The low-key legs on “Ghost Light” hit a nimble stride for wispy humor with a small spike of cheeky horror.

No wonder no one wants to return to the titular location, in the movie or in reality. Follow their lead and travel somewhere more intriguing instead.

Carson quipped, “this is the 51st annual Academy Awards: Two hours of sparkling entertainment spread out over a four-hour show.” That sums up “I Am Mother.”

“The Dead Don’t Die” isn’t just late to the pastiche party. It arrives without a gift, sullenly stands stiff in a corner, and leaves without flushing the toilet.

It’s delightful schlock that’s practically perfect as subversive, subdued sensationalism for anyone with a sick or a slick sense of humor.

In its current condition of subdued satanic creepiness, “Isabelle” merely meets moderately above average expectations for a routine possessed pregnancy thriller.

Was “Assimilate” a target of unfair review bombing or am I merely in a minority of people who can’t see what the supposed problem is?

The peak for paying homage to 80s horror, specifically John Carpenter, shrinks in cinema’s rearview mirror daily.

It’s a little silly, a lot sleazy, but above all, it’s devilishly entertaining due to its odd audacity, sensational shocks, and satisfying insidiousness.

“Brightburn” stays sadistically entertaining for its explosive horror show, but by and large feels substantially hollow.

“Polaroid” is the kind of milquetoast movie that would fare better if it were held against the lower standards of Syfy filler.

An eyebrow has to be raised over the ages of the lead actors. Even Aaron Spelling would roll over in his grave if he saw this overly optimistic “teen” casting.

“Batman vs Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” detonates an awesome atom bomb of nonstop nostalgia bringing ear-to-ear smiles to fans of both franchises.

If you thought Jigsaw’s elaborate death traps broke believability for what was logistically improbable, wait until you see the craziness “Escape Room” cooks up.

“The Head Hunter” catches lightning in a bottle through invested ingenuity, even though its gaunt narrative leaves more than one thing to be desired.

“Charlie Says” stokes several fires of feminist empowerment, although its sometimes-scattered storytelling openly invites bad takes regarding how it represents its subjects.

If you’ve seen one Mother Superior stereotype in a horror movie, you really have seen them all.

The intangible trauma becomes frighteningly fascinating as a tragic tale of how violence perpetuates victims long after initial crimes are committed.

A tighter focus while reducing fandom fluff would boost “Scary Stories” from decent documentary to definitive primer on ‘Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.’

You won’t find much suspense in “Body at Brighton Rock,” but you will certainly see a lot of setup.