Mehnificent

Has any horror film ever been sabotaged quite so thoroughly by its own intelligence (or rather, the conspicuous lack thereof) as 28 Weeks Later? The film begins with such ruthless, pulse-jacking precision, Danny Boyle’s kinetic ghost lingering over the savage, merciless prologue, that for a few brief, breathless minutes one feels the rare thrill of a sequel that might justify its own existence. That opening, with its madcap flight through a cottage-turned-meat-grinder and the image of Don (Robert Carlyle, desperately scraping together a character out of animal panic) abandoning his wife to the horde, one of the finest acts of cinematic cowardice, played for eyeball-widening horror and not, as is depressingly common, for laughs. As Don paddles away across the nightmare water, you even ask yourself: would I do the same? The movie dares you to admit it.

Oh dear, it’s always a little heartbreaking to watch a film trundle out its aspirations with confetti and sashes, only to trip over its own parade float and land face-first in the mud. Founders Day wants so much to be a cheeky contribution to the crowded boudoir of holiday slashers, a genre already thick with gore-soaked in-jokes and severed limbs of irony, but the result is the sort of limp, confounding spectacle which leaves you dazed at the exit, wondering whether you’ve seen a movie at all or simply sat through a particularly aggressive PTA meeting with unfortunate casualties.

In the realm of psychological horror and apocalyptic dread, M. Night Shyamalan's Knock at the Cabin, finds itself at a crossroads, unfortunately veering towards the forgettable rather than the frightful.

Unfortunately, while I sat to watch with a sliver of hope for a nail-biting adventure—perhaps with a clever twist or two—I quickly learned that this film wouldn't be swimming with the greats. Instead, I found myself floundering through a plot filled with superficial characters and a story threadbare enough to leave many unanswered questions in its wake.

"Wake Up," directed by the trio of François Simard, Anouk Whissell, and Yoann-Karl Whissell, attempts to cram slasher horror, a dash of social commentary, and the spirit of eco-activism into a single flat-pack of mediocrity.

In a landscape rich with horror and psychological thrillers, I felt a pang of disappointment after watching "Longlegs," directed by Osgood Perkins and featuring a talented cast including Maika Monroe, Nicolas Cage, and Alicia Witt. While I had hoped the film would stand out, it instead floated somewhere in the realm of mediocrity.