Its effectiveness at engineering an unsettling tone enriches the experience as emotionally intriguing entertainment.
As a patchwork anthology, “The Invoking: Phantoms” is decidedly average. But examine each piece individually and sincere effort is easier to appreciate.
All I want for Christmas is to forget “Elves” as fast and as fully as I forgot “The Elf.”
Take your pick of any adjective starting with “un” for an accurate description of the movie’s thoroughly hollow thrill factor.
With an improvisational attitude contributing to its nonsensical structure, “14 Cameras” tries squeezing blood from a setup that already turned to stone.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and what should I watch? A slasher once known as “Stirring,” now named “Mrs. Claus.”
“Lasso” isn’t merely bizarre. It’s batty in weird ways that make the movie faintly interesting only as a clumsy curiosity.
“The Unthinkable” left me absolutely awestruck with every gut-wrenching emotion and incredible image vividly painted onscreen.
Having to see longtime favorites drowning so deep in the gutter is like having to visit a cancer-stricken loved one dying in a soiled deathbed.
“Krampus Origins” continues the seasonal tradition of putting another loosely Krampus-related lump of coal in indie horror’s stocking.
“Terrified” simply charges in and goes straight to work with a lean and mean approach to classic paranormal activity chills.
Serving the minor morsel of mystery as a main meal without accompanying appetizers of intrigue leaves viewers desperate for reasons to remain invested in the outcome.
An arthouse skin applied over upsetting images and ideas brews a niche tea poised to burn some tongues while pleasing other palates.
“American Nightmares” essentially operates as “Tales from the Hood 3.” What it doesn’t have is “Hood’s” wry edge of wit or professionally sharpened appearance.
“Suspiria” emerges as the absolute best kind of remake in that it functions as a complementary companion, not a supplanting surrogate.
“Creepshow” is the closest any motion picture has ever come to accurately capturing a comic book in feature film form.
If it starred a couple of moonlighting WB flavors of the season, and maybe threw in a Creed single, the film would have its own Scream Factory Collector’s Edition by now.
Always take a chance on expanding exposure to horror stories from around the globe. You never know when you might find a terrifying treasure as ghoulishly golden as “Tumbbad.”
“Cucuy: The Boogeyman” serves a simple purpose as feature film filler that puts the basic in basic cable.
Early exposition often plays like deleted material from “The Sopranos” featuring incidental actors too campy to make the final cut.