It comes down to whether or not farting vampire clowns getting high on weed tickles your funny bone.

“Fashionista” throws a lot at the wall while blindfolded, and hopeful intentions of artistry aren’t enough to make much of it stick.

"Slither” comes about as close as any contemporary genre film can to capturing the feel of a 1950s Saturday matinee monster movie.

Matching a free flow of fear with relatable family drama, “The House at the End of Time” makes for a movie that is emotionally engaging as well as subtly chilling.

The slowed speed sends a sense that identical ground could be covered in half the time as a single TV episode just the same.

Its bones are given life by a unique skin of subtle fantasy providing a patina of escapist entertainment this sort of story usually doesn’t have.

"Awaken the Shadowman” steps up to the plate with ambition, then squares up to bunt with two strikes, promptly fouling into an out.

“Phoenix Forgotten” gains a fair deal of ground only to give it up for a last act playing in the deep end of “found footage” predictability.

“Dead Shack” has a casual approach to its comedy, which mostly comes courtesy of humor that is amusing as opposed to laugh out loud hilarious.

Not since “The Battery” has an economical indie figured out that scaling all the way back to an intimate focus is a much smarter way to stand out.

An edutaining examination of how the master of cinematic suspense carefully crafted perhaps the most memorable movie moment of all time.

All of this inactivity on Godzilla’s part leaves “Shin Godzilla” to become the monster movie equivalent of C-SPAN.

Earnest elbow grease is evident. “Sequence Break” is just a touch too slender in scope to pack a knockout punch as slickly sinister sci-fi.

The great effect “Killing Ground” achieves from this conceit is the simultaneous suspense of wondering what will happen as well as what already did.

“The Gracefield Incident” is an unfortunate victim of damned if you do, damned if you don’t criticism where it might have been destined to lose either way.

The movie is one of those rare experiences tattooed in your mind’s eye after it is over, truly haunting your head with echoes of its affecting horror.

Making the film frustrating is this fact that there is a germ here for a movie that would be a lot more fun with a smarter sense of humor.

Most scenes put no more thought into what purpose they serve than one puts into how long to microwave a slice of leftover pizza.

When sketch comedy shows do parodies of pretentious foreign language films bloated by arty symbolism, they resemble “Thread” to a T.

It is difficult to not come away from the film feeling as though the movie’s sound leaves an echo instead of sinking into the soul.