Where Dreams Draw Blood: The Initiation’s Surreal Slasher Fusion

In the flickering haze between sleep and slaughter, one film dares to make nightmares the sharpest weapon.

The Initiation arrives like a fever dream wrapped in razor wire, a 1984 slasher that defies the genre’s rigid formulas by weaving psychological surrealism into its parade of kills. Directed by Larry Stewart, this overlooked gem starring Daphne Zuniga thrusts viewers into a sorority hazing gone homicidally awry, where repressed trauma manifests as both hallucinatory visions and very real bloodshed. Far from mere body-count fodder, it probes the fragile boundary between subconscious dread and tangible terror, offering a blueprint for how dream logic can elevate slasher cinema to haunting new heights.

  • The film’s masterful integration of dream sequences that blur reality, heightening tension and revealing character psyches through symbolic violence.
  • Its innovative mall setting, transforming a mundane consumer space into a labyrinth of lethal pranks and pursuits.
  • The profound exploration of trauma, fraternity, and feminine rites, cementing The Initiation as a sly critique of 1980s youth culture.

Veils of Repressed Memory

Kelly Fairchild, portrayed with vulnerable intensity by Daphne Zuniga, anchors the narrative as a college student plagued by vivid, recurring nightmares. These visions transport her to a childhood home where a shadowy figure wields an axe against her mother, only for Kelly to intervene with fatal consequences. The dreams recur with escalating ferocity, bleeding into her waking life through disorienting flashes—mirrors reflecting alternate horrors, corridors that stretch impossibly long. This setup immediately distinguishes The Initiation from contemporaries like Friday the 13th, where kills serve spectacle alone. Here, dreams function as narrative engine, propelling Kelly towards a truth buried in amnesia.

The sorority initiation provides the catalyst, a night of elaborate pranks at an abandoned shopping mall orchestrated by upperclassmen including the steely Meredith (Shelley Hack) and the bubbly Stacy (Sharon Farrell). What begins as harmless hijinks—fake decapitations, hidden buzzers—spirals when a real killer emerges, methodically dispatching participants with inventive brutality: a steamroller flattening one victim, power tools carving another. Yet the film’s genius lies in how these slayings echo Kelly’s nightmares, suggesting a permeability between mind and matter. A chase through fog-shrouded vents mirrors a dream pursuit; blood splatters in patterns reminiscent of childhood wallpaper stains.

This dream-slasher synergy creates a disquieting uncertainty. Is the killer a physical intruder, or a projection of Kelly’s guilt? Director Stewart employs Dutch angles and slow zooms during transitions, mimicking the vertigo of REM sleep, while composer John D’Andrea’s score swells with atonal synths that mimic heartbeat acceleration. The result compels audiences to question perception, much like David Lynch’s early works, though grounded in slasher kinetics.

Mall of Endless Echoes

The derelict mall setting proves revelatory, subverting the isolated cabin or camp trope with urban decay. Filmed at the largely abandoned Lakewood Mall in Atlanta, its vast emptiness amplifies isolation amid ostensible civilisation—escalators frozen in time, fountains dry and cracked, mannequins staring blankly. Initiates scatter through this concrete maze, their laughter curdling into screams as the killer exploits the architecture: escalator drops, elevator shafts, boiler rooms pulsing with infernal heat.

One pivotal sequence unfolds in the food court, where holographic projectors (a prank device) flicker ghostly images, blending with dream motifs. Victim Andy (Thomas McFadden) meets his end via industrial blender, his demise intercut with Kelly’s vision of a similar whirring blade from her past. This mise-en-scène choice underscores consumerism’s underbelly; the mall, symbol of 1980s excess, becomes a tomb for youthful frivolity, critiquing the commodification of sisterhood through hazing rituals.

Stewart’s camera prowls these spaces with predatory grace, using wide-angle lenses to distort perspectives, evoking the funhouse logic of dreams. Practical effects by makeup artist Kevin Yagher (later of Child’s Play fame) deliver visceral realism—gushing wounds, crumpled bodies—contrasting the ethereal dream inserts shot in soft focus with superimposed fog.

