When Twin Peaks Meets Twin Creeps
Sherilyn Fenn deserves better. That sentence alone could serve as the entire review, but let’s stretch this out because Meridian is the cinematic equivalent of a wine-stained romance paperback left in the bargain bin too long.
Charles Band, the same man who blessed the world with murderous puppets in Puppet Master, decided that what horror fans really needed was a “gothic romance” in which Sherilyn Fenn wanders around a castle, gazes longingly into candlelight, and occasionally gets assaulted by men who transform into Dollar Store werewolves. This isn’t so much Beauty and the Beast as it is Beauty and the Sex Offender with Fur Glue.
The Plot: A Gothic Mess in Lace Trim
The setup is straightforward in the way food poisoning is straightforward: you know what’s happening, you just wish it wasn’t. Catherine (Sherilyn Fenn) inherits her family’s castle in Italy. She drags along her best friend Gina, whose job is mostly to giggle, pout, and eventually become cannon fodder for the plot.
At a carnival, Catherine meets a magician named Lawrence and invites him and his merry band of creeps back to the castle. Bad idea. Within ten minutes, Gina is drugged and raped in front of everyone while Catherine gets carried off by Lawrence, only for him to tag out mid-assault so his twin brother Oliver can “have a turn.” You’d think this is the part where Catherine calls the police, the Vatican, or at least a very angry cousin. But no, because this is a romance. Instead, Catherine soon starts catching feelings for one of her attackers. Stockholm Syndrome, but make it gothic.
Turns out Lawrence and Oliver are cursed. They turn into a hairy beast sometimes and can only be killed by a loved one. This is supposed to be tragic. Instead, it’s like watching a bad soap opera where everyone is both a victim and a predator, and the script can’t decide if it wants you to swoon or gag. Spoiler: you gag.
Sherilyn Fenn: Goddess Trapped in a Swamp of Stupidity
Sherilyn Fenn had just made television history as Audrey Horne in Twin Peaks. She could’ve gone anywhere—Hollywood, Broadway, the moon. Instead, she went to Italy to film this soggy erotic fairy tale, where she spends most of her screen time wandering hallways like she’s waiting for David Lynch to kick the door down and rescue her.
To be fair, she’s luminous. Even in candlelight, even in gauzy gowns, even while pretending to be attracted to two guys who alternate between Fabio cosplay and Party City werewolf costumes. But her talent here is like a Stradivarius violin being used to swat mosquitoes.
The Beast: More Hair Gel Than Horror
The “beast” of Meridian deserves its own paragraph if only because it’s so magnificently underwhelming. Imagine a cologne commercial villain who got lost on the way to a Duran Duran video. He doesn’t snarl or roar so much as smolder and pout under a glue-on unibrow. The transformation scenes are so clumsy they look like a high school drama club experimenting with papier-mâché.
At no point is he terrifying. At best, he’s mildly furry. At worst, he’s a shampoo model who forgot to towel off before the full moon.
Malcolm Jamieson: Double the Trouble, None of the Talent
Malcolm Jamieson plays both Lawrence and Oliver, the twins cursed to beast duty. He tries to project dark, brooding allure but mostly comes off like a sleazy Eurotrash club promoter. Watching him attempt “seduction” is like being cornered by a guy at a bar who insists on explaining cryptocurrency. He’s not mysterious. He’s just exhausting.
The problem is that the script expects you to forgive his character because, deep down, he’s just a tortured soul under a curse. But when your first introduction to him is “drugging women and raping them,” it’s hard to pivot into “tragic romantic lead.” The movie never quite grasps that “rapist” is not an endearing character flaw.
The Supporting Cast: Fodder and Filler
Charlie Spradling as Gina gets the thankless role of “best friend whose main job is to make worse life choices than the protagonist.” She exists to be ogled, traumatized, and eventually forgotten.
Hilary Mason plays Martha, the loyal housekeeper. She spends the entire movie looking like she’d rather be anywhere else—probably because she would.
And then there’s Phil Fondacaro as the circus dwarf. Because apparently no Charles Band movie is complete without tossing in something exploitative for spice.
Tone: Softcore Horror with None of the Core
Is this horror? Romance? Erotica? A medieval tourism ad? Who knows. The movie teeters awkwardly between soft-focus sex scenes and clumsy supernatural exposition. You keep waiting for something scary to happen, but the scariest thing you get is the realization that you’ve been watching this for over an hour and there’s still no exit.
The atmosphere tries hard—candlelit castles, misty Italian hillsides, billowing gowns—but atmosphere without substance is just perfume sprayed over garbage.
The Music: Donaggio Phones It In
Pino Donaggio, who scored Carrie and Don’t Look Now, provides the music here. He’s a legend. But even legends have off days, and this one sounds like he slapped together leftover tracks from a soap opera. The score insists you should be swept away by the romance, but when the visuals are Sherilyn Fenn being caressed by Eurotrash Fabio Beast, no amount of violins will save it.
The Message: Women, Just Love Your Rapists (???)
The most toxic element of Meridian isn’t its bad acting or cheap beast makeup—it’s the central message. The film genuinely expects the audience to root for Catherine to fall in love with Oliver, one of the men who drugged and assaulted her. That’s not romance. That’s gaslighting wrapped in gothic lace.
It’s as if the script was written by someone who read Beauty and the Beast and thought, “What this story really needs is less enchantment and more roofies.”
The Ending: A Curse on Us All
By the climax, Catherine has decided she loves Oliver, which allows her to break the curse. This is supposed to be cathartic, but instead it feels like watching someone marry their kidnapper. There’s no sense of victory, just relief that the credits are finally rolling.
Final Thoughts: A Beast of a Bore
Meridian: Kiss of the Beast is marketed as erotic gothic horror, but it’s really just a glossy, tone-deaf mess. It’s not scary, not romantic, and only erotic if you find Renaissance Fair costumes and dubious consent to be a turn-on.
The only saving grace is Sherilyn Fenn, who radiates star power even while trapped in a plot that mistakes abuse for passion. But even she can’t salvage this wreck. Watching her in Meridian is like finding a diamond ring at the bottom of a septic tank—you appreciate the sparkle, but you wish it wasn’t there.
