“Rabid” puts an entertainingly wicked bite into body horror using gobs of gruesomeness and a little bit of cheeky glee.

“He Never Died” tried something similar, but “She” more successfully slathers wry comedy in grey gloom to keep its quirk subtle, yet strong.

Would it aid your expectations any to know it was filmed on the cheap, shot in Bulgaria, and doesn’t star a single person you’ve heard of?

Movies structured this predictably are commonly called “paint-by-numbers,” except “Prey” has only dull shades of grey on its palette.

If you want to watch drugged-up twentysomethings unironically complain about how hard they have it while colored lights strobe and metal music blares, “Bliss” may be a movie for you.

“Memory” decides that the most critical context should come from perspectives that assumed ownership of “Alien” after it passed from its founders to its audience.

The movie’s misguided moral implies if you just take two seconds for an autograph, you might not have to deal with a potentially dangerous signature seeker in the first place.

By the time we arrive at “Lake of Fire,” sticking to this played-out formula results in regressive routine that’s difficult to find compelling.

I came away thinking there were more fulfilling ways to spend those regrettably lost 80 minutes, such as shopping for groceries or folding the laundry.

“Freaks” chugs with such consistency that by the time it picks up its power to sustain full speed, the film becomes an unstoppable freight train of intrigue and intensity.

Usual eye-rollers like amateur acting and nonsensical plot points are more feathers in a crazily captivating cap adorning a fascinating freak show of a film.

It requires wanting to watch “Frankenstein” as funneled through a mumblecore filter, complete with contentious conversations, an acoustic indie soundtrack, and some interpretive introspection.

“Haunt” reminds me of a Minor League rehab game for a ballplayer recovering from an injury in that it reads like Beck and Woods wrote it to shake off rust after a bout of writer’s block.

With cursory characterizations and a runtime that’s only 10 minutes over an hour, there isn’t enough depth in the details for the film to manufacture meaty intrigue.

I’d probably get more out of “The Whistler” on a second viewing, but the first screening doesn’t stoke enough of a fire to compel me to press Play again.

If you want to cut through the crap of critics who have odd axes to grind or vested interests in promoting the people involved, here’s an unbiased review from someone who has neither.

“Gags the Clown” offers an open-air trip around Green Bay that feels like a terrific nighttime tour highlighted by hit-or-miss humor and a boozy splash of horror.

Stakeholders discovered they were sitting on a bomb, but realized they had nowhere to safely explode it.

More time baking in the creative oven might have added fuller flavor. In its current form, “Itsy Bitsy” contentedly feels “good enough” to go to market with what it has.

Would you ever want to watch “Karma” a second time? Will you even remember you watched it a first time? The answer is of course, “no.”