Not Your Father's Stepfather (And Why Not?)

Way back in 1987, the phenomenal Donald Westlake wrote a tidy little serial-killer movie called The Stepfather. It was made with actors you never heard of (with the possible exception of former supermodel, soon-to-be-runner-up-Charlie's-Angel Shelly Hack) and folks, it was just plain creepy. The best part of it was the understated and eerie performance by then-unknown character actor Terry O'Quinn, who's gone on to late-in-life fame and fortune as Locke on Lost. 
Maybe it was memorable because it was one of the first of its kind; today, the story seems a bit thin and familiar, and some of the performance strained to say the least.  But the basic story (not terribly unlike the "Trinity" storyline in last season's Dexter) of the demented "family man" who keeps trying to build the perfect family, only to be homicidally disappointed remains strong.  In its own way, it's a small and half-forgotten gem. (Andrew Wickliffe of The Stop Button and Matthew Hurwitz of Cinemachine do a nice commentary about the '87 film on The Alan Smithee Podcast.  Check it out.)


But not forgotten enough, apparently.  Because somebody dug up the rights to the late Mr. Westlake's screenplay and did an awful thing to it: they remade it into a boring, puzzling mess when they really should have left well enough alone.

Dylan Walsh of Nip/Tuck is no Terry O'Quinn, and Sela Ward, though she tries earnestly, can't make this work either. Worst and most puzzling of all, themildly (and justifiably) rebellious teenage daughter of the original film is inexplicably transformed into a son, returning home from military school, and with that change the whole dynamic of the '87 film is unalterably and tragically abandoned. 

The biggest problem is quite simple: when Stepdaddy goes on his rampage in the last reel of the original, he's a real threat and scary as hell, stalking a teenage girl and her hysterical Mom. In the remake, the son is tall, strong, and well-built, and Walsh is no ectomorph.  There's no real sense of danger or surprise (they've added some earlier, pointless murders just to juice it up, so there's no real shock in the late-coming burst of violence). The only real question is how long it will take the perfectly fit (and trained) teen hunk to kick the old serial killer's ass.  Which he does, rather handily.

Some things should be left alone. 1987's The Stepfather, for all its dated flaws, is one of them.