Bitter, slimy, tabloid reporter, Richard Dees (Miguel Ferrer), investigates a series of murders at rural airfields. Dees, who has a psychic connection to the killer, begins to suspect that the killer is a real vampire as a new cub reporter tries to take the story away from him.
In the improbable world of Night Flier, the police and legitimate news agencies ignore strings of bloody murders, while tabloids have investigative reporters. Yup, in order to get those stories about Elvis sightings and yetis, tabloids have highly trained, competitive reporters who travel the country. Sure. The film clings to the exploits of Richard Dees, no matter what he might be doing since it’s a lot cheaper to show him drinking in a bar than to show the vampire doing anything. But considering the half-kangaroo look of the vampire when we finally do see him, less is definitely more. Dees actions are beyond stupid. He enters an airport filled with gruesomely mutilated bodies, believing the killer to still be there (and believing he is a vampire), and slowly wanders taking pictures. Then when he slips on blood, he goes to wash up. Wouldn’t any sane person be running? For a time, the film implies that Dees is the killer, which would give the film some value and explain away a few implausible actions, but that possibility is smashed at the end, so we’re left with Dees acting in ways that just don’t make sense (plus no explanation for his psychic ability).
There is one scene toward the end that is almost worth watching. Dees meets the vampire (named Dwight Renfield—really) in a washroom and there are a few cute gimmicks, but then the vamp starts speaking in a junior-high-theater voice and, like the rest of the film, it turns out ridiculous.