
Lucky Bastard movie review: Nice Guy in porn-rage massacre
Two contrived things, found-footage and porn, combine to create a flick that is distasteful and downright disgusting in so many ways.
Two contrived things, found-footage and porn, combine to create a flick that is distasteful and downright disgusting in so many ways.
Finds absolutely nothing new in the supposedly spooky found-footage subgenre, unless all the typical haunted-house frights occurring in a church counts.
This bunch of found footage should have stayed lost.
There’s no reason or logic in this found-footage yawner, and nothing rises to the level of even adolescent notions of sexy-scary.
A deliciously ooky, X-Files-esque chiller that’s a scary-fun hoot and a half; a lean, smart example of the found-footage flick.
I didn’t think we were making movies like this anymore. Very near future. Hard science. Nothing fantastical. Space geekery galore, gorgeous and authentic.
It’s the Where’s Waldo of spooky stories. (Where’s the ghost? Find the ghost!) But much less fun.
The superhero origin story we have become so very familiar with in its purest form, stripped of all the pulp and all the camp that has accreted around the genre.
When the only mildly creepy thing a horror film trailer has to offer doesn’t appear in the actual film, that’s bad.
There’s tons of delicious suspense of the horror-flick variety to be had in writer-director André Øvredal’s mockumentary, and plenty of Spielbergian shock-awe, but what makes it one of the most satisfying examples of found-footage flicks yet is its observational, journalistic ethos.