I vaguely remember hearing about this movie, but you could have told me that talking purple birds were taking over the Walmart parking lot in March 2020 and I would have just shrugged and turned back to the Covid-19 death updates. I can only handle one horrifying story at a time. Maybe 2. I do live in America.

This is one of those movies with an old story rehashed in a different setting. In this case, The Most Dangerous Game. Rich people hunting non-rich people in controlled settings. Or some of them might be rich, but obviously not rich enough to avoid being hunted. So there’s your new goal, kids: Be successful enough that someone won’t kidnap you to be human target practice.

The twist in this retelling is that the Richies (that’s what I’m calling them from here on out, because I didn’t care to figure out their names), kidnap “deplorables” in a thinly veiled way of saying “Trump supporters.” Obviously this caused controversy on the interwebs, which is just free advertising for what was probably a very expensive movie (there were a LOT of famous cameos).

I’m not a fan of (read: absolutely despise) glorified violence. Even if it is campy, and involves obvious prosthetic limbs and fake blood. So movies like Saw and Final Destination will never be on the list of movies I choose to watch unless under the duress of torture or if I’m trying to signal that I’ve been kidnapped.

I assumed this would be that type of movie, and it definitely IS, but the worst of it is in the first half hour and last 10 minutes. The focus of the movie is the main character (Crystal) trying to survive the ineptitude of the Richies and stay alive. She was mistakenly chosen to be among the huntees because the Richies didn’t do their due diligence. Which is most likely a societal comment on how we believe what’s on the surface, and latch onto the hashtag instead of the message.

I’ll have to admit, it’s fun to watch Crystal (played really fantastically by GLOW star Betty Gilpin) get out of situations and think two steps ahead of the terrible Richies. She even tries to reason with them, but realizes they are just as stubborn and won’t change their minds as much as the “deplorables” they are hunting. The value of not changing one’s mind is probably the thing most Americans have in common. Whether it be ketchup on hot dogs or background checks for guns. The latter is ironic, because the Richies obviously smuggled in a hella ton of weapons for this little Billionaire Retreat in the countryside of Croatia.

Since this is a relatively new movie, I won’t give away the ending (it’s on sale on Amazon Prime rental this week; probably so the non-rich people won’t get any ideas where to find Bezos’ secret lair). The violence is more “war scenes” than “slasher film” if that makes a difference to you, dear viewer. It does to me. If people are going to kill each other in creative ways, it might as well be done artfully.

I know people are desperate for money and socialization right now, but do not, under any circumstances, accept an invitation from an eccentric wealthy man and his socialite wife to hang out in their Scare-bnb for 12 hours. The money isn’t worth it to be part of whatever twisted game they are playing.

That being said, rich couples have weird fights. I suppose when you take money stressors out of the equation, you start to accuse each other of being jealous and paranoid, and it just spirals from there to get out of the monotony. So what better way to settle that fight, then to traumatize five strangers and mess with two elderly caretakers in a rented house on a big hill?

I was aware of this movie (and the remake from 1999), but I just assumed it was a campy scream fest with innovated camera tricks. Which it definitely is, but I had so many more questions by the time this movie was over. I know I shouldn’t depend on horror movies for a satisfying ending, but if Vincent Price is going to play relatively straight for once in a film, I need to know why, goddamnit!

This isn’t related to The Haunting, but I still get them confused because it involves a house with a dark past and unsuspecting guests. One happens out of curiosity (and probably sex), and this one happens out of greed (and definitely sex).

The five guests don’t seem to have much connection, and have never even met Vincent Price’s character, Frederick Loren, and his wife Annabelle. Or so you think. The first person they invite (Pritchard) actually OWNS the fucking house. What the hell man? Are you that hard up for money that you need to rent to these psychos AND play their game for more money? This guy never ceased to amaze me the entire time. He believed the house itself claims victims by making the inhabitants insane, which causes them to go on creative killing sprees. Don’t keep inviting people over. Check for lead paint and mold. Rich people have too much free time.

