Gugino and Greenwood pair perfectly, matching each other’s moods and mindsets with countering conflicts keeping intensity elevated.

Whatever the unknown number of disposable DTV detritus I’ve reviewed is up to now, “Ryde” increases it by one.

From the Carrie White clone to the cheap coincidence of a conveniently populated cabin a few feet away, “The New Blood’s” setups are admittedly silly.

“Leatherface” can succinctly be summed up as an outstanding Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo effort that is only a mediocre “Texas Chainsaw” film.

If vicariously living a 3D experience in 2D makes little sense to you as enthralling entertainment, prepare for a second serving of dull disappointment.

When anyone asks me as a jaded horror junkie if there is any movie capable of rattling me, my first answer is “The Poughkeepsie Tapes.”

On the list of all-time dumbest ways a horror movie character comes back to life, only Freddy Krueger’s flaming dog piss resurrection ranks higher.

If it didn’t have two big stars and the clout of an A24 banner, I doubt people would pay one-tenth of the attention given to “A Ghost Story.”

“Among the Living” excels at eliciting reactionary impulses.  Getting an audience to invest in true immersion however is easier said than done.

“Entrance” brings to mind “Absentia” in that it is a small-scale “slice of life” slow burner wringing oppressive dread out of an ordinary existence.

“Bag Boy Lover Boy” is what happens when a sleazy exploitation thriller impregnates an experimental arthouse indie.

A heavy emphasis on contemplative conversations keeps it calm, which isn’t an exciting way for a supernatural thriller to win over a crowd.

While “Cold Moon” is not at all a total loss because of or in spite of its oddness, nearly everything about it is a little bit “off” in some way.

What really ends up lost in translation is the film’s entire cinematic language for sensibly spinning a scary story.

I’ll cut straight to the chase by curbing instincts to cut loose with sarcasm and simply say, “Against the Night” is not an entertaining thriller.

A sudden sprint to end credits leaves an impression that “The Hatred” would willingly settle for “meh” when a bump in effort might have yielded more.

The final cut to black comes so abruptly, you’ll swear it can’t really be the end, even though you’ll welcome the merciful fact that it is.

It’s like someone shot random footage of a woman walking around and writhing naked on a bed, and was dared to cut that content into a coherent story. That’s a dare lost, by the way.

While it may not work as a whodunit, the movie satisfies as an immersive period piece punctuated by brief bits of ghastly gruesomeness.

“The Mummy” hits more of a bloop single into right field: good enough to get on base, not so much for driving in a go-ahead run.