A quick heads-up: if you’re reeling from the murder-suicide of your parents and sister, it’s probably not the brightest idea to take off to a drug-fuelled cult festival.
Writer-director-producer Jordan Peele is barely getting started when he turns a 1986 amusement-park outing into a skin-crawling teaser in the opening scene of his latest frightener.
In filmmaker Lars von Trier’s nose-thumbing horror House, Matt Dillon, up for anything, plays a cerebral, OCD-afflicted, serial killer.
Even before LSD-spiked sangria rips their perceptions to shreds, the partying French dancers in filmmaker Gasper Noé’s mass breakdown are a volatile crew.
Director Luca Guadagnino drenches his reinterpretation of Dario Argento’s 1977 horror milestone in the bleakest and wettest possible light.
Professor Philip Goodman is a self-satisfied TV debunker of all things “superstitious.” But he’s ripe for a rude awakening when tasked by a fellow non-believer to explain away three examples of the inexplicable.
Even before their personal phantoms make an aberrant entrance, it’s obvious something is off with the Graham family, whose mental history isn’t, to put it kindly, as robust as it could be.
Director John Krasinski’s propulsive descent into hell opens on Day 89 of something obviously catastrophic. The main street of an upstate New York town is deserted and its supermarket ravaged.