In the northernmost corner of Alaska, it’s dark for thirty days straight. And, worse, it’s Alaska all the time.
Now Vampires party during the dark, so that makes this a month-long fiesta. But until now they had never discovered Alaska, restricted as they were to climates where blood doesn’t freeze as it drains from a jugular.
There, in North America’s dark corner, when the sun goes down, so does the population. Except for all attractive young people and all interesting-looking elder character actors with good agents.
Enter the mysterious Ben Foster, “Renfield of the North.” He’s the campy outsider who favors the taste of raw meat and has a relationship with a toothbrush that’s evidently just beyond arm’s length.
Somehow, Ben’s accent was transported from the rural south to the frozen tundra of the Great White North: “Dis time dey goin take me wid em,” says Ben, who coincidentally don’t know nuthin’ ’bout birthin’ babies.
“Dat cold out ain’t da weather, dat’s death approachin’,” says Ben. “And death’s bringin’ wid him a 20% chance of precipitation and a temp’ture of 5 below.”
How did Ben get out here in the middle of nowhere? And how effective was his breath as a penguin repellant?
Forget all that, here come the vampires!
Danny Huston is their leader. Who knew until now that vampires look like traveling salesmen, belly up to the bar at the Holiday Inn by the highway in Poughkeepsie? “It’s time to sink my teeth into a free breakfast buffet,” says Danny. “But first let me drop my business card into the fishbowl at the front desk.”
It’s here we learn that vampires evidently speak Klingon and have a previously unknown talent – their long, sharp fingernails can play vinyl LP’s!
“There was a time when our mad club deejay skills were in great demand,” said one vampire. “And then, the iPod…damn the iPod, damn it straight to Hell!”
“Steve Jobs! Steve Jobs!” snarled the entire troupe of now jobless vampires. “We are coming for you – as soon as we figure out the hiking path from Alaska to Silicon Valley!”
“Hey,” said one helpful vampire, “the new iPod Touch has mapping capability.”
“Damn it straight to Hell!” they snarled in unison.
So what do the frightened townsfolk do? They gather in the local diner for protection – and obviously not protection from a Rooty Tooty Fresh ‘N Fruity! “Vampires will never think of looking for us in a place where the coffee cups are bottomless!”
What’s a Sheriff to do for 30 Days of Night if you’re Josh Hartnett and you’re stuck in a town full of blood-suckers? Well, Sheriff Hartnett gets mad, gets even, and sprouts a few clumpy, symbolic growths of facial hair. “Surviving vampires is easy,” says Josh. “Surviving puberty, that’s hard.”
Only in a movie would lovely Melissa George be the Fire Marshall. Why not also make her a math whiz and professional chess champion while you’re at it?
Naturally, it’s up to Josh and Melissa to save the town from the undead.
“Does Holy Ice deter vampires as well as Holy Water?” asks Melissa.
“Only if you slip them a Mickey on some Holy Rocks,” advises Josh.
30 Days of Night features the unfathomable: An attacking vampire in pigtails. Now if you can’t trust a vampire in pigtails, how are you supposed to trust the one in the cheerleader outfit with the pom-poms?
“I can smell your blood,” says one vamp who looks like Tom Petty (who, I’m told, can also smell your blood).
“Sorry,” says Josh. “My blood just got off the treadmill and has been using that Tom’s of Maine.”
30 Days of Night is the vampire flick we’ve been waiting for. Scary, original, and just plain good.
Blood is the only thing it sucks.