Black Roses

• Directed by John Fasano
• December 1988

Demons posing as a rock band seek to possess the youth of a small town through their music.

When I first heard about Black Roses it sounded pleasantly bonkers. Then I saw the opening credits and read it was a Troma film so I felt I was going to at the minimum see some of the better trash you could find for a certain generation. If anything with songs by the likes of King Kobra, Tempest, Hallow’s Eve and Lizzy Borden the music would be good. It was.

The story is built upon the Satanic panic connected to heavy metal music of the era. So many viewed it as a gateway to the Devil when the majority of it honestly was hairband party stuff. Even Kiss was said to be working for Beelzebub! The band of the title is a group of demons trying to convert people into monsters. Mixed with Troma cheese, this is an excellent riff on heavy metal Satanism fear though no grand statement or insight of any type. As a film it took something in the public consciousness and mocked it.

This is supposed to be a cast of teenage characters but most of them look to be around 30 or so. I think on one or two you can even spot some crow’s feet in these days of high definition. Somehow Troma can be forgiven for that. I don’t know why but you just almost never care(d) about such things in their movies.

John Martin, who plays the main character Matthew Moorhouse, is an excellent actor. Troma films could get somebody that was way too talented for their movies to show up even if they never went onto anything huge. Not sure how the talent on Troma would stack up now but anywho… Mr. Moorhouse somehow makes leaps of logics that lead him to the truth while being rumored to be sleeping with his student Julie Windham (Karen Planden) who holds a not-so-secret crush on him.

I have no idea how Mr. Moorhouse comes to the revelation that what’s happening with the kids and the band is supernatural or simply unusual. Most of his time spent with the students appears to be simply in his classroom. Plus John Fasano and pals can never really settle on if there is some relationship or not going on with Julie which would’ve changed the whole dynamic of the film if they had solidly confirmed something.

In an era of practical effects, in Black Roses they range from excellent to bad in quite a wild swing. There is a demon creature that a character transforms into that looks good while some prosthetics are slightly better than store bought masks.

With better actors across-the-board this would’ve been a movie of surprising quality, but they got who they could get. While Martin and Ken Swofford as Mayor Farnsworth do well most everybody else is a little cringe inducing because of their poor performances. Some of those poor performances I’m sure are because the person was hired only because they were willing to go topless and nothing more. 

Black Roses relies much more on titillation than it does on gore. Characters may talk about blood everywhere but you don’t often if ever see it which is a real shame. For a few bucks more they could’ve added a little something special to this. Let’s see a little blood with a bite or some entrails or whatever.

The hook of the black magic looks like it is getting some sort of dark version of the heart’s desire in exchange for their soul but there’s never a scene where an offer is made. A moment or two like that would’ve helped. Julie wants her history teacher and the girl with the scummy stepfather wants him gone. ONE scene was needed to hint or clarify why they gave themselves to evil 

Another thing that bothers me is the titular group appears to be small time band touring towns and hitting tinier venues. Their following looks to be minor yet dedicated. So how does a cult group with a small yet strong core base get to play in Madison Square Garden? That’s the cap to the whole story giving it a ‘we’re screwed’ ending. I just don’t know how they were popular enough to play such a big place. It is not even like they were heard on the radio in the movie or had been around long enough with groupies following them in something similar to the Grateful Dead.

Black Roses does not hit you with enough rapid-fire stupidity to get you completely past any questions you might have about what’s happening. Nor does it use enough intelligence to prevent those questions from happening. One or the other was called for. For me it is a little painful because I see the makings a well-regarded cult film but because of those weaknesses it never gets there. There is so much good in this, but it just does it have something to pull it together.

Black Roses is no horror classic, but it is a prime example of cheesy bad horror. It is the type that is a guilty pleasure but only for a small subset of horror fans. Proceed with caution.