bullies Megan into coming along to take pictures, even though the poor girl is soiling herself at the thought of meeting someone with such a scary ass name.
In a nearby gas chamber, The Sandman gets busy huffing himself to death, showing every sign of enjoyment. Moments after his mortal flesh succumbs to death, he’s resurrected in sand form in the nearby desert. I guess he was lucky his nickname wasn’t shithead – incarnating in a sewer wouldn’t have been half as dramatic.
One of the great things about being a killer made of sand, is that you can disassemble into granular form and whoosh off to wherever the hell you want to go. Having acquired the power of omnipotence, The Sandman figures out Griffin’s address but doesn’t do the extra legwork of finding out whether he’s at home before he pops over. He’s not, so he kills Kenny. The bastard!
Griffin and Megan get back the next day to find Kenny dead and a smattering of sand on the apartment floor. Being completely paranoid, whilst also quick on the uptake, Griffin figures out The Sandman is after him and gets a gun from his new best friend Dog, which he can’t shoot for shit, and leaves it with Dana whilst he swans off to pull an old detective out of retirement to investigate the case.
Of course, the cop gets killed and the gun is useless against what is essentially a walking, talking, sandbag, who’s already murdered Dana as a quick fix whilst Megan was in the shower, and protected by the magical, sand deteriorating properties of water.
Being on a strict schedule, with an uncanny knowledge of his victim’s whereabouts, the power to transport anywhere and the ability to turn into a sandstorm abrasive enough to rend flesh from bone, The Sandman spends a lot of time in slow pursuit of his prey, strolling along in bipedal form, lacking any real sense of urgency whatsoever.
Will The Sandman wake up and remember he only has 3 nights to get shit sorted? Will Griffin figure out he just needs a Super Soaker to fend off death? Why is everyone so god damn stupid? Find out in Sleepstalker: The Sandman’s Last Rites.
Author Gamer Girl writes for FrontTowardsGamer.com and GamerGirlTalk.com. It is highly recommended you follow her on Twitter.
Previously in Poison Popcorn: THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW! See previous Poison Popcorns right fucking here!