The next guest is a psychiatrist (Dr. Trent) who specializes in “hysteria.” I’m putting that word in quotes because “hysteria” back then was barely a qualified diagnosis and often used to belittle women. So of course, there’s a woman who Dr. Trent is quick to diagnose with it: the next guest, Nora. However, we realize it was a scheme and misdirection, because Trent and Annabelle are actually having an affair and dreamed up this “perfect crime” to make everyone believe Annabelle is dead so Nora will go crazy and accidentally kill Frederick. But they didn’t count on Frederick being a master puppeteer! Rich people have weird hobbies.

There’s also a pilot (Lance) and a columnist (Ruth) who round out the guest list, but don’t offer much to Annabelle and Trent’s plan, except to be idiots. Which is supposed you need to pull off a crime that involves a “hanging” harness and a bunch of guns for your guests (some which contain blanks). Between the props and the costumes and puppets, these two don’t need a haunted house. They should start a theater troupe!

The movie ends with Frederick (who knew the adulterers’ plan all along) scaring Annabelle and Trent so badly that they fall into a vat of acid that’s under the wine cellar. I can’t tell if the acid was brought in or if it was already there. I also was curious how much a “vat” of acid costs, but I’m not googling that because I don’t want to be on a list.

Everyone leaves even more traumatized, and Pritchard is standing there like, “Fuck! Now I have two more ghost squatters in this house and rich people are going to keep using it for their twisted sex dungeon.” And he’s right. Because this is the Hollywood Hills, and mudslides and wildfires don’t have anything on the psychotic minds of bored people with too much money.

I’m never sure if “suspense” and “crime dramas” are considered “horror movies.” Sure, this one involves a murder, but so does Bambi, and that’s considered a children’s movie. Either way, I wanted to do at least one Hitchcock movie I’ve never seen this month, and I was lucky to have one I’ve never even heard of suggested to me.

The film is based on a play, and is shot that way, so you feel like you are watching it in real time. There are long, continuous shots with cuts disguised as zooms. It actually reminds me how Silent House was filmed, which isn’t surprising since many horror directors borrow techniques from Hitchcock. I was on the edge of my seat (couch) the whole time. The dialogue moves along so quickly but has within it some very disturbing content, so you are still thinking about the last sentence when the characters move onto the next.

The film starts with two young men strangling someone and putting him in a large chest. The murderers, Brandon and Phillip (who are the most adorable thrill-kill couple of the decade), react differently to what they’ve just done. You don’t know right away if it’s a drifter they picked up off the street, or someone they know. Brandon is calculated and in control, while Phillip is nervous and starts to feel guilty. They are just so, so cute.

You quickly find out the two men are NYC upper class, long time prep school friends who just killed their former classmate. The murder is supposed to be “a perfect crime” by Brandon’s account. Oh yes, Brandon is also a disturbing lunatic. This movie is like if you combined American Psycho and Gossip Girl. So, basically Gossip Girl. I’m pretty sure Chuck Bass is the grandson of Brandon if these universes somehow co-exist.

In order to (literally) cover up the crime, the two create an alibi by having a dinner party immediately after the crime, and serve the food off the chest where the body is chilling. They invite the dead guy (David)’s girlfriend and parents, which is so diabolical, I hope it makes it into their wedding vows.

They also invite another prep school friend, and their former prep school “teacher” (I think; it was hard to determine what he is) Rupert Cadell, played by Jimmy Stewart. Cadell suspects something is up right away, but treads lightly as anyone should when they are in a rich kid’s apartment. So he does what any normal person would do: flirt with the maid. Maybe this guy can officiate the ceremony.

The dinner party continues until it reaches the inevitable discussion of Nazis, as one would expect in a rich kid’s apartment less than THREE years after the end of WWII. Brandon stops short of saying “Hitler had some good ideas” and Cadell jokes that stabbing, shootings, and torture should be reserved for different annoying people in society. Phillip just gets drunker, and everyone else looks extremely uncomfortable. So, this is a preview of the wedding reception.

Everyone leaves and you assume the duo got away with it, but Cadell wants in on the action and returns to the apartment with a flimsy excuse that he left something there. You almost want Cadell to get murdered for being a nosy idiot, but instead they all have a little wrestling match over the gun that Brandon had hidden in his pocket. This is a sneak peek of the honeymoon.

