“#Screamers” suffers from a severe real estate problem.  Namely, it has 81 minutes worth of space and only ten minutes of content with which to fill it.

By creatively incorporating a carefully calculated amount of weirdness, “Vampire Clay” hits a sweet spot of satisfaction between fun and freaky.

“Ghost Stories” features a freshly novel concept for framing an anthology, where the bookends ingeniously motivate each piece of the movie.

“Gonjiam” is a virtual ‘Greatest Hits,’ or ‘Worst of’ depending on perspective, featuring every cliché “found footage” has to offer.

Kept taut using a duo of dialed in performances and a nearly relentless rhythm, the movie satisfies with straight razor suspense.

To populate an “it’s like” equation for “Wildling,” one could describe it as “Room” meets “Raw,” except with werewolves instead of cannibals.

“Marrowbone” feels like a motion picture made for your mother’s book club to mull over with a glass of rosé and charcuterie spread.

The documentary is an entertainingly insightful, just broadly basic, look at the impressive effort that goes into envisioning an epic.

It’s fitting that Sam Worthington, perhaps the most vanilla male lead to ever front a movie, headlines “The Titan,” which basically boils down to being a flavorless film.

While some of these experiments go up in a puff of smoke, cinematic sincerity shines through independent of each piece’s success or failure.

Mirroring the rashness of Leah’s misguided motivations, “Pyewacket” ultimately feels important while in motion, but much less thought through once level heads prevail.

“Unfriended: Dark Web” can be legitimately suspenseful when you work past how complicatedly ludicrous it becomes.

Like it, loathe it, or fall anywhere in between, you’re likely to find its macabre mood lingering whether or not you personally wish to pick up what it puts down.

“A Quiet Place’s” uncomplicated premise unshackles it to impress as a smartly crafted crowd-pleaser packed with terrifically terrifying thrills.

You’d better be buttoned up specifically for straight slasher movie slaughter, because the movie doesn’t have any more significant substance on hand.

While the subject of Jennifer getting her groove back remains strongly scripted, the film’s final third bobbles how to handle the creature feature element.

It remains so corner cuttingly choppy that its two years spent on a shelf could have been extended indefinitely without genre entertainment missing a beat.

What’s refreshing about the film’s somber journey is how its illustration of post-apocalyptic despair never reaches “The Walking Dead” levels of hopeless nihilism.

This is a movie where monsters are not the main attraction. The unidentified threat of one is.

It's a toss up if Dale Midkiff is even the genre celebrity who comes out looking the worst in a movie this big of a mess.