Guillermo del Toro’s horror anthology exudes an alluring air of mystery, rough around the edges but coursing with energy.
The impudent, unruly streak that so often gives Guillermo del Toro’s films their pulse has been airbrushed away.
Vincenzo Natali emphasizes technically impressive shots in the service of predictable, boring expository beats.
Faced with the horror of half-assed material from which he can’t escape, James Franco allows himself to be steamrolled by his pet monkey.
Save for some minor instances of edge enhancement, it’s a practically flawless presentation.
If anything, the film is the ne plus ultra of aggro-female body horror.
It proves that there’s no better guide out of a complex maze than an autistic man-child with incredible mathematical skills.
Natali’s cult favorite is boxed in by its own intriguing central premise.