The Lair is an island's gay club, its vampire staff liking nothing better than to bare their fangs, and practically everything else, whilst gorging on the blood of unsuspecting tourists. Sheriff Holt, NOT the screen's brightest lawman, puzzles about corpses with puncture marks on their necks. Reporter Tom is more astute, and determines to investigate....
Reminiscent of old fashioned B feature horror movies as far as clunky writing and acting are concerned, the series has the sex factor to make viewers sit up and take note. The creators of "Dante's Cove" are again determined to push out the boundaries as far as possible, sweaty males pawing each other a speciality. In case interest flags, they further introduce a werewolf, a homicidal orchid and a newcomer who turns people into stone.
This is trash television, the makers the first to admit it and to mock it - as revealed in the bonuses. It is also funny, whether intentionally or not, never more so than with the dialogue and the way it is delivered. Frankie, unexpectedly, proves the show's star - he a survivor even when dead. Initially the club's wimpish dogsbody, his ghost mischievously causes problems for those who once bossed him around. Some viewers may prefer these aspects to the ubiquitous erotic excesses.
The episodes are short (under 25 minutes). The seasons grow longer (5 episodes, then 9, finally 13). The boxed set is certainly the most economical way to buy.
A self-indulgent offering that outsoaps the soaps with OTT characters, preposterous storylines and sex at every opportunity. Art it is not, nor does it pretend to be. Cliffhangers help render it addictive and ensure a cult following.