Somewhat swiftly, “Bloody Axe Wound” sheds the skin of a slasher spoof to morph into a more intriguing inversion of a coming-of-age tale.
If it made sense for this to be a feature-length film in the first place, “George A. Romero’s Resident Evil” might be a more essential piece of horror history.
Structured strangely, and centered too squarely on the more mundane moments of a young girl’s life, “The Man in the White Van” misses more than one mark as a serial killer thriller.
“Werewolves” reveals itself as an under-budgeted B-movie that should have gone straight to home video, yet somehow had a theatrical release.
“Y2K” graduates from the “Superbad”-style hijinks of high schoolers into a lowkey comedic remake of Stephen King’s “Maximum Overdrive.”
If Bagman zipped up his eponymous movie in a sack and hauled it away to a dark cave, I’m not sure anyone would notice it went missing.
“Kraven the Hunter” might as well be renamed “Kraven the Explainer,” as it’s much more of an unnecessarily tedious origin story than an action-intensive adventure.
Before you know it, viewers gradually transform into frogs slowly boiled alive without realizing the dangerous heat enveloping them until it’s too late.
“Venom: The Last Dance” is one of the most accurate representations of comic book concepts and qualities in film format I’ve ever seen.
“The Soul Eater” probably works better as a book since it’s not quite the movie seemingly sold by the art or the pedigree of its directors.
If you don’t get major “The Last of Us” vibes from “Elevation,” it’ll only be because you didn’t play the games or watch the HBO series.
Expect an aggressively implausible whodunit where the who is unsatisfying and the how and why they dunit has holes deeper than the Mariana Trench.
Whether you like the film’s irreverent attitude or not, “Street Trash” is exactly the rude, ridiculous, rebellious movie Kruger means for it to be.
Although sleeker and perhaps scarier, “Smile 2’s” fault is that it’s arguably “more of the same” rather than a real advancement on what came before.
At least the movie only runs 70 minutes, though I suppose that extra 10 technically disqualifies it from being a literal amateur hour.
While the movie works as an atmosphere-building slow burn, the lack of substance in the story makes “Black Cab” harder to get into as a narrative.
What’s on the other side of the cellar door is far more disappointing than anyone can imagine, and so is the bland movie bearing its name.
It’s hard not to think a better heroine and a little more linearity might have earned “Last Straw” another full star.
Terry Gionoffrio’s ordeal simply seems like a trial run for what Rosemary Woodhouse experiences in a scarier, sleeker, superior movie.
Not quite a case of too little, too late, “Get Away” gains enough mad-dash momentum to crest over the hill of humdrum humor it had been coasting on until the ending.