Vampire Diary

Probably made mindful only of those who thought the lesbian action in Buffy didn't quite go far enough, Vampire Diary is one of those wonderful British movies made thanks to the Hollyoaks school of the dramatic arts (see Donkey Punch): an am-dram cast delivering excruciating dialogue with the intensity of a Garcia Lorca play. Holly (Macbeth), a whiny documentarian, takes as her subject the 'weekend' vampire scene, a project which appears to mainly involve operating a camcorder in nightclubs, simpering behind her subjects like a creepy supply teacher. One night on the dancefloor, Holly realises she's being handicammed herself by the ridiculously named Vicki the vampire (Walton), who is a real vampire, honest, with a very high coat collar and everything. The two are soon drawn to each other and it isn't long before there's some softcore girl-on-girl action, but soon the irritating band of vamps begin to meet sticky ends, and there's a pregnancy storyline I can't begin to go into without hurting myself or others. The film’s only grace is V.V. herself: every bit as luminous as a vamp should be, it's just a shame about all the other suckers.