29 Sept 1990 marked a small but important milestone in my appreciation of horror flicks. This was the date that BBC1 broadcast (for the only time I'm aware of) Jeff Lieberman's super-creepy 1981 shocker Just Before Dawn, and it made a huge impression on me. Nearly twenty years later, I'm delighted to report that I've finally got my hands on the two-disc Shriek Show / Media Blasters special edition, and it's just as eerie and unsettling as I remember it, if not more so.

The plot, as is usual for genre flicks (and this was Lieberman's first film as a 'director for hire', though he did at least remove all the religious cult snake-handling mumbo-jumbo from the screenplay), is a bit thin - five likable twenty-somethings (including Chris Lemmon, son of Jack, in a pair of uncomfortably tight white strides) venture into the dense Oregon woodlands to do a spot of camping and to check out a patch of land that's been bequeathed to one of their number. But Just Before Dawn stands out from a crowd of imitators because Lieberman wastes no time in showing us just how deranged things are on this particular patch of mountain, with a complete innocent skewered and a drunk preacher's truck shoved down a hill and engulfed in flames within minutes of the film beginning. The youngsters come rolling into the picture in a snappy Winnebago, Blondie's 'Heart of Glass' pounding on the soundtrack, and before you can say "Texas Chainsaw Massacre!" they've clobbered an innocent deer with the front bumper and had their first taste of aggro from the heavy-set maniac responsible for the opening catastrophes. Forest ranger Roy (George Kennedy) warns them that things are likely to go awry if they go any further, but they go ahead with the trip anyway, refusing to give the sozzled preacher a ride even though he's understandably scared witless and finally pitching camp miles from anywhere. Needless to say, things go downhill from here.

Although this film's not short on bloody horror and well-handled action scenes, the standout moments for me are those where Lieberman lets his camera zoom out, long and slow, from apparently innocuous shots of the fun-loving kids larking around in the wilderness, or just lets it settle for a while on the dense, imposing, people-dwarfing woodlands. He makes the Oregon exteriors as threatening and as ominous as Kubrick made the Overlook Hotel's spacious interiors in the Shining, and Brad Fiedel's score (discounting the horribly distorted racket that runs over the titles) stays the right side of intrusive, underscoring the slowly escalating menace with subtlety and flair. There are plenty of surprises along the way, nods to Deliverance with the discovery of a backwoods babe and her freaky, disturbing family, and a truly bizarre kill technique deployed shortly before the film's end. I won't spoil it for you. I've said enough.

Quite why this undervalued horror gem fell through the cracks and became a cult item instead of a breakout hit is hard to ascertain, but hopefully it will be rediscovered and appreciated for years to come - it deserves to be.