Deathstalker

There are times when you have to stop, take a few extra breaths and pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. Because who would have thought that Deathstalker, one of the 80s' most outrageous heroes, would be resurrected after almost four decades of silence and revive the classic sword-and-sorcery genre - with everything that belongs to it and a little more. From sandals and latex suits to wacky wizards, sweaty muscles and self-deprecating heroes. In short, it's classic fantasy on the menu from Steven Kostanski, the man who gifted the world with Psycho Goreman a handful of years ago.

The result is about as fantastic as you can imagine. For the genre nerd in me, it was a bit like Christmas and a birthday all rolled into one - 100 minutes of shameless sword-swinging and blood spurting in all directions. Deathstalker is both liberatingly silly and unashamedly honest, full of personality, energy and a love of its craft. The premise is as simple as it is wonderfully, wonderfully stupid. Daniel Bernhardt is the Deathstalker - an unnecessarily tough adventurer and former soldier in the Queen's army who stumbles upon a golden amulet. The plan was simple: sell it and live the good life. But (of course) it soon turns out that the amulet is cursed, filled with dark powers and completely impossible to get rid of. To make matters worse, Necromemnon, the most evil scumbag in the kingdom, is on the hunt for the amulet.

This is the beginning of an epic adventure filled with mutated rubber monsters, evil wizards and armoured pigs. Everything in line with the 1983 original and its four sequels, but also far more playful, silly, brutal and deliberately humorous. It's simple in the best possible way. Like a classic Dungeons & Dragons adventure plucked straight from Gygax's desk. Kostanski doesn't try to complicate things. He lets the story roll on with classic 80s pathos: swords, wizards, half-naked warriors and gooey monsters in rubber masks. Think Conan the Barbarian meets Beastmaster with a dash of Krull - dipped in float. It's trashy, cheesy in the right way, charming and absolutely bloody marvellous.

Unsurprisingly, it's in the practical effects that Deathstalker really shines, which has also become something of a Kostanski trademark. Because just as with Psycho Goreman and The Void, it offers old-school film-making. No plastic computer effects, no latex, blood spatter, prosthetics and handmade dolls. There's a childlike enthusiasm in the way the film presents its creatures; they're as much joke as horror and it's hard not to love that.

It's also refreshing how the film embraces its own campiness and Kostanski really gets the basic material. Sword-and-sorcery isn't meant to be serious fantasy, although the "good old films" were often unintentionally parodic. Deathstalker, on the other hand, knows exactly what it is and all the dialogue is delivered with a clear pathos - as if the actors were playing in a cave in the woods - loving satire that works.

In addition, Daniel Bernhardt is almost perfect in the role. He plays the hero as a tired mercenary, someone who would rather have just sat at the bar of a tavern and drank mead. But who unwittingly becomes the hero who is forced to save the world. The rest of the cast is also gratefully colourful. With the slightly hysterical magician Doodad, the quick thief Brisbayne and (of course) - the drunkard Nekromemnon - played as a twisted mix between Shakespeare and American wrestler.

But more than anything, there's something wonderful about seeing a collection of actors who seem to be genuinely having fun. Their energy is felt through the TV screen and their approach lifts the film enormously. They give it their all, not least in the more physically demanding scenes. And that feeling permeates the whole production, which has very clearly been filled with people who actually care - not just laughing at and making fun of the past - but honouring what once was. From the dirty colour palette to the flickering lights, the thick smoke that fills so many of the stages and, not least, the dopey music that's packed with distorted guitars and percussion.

Not everything is perfect, of course, and some scenes degenerate a little too much into what can best be described as pure mischief, or balance dangerously close to the edge. It's also definitely not a film for the masses and is loud, chaotic and cheesy - with a very niche audience in mind. But for those of us who grew up with cheap copies of Conan, and who have an unhealthy penchant for hand-painted posters, plastic swords and trash, Deathstalker is like a warm nostalgic hug you never want to end. It won't change the world, but it will definitely make your evening more enjoyable. So sit back in your armchair, dim the lava lamp and let yourself be swept away to a world of monsters, magic and shameless nonsense.