Your mind will have to make do with a mildly moody little spooker with vaguely psychedelic vibes and a dreamy texture that’s deeply entrenched in an indie aesthetic.

“The Forest of the Lost Souls” intrigues as an artfully experimental thriller, although its accompanying message doesn’t come across so clearly.

Overlong, uneventful, and with not much more than static-filled phone calls standing in for scares, it’s about as skippable as low-budget horror fare gets.

Individual mileage will absolutely vary as the subdued psych-thriller tone and DTV texture will either hit your slow burn sweet spot or lull you into a yawn.

After battling boredom like Alicia Silverstone battles the shark, I’m going to guess “The Requin” means “NyQuil in film form” since it tastes awful and will put you to sleep.

Forgetting it’s a motion picture that can show as well as tell, “Dracula” becomes burdened with enough empty-calorie chitchat to rival a full week’s worth of “The View.”

Now it just feels less like enjoying a popcorn B-movie in a theater and more like watching the nightly news on a panic room monitor.

No normal person looks at cover art featuring Mickey Rourke in an eyepatch and thinks, “This ought to be an epic war movie on par with ‘Saving Private Ryan’.”

Even when the movie follows expected conventions, it does so creatively, and always with an eye for maximum cinematic suspense.

It’s all a whole lot of basic blah blah blah, unsurprisingly resulting in a movie that’s just as blah as everything in it.

“Amityville Uprising” plays like ‘A Day in the Life’ of an average neighborhood police station, with all of the dull drama that entails.

When it comes to a blind person battling a trio of thieves trying to rob an isolated house, “See for Me” leaps high above “Don’t Breathe.”

The more of these DIY Amityville junkers I sit through, the more they violently rub sandpaper all over my lifelong love of horror.

“Spiral” appears to instead come “From the Book of Dick Wolf,” as it plays like a pedestrian police procedural infrequently peppered with gobs of gore.

“Antlers” isn’t at all equipped to sustain a spot in pop culture’s consciousness for longer than it takes the end credits to finish scrolling.

“Resident Evil” might be under new management, but “Monster Hunter” delivers familiar flavors from the chef’s signature menu.

Benson and Moorhead have been building a uniquely identifiable brand of eeriness that could be called “cosmic horror for the new millennium.”

If I didn’t know differently, I’d have guessed it was the other way around, and that “Scare Me” had been adapted from a live theater show.

Ironically, having nothing better to do is how people ended up making this movie in the first place.

If “Aliens” is letter A, and a $900 DIY-er shot on a cellphone in a cardboard tube passing for a tunnel is letter Z, then “Death Valley” is somewhere around P.