Jonathan Liebesman’s Darkness Falls is so pitiful that it doesn’t even deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence as some of the worst B-movies ever made. This 75-minute extension of filmmaker Joseph Harris’s short film The Tooth Fairy vies for “old school” cred yet its unbearably loud and witless disposition conjures images of studio heads wanting to numb young test audiences into submission. What with its utter disregard for human life and its own inherently creepy mythos, Darkness Falls is Häxan for the Scream generation, cutesy one-liners and all. The entire thing reeks of a woodsy fireside ghost tale: “So there was this old hag who liked to collect baby teeth from the children of Darkness Falls in exchange for copper coins. She got burnt badly in a house fire and decided to wear a porcelain mask so no one would look at her hideous, light-sensitive face. When two children went missing, the townsfolk ceremoniously hung the woman, who now bore a striking resemblance to Spirited Away’s No-Face. When the children turned up, the town responded with a resounding, ‘Whoopsies!’ Years later, the ‘Tooth Fairy’ began to visit the town’s children, daring them to look at her face as she tried to swipe their last baby tooth. If they looked, she tried to kill them, but should they have survived, she’d tailgate them for the rest of their lives. Some say she haunts these very woods! When running away from the Tooth Fairy, make sure to carry a flashlight and a supply of batteries with you at all times. Word is that she can’t kill you if you are in the light. Beware of sunsets and power outages and stay close to structures that emit powerful rays of light. If all else fails, you can always move out of Darkness Falls since she seems to be a very territorial creature who’s set definite limits for herself. No one will believe you when you tell them that the Tooth Fairy is after you, but not for the reasons you might expect. We know the Tooth Fairy exists—it’s just that we don’t like to think of her as such a bitch. If you can’t aim your flashlight at what appears to be your sister’s black negligee swishing across your eye-line, aim in the direction of her ear-splitting screech. Of course, don’t confuse her wail for the equally penetrating sound of keys turning inside locks, doors opening and objects crashing into each other. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about what happened when the Easter Bunny came hopping into the small town of Egg Sunday.”
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.