The ending is what you hope, but not what you expect. Or vice-versa if you are a fan of Hitchcock’s catalog. There’s a lingering icky-ness that comes with listening to wealthy people talk about the problems of society while only offering “final solutions.” If we all do decide to eat the rich in the very near future, make sure to check under the serving table.

I always thought all the Hollywood Dracula movie plots were the same (reminder: I’ve never seen any of them). Count Dracula is a vampire who lures people into his castle and either kills them or controls them. I figured this would be that and I was in for 90 minutes of screaming.

This plot is a little different. Yes, Dracula (Bela Lugosi) carries on with the trope that annoying people should be eaten, and sexy people should become vampires. It’s only right, that in the middle of the Great Depression, Americans need to be mindful of this distinction. A real estate agent, Renfield, goes to Dracula’s castle unknowingly on one of the scariest days of the year to Eastern Europeans: Walpurgis Night. Which is basically “May Day Eve” and people pray to the patron saint of pests, rabies, and against witchcraft. I’d never heard of this before, but anything that involves both wildlife mitigation and bonfires is all right in my book.

Anyways, back to Renfield, who is either an idiot or the most naive real estate agent ever invented. I’ll give Dracula this, he’s got manners. He offers food and lodging to Renfield. He has ALL his papers and luggage ready to go. Very organized, even in a castle overrun by armadillos and vampire wives. Renfield is, of course, now under Dracula’s control and the two travel off to England together on their gay cruise (open bar on all necks–er, I mean decks).

The ship arrives in London with everyone on board dead except for Renfield and his boxes of dirt. Renfield is taken to a mental institution and Dracula checks into his LairBnB at Carfax Abbey. Which happens to be right next door to sanatorium where Renfield is being held and where the head doctor and his family live. Dracula is playing chess or really good at having a plan come together.

Dracula terrorizes the doctor’s daughter Mina. Her boyfriend, John Harker is absolutely useless and just goes around saying obvious things, like “watch out for your hair, Mina.” The only person trying to help the situation is a professor from Germany, Van Helsing. He has a special “weed” to repel the threat and carries a cross with him everywhere. In the end, Van Helsing is the hero and Harker gets his girl back in a dramatic exit from Carfax. Van Helsing requests to stay behind. I’m sure it is for research purposes, but we all know he’s going to do some messed up shit with Dracula’s body.

It was fun to watch another “godfather of horror” movie. You can trace all the themes that are set in place back through the decades. As a side note, Renfield’s maniacal laughter should be on every Halloween sounds album. That sound is so creepy, I wanted to fast forward it. This is probably all cliches to horror film buffs, but I’m not quite there yet. Maybe by next Walpurgis Night.

This is one of those movies I lumped in with Village of the Damned and Children of the Corn before I had seen any of them. I’m not sure why, but they were interchangeable to me. Just seemed like a lot of wandering around outside with strange people. And now after seeing all three of them, I now know, they can stand on their own as separate nightmares in my mind.

If, like me, you’ve never decided to look up the plot to this film, I’ll explain it briefly: a bunch of strangers hole up in a farmhouse, trying to escape a sudden and dangerous roving band of zombies. They are never referred to as “zombies,” even though George A. Romero sets up the tropes for decades of zombies to ooze into our pop culture, including the 173 year debt we somehow all owe to the Walking Dead franchise.

The characters themselves have become stereotypes in themselves. There is the older, bickering married couple with the young daughter who wants to cower in the basement. A young, dumb couple who might as well be wearing shirts that say, “I’m gonna die.” There’s the strong central figure, Ben, who goes all Bob Villa on the farmhouse and tries to reinforce the doors and windows against the Grabby Gus Ghouls outside. He also tries to come up with ideas about how to escape safely, all while trying to focus Barbara. Ugh…Barb. My worst fear is that my survivor group will include a Barbara. Half catatonic, always complaining about the temperature, no actual help besides zombie bait.

The telecommunication protocols set in place during this entire film is extremely impressive. The radio and TV somehow STILL work and are able to get out information of safety shelters, or organize information for the National Guard AND local police departments. This is an absolutely amazing feat in 1968. And the most unbelievable part of the movie. As any person who’s listened to a murder podcast set before 2010 knows, agencies do NOT like working with each other. However, the wonderful power of being able to shoot anyone indiscriminately really bonds together ALL Americans. Good on us!

