“I have to go tinkle.”

I had to raise an eyebrow, too, at
the very ‘80s portrayal of Karen’s blatantly gay boss, with his pink bow tie,
but no matter. The only real horror in this film is the 1980s interior décor,
but I loved it nonetheless. I suppose the horrors that happen to Karen and her
brat in this film all boil down to one single moral: don’t buy knock-off shite.
The design of Chucky is brilliant,
of course, and probably the biggest single factor behind the film’s success.
There are some great set pieces, too: I love the moment when Karen realises
that there are no batteries in Chucky, and the deliciously dramatic irony in
the death of the psychiatrist Dr Ardmore, played by the journalist bloke from
the 1970s series of The Incredible Hulk.
The camerawork from Chucky’s POV is good, too.
You have to wonder about the
things that go unmentioned, of course. If I was Charles Earl Ray, reincarnated
as a doll, then I’d be rather less sanguine about the sexless existence that
would lie before me. No wonder he tries to knife the cop in the balls.
I had to laugh, of course, at the
scene where an old dying man reveals Chucky’s weakness with his last words, a
trope which is far too well-worn to take seriously and which illustrates the
formulaic nature of the film. It’s a good laugh, though, and the ending is
pleasingly inconclusive.
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