Creepy cockney capers ensue in Members Club, where a group of middle-aged, male strippers find themselves ensnared in a witchy ritual. Thankfully this horror/comedy doesn’t take itself seriously, yet, the film’s winks and nudges at the audience aren’t enough to distract from the greeting-card level of humour on offer.
★★☆☆☆
Alan (Dean Kilbey) is a middle-aged stripper, one fourth of the dad-bod ensemble Wet Dream. Business is slow and manager Deano (Liam Noble) is looking at shutting up shop, until Alan manages to blag the perfect gig at a rural rundown social club. When they arrive, though, pentacles encircled by salt and twig-bound masks suggest that their clients aren’t hosting a standard hen do. Instead, an ancient witch arises to steal their flesh (points for guessing which specific part), and Alan must work with his estranged daughter Daisy (Barbara Smith) to defeat the crone once and for all.
When a film opens on a UK road sign reading ‘No Dogging’, the blokey banter to follow should come as no surprise. Members Club is horror schlock for geezers. An ol’ reliable horror concoction, with a creature picking off characters one by one until a pleasingly silly and squirty showdown. Said showdown, when Alan and Deano must strip to distract the witch, is one of the highlights of the film, but the unimaginative kills that come before are further tainted by cheap digital blood effects.
The strongest gag comes at the opening of the film: the four blokes are performing, an impressive array of colourful lights bouncing off their glittery jockstraps. The camera whips around their solid choreography; they appear as experts in their field. Then, cut to reality, and the four have just finished a poor performance at a birthday party for a 12-year-old girl. Sadly, these heights of great self-deprecating British comedy are never reached again, with the film instead reaching for puerile phallic jokes and general yobbish mannerisms. At least Guy Ritchie fans will be satisfied; Snatch-star Alan Ford appears as a cheese and pineapple hedgehog.
Speaking of strange cameos, Iceland’s own Peter Andre has a bizarre appearance as a Greek gangster. His performance is forgivably amateurish but his ‘funny’ accent reeks of dated British comedy routines. The whole piece feels like a remnant from pre-Gastro pub Britain, the dirty jokes and the cheeky chappy characters ghosts from the golden days of the British boozer. The film feels dated, particularly in its approach to the rightfully angry witch. Her unjust execution in days of yore is eluded to, recalling the brutality of the misogynist witch trials that took place in early modern England. Yet empathy is passed up for another round of laddish banter that leaves a slightly bitter taste on the tongue. There was a time for Peter Kay’s Phoenix Nights and for James Corden’s Smithy, but it has passed.
The Verdict
This is a schlocky horror piece which works its bloke-based concept hard, resulting in some lacklustre barstool gags. There are definitely some laughs to be had and the concept is inarguably clever, but there’s an inescapable feeling that the pint of crisp lager has gone flat.
Words by Barney Nuttall
Members Club premiered at FrightFest on 24th August
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