To Ben’s credit, he does try to keep everyone alive throughout the ordeal. He’s lighting furniture on fire like it’s his last night at a frat house. He attempts to come up with a plan to get everyone to the next town over. He has figured out quickly the zombies likes (tree bugs, rotting corpses, BBQ’d idiots) and dislikes (fire, quiet, shots to the brain).

Everyone in the movie is ill-fated, there’s no surprise there. However, I wasn’t expecting the credit scenes. It’s a commentary on contemporary society when the film was made, but sadly one that is still relevant today. The still images at the end haunted me more than any other part of the movie. I didn’t do much research about how this was received when it was first released, besides the gore shock. However, I did read a bit about George A. Romero, and his ability to fold in social commentary:

“I always thought of the zombies as being about revolution, one generation consuming the next.” – George A. Romero, NY Times, 2-10-2008

Did you know we were coming for you, Boomers? Is that why you lit the world on fire?

Yes, this film is about ghosts and the supernatural crap that pops up after an unlicensed hypnosis session. But really it’s about bad parents. Or parents who thought they were doing the right thing, but absolutely should be in prison.

This film is so 90s, I give it 4 out of 5 inappropriate crop tops. Kevin Bacon can never play someone not intense, and this film lets him go all in. His character, Tom, and wife Maggie live in a working-class neighborhood in Chicago with their 5 year old son Jake.

The movie opens with Jake humming to himself and talking to walls, so obviously we are in for some wild child haunting drama. I’ll be okay as long as it is more Casper, and less Babadook. It’s kind of in the middle. It involved a basement, but the ghost is friendly enough (by Chicago standards).

Anyways, back to terrible parents. You find out Maggie is pregnant right away when her “witch” sister blurts it out. So to celebrate apparently, the three of them go to a party across the street and leave the 5 year old home alone. With only a baby monitor as a baby sitter.

I don’t care how far we have come in technology. I know we can talk to Mars in like 30 minutes, but we as the human race have not made any progress in making baby monitors less disturbing. Watching anyone sleep is creepy, but the breathing, delayed sounds, and spotty night vision is no way for us to monitor our children. I’d rather the baby sitter sit outside the door and occasionally check in with the night goggles those Navy SEALS get.

Either way, Tom and his wife are awful for leaving their kid home alone. And it wasn’t like they were just grabbing a cold one at the party and heading home. They stayed so long that EVERYONE else had left except for the hosts, a couple from down the street, and Maggie’s sister. This is a Chicago house party. That’s 5 hours, minimum.

Since everyone is drunk (I would hope except for Maggie, but they haven’t made any great choices so far), the sister in law (Lisa) convinces Tom to let her hypnotize him. He insists is BS and even though she is not fully licensed, he lets her do it anyways. A lot of weird stuff happens and Tom snaps back to reality with a huge thirst. Party is over. Better go not check on your kid who has been alone with his humming and chatty invisible friends for 5 hours.

We already know the kid has the “gift.” So add in a recently open-minded dad, along with a pregnant mom and you are going to have a mess to clean up. Literally. Tom starts to see disturbing things and even though his son creepily assures him it’s nothing to be afraid of (which would make me 1000x more scared), he starts to spiral.

He has insomnia, never ending headaches, extreme thirst, and hypersensitivity to lights and sounds. Which sounds like meningitis. Is this what people used to think meningitis was: demonic possession? Modern health care has probably debunked a lot of diseases doctors were just too lazy to research. Uhh yeah, epilepsy? That’s just the devil in your soul. Better let all your blood out. Oh you’re dead now? Ah well, must of been the devil. Pay me in money or chickens.

The story changes from jump scares to mystery, as Tom takes it upon himself to solve the murder of the ghost teenager who is currently squatting in his house. But only after they hire a baby-sitter who tries to kidnap/save his kid. Turns out, she is the sister of the ghost teenager and believes Tom and Maggie killed her. References, people. They existed in the 90s. Tom and Maggie have a damn fax machine in their kitchen; they can certainly call 2-3 people to make sure their new baby-sitter isn’t unhinged. Maybe the far-range baby monitor WAS the better choice.

