Not... The Demi Moore!

Nice Lady: How does St. Elmo’s Fire qualify as a horror film?

Claud: Meh?

Food Guy: What? How is St. Elmo’s Fire not terrifying? I will explain:This movie appears to be set in an alternate reality where hookers give relationship advice to frustrated writers, coke-addled debutantes have nervous breakdowns in apartments that resemble disused sets from Don Henley music videos, and stalking is considered an acceptable form of courting. I’m talking to you, Emilio Estevez.

[Claud and Nice Lady still seem unconvinced. Food Guy, never one to give up an opportunity to advance his pointless pop culture theories, furrows his brow and continues.]

It’s a more nuanced kind of horror. Think about it. Rob Lowe sweats way too much when he’s playing the saxophone. What the hell is that horn made out of, gold? Also, we are forced to watch an extended bout of carnal relations between [shudder] Andrew McCarthy and Ally Sheedy.

Claud: Merh.

FG: See? Claud’s with me.

NL: I’m listening.

FG: And perhaps most awfulest: The Demi Moore!

C: [Shudder]

NL: [Shudder]

FG: [Shudder] I know! Worst of all, in this alternate reality, someone has stolen all the saxophone cases, forcing Lowe's character to carry his sax slung over his back. Who does that? I almost wonder if the whole thing is allegory in a Twilight Zone sort of way and these characters are all actually in Hell. I mean, think about the title. And the sweating, and Judd Nelson becoming a Republican, and –

[Claud has started to walk away and Nice Lady is playing a game on her cell phone.]

FG: … and the DEMI MOORE!

C & NL: [Shudder]