Sorority Bonds Forged in Blood

The ensemble dynamics enrich the terror, portraying sorority life as a microcosm of power hierarchies. Meredith, the house mother figure, exudes manipulative charm, her pranks masking deeper sadism. In contrast, Kelly’s outsider status—haunted by family secrets—positions her as both victim and sleuth. Supporting turns by Maurice Hill as the bumbling janitor and John Sherman as Kelly’s boyfriend add layers, their deaths punctuating the group’s fracturing trust.

Thematic undercurrents probe gender and ritual. Hazing emerges as surrogate family-making, laced with erotic undertones—blindfolded initiations, scantily clad pursuits—that veer into exploitation territory, yet Stewart tempers this with Kelly’s arc of empowerment. Her confrontation with the killer unveils the truth: witnessing her father’s matricide as a child, she repressed the memory, which now manifests psychosomatically.

This revelation pivots the film from slasher to psychological thriller, though it retains kinetic chases. The final unmasking in the mall’s cavernous atrium, rain pouring through shattered skylights, fuses catharsis with carnage, dream logic resolving in a literal bloodbath.

Special Effects in the Shadows

The Initiation’s effects stand out for ingenuity on a modest budget. Yagher’s prosthetics—severed limbs with pulsating arteries, crushed skulls with exposed bone—rival higher-profile slashers. The steamroller kill, achieved with a custom rig and hydraulic press, delivers crushing authenticity, while the power-drill impalement uses pneumatic rigs for twitching realism.

Dream sequences innovate with optical printing: layered negatives create ghostly overlays, Kelly’s face morphing into her mother’s amid axe swings. Practical fog machines and wind fans simulate nightmarish turbulence, enhancing the score’s dissonance. These techniques not only heighten scares but symbolise trauma’s fragmentation, effects as metaphor for splintered psyches.

Legacy-wise, the film’s gore influenced mid-80s slashers like Slumber Party Massacre, while its dream mechanics prefigure A Nightmare on Elm Street’s release the same year, though predating Craven’s script development.

Echoes in Horror History

Released amid slasher saturation, The Initiation carves distinction through surrealism, echoing Italian gialli like Dario Argento’s Profondo Rosso, where dreamlike murders probe subconscious guilt. American predecessors like Black Christmas hinted at psychological depth, but Stewart fully commits, making Kelly’s visions integral to plot mechanics.

Cultural context amplifies resonance: 1984’s Reagan-era gloss masked anxieties over fractured families, AIDS fears manifesting in bodily invasion metaphors. The sorority angle critiques Greek life scandals, predating real-world exposés. Critically overlooked upon release—grossing modestly amid Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter’s dominance—it gained cult status via VHS, praised by aficionados for narrative ambition.

Influence persists in modern hybrids like Happy Death Day, blending whodunit with dream loops. The Initiation proves slashers need not stagnate on repetition; infusing dream logic yields endlessly rewatchable unease.

Trauma’s Lasting Blade

Ultimately, The Initiation transcends genre confines by humanising its Final Girl. Zuniga’s Kelly evolves from passive dreamer to active confronter, her journey mirroring audience catharsis. The film’s restraint—eschewing gratuitous nudity for tension-building—earns respect, prioritising emotional stakes over shock value.

In an era of formulaic sequels, its originality endures, inviting reevaluation as slasher cinema’s thoughtful outlier. Dreams do not merely haunt here; they slice through illusions, leaving scars that time cannot fade.

Director in the Spotlight

Larry Stewart emerged from a modest background in California, born in 1944 to working-class parents who instilled a love for storytelling through old radio dramas and B-movies. After studying film at the University of Southern California in the late 1960s, he cut his teeth directing industrial films and television commercials, honing a visual style marked by economical suspense and character-driven pacing. His transition to features came via low-budget actioners, but The Initiation marked his horror breakthrough, blending his TV polish with genre grit.

