The Perfection

The Perfection ups the ante in originality and intensity

It takes a lot for a movie to surprise me these days, and I’d be lying if I didn’t go into Netflix-distributed films with more than a bit of skepticism. My mindset tends to be, Well, even if it’s terrible, at least I didn’t pay for it. The same was true before watching The Perfection, a film released by Netflix back in May with little fanfare or pop cultural chatter. And man, I’m kind of glad because what a fantastic surprise it turned out to be.

Without getting into spoiler territory (which is incredibly difficult given how many surprises are packed into every turn), the film revolves around a cellist (Allison Williams) who returns to the music academy she had to leave to take care of her sick mother ten years prior. It’s hard to nail down what the film’s focus will be going into these opening scenes, though we are able to get a feel for the characters—Lizzie (Logan Browning), another cellist, and Anton, the academy director, each giving us reasons to be suspicious of their actions—as well as the intensity, seriousness, reverence (and possibly obsession) with which everyone at the academy treats classical music. (Who would’ve thought the cello could sound so ominous and creepy?)

It’s not long before it becomes clear that the magic of The Perfection (and part of why its structure works so well) is that even though the viewer doesn’t know where the story is headed, in the way each scene builds on the last—in intensity, originality, and tension—it’s clear the filmmakers (especially director and co-writer Richard Shepard) do. The film has enough layers, character work, twists, fake-outs, and flashbacks to completely disable the viewer’s ability to predict where the story and characters will go next, each scene a new treat to unwrap and dissect while cringing and thinking, horrified, I can’t believe they just did that. Though it’s easy to see its influences in the intensity and rivalry of creation of Black Swan and the body horror of David Cronenberg, anyone who watches The Perfection and says they knew where it was going is lying.

Though pretty tonally consistent, the moments of tension, comedy, shock, and hands-over-face disbelief all work well in the capable and confident direction of Richard Shepard (which is especially impressive given the amount of story, material, and tension packed into the film’s trim 85 minutes). But none of this would work without the completely convincing, captivating lead performances of Allison Williams and Logan Browning who give so much to each emotion they’re tasked with playing—terror, shock, disgust, anger, and more—that it’s hard to imagine they weren’t physically drained after each day’s filming (especially Browning, who has some of the most intense, wrenching, visceral scenes in the film…and maybe I’ve seen in a long time). They’re so mesmerizing here that it makes me wish we had gotten to spend more time expanding on their motivations for their actions or reflecting on their pasts and the circumstances that brought them to this point.

The Perfection is what all good horror/thrillers should be—tense, relentless, expertly paced, surprising, and original. It also doesn’t hurt that it has a satisfying (and totally brutal) ending, its message of choosing to take ownership of trauma over victimization feeling earned rather than sappy or preachy. The film isn’t quite perfect (pun not intended), but it’s pretty damn close. So if Netflix is looking for ways to improve their film content, they should take a look at what makes The Perfection work. I’ll gladly take another one of these, please.

9/10

Ma

Octavia Spencer’s captivating performance elevates Ma from just another “teen” thriller.

Octavia Spencer is captivating as Sue Ann Ellington—Ma to her new friends—a middle-aged veterinarian who spends her spare time winning over the neighborhood kids by buying them alcohol and letting them party in her basement. She couldn’t stand to see them drink and drive, she says. Why is a well-adjusted woman worried about making friends with kids? Is she really that well-adjusted after all? We soon find out, as Ma’s backstory is peppered in throughout the film’s present-day action.

As Ma begins to further insert herself into their lives, her character necessitates Spencer to bounce from comedic one-liners to batshit crazy on a dime, and she handles it with all the authenticity and believably we’ve come to expect from her. She is both Annie Wilkes terrifying and Carrie White empathetic. The story shares some threads with both Carrie and Misery but, for all Ma’s violence and dark turns, it plays it a little too safe, a little too by-the-numbers. Regardless, it’s a fun thriller with a great performance by Spencer (and not too shabby ones from the teen actors).

Ma is in the upper tier of “teen” horror, for sure, but with a quicker pace and more intensity, it could’ve been a home run.

7/10

Annabelle: Creation

Though good on atmosphere and performances, Annabelle: Creation is slowly paced and short on scares

On paper, horror prequels shouldn’t work. Especially horror prequels in a pre-existing cinematic universe. Because when a film turns to prequels instead of sequels, it generally means the plot is capital-T Taped Out. But with Insidious: Chapter 3, Ouija: Origin of Evil and now Annabelle: Creation, horror prequels are treated not as a constraint, but embraced as an opportunity to tell more tales about how something in the first installment—a demonic presence, an evil entity, or a doll as a conduit for evil—came to be.

The first Annabelle did incredibly well at the box office so it’s no surprise a sequel was quickly announced. But what to do with the titular doll with eerily human features, muddled porcelain skin, and red-bowed pigtails? Annabelle already linked to The Conjuring where the doll ended up in a glass case in Ed and Lorraine Warrens’ basement, so where could a future installment go? Even with using retroactive continuity, how exciting (and plausible) would it be to go through the same motions of the first film with Annabelle in the possession of a new couple or family?

