No matter what you think you see coming, “Knuckleball” still has armfuls of suspenseful surprises in store.

The dark aura of “The Dead Center” would pair terrifically with the supernatural suspense of “The Autopsy of Jane Doe” and the slasher thrills of “The Corpse of Anna Fritz.”

“Hell House LLC II” plays like a nickel-and-dime rush job scrabbling to find a story in the editing room instead of having clearly focused goals in mind.

“Ride” coasts on cruise control towards an easy recommendation for Will Brill’s performance alone. Then the conveyor belt of contrivances creates a pileup demanding to drag down the grade.

“The Clovehitch Killer” creates an atypical serial killer thriller with intangibly haunting consequences for its characters and audience alike.

“Tales from the Hood 2” still gets the basic job done, though its lack of refinement means it may as well be slugged out of a Solo cup instead of a stemmed glass.

What kind of quality can be expected from a movie whose director used a pseudonym and whose publicist employed imaginary praise to drum up an illusion of acclaim?

I would believe “Blood Child” is a true story before I’d believe any one of its actors as an authentic person.

“Slice’s” episodic story plays out in film form like stream of consciousness ramblings randomly ripped from a stoner’s notebook.

“Mara’s” mediocrity prevents it from being memorable, even among its equally unimpressive peers in the sleep paralysis subgenre.

Even though “Hostile” hits bumps impeding immersion in its fiction, inventive craftsmanship enables it to be more easily appreciated as a movie.

Mischa Barton and Tara Reid I understand. But what in the world are Dee Wallace and Chris Mulkey doing in something like “Ouija House?”

It’s simply splattery and silly, but in a blackly good-humored way that has the colorful enthusiasm of an R-rated “Goosebumps” movie for adults.

Stick to the advice offered earlier and don’t see this movie. Unless it’s already too late, in which case, welcome to our collective misery.

I came out badly wanting the movie to be better than it is. Should you choose to cruise into its black hole of humor, you’ll come out with the same wish.

“Nightmare Shark” positions itself as the “Nightmare on Elm Street” of killer shark movies, but it’s not even the “Bad Dreams” of killer shark movies.

A family fantasy tone makes the film feel like a Hallmark holiday movie with a dash of Syfy creature feature cream spilled in its campy coffee.

More of an indifferent nibble on Netflix than a specifically sought after rental, “Down a Dark Hall’s” plainly straightforward nature earns it a median grade.

If you’ve seen M. Night Shyamalan’s “Split,” you’ve already seen a better version of “The Basement.”

“Upgrade” plays less like a lower-budgeted 1980s Schwarzenegger extravaganza and more like a bigger-budgeted Full Moon sci-fi romp.