BEHIND THE MASK: THE RISE OF LESLIE VERNON. A Perfect Metahorror

It was 2007, or maybe even 2008, when I started to suspect that horror films no longer held any surprises for me. I thought I had seen it all, and even the promotion of Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon as a meta-horror that exposed genre clichés in an unconventional way didn’t sound original or appealing. After Scream, such practices had become commonplace—and rarely successful. Yet Scott Glosserman turned out to be a visionary whom producers should have been fighting over, though fate was not so kind to him…

The opening scenes painfully imitate the stereotypical beginning of a slasher, but of course, before pressing play, everyone at least skims the synopsis.

So instead of a brutal murder of a waitress, we expect a twist, and suddenly… the convention shifts to found footage (and let me point out right away, it won’t be the last shift). I know what you’re thinking—apart from The Blair Witch Project and maybe The Houses October Built, almost all films shot in this style have been embarrassing failures. But if you listen closely to the narration by the reporter, played by Angela Goethals (this is so far her last feature film, though you may remember her from Home Alone, where she delivers the memorable line: “You’re what the French call les incompétents”), you’ll immediately see the beauty of the film’s world.

Here, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Freddy Krueger are not fictional characters but flesh-and-blood serial killers, and the titular Leslie Vernon is one of them—willing to reveal the inner workings of his craft to the film crew.

Vernon is devoted to his trade. He has a vast library devoted to subjects like anatomy and magic tricks; he has created and instilled a local myth about himself; he undergoes grueling training so he can keep up with running victims, though by the rules he himself may only walk; he carefully selects a group of potential victims, among whom there must, of course, be a “final girl” (a virgin, naturally). One could go on like this for a while—the film’s entire ninety minutes are filled with exposed tropes. Glosserman and screenwriter David J. Stieve resemble Penn & Teller—magicians who reveal how their tricks are done in such a way that you still couldn’t replicate them. What’s important and distinctive here is the filmmakers’ avoidance of tempting the audience with constant references to other movies or pop culture monuments. In today’s age of cinematic universes and endless spin-offs, name-dropping and cameo appearances have practically become obligatory, but the creators of Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon refuse the easy way out, focusing instead on the quality of their crafted world. Still, there’s room for seasoned veterans.

On screen we see Scott Wilson—before his days as Hershel Greene in The Walking Dead; Zelda Rubinstein—the unmistakable Tangina Barrons from the Poltergeist trilogy; Kane Hodder—best known as Jason Voorhees; and Robert Englund (if I have to remind you who he is, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do).

None of them are mere decorative cameos. Englund appears in the type of role he most often plays these days—a variation on Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Loomis, here more generally labeled an “Ahab,” referencing the captain from Moby Dick obsessed with his nemesis. The younger part of the cast is in no way overshadowed by these veterans. Goethals, as the timid yet fascinated reporter exploring the world of serial killers, proves she is le compétent, and Nathan Baesel shines as a master of ceremonies, combining the comic facial expressions and gestures of early Jim Carrey with the creepiness of Anthony Perkins in his iconic Psycho performance. The humor here is subtle, not boosted by carefully chosen music or overt winks at the audience.

Every character plays it straight; it’s our familiarity with horror cinema that makes it funny. (If you haven’t seen at least Halloween, Friday the 13th, and A Nightmare on Elm Street, you’ll struggle to find much enjoyment in Behind the Mask.) By comparison, the closest production I’d point to is What We Do in the Shadows, where the everyday quirks of a group of oddballs also become a source of comedy.

I won’t hold back on praise: Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon is one of my personal all-time favorite films. I can watch it every few days, and each time, hearing Talking Heads’ Psycho Killer over the end credits, I feel joy at the existence of such a remarkable work. And I’m not alone—almost since its premiere, there have been rumors of a sequel or prequel. Yet after eleven years, nothing concrete has emerged. Recently, though, a light appeared at the end of the tunnel: the official Facebook page changed its name to Before the Mask: The Return of Leslie Vernon, an eight-part comic series was released, and many signs suggest that the craftiest of all killers may soon return.

I’m rooting for this more than for Hellraiser: Judgment (apparently already finished but still unreleased for unknown reasons), and even more than for the newest Halloween, in which John Carpenter himself is reportedly involved. One might think that, after the “instruction manual” of the first film, no surprises await us. But then again, I approached Glosserman’s debut with exactly the same attitude, and today I consider it one of the most original horrors ever made.