How will viewers remember the movie? There’s so little of note in “Thrash,” viewers may not remember it at all.

“Psycho Killer” is a generic copycat operating on autopilot from its opening titles all the way through to end credits.

It's reductive, yet not inaccurate, to describe the movie as two grown men excessively arguing in between bouts of wrestling with alien puppets.

“Send Help” is a movie meant to be enjoyed for its wildish ride, and there’s no driver better suited to be behind this particular wheel than Sam Raimi.

“Scurry’s” experiment to disguise a bland B-movie as a one-take thriller bursts every flask in the lab, and there’s no buoy to save viewers from drowning in the drabness.

Even with deja vu ringing bells, it’s easy for a horror-minded head to get into the movie’s groove due to its no muss, no fuss efficiency.

The few and far between fun feels like a fireworks show without music, a holiday, or a sports team victory to give it entertaining context.

This supposedly preplanned trilogy became a tangled, bloated, inconsistent blob of inconsequential characters, dead ends, and ludicrously lame lore.

While the 110-minute runtime could use a trim to maintain more energy, “Redux Redux” is an easy recommend for anyone who enjoys low-key sci-fi.

In hindsight, maybe the more muted “28 Years Later” had to walk so the more meaningful “The Bone Temple” could run.

Too slow to ever reach a burn, “The Dreadful” doesn’t have many logs capable of catching fire in the first place, let alone a spark to ignite them.

“Return to Silent Hill” makes a messy movie out of confusingly cryptic plotting, excessive digitization, and an underpowered cast wearing bad wigs.

“We Bury the Dead” doesn’t have enough meat on its bones to land on a list of top ten zombie films for any of its three release years.

“Primate” has so much self-aware confidence in its go-for-the-throat style that the film wears its B-movie badges proudly.

Although it takes forever to get there, invested audiences will still be hungry to chew on “The Housemaid’s” savory secret thanks to appealing performances.

It’s a flashy heap of pure camp from beginning to end, made even more amusing because the movie doesn’t exhibit the self-awareness to realize it.

Can an audience even tell if someone is a drifter if he doesn’t wrap fingerless gloves around a cup of coffee poured by a folksy waitress at a greasy spoon?