After dangling a few misleading carrots about its star and its setup, “The Possession Experiment” takes a deep dip in quality from the seven-minute mark forward.

Describing “It Watches” as not a very good movie would be something like saying John Wayne Gacy was not a very good clown.

A nightmarishly chilling 90-minute mystery is tucked inside “Beyond the Walls,” if you're willing to go through a 140-minute mini-series to get there.

“SiREN” lands in a sweet spot of mildly wild monster movie with a dash of otherworldly appeal tailored terrifically for a fright night tinged with fun.

The movie squanders any shot at momentum due to regularly resetting the timer on uninteresting exposition and unnecessary padding buffing up already bountiful bloat.

“24x36” is a complete chronicle of the medium’s ongoing evolution from studio advertising tool to cottage industry of contemporary collectibles.

“Hell House LLC” is an average “found footage” film whose score falls on the unfavorable side of the midline because there is no outstanding reason to suggest someone see it.

“Lost Soul” tells the TMZ tale of how a force majeure superstorm of prima donna politics and broken black magic boomeranged back to poison a dream.

Some surefire ways to guarantee thing go sideways in a horror movie: stay at a roadside motel, play with a Ouija board, or try bringing a loved one back from the dead.

Just to be different, I’ll summarize “Train to Busan” by saying it’s like “Under Siege 2: Dark Territory” meets “Left 4 Dead.”

For everything a thumb or tomato can actually tell you, there may as well be a flipping coin icon instead of a number as its ‘Review Score’ rating.

It’s unabashedly artificial, yet works oh-so-well to both charm and chill anyone open to the Friday night frights of a movie engineered entirely for pure popcorn matinee thrills.

It’s a gorgeous gorge on theatrical poeticism, though that definitely doesn’t translate into the most visually arresting narrative.

“Fear Itself” is the film equivalent of a Jackson Pollock painting: a stream of consciousness spatter whose scalable artistic value is purely subjective.

With horror this half-hearted, it’s no wonder that the impression left by “The Witching” doesn’t even make an indentation.

As skilled as "The Monster" is at tightening intensity between its two leads, suspense timing is way off once the beast drops between them.

Connecting with its creepiness requires a deep appreciation of tiptoeing down haunted hallways, constant creaking, the persistent metronome of a pendulum clock, etc.

“My Father Die” is rough around the edges, though on that jagged edge is precisely where its unflinching grit demands to live.

Awareness that the director was only 16 during filming seems essential in understanding why “Therapy” is the rather green movie it is.

Serbian mystery-thriller “Incarnation” can be spoiled by revealing the ending isn’t the revelatory missing link you desperately want it to be.