
The Cabin in the Woods movie review: the end of horror
I don’t know how anyone can possibly make a horror movie again. This absolutely genius movie renders all past and future examples of the genre superfluous.

I don’t know how anyone can possibly make a horror movie again. This absolutely genius movie renders all past and future examples of the genre superfluous.
It’s astonishing how little crazy one needs to bring to a movie at the moment to make it leap out as fresh and distinctive.
And now we learn the secret of that dreadful Clash of the Titans movie from a coupla years back. Its incoherence? Its soullessness? All by design.
This dreary Disneyfied inconsequence features all the bigotries of century-old pulp fiction and none of the romance, neither the sexual nor the adventurous kind…
Delivered unto us by our entertainment overlords, to rain despair upon you and to remove any vestige of hope you might have secreted away in the furtherest corners of your movie-loving heart…
While perfectly pleasant and an entirely suitable option for anyone looking to take small children to the movies, it is a disappointingly minor entry in the annals of Studio Ghibli…
So bad that the projector attempted suicide multiple times during the opening-day public showing I attended.
Midnight in Paris becomes the butt of its own gentle joke… perhaps the most Woody Allen joke ever, one that wraps up a paralyzing self-awareness in a redemptive self-deprecation to, finally and splendidly, laugh with great good humor at itself.

It’s still a not very good movie. But… it’s still Star Wars.
I consider it a tremendous mark in favor of The Woman in Black that not once during its running time did I think, Hey, wait, wouldn’t Harry Potter have a spell to deal with this?