Such was the case for Prom Night a slasher made during Canada’s (in)famous tax shelter years, starring Jamie Lee Curtis and Leslie Nielsen. There was no way I was going to watch this thing the whole way through when I was a kid. Not when the killer started making phone calls to his intended victims in a throaty, psychotic croak of a voice (which is obviously a rip-off/homage to Black Christmas’ Billy). So, under my grandma’s homemade afghans I’d seek shelter, letting my imagination run wild to hear the ensuing cinematic carnage. And grandma may have been impressed with how much liquid those afghans could absorb.

But the actual reality of watching Prom Night a nine-year old’s interpretation of it are two very opposed worlds. I can tell you I loved the quick cuts (lovingly called Avid Farts in the digital age) when people remember the fragmented sins of their youth, and I loved seeing a confident Jamie Lee Curtis shining above her Canadian counterparts (a born movie star, my wife and I agreed while watching her); and anytime Leslie Nielsen appears in a movie is still a good time (even when the title includes the words “Mister” and “Magoo”).

But my god, there’s a lot of unintentional horror as well. Not in the least is some amazingly embarrassing disco tunes mired by even shoddier dance choreography. What’s worse is the killer’s mask, sparkling with gaudy glitter, to cement the marketing power of those who would Do the Hustle and the Bus Stop. At least Rob Zombie’s version of Michael Myers could blame listening to Gene Simmons for his homicidal tendencies. I can’t imagine how embarrassing it would be to be taken out by a Disco themed psychopath. There’s not enough of grandma’s afghans to absorb me pissing myself laughing from it.