Main cast: Brian Krause (Charles Brady), Mädchen Amick (Tanya Robertson), Alice Krige (Mary Brady), Jim Haynie (Sheriff Ira Stevens), Cindy Pickett (Helen Robertson), Ron Perlman (Captain Soames), Lyman Ward (Donald Robertson), Dan Martin (Deputy Andy Simpson), and Glenn Shadix (Mr Fallows)
Director: Mick Garris

Let’s get one thing straight: this is Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers, not just any Sleepwalkers. This cinematic gem is proudly marketed with the man’s name stamped right on the title because the screenplay was written exclusively for the screen. That’s right—this movie isn’t just an adaptation of a book; it’s Mr King’s unfiltered vision. Though, something tells me he might regret being quite so attached to this one. It’s not that it’s bad… Okay, fine, it’s terrible, but in the kind of glorious, dumpster-fire way that’s so awesomely awful, you can’t look away.

Charles and Mary Brady aren’t your typical small-town newcomers—they’re supernatural creatures known as sleepwalkers. This title is purely decorative since nobody’s sleepwalking here; the real action involves some sinister hanky-panky and glowing life-force-sucking shenanigans. In their true form, they look like half-melted chocolate cats who lost a fight with a fondue pot, so it’s a relief that they usually appear as Brian Krause and Alice Krige. Mr Krause is serving major Christopher Atkins vibes, which means you’re totally crushing even though you probably shouldn’t be, and Krige nails the whole “icy, seductive mother-slash-literal-monster” thing with alarming ease.

The Brady bunch roams from town to town, with Charles doing his best teen-heartthrob routine to seduce unsuspecting virgins, so he can suck the life force right out of them and transfer it to Mary, who’s a little too affectionate toward her son if you know what I mean. It’s icky and skeevy, but that’s just part of the charm, right?

Enter Tanya Robertson, who is convinced she’s the luckiest girl alive when Charles, the hot new boy at school, turns his attention her way. Cue the teen romance vibes, except instead of a sweet prom date, we’re gearing up for attempted murder and the kind of mother-son bonding that will leave you reaching for the brain bleach.

Where do you even begin with this glorious nonsense? Let’s run down the highlights:

• Brian Krause’s epic villain turn! He flips the switch from dreamy teen to psychotic predator faster than you can say “life-force munchies.” He’s hilariously over-the-top as he snarls and leers his way through every scene, yet you can’t help but think, “Yep, I’d still hit it.” It’s a problematic crush, but hey, blame the early ’90s.
• Evil mommy knows best! Alice Krige steals the show as Mary Brady, who brings a whole new meaning to “domestic goddess” as she nonchalantly stabs a cop to death with a corn cob—yes, you read that right—and bitch-slaps people so hard they pirouette through windows like Olympic divers. The woman’s got style, even when she’s committing random acts of cartoonish violence.
• Exploding police cars! Apparently, in Sleepwalkers, police vehicles are made from surplus fireworks because they detonate with the force of a small warhead when they so much as graze a tree. Who knew?
• Adorable uselessness! Tanya is basically a damsel in perpetual distress, spending most of the final act either screaming or trying to start a car. When she finally gets it running, she immediately plows into a mailbox—comedy gold! It’s like she’s playing her own game of “how much worse can this get?”
• Heroic cats! The furry MVPs of the movie are a squad of fluffy cats who literally save the day. Their scratches apparently double as sleepwalker napalm, setting the creatures ablaze with all the ferocity of a Fourth of July bonfire. It makes absolutely no sense, but it’s fantastic in the most ridiculous way.

No, really, who cares about logic when you have all the above and more? Sure, you can wonder why Mary is so dependent on Charles to feed her when she seems like she could wipe the floor with him. What exactly are sleepwalkers, anyway? Forget it! This movie is a glorious festival of nonsense, and you’ll be cackling from start to finish. No alcohol required—this film’s absurdity is intoxicating enough on its own. It’s so stupid, so insane, that it becomes a masterpiece of trash. And for that, we salute you, Sleepwalkers.