The Lost Boy

I'd like to draw your attention at this time to a news item from last Friday that may have escaped your attention. Yes, dear reader(s), I am referring to the tragic and untimely death of 1980s child star Corey Haim. I know you were wondering why I didn't address this immediately on Friday, and I'll be honest with you, I was so engrossed in being schooled in the ways of unbreaking up, that I totally forgot. I know, I know, totally unacceptable. I feel so ashamed. I'll try to make up for it though, by taking the time now to honor this fallen Hollywood icon in a manner befitting his memory.

A little background first: I was born in the '80s, which automatically makes them the best decade ever. (Things that took place the year I was born: Mets win the world series. Pixar Animation founded. Hot Tub Time Machine. I rest my case.) Although this put me in prime position to grow up in the '90s (best decade in which to grow up, natch), it also means I wasn't really around or cognizant of a lot of '80s phenomena at the time they happened. So naturally you might ask yourself, why do I care at all about Corey Haim? Well, dear reader(s) it has nothing to do with timing and everything to do with fate. Fate in the form of an authentic The Lost Boys movie poster, inexplicably wedged in my mom's wrapping paper drawer.

I have no idea how that poster got into my house; my parents are pretty cool and everything, but it's not like they own any other movie posters. This was, and remains, the only movie poster they have ever had in their house, and I have absolutely no idea what possessed them to buy it, out of all the movie posters in the world. I don't know if they even saw the movie. All I know is that when I found it circa age 12 in a trunk full of wrapping paper it was like finding ancient Egyptian buried treasure, and I was Rick O'Connell.

Now it being 1998 and all, this movie was long gone from theaters, but at the tender age of 12 even I could tell immediately from the stunning poster that it must've been a classic. I mean, look at those slick sunglasses and leather jacket on that guy on the left! Look at vintage Kiefer Sutherland rocking the spiky blond hair and dangly earring! (Who, incidentally, was totally ripped off by this guy. Come on, Jack Bauer, are you going to take that lying down??) The red-and-black color palate! The tagline! "Sleep all day. Party all night. Never grow old. Never die. It's fun to be a vampire." PURE MOLTEN GOLD MY FRIENDS. I wasted no time in appropriating this holy relic for my bedroom, where it occupied a place of prominence at the foot of my bed all throughout high school.

Now maybe it's not immediately clear to you why this movie is the shizzle. For those of you unacquainted with this fine film who are used to the current flavor of vampire mania, you first need to know that this movie is not bloodsuckers a la Stephenie "I can't spell my own name" Meyer. No sir. This movie is straight up badassery where gangs of bitchin' vampires live in caves, wear leather jackets and sunglasses, ride around on motorcycles, and throw killer beach parties. It features the best vampire hunting team of adolescent boys ever incorporated: The Frog Brothers. The Frog brothers dressed like mini-rambos, rocked Super Soakers filled with holy water, and said awesome things like "Listen, just so you know, if you try to stop us, or vamp out in any way, I'll stake you without even thinking twice about it!" Just so you would know how kickass and fo' realz they were. But most importantly, it starred a 16-year old Corey Haim as the innocent Sam Emerson, your typical teenager who just wants his MTV, thinks grown-ups are lame, and is trying to juggle fitting in his new town AND saving his family from the local vampire tribe. Who can't relate to that?

Given the focal point TLB played in my teenage years (more literally than figuratively) I was devastated to hear the news that Corey had gone to join the angelic vampire hunters in the sky, my hopes of one day reuniting the Frog Brothers in The Lost Boys 3: Don't Vamp Out lying in pieces, like so many pieces of vampire brains. (One of the valuable lessons I learned from TLB is that exploding the head is one of the only failsafe ways to kill a bloodsucker. Life lessons.) I quickly did some background searches and discovered that he hadn't really done much since the '80s, which also made me sad. How could the world have failed to recognize this great talent? They say great genius is never acknowledged in its lifetime, and ain't it the truth.

To pay tribute to our fallen comrade I was going to go see a commemorative screening of TLB at the Tribeca Grand on Sunday, but due to a combination of factors beyond my control--mostly due to a monsoon in my lagoon--I couldn't make it, so instead I'm just going to say goodbye the best way I know how: half-assed and on the internet.

RIP COREY

NEVER GROW OLD. NEVER DIE