The neighborhood doesn’t seem to keen to help him in his search for answers, which should have been a tip. So Tom decides for focus his destruction inward. Literally. He starts to tear apart his yard and house, trying to find a body. This should be a warning that doing home improvement projects while under the influence of a ghost, although productive, are not recommended.

Tom finds out the truth (TW: rape scene) and it involves even more terrible parents in the neighborhood. There’s not really any justice brought to the initial perpetrators, or any indication that Tom is still “open” or “closed” to more ghost chats. Instead they move across town, completely oblivious to the fact that their kid is still VERY psychic and receiving copious amounts of messages from beyond. And they are about to bring another kid into this family. These parents are so shitty, I put them on the same level as “Mommy YouTubers.” Actually those people are scarier. Someone make a film about them.

I don’t know why horror movies are always killing off teens and young adults. You never see a massacre at a pinochle tournament in Boca. Or a deranged demon stalking a Boomer’s Birthday vineyard tour. I would watch these movies. But no one else would. So the movie producers keep up with the demand: pretty people must die.

This movie begins with you knowing there will be at least 3 inevitable sequels/prequels/nearquels (I might have made that last one up, but it sounds real). Which makes me kind of angry. I’ve watched enough horror films to know the best ones can stand alone, but the fun ones never end. That still doesn’t damper my need for explanation as to why the killer does these things. Mommy issues are played out (and frankly an insult to the modern American family). Bullying revenge- meh. Need a healthy heart for your dying child….maybe?

A group of six friends go to a traveling show called “Hell Fest” which combines corn mazes, haunted houses, scary rides, rigged carnival games, and terrible food. It’s like if a county fair told the truth.

There’s a (true) rumor that a girl was killed inside the haunted house when the “Fest” was in another town. The body was left for three days and they never found the killer. So obviously there is no murder podcasts in this universe, or this would have been solved by three white women by now. Nevertheless, the friends, who are all of early legal drinking age, decide to go anyway.

Haunted houses and other scary mazes always make me wonder what they do if someone pees themselves (or worse). Like normal health department protocol would indicate it needs to be shut down for decontamination. Or is it like a lemonade stand. If no one complains of the rat poison smell, there’s no need to shut down kids’ fun times?

Anyways, the obvious plot is that the story of the girl being murdered is true, and the killer has shown up to do it again this year. He’s very indiscriminate about his murdering though. The first one is a random girl who calls him a “freak.” Fair enough, that word is triggering for some. The other murders of the friends though seem to be completely random. One is for trespassing/stealing. Bit of morality in his choice, that’s okay. The next is after he gets complemented on his acting skills. I call bullshit. What serial killer doesn’t love flattery?

As the friends get picked off, the remaining group chalks it up to lost cell phone signals and public drunkenness for not finding their way back together. Which should be true if it was St. Patrick’s Day (the other most dangerous time for young drunk people in America). But this is a haunted house on Halloween. And people in costumes do weird things. First PSA: HAVE A SAFE WORD ON HALLOWEEN.

By the time they all realize a maniac is on the loose, it’s too late. He terrorizes them until there is only two of them left and the cops are finally convinced to raid the place. Well, not so much a raid because there is no SWAT or riot gear, absolutely no tear gas, and no one gets shot. Not even a moving mannequin. Start training police officers in haunted houses! Real or traveling. Guns don’t solve all problems!

There’s no end to the movie, just a couple scenes that promise (threat?) there will be another one. It wasn’t the worst threat on young adult lives I’ve ever seen, and I’ll admit the writing was mildly entertaining and the characters weren’t all awful. Although, people who get really excited about getting touched by actors in costume annoy the shit out of me. Unless they actually scare the shit out of them. That’s funny.

One more PSA: if a nondescript serial killer can wear his mask ALL night, in the dark, through fog machines and strobe lights, while cleverly murdering annoying young adults, SO CAN YOU.

First off, I’m pissed this film title wasn’t saved for a story about a bunch of Wiccans who work an overnight answering service at a haunted hospital. But maybe that’s why I don’t get money for being a screenwriter, and other people do.

