Pontypool (review)
Ah, more such classy horror flicks, please!
Ah, more such classy horror flicks, please!

I’ve been a fan of Raimi’s forever, since long before he shot to fame with his big-budget *Spider-Man* flicks….
It’s almost impossible not to be sympathetic to any character Virginia Madsen (The Number 23) plays, she’s so irresistibly likeable a screen presence, but that gets tried sorely in this rote haunted-house flick, which telegraphs its obvious scares, even the ones it has shamelessly stolen from far superior scary movies. The year is 1987, and … more…
Actually worse than all the other horror flicks of recent vintage that assume that the audience is a vicarious sexual sadist.
Oh, for some kick-ass movie ghosts. I’m talking kick-ass on a Dickensian level.
I was about ready to give My Bloody Valentine 3-D a passing grade, if just barely. But then the movie did something unforgivable: it cheated at the end.
There’s something to be said for a movie that’s still making you laugh days after you saw it. It’s probably better if that movie was a comedy, but you can’t dismiss the entertainment value you get out of a good bad horror movie that prompts snorts of derision and head shakes of mystified wonderment at random moments a week later.
You’ve never seen a vampire movie like this before — that I can promise you. There hasn’t *been* one like this before.
It’s like an actual grownup movie, all serious and important. Like you can tell how beautiful the vampires are supposed to be because everything gets slow and sparkly when they walk by — and I mean even when they’re not in sunlight LOL!
Think an arthouse *Day of the Triffids.*