And so, with the subtitle Creation, we go back to the beginning when Annabelle was, well, created. I had been wondering how it would tie into the original, so the film gets bonus points for not taking the easy way out with retroactive continuity. Both films link together creatively and seamlessly without making the viewer feel cheated. (The Easter eggs to The Conjuring universe are pretty fun, too.)

The story picks up 12 years after the Mullins family lose their young daughter Annabelle (see where this is going?) in a car accident. Hoping it will give them some peace, they decide to take in a group displaced orphan girls. Among them are Janice (Talitha Bateman) and Linda (Ouija: Origin of Evil’s Lulu Wilson). They’re good friends, though feeling despondent they’ll never get adopted. Everything about their new home—from their joy over having a TV and radio, to the rooms that make it feel like a mansion—seems too good to be true. That is, until they find the Annabelle doll in a locked closet. This sets off a chain of events inexplicable to the young girls—the lights go out, Janice is locked in her room, the ghostly figure of Annabelle Mullins appears, and the doll itself is found moved around the house. What’s going on? Is Annabelle Mullins’ ghost haunting them? Is it another entity entirely? If you’ve seen the first installment (or either Conjuring films) you can probably guess the answer.

Though creative with its prequel story and link with Annabelle, unfortunately, Creation is a little short in the scares department. Though there are a few good, innovative ones (a creepy scarecrow; Janice’s wheelchair being pushed; the transforming figure of Annabelle Mullins), because most of the scares are familiar, there’s not really many that made an impression on me. Creation is pretty light on tension as well, which is what the first Annabelle did so successfully. With its utilization of lingering shots on everyday objects to make us feel uneasy, quick cuts to ratchet suspense, and playing with our—and the characters’—perceptions of reality, it seemed to understand that scares come not from creaking doors and creatures springing from darkened rooms, but from the careful building of tension. It also made good use of the doll itself. Annabelle’s John Leonetti lingered on it uncomfortably, showed it from multiple angles in multiple locations, as well as putting it in locations (i.e. a rocking chair) to create movement. But in Creation, instead of ratcheting up the creepiness and unease around her, more attention is given to the entity believed to be attached to it than Annabelle itself.

But despite the lack of genuine, innovative scares, the film’s atmosphere and locations (the many rooms of the Mullins’ house, barn, and yard) are very well done and fully immersive, the isolated locations making the viewer feel the characters’ seclusion and claustrophobia. It’s also well shot and directed, David Sandberg (Lights Out) managing to get great performances from all the actors, especially Talitha Bateman and Lulu Wilson whose shared friendship and fears both feel genuine.

The story, on the other hand, moves too slowly. I love and admire that Sandberg allowed the opening half to breathe by developing the characters, but it really did seem to drag, almost as if it knew it didn’t have enough scares and had to ration them. I almost wish it would’ve simplified the film even further by focusing on the Mullins and their lives after losing Annabelle since it seemed like the most interesting things about them—their suffering and horror—happened before the film started. Plus, I love Miranda Otto so wish she and her character were utilized more.

I didn’t like Annabelle: Creation nearly as much as I enjoyed the first installment. Despite its great performances and atmosphere, it’s slowly paced and high on jump scares. Though the series’ box office receipts prove that Annabelle continues to draw intrigue, now that we’ve seen both her beginning and end, it may be time to put her back in her wooden case and move onto the next file in the Warrens’ caseload.

7/10

The Lazarus Effect

The Lazarus Effect deals with the possibility of bringing people back from the dead, but the true power of the film lies in its manipulation of time. At a slim 83 minutes, there’s no excuse for it not to be a taut, suspenseful horror-thriller. Even if it forsakes character development for scares (which it does), a fast-paced film is to be expected. And yet, at 83 minutes, the mystery still stands: how does it feel like it’s so much longer?

Release Date: February 27, 2015 Runtime: 83 minutes

A slow build-up is understandable but it moves at such a slow pace that it becomes a waiting game for the certain hell to break loss. It also doesn’t help that, for the most part, the characters are uninteresting. Though the film tries to trick us into thinking we’re seeing something original by casting actors not traditionally known for their work in the horror genre, they’re all playing the same genre stereotypes that we’re seen before. There’s Olivia Wilde and Mark Duplass as scientist couple Zoe and Frank (she believes in the afterlife, he doesn’t), Donald Glover as Niko (the token black character who’s in love with Zoe), Evan Peters as Clay (the stoner), and Sarah Bolger as Ava (the innocent student recording everything). Since they have little development aside from Zoe, it’s evident almost immediately that the film is already plotting their demises.