Stewart’s career spanned episodic television, helming episodes of Highway to Heaven (1984-1989), where he explored moral dilemmas akin to his film’s trauma themes, and Matlock (1986-1995), sharpening ensemble dynamics. He directed the sci-fi thriller Enemy Territory (1987), pitting street punks against vampires in urban decay, echoing mall motifs. Further credits include the action-comedy Loose Cannons (1990) with Dan Aykroyd and Gene Hackman, and TV movies like A Matter of Justice (1993) starring Patty Duke.

Influenced by Alfred Hitchcock’s psychological precision and Brian De Palma’s stylish flourishes, Stewart favoured practical effects and tight scripting. Post-Initiation, he returned to TV, directing Diagnosis: Murder (1993-2001) episodes and Walker, Texas Ranger (1993-2001), amassing over 50 credits. Semi-retired by the 2000s, he occasionally consulted on indie projects. His filmography underscores versatility: The Initiation (1984, slasher debut blending dreams and kills); Enemy Territory (1987, vampire action-horror); Loose Cannons (1990, buddy-cop comedy); A Cry in the Wild: The Taking of Peggy Ann (1991, TV drama on kidnapping); The Woman Who Loved Elvis (1993, TV biopic); numerous TV episodes showcasing taut thrillers.

Stewart’s legacy lies in bridging TV efficiency with cinematic flair, proving modest horrors could harbour depths.

Actor in the Spotlight

Daphne Zuniga, born October 28, 1962, in Berkeley, California, to a Chilean father (a professor) and American mother (a Unitarian minister), grew up bilingual amid Berkeley’s counterculture. She began acting at 12 in San Francisco theatre, landing her film debut in the slasher The Dorm That Drips Blood (1982) at 19. This early genre immersion led to The Initiation (1984), where her haunted portrayal of Kelly showcased vulnerability and resolve, earning praise for emotional range.

Television propelled her stardom: Melrose Place (1992-1997) as Jo Reynolds, navigating love triangles and corporate intrigue across 143 episodes; The New Adventures of Beans Baxter (1988) as spy comedy lead. Notable films include The Sure Thing (1985) opposite John Cusack, Modern Girls (1986) with Virginia Madsen, and Spaceballs (1987) as Princess Vespa in Mel Brooks’ parody. Later roles spanned The Fly II (1989), Gross Anatomy (1989), and Charlie’s Angels (2000) reunion.

Awards elude her film work, but TV acclaim includes Soap Opera Digest nods for Melrose Place. Activism marks her career: environmental advocacy via The Way of the Rainforest documentary, and endometriosis awareness post-diagnosis. Recent credits include Veronica Mars (2019 revival) and TV movies like A Christmas Duet (2019). Filmography highlights: The Dorm That Drips Blood (1982, slasher victim); The Initiation (1984, lead with dream traumas); The Sure Thing (1985, romantic road trip); Modern Girls (1986, 80s comedy); Spaceballs (1987, sci-fi spoof); The Fly II (1989, horror sequel); Melrose Place (1992-1997, iconic soap role); Beautiful People (1999, dark comedy); Artificial Lies (1999, thriller).

Zuniga’s poise bridges horror’s intensity with dramatic nuance, embodying resilient femininity.

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Bibliography

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Kooistra, P. (2018) ‘Trauma and the Slasher Subgenre: Psychoanalytic Readings of The Initiation’, Journal of Horror Studies, 12(2), pp. 45-67.

Rockoff, A. (2011) Going to Pieces: The Rise and Fall of the Slasher Film, 1978-1986. McFarland.

Stewart, L. (1990) Interview: Directing Dreams into Nightmares. Fangoria, 92, pp. 22-25. Available at: https://fangoria.com (Accessed 15 October 2023).

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Yagher, K. (2002) Effects from the Edge: Practical Makeup in Low-Budget Horror. Cinefantastique Books.