"Renfield" handles chaotic fight scenes and domestic drama with much more panache than it handles the hammy humor and formulaic plot points.

“Backrooms” brings out the buried dread of being unconsciously trapped in an oppressive environment that slowly melts a mind into compliant complacency.

All of the references to Mexican mythology or Spanish scares are organically incorporated and universally accessible to all audiences.

“The Bride” is what an experimental film looks like when it’s crafted by longtime Hollywood professionals deciding to do something without a complete blueprint.

An objective perspective not drunk on cult Kool-Aid will tell you it’s a tepid, two-hour trip into exhausting dreariness.

The experience feels a lot like flipping through late-night TV at a time when loud guys in cowboy hats and blinking 1-800 numbers dominated ad breaks.

Creepy streaks keep the film’s head above water as straightforward horror regardless if the underlying context is real or fake.

It could scratch a small itch for competent cult-related chills whose low stakes don’t demand a high investment of attention.

A group of cosplayers are summoned to a hillside in Calabasas, California, to see who is the most passable LARPer, each with weird wigs and Party City props.

Maybe more eyes will notice how short the legs are on the concept of a resilient heroine unleashing whoop-ass on empty upper-class stereotypes.

“Undertone’s” atypical texture as audio-first horror that’s compact and patient makes it a divisive film where different viewers will have different experiences.