The movie is actually about a bunch of Northern Californians who get in way over their head messing around with an Ouija board. When I first read the description, I thought it was going to be teens, doing their teen things like having sex in the middle of the woods or wearing one earring to appear “cultured.” It’s not. These are adults. One is a doctor! One was in med school. One is some sort of “student” of “art” (Northern Californians are very vague about their studies).

A couple, Jim and (I’m not kidding) the Whitesnake video lady (Linda), have a party and invite over an old friend, Brandon. Brandon is the epitome of 1980s douche dumpster. He has way too much blonde hair for being an adult male. Dye that shit, man.

Brandon is in love with Linda, and used to be Jim’s best friend. So instead of being a silent side of the love triangle, he decides to fuck up the party by bringing out his Ouija board and making sure everyone knows that he’s been in constant contact with a 10 year old spirit named David. Ahem, Chris Hanson. Got a weird one for ya over here. Bring extra cameras.

Obviously, things go awry. Brandon’s car tire explodes and he gets all pissy and leaves, forgetting his Ouija board and his dignity.

Linda is bored the next day and starts playing with the board by herself (which I guess is a big no-no) and accidentally invites in a demon/evil spirit/ghost who is bad at spelling. The bad spirit starts causing major issues, including attracting the attention of a cop, who secretly wants to be a magician.

If David Copperfield lurking around isn’t enough, Jim’s friends start to get the brunt of the angry ghost. On what might be the most unsafe worksite I’ve ever seen, Jim’s friend is crushed by a pile of Sheetrock. Seriously, this OSHA nightmare might as well been its own movie. No hard hats, no shirts, tons of short-shorts, a thousand lit cigarettes. The cop should be investigating this construction company, not some med-school drop out and his girlfriend.

Brandon figures he owes it to Jim and Linda to fix the problem he brought into their lives, so he hires a psychic medium he just happens to know. The medium could be her own side show, and I wish there were more scenes with her. Of course, she’s killed by the spirit and the cop once again thinks it is Jim. And instead of bringing him in for questioning, he shows him how good he’s gotten at juggling.

Brandon and Jim decided to take a road trip and this is where the plot line gets weak. David, the child spirit, DID exist as a human. However, the evil spirit that took over these yuppies’ lives isn’t a demon like they keep referring to him as; he’s just a mass murderer who got shot by cops in the same apartment where Jim and Linda live—50 years ago.

There’s a bit of a struggle and some weak explanation about why Jim and Linda deserve all the bad things that are happening to them. They don’t. They’re just vapid people who live in Northern California and happen to be friends with doctors who dabble in the occult. Which is how we got social media. Or so I believe.

Still pissed there were no witches.

I need to know the amount of cocaine Jodie Foster’s agent was consuming when he agreed to 1976. Prostitution? You betcha! Whimsical family friendly Disney film? Bring it. Murderous smart ass kid? I can feel the money hitting my bank account!

The latter is obviously the film I watched for Day 2, unless body swapping is a horror movie for you. Which it definitely is for any teenager watching Freaky Friday. Ugh, old parts.

Anyways, back to this film with such a long name, I expected it to be an experimental theater in Yonkers. The premise is that a 13 year old lives alone in a small seaside town, possibly in Maine. It’s hard to tell. Either way, the town is extremely bigoted against poors and Italians, which I think might be code for antisemitism.

The “leader” of the town is a sub-par real estate agent who owns the house Jodie Foster’s character Rynn lives. She’s an awful landlord who obviously violates a lot of laws by constantly barging into the house and rearranging furniture. She’s also an awful human being because she allows her known pedophile son (played by Martin Sheen and too much polyester) to roam around freely.

The reason Rynn lives alone is because her recently deceased father, a poet, decided that “society” is out to get his child, and therefore he taught her how to be an adult so she can survive without him. He also taught her how to murder and cover up a body. Which she does, and is quite good at it. So win ONE for home schooling!

She has two allies throughout the film. An older teenager with an unspecified illness. “Sickly child” is such a broad term everyone just accepted for way too long. Just say it was either polio or lead paint. This boy, Mario, is very keen to go along with her hobbies, as all good boyfriends are. And she is very keen to have sex with him to control him. There’s a weird bath scene, and an obvious body double that makes me just feel horrified for Jodie Foster.

