To kick off spooky season, I finally watched Angel Heart (1987), and it did not disappoint. Alan Parker directs, with Mickey Rourke (pre–face transplant), Robert De Niro, and a very young Lisa Bonet. My sweet spot is ’80s or ’90s films set in the ’50s, and this one hits it dead on—1955, to be exact. (Bonus points for punny names. You’ll see.)

Rourke is peak scruffy as Harold Angel, a down-and-out Brooklyn P.I. hired by one “Louis Cyphre” (subtle) to find a missing crooner named Johnny Favorite. Said crooner apparently lost his memory, and a bit more, after the war. Angel’s job? Track him down and return what’s owed.

From the slush of Poughkeepsie to the sweating shadows of New Orleans, Angel’s investigation slides from noir to nightmare. De Niro’s Cyphre is the kind of menace who doesn’t need to raise his voice, or his nails, to make you squirm.

If you’re not into haunting jazz, voodoo rituals, or twist endings that punch you in the gut, skip it. But if you like your horror slow, stylish, and soaked in cigarette smoke, Angel Heart is a criminally under-watched masterpiece. Not a happy ending; but come on, that’s not why we watch.

-MH