Published on
2001’s Valentine arrived at the tail end of the late-’90s slasher revival kickstarted by Scream. It’s one of those movies that just seemed to materialize in the DVD bargain bins overnight. The cover art followed the usual formula — a lineup of floating heads featuring the leads, with the killer’s eerie mask looming above them. Denise Richards’ seductive gaze was an instant eye-catcher, as was the backside photo of her in a bikini. I hadn’t heard of the film at the time, but back in 2002, that cover made it an easy sell for me.
Valentine follows a group of childhood friends who begin receiving creepy Valentine’s Day cards from a mysterious stalker years after humiliating an awkward classmate at a school dance. As the holiday approaches, the women — now glamorous but self-absorbed adults — start getting picked off one by one by a masked killer wearing a cherubic cupid mask.
Valentine is a pretty by-the-numbers slasher from that era. It looks slick, features a cast of recognizable faces, and it’s obvious the studio put some real money into the production. I’ve got a soft spot for it, though — precisely because it plays things so safe. It’s the cinematic equivalent of comfort food: predictable, but oddly satisfying. Still, the film has its fair share of flaws. The killer is fairly bland — dressed in plain black and hiding behind a cherubic cupid mask. His only real quirk is a nosebleed after each kill. There’s no signature weapon to make him stand out, though he does break out a bow in one of the movie’s few memorable scenes. Beyond that, it’s mostly knife work — and after watching Jason Voorhees mow through victims with every garden tool imaginable, a simple knife feels like a bit of a downgrade.
While all the women in Valentine look like Victoria’s Secret models, not a single one of them is particularly likeable. Their defining trait seems to be that they’re all on the hunt for a man — and wouldn’t hesitate to figuratively stab a friend in the back if a handsome guy came along. Then again, that kind of cattiness isn’t exactly unheard of in real life, so maybe the writers actually had a better grasp on female behavior than Joe Eszterhas — the man who gave us Showgirls.
The movie also demands a fair bit of suspension of disbelief, asking us to accept that Jessica Capshaw’s character, Dorothy, is the “ugly” one of the group. To sell this idea, Capshaw — who is absolutely gorgeous — is essentially tasked with looking perpetually irritated. Her main storyline involves falling head over heels for a ridiculously attractive guy who practically is a walking red flag and is clearly only after her money. Sure, relationships like that happen all the time in real life, but the movie handles it with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
This is this movie’s idea of an unattractive woman.
Valentine doesn’t offer many surprises, and while the killer’s reveal might catch some viewers off guard, it’s really not that hard to piece together. That said, I wouldn’t blame anyone for crossing this person off their suspect list early — because, especially on a rewatch, the twist makes very little sense. The movie bombards you with red herrings, introducing random characters who pop in and out just long enough to seem suspicious. Meanwhile, the actual killer gets plenty of screen time — sometimes too much. During the finale, the film practically breaks its own logic, showing the killer in two places at once: one moment they’re stalking and murdering someone, and in the very next scene, they’re casually interacting with others at the same party. Apparently, we’re supposed to believe that at this massive mansion gathering, the killer is slipping in and out of costume every few minutes to juggle both identities.
The party that caps off Valentine is packed with dozens of extras and takes place at Dorothy’s mansion — yet strangely, she only ever interacts with her close friends, and no one else seems to even know who she is. It’s a weird detail that stands out; you can’t help but wonder who all these random partygoers are supposed to be. The sequence itself serves as the obligatory final setting, where the last surviving girl discovers all her friends’ bodies and faces off against the killer in a predictable showdown. It’s pure, by-the-numbers slasher territory.
These days, Valentine seems largely forgotten. Warner Bros., the studio behind it, never gave the film a Blu-ray release, leaving it to pricey boutique labels to pick up the slack. And that’s a bit of a shame — because for all its flaws, I’ve always had a soft spot for Valentine. And no, it’s not just because it features Denise Richards in a bikini (though that certainly doesn’t hurt). If I really want to see Richards at her most entertaining, I’ll just revisit the final ten minutes of Tammy and the T-Rex.
