Storytelling is so smartly entertaining for the dramedy quotient that the takeaway upholds the adage, “if it ain’t true, it ought to be.”

The music score sounds as if The Muppets composed background beats for a Margaritaville bar. And I don’t mean Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem.

Evers-Swindell’s commitment to going for broke by stirring up so many subgenres in a single story is admirable, even if it isn’t always effective.

“Unacknowledged” can’t help but excitedly expose itself as a dubious collection of crackpot conspiracy theories backed by highly specious “evidence."

By the time the film comes full circle, its quiet malaise morphs into a deeply affecting mood whose visual and emotional imprints cut sharply.

Despite its associated talent and underlying concept, “Wolves at the Door” defines a spectacularly disappointing misfire.

Try as it might, and boy does it try, “Dead Awake” is definitely not “A Nightmare on Elm Street.”

Daring to stare into their downward spirals with unafraid eyes creates a terrifyingly tense experience of frighteningly realistic horror.

Staying focused on the interplay becomes a grueling demand for wandering attention spans anxious to advance to new moments.

Without any real surprises in store, the final phases of the middling mystery don’t have enough oomph to tie the movie together.

“So what you’re saying is we have a movie we can call ‘American Mummy’ even though the main monster is neither American nor a mummy?”

Two full hours is an excruciating term of time to spend immersed in this molasses-speed marathon of cryptic malaise.

As crazy as the Manson Family was, even their rantings and ravings were more coherent than anything “Psychopaths” has to say.

Nail-biting performances and pointed production design present an undeniably unsettling portrait of paranoia sending sane minds into madness.

“Still/Born” taps into maternal panic in the form of supernatural thrills with haunted house horror and psychological scares.

“Stephanie” is so insular and expands so gradually that interest in wherever it is going can’t help but evaporate along the way.

I’m willing to say, “I don’t get it.” Because I’m not convinced “Like Me” has much worth getting in the first place.

“M.F.A.” haunts the head with provocative questions while hitting hard in the heart with righteous rage.

There is much more rhyme and reason to the hallucinatory hellishness of “Tank 432” than many critics give it credit for.

“Spring” takes the relationship dissection drama of “500 Days of Summer” and changes the spike of heartbreaking humor to hit with body horror instead.