Elliot Davis might not be a name anyone would recognise, but he was the chap of the cinematography of tween vampire blockbuster Twilight. But back in the 1986, he wasn’t envisioning such illustrious big-budget institutions, oh no. It seems like he might always have harboured a love for portraying blood-suckers, with his first feature-film gig, a rather forgotten little 1986 horror comedy entitled Vamp.

In the ensuing quarter of decade, Vamp has been to the bargain bin with the bulk of 80s popcorn cheeseball horror flicks from that period – such as Elvira Mistress: of the Dark, Fright Night, and Critters. But Vamp has maintained a rather dignified position within this crop of schlock, and a quiet army of admirers. Which is possibly why it’s been resurrected from the VHS bucket, dusted off and given a two-disc DVD re-release, with a whole crop of extras. Oft compared to Martin Scorsese’s Kafkaesque After Hours, it’s disjointed demeanour emanates more from uneven scripting, but still manages to produce an entertaining and regularly surprising little slice of 80s nostalgia.

In the bloodline of vampire flicks, it’s from a far simpler time. No schmaltz, no bullshit love triangle, and surprisingly little shirtless action considering it’s a film about strippers. College buddies Keith (Chris Makepiece) and the bouffant AJ (Robert Rusler, from Weird Science) need to hire a stripper for a frat party, to secure their place in the coolest dorm on campus. Suffice to say, their search takes them to a dead-end (ho-ho) strip joint on the wrong side of the tracks, populated by a troupe of strippers who have a nasty habit of chowing down on the various miscreants who darken their doorway.

The bromance between the two chaps is identikit buddy-buddy pairing – cocksure jock AJ does the heavy lifting and sleaze, while Keith is the cautious wide-eyed type, who can’t quite remember what’s seems to have been his only sexual encounter with dizzy waitress Amaretto (Michelle Pfeiffer’s little sister Dedee).

The effable pair proceed to deal with random series of event set in a second hand Ozzy Osbourne sound stage, guided by a confusing script rather than any degree of logic. In tow, stereotypical token Asian nerd Duncan (Gedde Watanabe) provides some jarring comic interludes as he drinks the bar dry, while the others fight off albino gangs, flying children and runaway elevators.

But Vamp has a real, unique charm of its own. A script peppered with an uneven rate of hit-and-miss one liners, is actually elevated by some solidly entertaining acting from the main cast. The Jonathan Elias soundtrack is a worthy chunk of retro synth nonsense and Sandy Baron as Vic, is fantastic as the humble Sicilian strip club owner who’s “never seen Vegas”.

Above all, Vamp needs to be seen for the thoroughly incomprehensible performance from Grace Jones, dressed in body paint, crimson wig and a slinky. At the peak of marketability off the back of her James Bond appearance, it’s a performance that needs to be seen to be believed, the apex of which being the most surreal striptease you will ever see on film. Roping in the services of her entourage – one Keith Haring on body paint and props, Andy Warhol lending art direction in her lair of seduction. She snarls, pouts and chomps her way through the film with some excellent monster special effects work from Greg Cannom making her every inch the amazonian queen succubus Katrina.

The re-release certainly panders to the faithful, coming with a stack of very entertaining extras. Vamp needs to be taken in context of the period that spawned it. The interviews with director Richard Wenk and producer Donald P Borchers set the tone and uncover the original vision, by a pair of what seem to be thoroughly nice chaps. Robert Rusler’s commentary glows with nostalgia as does the interview with Dedee Pfeiffer (watch how she spends almost half an hour trying to convince you her performance was some kind of matrix of subtlety) as well as loads of behind the scenes gubbins and Wenk’s directorial short Dracula Bites The Big Apple that got him the job on Vamp.

Rumours abound of a remake, especially as the Vampire vogue is about ready for a tongue-in-cheek introspective, but it’s hard to see how it could work as a straight remake. It’s an endearing comedy of errors, but very much a product of its time. And it’s hard to see how it could live anywhere else except in the collection of the 80s cinema obsessive. But in the current climate of remakes (check out Mark Harris’ excellent new GQ column), sometimes its worth looking backwards to see what risks were taken when cinema was a little less careful.

Vamp (cert. 18) is available on DVD and Blu-ray from 21st February 2011.