The other is a cop (and Mario’s uncle) with good intentions but no actual power. He can’t arrest Martin Sheen’s character for lurking around Rynn’s house since he technically owns it. He can’t arrest him for being a general creep because the 1970s was the Golden Age of Predators with their lack of laws and their ribbed turtlenecks. So at this point, Rynn knows it’s only a matter of time before she has to take matters into her own hands.

The movie was probably supposed to be a psychological thriller, but it’s more of an anti-tourism PSA for Maine. There’s a reason King sets his novels up there and Sen. Susan Collins somehow exists. The devil is in the secrets, and the secrets get buried under 6 months of snow so everyone forgets them.

“Feardotcom” should be the motto of 2020. I’m not saying we live in the most horrific year ever, but life isn’t exactly the Great Gatsby hedonistic jam sesh we all thought it would be. Although, the hedonism is there, but for the same reason wine was drank more than water in the Middle Ages. Because we’re all going to fucking die. Nevertheless, let’s watch a scary movie together. Or 31.

Any film that centers around changing technology is either quaint or creepy in hindsight:

The Net – a women gets her identity erased and has to start over. Sounds absolutely lovely! No more student loans!

You’ve Got Mail – innocent flirtation turns into catfishing expedition that cost a woman her business and trampled on the memories of her dead mother. Terrifying!

This movie, however is just awful, and not in the “horror-movies-so-cheesy-vibe,” I mean it had all the right ideas and the wrong execution. The first scene is a middle aged man getting creamed by a subway car after following a little girl with a Sia wig down a tunnel. He’s clutching a book called The Secret Soul of the Internet. That joke makes itself.

After the first death is ruled an accident/suicide (the coroner isn’t very good at her job), a grizzled (they are always grizzled) detective and an extremely attractive Department of Health employee work together when two German exchange students die of a mysterious illness. Now the hellscape that seems to occupy lower Manhattan as a setting for this film, also seems to lead us to a conclusion that punk artists can live in 1000 square foot apartments with amazing internet connection.

Not knowing anything about the plot of the move beyond the title, I figured this would mean that a computer virus somehow manifests itself into a real life virus and is killing the victims. That’s a cool premise, let’s see how it plays out.

Well, it doesn’t. That’s not the case at all. The kids apparently just went insane and then died, all while filming their last 48 hours on earth. The god-awful detective Reilly (played by vape pen slinger, Stephen Dorff), contaminates every crime scene. He then draws a conclusion that this is similar(?) to a serial killer case he had been working on that had been “given to the feds.” I don’t know who the mysterious “feds” are in this universe, but they seem to be a secondary villain because they never show up and also don’t seem to care about young white girls being mutilated on live web cams. Which is something we find out in lots of jolty camera movements and strobe lights.

The actual villain is Stephen Rea and his American accent. When he is first introduced, he’s stalking a young woman with his camcorder. The woman is, as every woman in 2002 is, flattered and interested in the “leading lady job” he has to offer. We learn he has a very elaborate and interactive website, designed in entice people in and play on their darkest fears/fantasies, which inevitably leads to their death.

They never go into how the website is shared, or who the other victims might be. It turns out the first guy who died on the subway believed the internet could manifest energies and keep people alive within the wires after, even after they die. That doesn’t explain why Stephen Rea (a doctor), wants to torture women on a web cam. He admits freely that he’s a sociopath and his favorite quote is one often mis-attributed to Stalin: “One death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.” But that doesn’t make any sense either, because he’s only killed 4 people and the marketing pattern on his website is very limited to computer experts (NERDS).

So amateur Stalin, Detective Vape Pen, and DOH lady finally meet up in what might be the worst ending to a horror movie I’ve ever seen. There’s no resolution, no last minute explanation, no continuation of the Sia girl, not even a reason why when Reilly called for “back up,” only one dude showed up. This movie just made me angry, not scared. Be better at twists! The Ring (which I haven’t seen), came out 2 months later and basically got more money with even older technology. Stick with BetaMax next time, screenwriter. Or understand internet better.