Well, with cover art like this and a review from Cinefantastique that reads "Requiem for a Dream meets Near Dark", I have to admit I had low expectations. Truth be told, the whole goth-erotic-vampire (vampyre?) scene really does nothing for me. But this turned out to be better than I thought . . . well, ok, not really, it's absolutely terrible, but I was entertained and it was stupid enough to keep me watching.
The Thirst stars Jeremy Sisto (the kid in Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna take It" video), Clare Kramer (from the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer - of which I have seen not a single episode, thank you) and Adam Baldwin, whom I always associate with both Full Metal Jacket and, of course, My Bodyguard. Plot goes like this: Stripper girl, dying of cancer, meets a strange woman who visits her in her hospital room. She dies (stripper girl) and becomes a vampire. Her boyfriend, he of the leather jacket, motorcycle and accountant haircut, mourns her by growing a phenomenally fake beard and hiding out in his apartment. Blah blah blah, some cheesy goth club, blah blah blah and the boyfriend becomes a vampire too. After a few scenes, the boyfriend and stripper decide to kill off the vampires that "turned them".
Throughout the movie there is copious boob-age (expected) and truly horrific dialogue. I mean really bad. The actors are cardboard and the story is just plain dumb. But what's really bad is the way these people talk to each other. Everything is so urgent, nothing is ever spoken as much as it is spat out or screamed. It's called melodrama and overacting and it's right at home here. And can they please decide which fake accent they are going to use? Why did they sound Russian at times, Texan at others and English from time to time. Annoying.
Still, between the boobies (no complaints) and "acting" are some really bloody death scenes including having a night lamp rammed down a throat, gut-munching, poking a pointy vampire finger into a guys head, brain eating, and lots and lots and lots of excessive arterial spray shots.
Somewhere along in the third act there is a weak attempt at making an analogy between drug addiction and vampirism, but why bother in a film so gloriously wallowing in silliness, hooters and blood? It's not needed and the attempt to redeem itself as an artistic statement is distracting. Just shut up and keep the blood a-flowin'.
I see the analogy between Requiem and Near Dark (a lousy film by the way, don't believe the hype. . . or anything Bill Paxton says), but I think this more accurately compared to The Return of the Living Dead, what with it's kooky kids and bad goth-metal. Except The Return of the Living Dead is balls out awesome and this is just a fun distraction on a day off work. I wouldn't, like recommend it or anything.