‘Darkness Falls’ Makes for a Scary Nostalgic Time [Rotten Outlook]

‘Darkness Falls’ is a time capsule of early aughts scares.

In many ways, Darkness Falls doesn’t even feel like a real movie. It’s some kind of Novocaine-induced dream, a splotchy, haphazard assemblage of disparate parts that suggests a movie without actually being one. Characters and threats are introduced at random, with no semblance of pacing adhering one element to the next. Most famously, Darkness Falls’ end credits run for eleven minutes. Without them, it would have been too short to release theatrically. With Jonathan Liebesman (of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning fame) and a purported $11 million budget, it was go theatrical or go home. It was a critical disaster.

With a 9% on Rotten Tomatoes and a consensus that highlights an ostensible lack of scares and even less sense, Darkness Falls seemed destined for obscurity. It’s the kind of mid-tier horror outing that evaporates in time, with nothing redemptive enough to warrant repeat viewings. Yet, curiously, Darkness Falls is akin to the murderous little tooth fairy that could. Strictly anecdotal though not quite, Darkness Falls is fondly remembered by many, a slumber party staple and horror gateway. It’s one that horror fans recall as a litmus test for the genre. I distinctly remember being in third grade, eschewing movie night with my dad and brothers to sneak upstairs to my mom’s room, where she and my older sister had rented Darkness Falls for their Friday night watch. I fell in love.

For the uninitiated, Darkness Falls is the story of, well, the town of Darkness Falls. A 19th-century prologue tells the story of Matilda Dixon, an old widow the town children are enamored with. It’s largely on account of her willingness to leave gold coins to children who lost teeth, earning her the colloquial nickname “Tooth Fairy.” After a fire in her home leaves her terribly scared, her face hidden behind a porcelain mask, the townsfolk do as 19th-century townsfolk were wont to do and suspect her of witchcraft. It’s not entirely unfair. Well, the witchcraft is, yes. But Matilda is inexplicably eager to just throw cash at children. When two young children go missing, they expose Matilda’s sensitive face to the sun and hang her.

The children come home, having spent the day screwing around in the woods. The town buries their big, homicidal oops in the woods, hopeful that Matilda’s dying curse on Darkness Falls was just a big joke. It wasn’t.

A myth was born, and the story developed to campfire tale status. Matilda would allegedly visit a child on the night they lost their last tooth. If they were unfortunate enough to lay eyes on her, they were as good as dead. A flash cut to the 90s introduces the audience to young Kyle Walsh (Joshua Anderson) who has just—yup—lost his last tooth. He’s grappling with being an outcast and his not-quite-unrequited love for horror stalwart Emily Browning as Caitlin Greene (they kiss, it’s very cute). As Caitlin slinks from his bedroom that night, however, Matilda arrives, and Kyle discovers that the legend is true. He shines a flashlight, forcing Matilda to retreat, and escapes into the hall. His mother, dense as hell, presumes it’s all just a bad dream.

Even discounting the tooth fairy component, there’s solid evidence there’s an intruder in Kyle’s room. Yet, his mother charges onward. Matilda swiftly kills her, and Kyle seeks refuge in the hall bathroom. There’s a glorious, spine-chilling shot of Kyle crouched in the tub, framed through the open doorway. From there, the camera pans up to Matilda, clinging to the wall above, wailing into the dark, waiting for the lights to go out. I’m not sure why Rotten Tomatoes thinks Darkness Falls is devoid of scares; that introductory sequence is top-notch terror material.

Kyle is suspected of his mother’s death, locked away in a psychiatric institution. Then Darkness Falls triggers its third time jump, landing now in the 21st century. Kyle (now the late Chaney Kley) is called back to town by Caitlin (now Emma Caulfield). Her younger brother, Michael (Lee Cormie) is suffering from debilitating night terrors. It doesn’t make a great deal of sense why she’d call Kyle, especially since after he arrives, she denies the story of Matilda Dixon is true. Why call the resident tooth fairy victim for help if you don’t believe in said tooth fairy, Caitlin?

It isn’t long before the story does again become true, though. Darkness Falls spends the rest of its time with truncated third act pacing, quick vignettes of attacks, scares, and deaths until its big finale. It’s wildly uneven, yes. But it’s nice to see a movie so thoroughly cut out the fat. Character development, tempered narrative strokes, and reprieve and thrown out in favor of haphazard Matilda thrills. And, well, those thrills work. Matilda is a sensational movie monster, genuinely terrifying and, especially for 2003, conceived with the right balance of practical and digital effects. She floats through the air like a specter, hiding in the dark, ready to strike at her prey with supernatural speed and precision. At one point, she successfully eliminates an entire police department.

Early posters for Darkness Falls note an R-rating from the MPAA. But outside of some curious editing choices, there’s no indication Darkness Falls was planned to be anything other than PG-13. At times, the deaths and quick cuts suggest the appearance of more gore, trimmed to appease the ratings Gods. It’s still suitably suspenseful and tense, with bit players grabbed in the dark and thrown into oblivion, likely carved up beyond recognition. It’s never clear why Matilda isn’t a more active presence– she all but eliminates the town in a single night. But it’s a small note of incredulity in a movie this thoroughly fun.

Darkness Falls is almost a time capsule for a bygone era of horror. As mid-tier horror shifts to the video-on-demand landscape, there are fewer and fewer Darkness Falls around. The development of the genre is incredible. But for every The Night House or Midsommar, some small part of me longs for the days of high-concept horror, glossy supernatural outings with a budget to compensate for some questionable choices. Not every horror movie needs to be a grab-bag of metaphors. As the indie market continues to revel in nostalgia (so, so many slasher revivals), it’d be a blessing of sorts to see them tap into the days of accessible slumber party spook shows. Darkness Falls is a lot of things, but it isn’t rotten. It’s got a mouth full of glossy, white teeth, a terrifying grin to die for.

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