What it comes down to is how much, if at all, someone wishes to slog through another version of a movie already seen.
A striking visual style makes “The Dead” a little more than “just another zombie movie,” while its threadbare story and wooden characters keep it out of any category that includes the work of Romero, Fulci, Boyle, et al.
“Godzilla” is perplexingly resolute in treating its star like the Ark of the Covenant, unwilling to offer a full-view peek for fear that it might melt the face of anyone who stares too long.
It is difficult to muster enthusiasm for a competent production of an “okay” film when alternative options offer superior paranormal pandemonium for the penny.
Australian indie “Apocalyptic” (is) an above average take on the frightening theme of faith-based suicide, even if it is light on inventive insight into what motivates such minds.
Beneath the surface of spotty acting and sharp edges ... “Found” has a sinister story with chilling connotations fighting to break free.
"Devoured" bears a tonal quality that makes accurately articulating its strange ability to hold intrigue, despite a deliberately slow tempo, a task easier said than done.
“Shame the Devil” is neither no more nor no less offensive than (an average episode of "Criminal Minds") as a way to occupy 90 minutes of disposable crime-drama entertainment.
An awkwardly unconvincing British accent notwithstanding, “The Last Showing” is a terrific showcase for Englund’s unique screen presence and performance prowess.
Lionsgate sets out to pump fresh juice into the veins of a franchise lying dormant for a decade, yet think to do so by employing the most lifelessly uninspired horror movie clichés imaginable.
“Devil’s Mile” is a film rooted in surreal unreality, yet there is no indication of conscious thought behind what anything’s intended purpose is or how it pertains to a discernible, unifying theme.
“Wer” wants so badly to be weighed as a “realistic” take on the werewolf mythos that it ends up being unrealistic with how common conceptions are conspicuously avoided on both sides of the camera.
Filmmaker Mike Davis recuts, rewrites, and redubs the kitchen sink soup to produce a surprisingly smart send-up of American culture, political chutzpah, and the entire medium of film itself.
The film does evoke some of Hammer’s hallmark gothic gloom, yet “The Quiet Ones” never manufactures a jolt that isn’t induced by a quick cut or ear-covering audio.
With so many scenes of sleepy-eyed sulking set to hypnotic hums while everyone onscreen lounges about, the film is a virtual dare to not fall asleep after becoming entranced by excessively depressive despondence.
“Proxy” pricks at the periphery of provocative subject matter ... but its arthouse indie shine goes from working for to working against when the film lets every thread wander as far as it wishes for as long as desired.
“The Damned” is the sort of ho-hum horror where some indeterminate amount of time later, your memory will be unable to recall if you actually saw it or not.
This is a love letter written to the series as well as to a passionate fanbase hungry for a proper way to honor their favorite program’s half-century birthday.
Those who still cannot shake the sickly feeling of evil crawling on the underside of the skin left by “The Pact” will find “At the Devil’s Door” lingering long in the mind in a suitably similar way.