“A charming mess of blood, monsters, and misplaced ambition.”
There’s a point about 15 minutes into Waxwork (1988) where you realize what kind of movie you’re dealing with. It’s not a straight horror film. It’s not quite a comedy. It’s not particularly scary, but it is gleefully enthusiastic. It’s like someone turned a haunted house ride at a Burbank strip mall into a feature-length film and handed the controls to a 14-year-old obsessed with Hammer Horror, Night of the Living Dead, and The Twilight Zone.
Directed and written by Anthony Hickox, Waxwork is a strange beast — part horror anthology, part satire, and part dimension-hopping monster mash. It’s a film that lures you in with a promising premise and a dash of style but struggles under the weight of its own ambitions. You can’t hate it, but you can’t quite love it either.
Like an old wax museum exhibit: it’s dusty, a little cracked, oddly charming, and ultimately stuck in time.
The Premise: Monsters in Diorama Hell
The concept is inspired, if not completely original: a mysterious wax museum opens in a quiet suburban neighborhood, run by a suspiciously theatrical proprietor named Mr. Lincoln (played with sinister flair by David Warner). One night, a group of privileged, vaguely rebellious teens are invited to a midnight viewing.
Among the gang are our protagonist Mark Loftmore (Zach Galligan, post-Gremlins), the bookish China (Michelle Johnson), the sultry Sarah (Deborah Foreman, always a welcome presence), and a few assorted cannon-fodder characters. As they stroll through the wax museum, they discover that stepping into certain exhibits pulls them into alternate dimensions — mini horror worlds — where they become active participants in the scenes. Unfortunately for them, the price of admission is often death.
One exhibit leads to a vampire dinner party drenched in gore. Another drops a poor soul into a werewolf encounter with John Rhys-Davies. Another channels The Mummy, Zombies, Dracula, The Phantom of the Opera, and more. The museum is essentially a gateway to hell, with each wax tableau acting like a horror movie pop-up book. Eventually, our heroes must fight their way out — leading to a climactic battle royale involving mummies, monsters, and a surprisingly raucous third act.
It’s a great setup. The execution, though? That’s where things get sticky.
The Good: Atmosphere, Ambition, and a Sense of Play
For all its faults, Waxwork has heart. You can tell Hickox loves horror films. The movie is jam-packed with loving nods to classic monsters and vintage horror aesthetics. The set design, particularly the wax exhibits, is often impressive for the budget. Each horror world feels distinct, from gothic castles to misty graveyards to moldy crypts. It’s a B-movie dreamscape, and there’s something admirable about its commitment to showing as many genre tropes as possible in 90 minutes.
David Warner hams it up as Mr. Lincoln, giving the film a necessary boost of villainous charm. He’s got the British horror pedigree, and he knows how to chew scenery without choking on it.
Deborah Foreman (Valley Girl, April Fool’s Day) is the MVP here. Her role is underwritten, but she exudes that magnetic combination of sweetness and steel that made her such a fixture in ’80s cult films. Even when the film around her loses focus, she grounds things just enough to keep you watching.
The creature effects, while uneven, are generally solid — especially the werewolf transformation, the gory vampire dinner table, and the final monster brawl. The practical effects lend the film a tactile charm that’s missing from today’s overly polished horror entries.
The Middling: Tonal Whiplash and Pacing Problems
Here’s the problem: Waxwork doesn’t know what it wants to be.
Is it a comedy? A horror homage? A legitimate anthology film? The tone veers wildly from scene to scene. One moment you’re watching a grisly throat-ripping werewolf attack, and the next you’re treated to Zach Galligan delivering deadpan zingers like he’s in a high school stage play.
The humor is hit-or-miss — sometimes charming, sometimes groan-worthy. The satire never fully commits, and the horror is rarely effective enough to chill. So you’re left with a lopsided blend that doesn’t quite land on either front.
The pacing is another issue. The first half is bogged down in setup, with clunky dialogue and one-dimensional characters. Once the museum starts doing its thing, the movie improves — but the back-and-forth between reality and the wax worlds causes momentum to sputter.
The final act, in which the characters bring in a team of vampire-fighting old men to battle the wax exhibits (yes, really), feels like it was lifted from a different movie entirely. It’s gleefully chaotic but tonally jarring — and by that point, you’re not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes.
The Bad: Flat Characters, Weak Dialogue, and Directional Inconsistency
Let’s be honest: these characters are not particularly likable or interesting.
Mark (Galligan) is meant to be our hero, but he’s a wet napkin of a lead. Galligan does what he can, but the script gives him little to work with beyond the standard “rich kid with daddy issues” arc. He lacks the charisma to carry the movie, and his transformation from passive observer to monster hunter is unconvincing.
The supporting cast is mostly forgettable, save for Foreman. Michelle Johnson as China seems to exist only to fulfill the “sacrificial blonde” trope, and the other teens are so paper-thin you forget their names as soon as they’re dead.
The dialogue is clunky and unnatural, packed with exposition dumps and half-hearted quips. Lines like “You can’t take my soul! I have a permit!” land with a thud, and the characters rarely speak like real people. It’s as if the script were stitched together from horror fan forums and comic book shop banter.
And then there’s the direction. Hickox has ambition, no doubt. But his inexperience shows in the way scenes are staged and shot. Some segments — like the vampire dinner or the Frankenstein-inspired showdown — feel energetic and inventive. Others feel like they were filmed in one take to save time. The film lacks a unifying visual identity, and it shows in its inconsistency.
The Soundtrack: The 80s Called, and They’re Okay With It
The score, composed by Roger Bellon, is serviceable but generic. It hits all the spooky beats you’d expect: pipe organs, stingers, ominous synth swells. But there’s no signature sound. Nothing that elevates a scene or adds emotional weight. You won’t remember it once the credits roll.
Horror Fan Service vs. Coherent Narrative
There’s something to be said for a movie that throws everything at the wall. And in a way, Waxwork is like a horror fan’s scrapbook — full of favorite monsters, visual references, and reverent nods. It’s clear that this film was made by someone who loves the genre.
But that affection becomes a crutch. Rather than build a strong central story, the film leans on pastiche. It’s more concerned with recreating Dracula or The Mummy than building its own mythology. The central gimmick — wax exhibits as portals to deadly horror worlds — is creative, but underutilized. You keep waiting for the museum itself to have more agency, more menace, more mystery.
Instead, it becomes a conveyor belt of set pieces, and the connective tissue between them is weak.
Final Verdict: A Mixed Bag of Melting Wax
Waxwork is not a great film. But it’s not a terrible one either. It falls squarely into the category of “cult curiosity” — the kind of movie you catch halfway through on cable and finish out of morbid curiosity.
It’s ambitious, it’s occasionally stylish, and it offers a few moments of genuine fun. Horror fans will appreciate the monster cameos and practical effects. But casual viewers will likely be bored by the sluggish pacing, weak character work, and uneven tone.
If you go in expecting a tightly crafted horror movie, you’ll be disappointed. If you go in expecting a tongue-in-cheek romp through monsterland, you might just find a few things to enjoy — particularly if you have a soft spot for VHS-era oddities and Deborah Foreman’s eternally watchable screen presence.
Final Score: 5.5/10
+1 for Deborah Foreman
+1 for creature design and practical effects
+1 for original concept
-1 for weak script and characters
-1 for tonal inconsistency
-0.5 for a rushed and chaotic finale
