There are those who will try to tell you these “Don’t Breathe” movies creatively upend audience expectations and blur the lines between black and white. No, they really don’t.

“Paranormal Activity: Next of Kin” isn’t overly exciting to watch, so maybe “well, whatever” says more about the movie than 750 more words possibly could.

I’d rather talk about anything else, even if that anything else is an analogy that stretches to connect a medicore Kate Siegel vehicle to the worst fans of “Star Wars.”

In the end, “The Deep House” doesn’t do things all that differently, and settles solely for submerging its standard spooky stuff in seawater.

“Night Teeth” delivers another mediocre Netflix thriller that people can’t really forget because it’s unlikely they’ll ever remember it in the first place.

Stick with it for the first 30 minutes and you’ll be rewarded with an unexpectedly novel twist that only a liar would ever tell you he could see coming.

If you just want a heavyweight horror icon going for broke in a traditional slasher, “Halloween Kills” serves up that feast on a splattery silver platter.

Who in their right mind would willingly watch a no-budget werewolf indie with the word “Amityville” in its title expecting anything other than B-grade badness?

“Aileen Wuornos: American Boogeywoman” can best be summed up with that “Beyond Belief” meme of Jonathan Frakes smiling. “Never happened.”

There isn’t a whole lot to say about “The Manor,” although in this case that’s only because the movie is pretty much a straightforward spookshow.

Another day, another aggressively ordinary Netflix thriller no one will talk about once the weekend comes and goes.

My tempered take on “V/H/S/94” takes a page from Homer Simpson’s review of ‘The Three Little Pigs.’ “Well, it was good, but not great.”

“Bingo Hell” brings out some smiles, some squirms, some sentimental sweetness, and some room temperature thrills.

It seemed like “No One Gets Out Alive” was set up to buck the trend of tepidly tame thrillers from Netflix. That’s not what happened.

“The Stylist” goes on an ambling ramble that doesn’t have much to say, even though it takes one hour and 45 minutes to say it.

The dreary drama is drier than an August afternoon in Palm Springs, except without any of the heat that might memorably scorch your skin.

Why does “Night of the Animated Dead” look like a single sixth-grader created a crude flip book out of notepad scribbles doodled during math class?

In the mood for a fun Halloween-themed horror anthology? Well then, rent something else, because you’ll only find rocks in “Bad Candy’s” bag.

“The Man Behind the Monster” succeeds at inspiring renewed appreciation for the actor, as viewers will come away anxious to load up their queues with the icon’s movies.

One thing I’ll give “Shelter in Place” is that it truly captures the extreme boredom of quarantining at home.