Ah, Full Moon Entertainment. The crown jewel of the VHS bargain bin. A studio that gave us killer puppets, demonic toys, and more direct-to-video delights than any sane person could catalog without risking permanent brain damage. And yet, in 1994, Full Moon released something shockingly… good. Dark Angel: The Ascent—a supernatural romance about a demoness who abandons Hell to punish sinners on Earth—isn’t just passable, it’s a weird, campy triumph.
And by triumph, I mean it stars Angela Featherstone as a demon in leather pants who slaughters corrupt cops, sleazy politicians, and rapists with the righteous fury of Satan’s own social worker. How can you not love that?
The Plot (Because Apparently This Has One)
Veronica (Angela Featherstone) is a young demoness with a rebellious streak—basically Hell’s version of the kid in detention who writes bad poetry and smokes clove cigarettes. She’s sick of the endless damnation bureaucracy downstairs and decides Earth must be more fun. With her hellhound Hellraiser (no relation to Pinhead, though equally bitey), she escapes through a sewer tunnel and winds up in the middle of a city—naked, confused, and instantly hit by a car. Welcome to Earth, honey.
A kindly doctor, Max (Daniel Markel), patches her up and takes her in. From there, Veronica starts wandering the streets at night, but instead of joining a goth band like most new arrivals, she decides to murder sinners in the name of divine justice. Rapists? Toast. Racist cops? Snack food for Hellraiser. Corrupt mayor? Time for a demon PowerPoint presentation on eternal damnation.
And just when you think it’s all blood and brimstone, the movie tosses in a romance between Veronica and Max. She shows him her demon form mid-coitus, and instead of calling an exorcist, he basically shrugs and says, “Cool, babe, let’s keep going.” True love, 1990s style.
Angela Featherstone: Satan’s Sweetheart
Angela Featherstone is the MVP here. Most people know her as the woman who dumped Adam Sandler at the altar in The Wedding Singer. But in Dark Angel: The Ascent, she is a revelation—equal parts sultry avenger, awkward alien, and lost puppy with horns.
Her Veronica is terrifying when she’s frying sinners, adorable when she’s learning about TV dinners, and downright hilarious when she’s arguing with her parents—who, by the way, are literal demons raising her in a suburban Hell straight out of John Waters.
Featherstone sells the absurdity with a straight face, and that’s the movie’s secret weapon. She looks like she should be starring in a Calvin Klein ad, but instead she’s skewering misogynists with the conviction of a Hell-born Joan of Arc.
The Hellhound Deserves an Oscar
Hellraiser, Veronica’s faithful mutt, is the kind of pet every horror hero deserves. He’s a slobbery demon dog who chomps on racists and evil politicians like they’re Milk-Bones. Every time he appears, you know someone’s about to get what’s coming. Lassie saved children from wells. Hellraiser snacks on dirty cops. Who’s the better dog, really?
Full Moon on a Budget (and Somehow Not Awful)
Let’s be real: Full Moon was not known for lavish production values. Most of their movies look like they were shot in the basement of a taxidermy shop. But Dark Angel: The Ascent is surprisingly stylish. Director Linda Hassani (rare for Full Moon—a woman behind the camera!) gives the film a weird gothic comic-book vibe, with Hell sequences that look like they were storyboarded on acid but in the best way possible.
The violence is cartoonish but satisfying, the sets are dingy but atmospheric, and the costumes scream “Hot Topic opened in Hell.” You can practically smell the VHS tape melting as the movie plays.
Romantic Horror That Works (Against All Odds)
The love story between Veronica and Max shouldn’t work. He’s a bland doctor with the charisma of a low-fat yogurt, and she’s a literal demoness with a body count higher than Charles Bronson. And yet… it does.
Why? Because their chemistry is adorably off-kilter. When Veronica reveals her demon form in bed—horns, claws, the whole package—you expect him to run. Instead, he sighs like a man who’s just discovered his girlfriend is into cosplay. “Cool,” he says, “I can work with this.” That, my friends, is romance.
The Politics of Damnation
For a movie that went straight to video, Dark Angel: The Ascent has a shockingly sharp moral compass. It doesn’t waste time on slasher clichés—it has Veronica murdering rapists, racist cops, and corrupt politicians. It’s basically a Hell-sponsored Law & Order: SVU.
In fact, watching this in 2025 makes it weirdly topical. Veronica does what we all dream of: she takes one look at the evening news, mutters “Not on my watch,” and hits the streets to deliver infernal justice. She is the demon Batman we didn’t know we needed.
The Humor: Unintentional or Genius?
The line between camp and brilliance is razor-thin here. Veronica watching human TV and being horrified by daytime talk shows is unintentionally hilarious. The mayor’s meltdown when she shows him visions of Hell feels like a rejected sketch from Saturday Night Live. And every single scene with her demon parents plays like Roseanne if the Conners lived in a pit of eternal fire.
But that’s the magic of Dark Angel. It never feels embarrassed by its own absurdity. It embraces the silliness with a sincerity that makes you root for it.
Why It Works
Let’s list the reasons this should have been forgotten VHS filler:
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A no-name cast.
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A budget that couldn’t cover a season of Baywatch.
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A premise that sounds like it was pitched after six bong hits.
And yet, here we are, thirty years later, still talking about it. Why?
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Angela Featherstone: She’s magnetic, funny, sexy, and oddly heartbreaking.
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Linda Hassani’s Direction: A rare woman-led Full Moon production that leans into style over sleaze.
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Moral Clarity: Unlike most horror villains, Veronica only kills the wicked. She’s basically a demon Dexter.
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Camp Value: It’s ridiculous, but never boring.
Final Judgment
Dark Angel: The Ascent isn’t just good for a Full Moon movie—it’s good, period. It’s the kind of cult gem that sneaks up on you, makes you laugh, makes you cheer, and makes you wonder why more horror movies don’t star demon vigilantes with killer wardrobes.
Angela Featherstone should’ve had a franchise. Hellraiser the dog deserves a Hollywood star. And Full Moon, for once, gave us something more than puppets stabbing people.
