‘Dark Match’ Review: Wrestling with Satan (and Chris Jericho) in a Fun, Retro-Flavored Exploitation Blowout
There have been no lack of enthusiastically cheesy movies in which protagonists get kidnapped or hoodwinked into fighting competitions where the stakes turn out to be life or death. Adding an extra layer of retro 1980s wrestling-world Velveeta to that formula is “Dark Match” from Lowell Dean, whose horror comedy “Wolfcop” a decade ago became enough of a cult fave to generate a sequel.
There are Satanists involved in his latest enterprise, too, but the writer-director maintains just enough of a straight face that this luridly colorful action thriller avoids turning into too much of a campy joke at its own expense. Not exactly highbrow fare, but also smarter than it looks, it’s a droll and lively chunk of retro schlock sure to please genre fans well beyond its Fantasia Fest premiere.
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Entering tonight’s arena — such as it is — to Canadian rock band Trooper’s Queen-like rawk anthem “Raise a Little Hell,” Nick aka “Miss Behave” (Ayisha Issa) is accustomed to the chorus of boos that greets her. While stuck on a lesser-league circuit under the management of oily Rusty Beans (Jonathan Cherry), she’s a pro who’ll deliver the showmanship required of her. Still, it chafes that as a Black woman, she is invariably cast as the villainess to be conquered by princessy blond Kate the Great (Sara Canning), her athletic inferior. Some compensation is afforded by Nick’s romantic involvement with Mean Joe Lean (Steven Ogg), an older one-time champ still sweating it out in the ring. Others in Rusty’s stable are the mute, masked Enigma (Mo Jabari), one Lazarus Smashley (Leo Fafard) and tag-team duo Thick (Jonathan Lepine) and Thin (Justin Lawrick).
All too soon, Rusty has the whole weary lot back on the road when they’re offered an unusual amount of money for a private gig — as performing “guests of honor” at a remote rural location. They arrive to find a raucous party scene already in progress at the ski-lodge-like compound, as attendees celebrate a mysterious “rebirth” rite called Lupecalia. Nick warily notes the general musk of racist, reactionary militia-type zealotry, while Joe worries he recognizes the elusive “Prophet” leader (pro wrestling legend Chris Jericho), who ominously raises a toast “to sacrifice.” But everyone is too swept up in the general Bacchanalian mood, or too drugged-up without their consent, to act on initial suspicions. Only poor Rusty, who finds himself tied down and branded by lingerie-clad ladies, gets an unpleasant full taste of what they’ll be in for.
The next day things quickly take a more sinister turn, with our heroes expected to fight opponents who play very dirty. As the crowd screams for blood, no match is over until somebody’s dead. There are quite a few casualties before those not yet “sacrificed” manage to hatch an escape plan. Whether they’re combating mere fanatics, cynical exploiters, supernatural forces or all the above remains unclear until rather late in the compact narrative.
While not everybody convinces as a wrestler here (an issue that doesn’t afflict steely lead Issa, a real-life past Brazilian jiu-jitsu champion), the film manages a deft tonal balance that renders such improbabilities moot. It’s borderline cartoonish in hothouse lighting hues, hedonistic flourishes and occasional gory excess, all of which feel like tongue-in-cheek nods to past B-movie exploitation favorites. But at the same time, the actors are allowed to play it fairly straight, generating empathy for figures that might’ve been left one-dimensional. Dean’s pacing is taut, maintaining energy and suspense between zesty explosions of violence.
The result is a not-so-guilty pleasure that’s great fun without ever growing too self-conscious or silly. Shot in Alberta, the production manages an expansive feel on what were probably less-than-generous budgetary means, eking the extra juice from every resourceful tech and design contribution.
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