Get ready for a fun, cult classic ’80s horror thriller that shows how the perfect small-town life can hide something truly terrifying. The Stepfather (1987) dares you to trust the man next door, starring Terry O’Quinn as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a family man who’s everyone’s worst nightmare as he tears through the illusion of the suburban American dream.
Behind the picket fence, Quinn's performance is good. He comes to us as Henry Morrison but establishes himself as real estate agent Jerry Blake. Beneath his polished exterior lies a dark and deeply sinister side, as he quietly and methodically slithers his way into unsuspecting families, targeting anyone who dares to get in his way. He’s not just a stepfather from hell; he’s a calculated serial killer, leaving behind a trail of bodies in his wake.
This is put on full display as the movie wastes no time baring its fangs, immediately establishing that Jerry is a bad guy. We see him scrubbing blood away from himself up in a bathroom before, with chilling nonchalance, he casually strolls out of the house. Behind him lies a crime scene, an entire family slaughtered and sprawled across the floor in a pool of their own blood, staining this once peaceful Bellevue neighborhood, before Jerry disappears completely, long before the alarm even gets set.
It’s a gut-punch of an opening scene that certainly doesn’t tiptoe around, giving us a taste of the monster we’re dealing with right from the very start, grabbing our full attention and effectively serving the movie well.
But, oh, what a missed chance to truly peel back the layers of Jerry and really build his character moving forward. The Stepfather teases us with his predatory prowess but sadly skimps on the juicy details of how this fiend weaves his web of deception. Instead the movie fast-forwards one year later, and just like that—poof—Jerry Blake’s already the picture-perfect stepfather in a new family, the nest of Susan (Shelley Hack) and her high school–aged teenage daughter Stephanie Maine (Jill Schoelen).
The setting is a true killer’s playground, a pre-DNA, pre-surveillance sanctuary that almost effortlessly allows Jerry to dance around justice and slip right through the cracks of what would, by today’s much stricter standards, be a forensic goldmine. With nothing more than a cheap wig or a glued-on mustache, he easily reinvents himself as a new man, effortlessly melting into yet another sleepy small town to quietly sow his deadly seed, seemingly untouched and unnoticed by clueless cops.
However, the past remains determined to disrupt his new, seemingly perfect family life, as Jim Ogilvie (Stephen Shellen), the grieving brother of one of his victims turned amateur sleuth, tirelessly scours the streets in a relentless pursuit to track Jerry down and bring him to justice.
Worlds apart from any hint of danger or suspicion, Susan wholeheartedly embraces her new love, Jerry, a seeming godsend and the perfect stand-in, filling the void left by her late husband and poised to heal her broken family, making them whole again.
There’s trouble in paradise. Susan’s rosy outlook and enthusiasm aren’t exactly shared by Jerry’s new, eagle-eyed, bratty stepdaughter, who grows suspicious of him while also being stuck in the seat of her nosy-as-hell psychiatrist and emotional support beam, Dr. Bondurant, played by Charles Lanyer. He persistently pokes at her like a kid prodding a hornet’s nest, almost giving us all a case of Stockholm syndrome for Jerry despite everything he did to his previous family.
The Stepfather is one of those sit-back, shut-your-brain-off flicks that effortlessly oozes quirky charm, retro theatrical grimaces, slasher film vibes, and cartoonish stumbles as our characters butt heads, all of which gels together nicely.