If it had any other title, Lost Boys 2: The Tribe wouldn't provoke any outrage. But if it had any other title, would anybody give it a second glance? I harbored a ray of hope, but it doesn't take very long to realize that Lost Boys 2: The Tribe was always destined for the direct to video garbage heap.
The 1987 original, photographed by the superbly talented Michael Chapman, was super stylish and jammed with juicy performances, cynical wisecracks, and post-modern tweaks to cinematic vampire legends. The best idea was placing fanged lords of the night in a sun-soaked California coastal town populated by aging hippies and freaks, not to mention a boardwalk, rollercoaster, and great, crashing surf.
As a budget sequel, LB2 has to make do with less attractive, less flattering video imagery and the rockier Canadian coastline standing in for "Santa Carla" * (actually, Santa Cruz, California). The script by Hans Rodionoff makes some half-hearted attempts to tie in the original (antlers and motorcycles, anyone?), but is bereft of any new twists of its own. Director P. J. Pesce makes certain to include the obligatory amount of gore required to justify the so-called "uncut" version, with notable attention to ripped throats and spilled intestines, along with bared body parts displayed by lovelies such as Moneca Delain. LB2 has precisely two good moments -- one in the opening scene, provided by Tom Savini -- stranded within 94 minutes of running time.