“Army of the Dead” qualifies as “big, dumb fun.” Unfortunately, it’s disproportionately heavy on two of those terms while having nearly none of the third.

“Amityville Poltergeist” is another disposable DTV’er that became an Amityville movie after the fact, meaning it has as much to do with Amityville as it does with Ypsilanti, Michigan.

Horror fans might afford “Seance’s” boilerplate boos a little more leniency when they realize it’s Simon Barrett’s feature film directorial debut.

An “I’ve been down this road before” ghost haunts “Oxygen,” holding back any ingenuity from feeling truly original or imaginative.

I equate rental prices to how much I’d pay for a drink at a bar. If I had it to do over again, I’d rather have half of a beer than 75 minutes of “Death Rink.”

As long as you have an appetite for quick, classic chills, “The Djinn” offers a modestly macabre meal you can gobble up while having dinner in the dark.

“Fried Barry” is “filthy,” and your personal proclivities for tastelessness will dictate whether that word earns the adjective “delightfully” or “despicably.”

How can I put this nicely? I don’t think I can. Bottom line, “The Lockdown Hauntings” is scatterbrained claptrap that is dull as dirt.

Even with some jagged hangnails, “Initiation” still gets a good deal of the way there as a prettily polished indie with several surprises up its sleeve.

If you forced a bot to watch 100 of the blandest indie horror movies imaginable, then had that bot generate a generic horror movie of its own, the result would be “The Resort.”

I don’t see how “Mortal Kombat” can be anything other than this movie because of how inherently silly the source material is for a live-action adaptation.

At a time when microbudget thrillers mostly play it safe, it’s worth appreciating an underdog oddball that dares to do things a little differently.

“The Power” is the kind of movie that can be described with a number of “the kind of movie that” observations.

Philosophically sophisticated, yet fully entrenched in Saturday morning sensations tailored to adult tastes, there hasn’t been anything like “The Spine of Night” in decades.

Clips of the spinach-eating sailor appear so frequently, I’m shocked Popeye doesn’t have top billing because I’d swear he appears onscreen more than anyone else.

The way to take “Godzilla vs. Kong” is as a modernized riff on classic mutant monster movies made for date night at the drive-in.

The mix of thematic maturity with B-movie mirth creates a quirky cocktail that’s enjoyably smooth to tuned tongues, although others will find the same flavors too flat.

95% ordinary dialogue spiked with 5% of weirdness sets up a dynamite dynamic that separates “The Toll’s” suspense from typical “trapped in a forest” thrillers.

“Doors” looks like an underground film festival entry that’s too raw to even earn pity laurels as an honorable mention.

It’s odd that for all the movies I’ve unpacked over the years, I can’t quite pin down what remedy would coax “Witch Hunt” out of the sleepy bed it lies in.