Video Nasty: A Horror-Comedy Ode to Cinephiles
In the early 1980s, the UK unleashed the infamous “video nasties” list—72 low-budget horror films vilified for their graphic violence. Did censorship deter cinephiles? Hardly. Devotees of gore began amassing collections of these rare VHS tapes.
It’s 1985, and Dublin teens Billy (Justin Daniels Anen) and Con (Cal Arnold) are tantalizingly close to their goal: they’ve secured 71 of the banned tapes. Only William Asher’s Night Warning remains. Luckily, Billy’s pen pal in England claims to have the elusive cassette. The duo sets off for the small town of Ashdale, joined by Con’s older sister Zoe (Leah Murphy), who scoffs at their horror obsession but tags along to escape the fallout of a recent breakdown. Trouble strikes on day one: a young woman’s body is found in Ashdale, and the three Irish teens become prime suspects.
Video Nasty slipped quietly onto BBC earlier this year. With its cinephile protagonists, 1980s vibe, horror banter, and a grisly crime, the series seems tailor-made for geeky fans. Billy and Con devour their screens, idolizing films and compiling lists of “best kill scenes.” They pilfer school prom funds to buy contraband tapes, driven by a collector’s zeal, a love for scares, and dreams of selling their haul for a fortune.
Directors Christopher Smith and Megan K. Fox don’t so much celebrate cinema as capture a decade gripped by moral panic. Parents, conservatives, and religious groups fret over the video rental boom and the unchecked spread of films. Whispers of horror’s corrupting influence—claims that movies warp young minds—permeate British society. A video store clerk, appearing briefly, delivers a memorable line: “We’re not what we watch.” Ultimately, it’s not reverence for slashers but fear of “video nasties” that spurs heinous acts. Without spoilers, the truth is an old one: evil lurks not on screens but in hearts cloaking violence in righteous causes.
Video Nasty often feels like it falls short. Not cinephile enough, not scary enough, not funny enough, not gripping enough. Yet, by the finale, these quibbles fade. The show doesn’t tug at heartstrings or spark a marathon of those notorious films, but it’s undeniably enjoyable. The creators craft a chaotic, rough-edged, yet charming tale of awkward teens so enamored with horror they stumble into one themselves. Their film knowledge even saves the day, as they channel the tactics of their favorite on-screen heroes.
An enigmatic open ending hints at a second season. A continuation could refine the series—many themes feel underexplored, and the short format (six 20-minute episodes) means you only bond with the teens by the end. Horror-comedies are rare on TV, and with luck, Video Nasty could carve out a niche and build a fanbase. It’s easy to imagine the trio facing new terrors each season, as if ripped from a VHS. Meanwhile, societal moods shift, new horrors emerge to captivate fans, and moral crusaders stoke fresh paranoia. The creators have a shot to polish their work, deepen the characters, and keep exploring cinema’s magic.
