The film isn’t sexy, it’s devoid of campy thrills, and it’s singularly unfunny.
The film is very lively, somewhat thrown together in that loose yet aggressively visceral Abel Ferrara style.
Dark Streets may only be a quasi-noir and quasi-musical, but that doesn’t stop it from being a wholesale slog.
Choke makes its source material’s everything-but-the-kitchen-sink absurdism broader, less expressive, and cheaply reductive.
The film is further confirmation that not every minor story from a subculture necessitates cinematic interpretation.
Sadly, the horror genre gets no respect, and Hostel: Part II is not the type of film to change that.
Eli Roth’s film functions as a ritual akin to the ceremony performed on Heather Matarazzo’s character, but one with no purpose other than to court easy outrage.
Nicholas Jarecki’s The Outsider doesn’t have the edge of a race-conscious James Toback film.
Venom begins as a promising vision of small-town discontent only to succumb to the worst tendencies of the slasher teen genre.
The film’s pieces and killings are mostly unimaginative.
Door on the Floor is a smutty, bargain-basement version of In the Bedroom.