Mirror Mirror, 1990.
Director: Marina Sargenti.
Starring: Karen Black, Rainbow Harvest, Yvonne De Carlo, and William Sanderson.
SYNOPSIS:
A teenage girl begins receiving black magic power through an antique mirror that drips blood, not realizing the mirror is controlled by demonic forces.
There’s something irresistible rediscovering old horror, and Mirror Mirror is a forgotten shard of early ’90s horror that’s been quietly gathering cultish affection for decades.
Directed by Marina Sargenti, in her first (and, sadly, only) feature, it’s a film that takes the familiar lonely-teenager-revenge narrative and refracts it through a gothic, black-lipsticked lens – as if Carrie had borrowed Beetlejuice’s wardrobe and taken additional styling tips from a goth fashion magazine.
Megan (Rainbow Harvest), recently uprooted to a small Iowa town with her boozy, wig-sporting mother (Karen Black, gloriously off-kilter as ever), is the sort of outsider only 1990s horror could dream up, complete with spiderweb hats and raccoon eyeliner. She’s sensitive, artistic, and tragically misunderstood, which makes her the perfect vessel for the mysterious antique mirror that stands in her bedroom. As soon as the realtor says “we meant to remove it,” you know it’s not going anywhere. It’s a mirror with history, and one that has been witness (or perhaps accomplice) in many dark deeds. It’s only a matter of time until its influence on Megan is clear.
Harvest, with her Winona-by-way-of-Siouxsie Sioux energy, is a revelation. She walks the fine line between vulnerability and menace, especially as the mirror begins to, quite literally, reflect her deepest urges. Sargenti blurs the line between Megan’s personal grief and the supernatural chaos she sets in motion, giving the horror a psychological depth that lingers beneath the surface (or should that be, behind the glass). When the mirror begins enacting violent vengeance on her tormentors – via flying glass, burst steam pipes, and one especially grisly garbage disposal – it’s cathartic, but also unsettling. Soon the question becomes: where does Megan end, and the evil begin?
Visually, the film is striking. Robert Brinkmann’s cinematography plays with low angles and giallo-tinged colour palettes that lend a surreal theatricality to the more operatic moments. And while some effects may betray the budget, they’re practical, inventive, and pleasingly grotesque. There’s a standout locker-room scene that manages to be genuinely tense while avoiding the exploitative gaze common in its contemporaries.
But what really elevates Mirror Mirror is its commitment to female perspectives. It’s not just that the cast is predominantly female, it’s that the film is deeply interested in how these women relate to one another. Megan’s uneasy friendship with popular girl Nikki (Kristin Dattilo) is quietly touching, and the mother-daughter dynamic, though sketched in broad strokes, feels authentic in its dysfunction.
Yes, the third act wobbles. The horror logic begins to fray, and the finale leans into melodrama at the expense of emotional payoff. But there’s a sincerity at the film’s core that’s hard to shake.
Mirror Mirror isn’t flawless, but it’s a moody, oddly tender film about grief, identity, and the terrifying power of being seen. It’s a cracked gem that is still worth looking into.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
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