The Real Test of Brotherhood is Killing Vampires — 'The Lost Boys'
Joel Schumacher's horror is more about loving brothers than mean bloodsuckers.
I rewatched Joel Schumacher’s 80s classic horror-comedy since we began the official horror month a week ago. The Lost Boys is like a younger brother to Richard Donner’s cult piece, The Goonies. It’s not as good, but close enough. The movie is about two brothers and their freshly divorced Mom moving to a fictional resort town called Santa Carla in California. There are kids and folks mysteriously disappearing every night.
One night, Sam (Corey Haim) and his older brother Michael (Jason Patric) are hanging out on the boardwalk. Mike spots a sexy young woman and starts following her. He ends up meeting David (Kiefer Sutherland) and his biker gang, who wants him to join them drinking blood — and later turn into a vampire.
Throughout the film, Sam does what every good sibling would do and tries to prevent Michael from turning into an evil creature at all costs.
On the surface, Schumacher’s film is just another teen horror, but underneath the premise, The Lost Boys is actually about a supportive family.
My brother and I didn’t always have a good relationship. When he was born, I was ten years old and not prepared to have a sibling. All my parents’ love was mine for a decade, and I liked being an only child.
When he started crawling, he kept coming to my room’s door that’s been closed all the time. He was an extrovert even as a toddler and wanted all the attention from everyone. I was on the other side of the social scale by being an introvert.
I used to avoid attention. I hated talking to uncles about school at family gatherings that I couldn’t skip despite my efforts. My brother loved all of that. For two decades, the only person he couldn’t get it from was me.
I had zero patience to handle or teach him anything, so I gave up trying early on. He copied every single thing that I did, and that annoyed the hell out of me. It wasn’t charming or cute, just simply annoying. When he was about ten, he started listening to rap music, play soccer, and once, he drew himself a fake beard with a black marker because I had a goatee. You can imagine my parents’ reaction to that.
He followed me everywhere. He was constantly a pain in my ass, and I didn’t know how to get rid of him. Not that I haven’t tried. I made up things just to send him away from my room that I locked right after he left, so he had no chance to return. Whenever my friends came over, he was there ready to steal all their attention. He was like a little Michael Scott from The Office, and I was Jim always making fun of him.
I was being a mean asshole, there are no two ways about it. I rejected his attempts to get close to me because I didn’t know how to love him. Being an only child for a decade doesn’t teach you how to share.
Obviously, I wasn’t allowed to swear in front of him. Can you imagine how hard that is for a sixteen-year-old teenager? Cursing is like a golden ticket to be popular among dudes whose pubic hair just began growing.
When he became older, he didn’t have any friends because nobody could tolerate him long enough. He sucked out all the attention from every room he’s ever been in. It was difficult for other kids to be around him.
After my parents’ divorce, I had a lot of friends because I sought connections everywhere. When you come from a broken family, you learn to find company at playgrounds, parties, shady bars, and wherever you can. Friendship gains a new meaning. I was lucky to have the right people around me at the time, but my brother never had that. He didn’t know what the concept of the word family meant. When he became old enough to understand, it was natural for him that Dad wasn’t around anymore. We only saw him every other weekend. I had to adjust my life to the change, but for my brother, it was how things were from the beginning.
Later, I argued with Mom many times about whether that was a good or bad thing for him. He couldn’t lose what he never had while I had to experience growing up with a functioning family, and then watch it all fall apart. A stable home didn’t mean the same thing to him and me.
He didn’t know what was like to come home and be welcomed by Mom and Dad at the same time, or have dinner together as a family. My brother sought love and care because he missed that from the moment he was born.
He didn’t go on trips with Dad trying to make up for not being there regularly. Toys, computer games, and money couldn’t replace the time we never got to spend together. Our father was far from exemplary back then.
My Mom did everything to spare us from being hurt emotionally, but beyond a certain point, that wasn’t possible. When you’re just a kid, you develop your own ways and distractions to cope with such trauma subconsciously. I hung out as much as possible with my friends in bars, playing fields, and empty basements. I developed an emotional attachment with them that replaced what I was missing at home. However, even I wasn’t old enough to comprehend the lasting repercussions of a divorce and a broken family, let alone my brother. He never experienced how it is growing up in a whole and functioning family.
It took me a long time to find the love in me that my brother always wanted. We might not be that close to each other, but at least now I know, when he needs my support in the future, I’ll be able to give it to him.
The Lost Boys isn’t more than a comedy with some bloody horror elements, but — beyond its typical humor and jumpscares — the depiction of brotherhood is what made it last for over three decades. It’s pure entertainment with a smartly written emotional scale that connects Sam and Michael throughout the film.
Watching it this particular time, however, made me realize how much I appreciate my brother, and I’d even kill vampires for him at any given time. And I know he’d do the same for me.