JENNIFER (1978) Directed by Brice Mack
Vestron VHS
THE FILM
Steffan Kang and Byron DaPelma. Those guys are so awesome!
What you've heard is true -- Jennifer is pretty much Carrie, but with snakes. Now, for most people, that's a ruinous circumstance. But most people haven't been lucky enough to see Offerings aka the buck-fifty Halloween. And most people certainly haven't been blessed to witness Badi aka the Turkish E.T. Therefore, most people are unjustly depriving themselves of the temporal resplendence that lies within alternate universe embezzlement. Most people: prepare to be edyfied.
First, imagine that Carrie White has a third cousin named Jennifer Baylor. Then, swap out all of the stylish and beautiful bravado that permeates Ms. White's world for an episode of The Facts Of Life by way of a non-tone-deaf take on William Grefe's Stanley. Throw in a practical joke montage with punctual timpani hits. Burt Convy channeling Patrick Duffy as Bobby Ewing. Three Travolta references. And, an even exchange of kids who are overtly cruel for kids who are psychopathic criminals.
Still have a doubt or two? Don't worry. There are also (exploding) Camaros.
Jennifer's life is pretty decent. She has a scholarship to an exclusive, all-girl's school and her foxy red hair always complements her doe-eyed stature. Sure, her bible-thumping Father may seem a bit "off" at times, but that's a given, as he owns a pet shop. Enter Sandra, a rich, disco-loving diplomat's daughter who finds absolute delight in harassing Jen ("You damn hillbilly bitch!") and a plump girl named Jane ("Shut-up, flabbo!"). It's all typical teenage politics until Sandra and friends invoke some cat death and elevator rape. Then, Jennifer remembers what that childhood flashback has been trying to tell her throughout the entire film. Hint: it has to do with snakes.
For the initial twenty minutes, Jennifer is simply an amusing diversion -- an obvious compilation of sub-Carrie touchpoints delivered with mid-fi tact. The technical goods settle on TV movie listlessness, while a couple of well-placed synth blurbs bubble up and Jennifer's southern accent swerves in and out. Watchable, but not very notable. Then, the dudes show up in their Camaros. The tone grows dark. Darker. Very dark. The film's climax explodes in a artsy rain of ski masks, multi-colored floodlights, and hallucinogenic photography. And an alarmingly ridiculous puppet which could have escaped from William Klein's Mr. Freedom. Thus, an initially doleful-yet-entertaining rip-off shifts a few gears and transforms into a singular, strangely engaging experience all on its own.
Edification complete.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
Vestron tapes are like two-day old bananas. So ripe and so sweet.
EXTRAS
There are a lot of fat jokes in this thing. What's going on there?
FINAL THOUGHTS
I love Carrie. And now, I love Jennifer. Of course, I firmly believe that exploitive, alternate reality knock-offs are often just as creative and persistent as the famous films they parlay. With this one, my belief rings true -- Kang and DaPelma do good work. I'd love to see what Sammy Koobrack has been up to.
— Joseph A. Ziemba, 07.01.10 | 
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