Even Minor League horror fans have taken too many trips to these basic ballparks, and taking another trot around their bland bases doesn’t offer enticing excitement at all.

Disposable DTV’ers like “H.P. Lovecraft’s Witch House” make this job a real chore sometimes, and this is definitely one of those times.

Considering the countless entertainment options sitting at anyone’s fingertips, to willfully choose one this woeful is dropping opportunity down a drain.

“Crimes of the Future” is not a movie that can be dissected within an hour or two, not with any expectation of finding everything lurking inside its torso.

By being somehow able to break all known laws of time and space, “Abandoned” wastes what feels like six hours even though it’s only 95 minutes long.

Whether you get anything more out of “Watcher” probably depends on whether you tend to be in the front or in the back when two strangers walk alone on a dark street.

It’s never a good sign when my dominant thought is, “Should I go do some laundry?” and then not even being sure if the movie needs to be paused while I load the machine.

No one in “Terror Trips” ever does anything with a shovel, unless you count the movie digging its own grave by being across-the-board bad.

I can’t recommend “Deadware” as entertainment, although I do appreciate it as an admirable example of what a handful of people can make with next to nothing.

Reminiscent of the fragrant cheesiness of the Captain America film from 1990, “Morbius” plays like a straight-to-VHS B-movie with corners personally cut by Roger Corman.

You might have a strong urge to turn off “Unhuman” early. I wouldn’t blame you, although I would recommend sticking around to see if the twist wins you back.

Discovering “Hatching” later in life would be to anyone’s benefit because it takes having experienced growing pain-related tumult to appreciate the movie’s meaning.

I would have preferred not to recount any of this, except the fact of the matter is, how you take to “Dashcam” directly depends on how you take to Annie Hardy.

“X” becomes just an ordinary horror movie, but seasoned veterans of his films have come to, and should, expect more from a Ti West production.

Together, Quinn and Lemire make a powerful battery with the right voltage to absorb, charge, and redirect Sagal’s effortless onscreen energy.

“The Found Footage Phenomenon” easily becomes well worth a horror fan’s time and attention, which is something that can’t commonly be said of the movies in that subgenre.

“Monstrous” feels like a movie-of-the-week initially intended for Lifetime, except they didn’t want it, so someone abandoned the feeble film on a DTV doorstep.

All they came up with is another plain piece of stale white bread dropped directly into a straight-to-streaming toaster and left to burn.

Don’t tax too much thought mulling over how one single scare could develop into a full-length story. “Selfie from Hell’s” script certainly didn’t.

At least I have the saving grace of sidestepping an awkward email to a publicist where I’d have to find an eloquent way to say, “Sorry, this movie sucks.”