“The End of Oak Street” pays homage to an era when Hollywood wasn’t afraid to make big movies with cyborg cops, intergalactic soldiers, and colossal creatures.

The movie is something to sip patiently out of a porcelain cup, not 64 ounces of soda to gulp down with popcorn spilling out of an overpriced novelty bucket.

“Haunt” reminds me of a Minor League rehab game for a ballplayer recovering from an injury in that it reads like Beck and Woods wrote it to shake off rust after a bout of writer’s block.