Putting everyone’s pedigrees together, it’s amusing, strange, or sad (choose your own term) to see these names slumming it in a B-movie filmed in front of a green screen in Poland.

It’s darkly disturbing while being entertaining in a wild way that almost makes you feel conflicted for being amused.

“Shiver Me Timbers” is another slapdash slasher where the madman murdering nondescript nobodies is supposedly some twisted interpretation of Popeye.

If you only watch one public domain slasher based on an expired copyright, and no one needs to watch more than one anyway, “Screamboat” really is the best option.

The tagline says, “Everyone’s a suspect,” but that’s not true. The primary suspect can only be the one actor most people have previously heard of.

“Locked’s” reticence to hit hard with a meaningful message, unsympathetic characters, and thinly stretched thrills destine the movie for mediocrity.

“Whatever, it’s fine” doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement, yet that’s approximately where “Hell of a Summer” lands in ultimate entertainment value.

“It Feeds” does just enough that’s different to become an example of how indie horror can be easily approachable without having to feel flat.

“Dead Mail” shows what indie filmmaking is supposed to look like when it’s done with passion as well as precision.

“The Woman in the Yard” languishes as a mostly muted spooker that’s heavy on dour drama, yet light on lasting chills.

Conceptually compelling and exceptionally executed, “Shadow of God” is the most memorable possession movie since “The Exorcist.”

“825 Forest Road” is recommended for fans of movies made by indie artists who put sincere commitment into personal projects.

“The Rule of Jenny Pen” fires off frightful suggestions from a bevy of barrels pointed directly at anyone who has ever felt unnoticed and unheard.

I can't recommend "Curse of the Clown Motel,” but I can recommend a trip to the actual Clown Motel and its surrounding town of Tonopah, Nevada.

It’s moderately more watchable than “Popeye’s Revenge,” though that’s like saying being mauled by a bear is preferable to being mauled by a lion.

“The Monkey” cheerily and cheekily revels in this brand of B-movie schlock, though it always does so with hyper-stylized shocks.

Samara Weaving earns top billing and the most minutes onscreen, but “Borderline” is really a greater showcase for Ray Nicholson.

The uneven experience ends up feeling so fleeting that I’m uncertain what needs to be said about the movie other than a head-tilting “eh.”

Once the slight shininess of “Bloat’s” “screenlife” sheen gets dulled, it’s even easier to see the movie as a rote possession yarn.