Sometimes a film just wants to have fun — and Elvira: Mistress of the Dark does exactly that. What could’ve been a one-joke gimmick turns into a surprisingly sharp and self-aware comedy, driven by Cassandra Peterson’s brilliant comic timing. She vamps, deadpans, and sashays through every scene with infectious glee, turning camp into confidence and kitsch into charm.
The plot — small-town scandal meets supernatural silliness — holds together better than it has any right to. The jokes land, the gags are lovingly over-the-top, and the supporting cast seem delighted to be in on the joke. Director James Signorelli keeps things brisk and buoyant, his Saturday Night Live background giving it just the right snap.
It’s far smarter than its cleavage-heavy marketing ever suggested. Deserving of its lasting cult status, it remains sharper and funnier than most films twice its size — a gleeful blend of horror, humour, and high heels. Impossible not to enjoy.
If you are not offended by sheer titilation then you will love this dark comedy. Elvira gets into all sorts of scrapes and it is extremely amusing. It has a bit of blue for the dads as you would expect.
Elvira looks amazing, but that's about the only positive here. The script is lame, the direction pedestrian, and the performances are wooden. I get that it's supposed to be camp nonsense, but there just didn't seem to be enough of a sparkle here, and the sub-Carry On humour (most of which revolved around people wanting to get their hands on Elvira's breasts) didn't make me laugh once. Yes, they are amazing to look at, but it's tough to sustain an entire movie on boob jokes alone.