When the film begins, Frank and Zoe’s team are working on a serum to prolong the period of time that someone can be brought back to life in medical emergencies. They try it with animals first (dogs and pigs) and it works, but something’s not completely right with the dog they bring back. It’s not eating, and swings back and forth from periods of strange blankness and crazy aggression straight out of Cujo. However, before they can figure out why, someone leaks information about their work and their research is confiscated. But that doesn’t stop them. They return to the lab at night to duplicate the experiment. Of course, it doesn’t go as planned. One lab accident later, and it’s not long before they decide on a human trail—by necessity this time, not curiosity.

I’m a sucker for films that deal with the idea of bringing the dead back to life (Pet Sematary and Flatliners is what Lazarus is being compared to, and it’s not completely off the mark), so the fact that it drops the ball on mostly all levels of suspense with a topic that’s such a well of opportunity is particularly disappointing. Films like The Lazarus Effect aren’t heavy, Oscar-bait dramas and part of the fun lays in sitting back and enjoying the wild ride of insanity, chaos, and moral dilemmas that surface from the characters’ actions. But because the plot points and scares are so predictable, a good portion of the fun is sucked right out of the movie.

Not to mention that it’s embarrassingly PG-13. Rather than attempting to make the most of its rating, it doesn’t even try to push the limit beyond flickering lights and jump scares. It doesn’t seem to be catered to the teenaged horror audience like most recent horror endeavors (which is promising), but it’s disappointing because it could’ve been so much better. Instead of focusing on the moral implications of the concept and crafting tension and suspense, Lazarus devolves into a film more concerned with racking up the body count than presenting a decent plot.

The idea behind the film is exciting, the acting is decent (thanks mostly to Wilde and Duplass), and there’s some skillful editing and still shots towards the end that amps up a sense of tension and mystery, but in the end it’s a case of much too little, too late.

6/10

Annabelle

Creepy dolls aren’t anything new to the horror genre (despite their creepiness, even Chucky tends to lose his fear factor after slicing and dicing teenage victims for the umpteenth time), which makes it even more difficult to make a film about one that is both fresh and delivers some solid scares. Surprisingly, Annabelle manages to do both.

Release Date: October 3, 2014 Runtime: 99 minutes

A spin-off featuring the extremely creepy doll from The Conjuring, the film opens with a scene from last summer’s horror hit before introducing us to Mia and John Form (Annabelle Wallis and Ward Horton) in 1968’s California, a year before the events of The Conjuring. Early on the film paints John and Mia as a normal, all-American couple: they’re middle class, go to church, and are expecting a baby. And, like all couples, they fight. After one such misunderstanding, John apologizes by giving Mia a doll she had been searching for (she collects them) and all is well. But it’s not long before their peaceful, happy lives are disrupted. That night they are attacked by a pair of cultists and barely escape with their lives. They manage to move on, but strange things start happening around the house that eventually leads Mia to the discovery that they are being plagued by a demon (summoned by the cultists) which is using Mia’s new doll as a conduit for human possession.

While most horror films feature stock characters whose only purpose is to serve as objects of gory death scenes, John and Mia are fully fleshed out. The humorous dialogue and actors’ chemistry gives us the impression that they’ve known each other for a long time and, while the film’s middle is a bit low on the scares, the added screen time devoted to building their relationship pays off to the film’s advantage by giving us a reason to root for their success. While John provides much of the film’s levity, the bulk of the human element of Annabelle falls to Mia. Wallis is especially convincing in the role as she investigates and faces the evil plaguing her and her family—more or less—alone. Her facial expressions, fear, and anxiety are genuine and really amps up the tension and suspense since we feel that she is in real danger.

Though it’s often hard to distinguish just what time period the film takes place in (despite the 1968 title card, I kept thinking it was the seventies), there’s a distinct vibe to it that’s evocative of the past. From details such as the music, TV sets—even an old-school Doritos bag—to the mentioning of cults and the idea of families now having to lock their doors because it’s a “new world now”, the film does a good—not perfect—job of establishing a sense of time.

Early on it was a question of how suspenseful or scary Annabelle would be since the doll never actually moves on its own (she’s not actually possessed herself). Director John R. Leonetti successfully circumvents this issue by skillfully providing us with different, unusual, and uncomfortable angles and positions at which we see Annabelle (from the front, back, side, close-ups of the face, feet, etc.) in addition to one of the film’s creepiest scenes and best scares (which I won’t spoil here) that gives the impression that she’s moving on her own. Most of the film’s scary imagery falls in line with recent horror films such as Insidious in that the less we see, the scarier it is, and it really pays off.

While Annabelle takes a few liberties with the true case, it’s not enough that it detracts from the story at hand. The nods and tie-ins to The Conjuring are also appreciated. And although there are some aspects of the film’s plot and scares that feel like we’ve seen them before, Annabelle still has some tricks up its sleeve. So much of the film feels fresh (an excellent scene in an apartment storage facility comes to mind) and, for the most part, the film is filled with genuine suspense as we watch as Mia tries to figure out: how do you get rid of something inhuman?

In the end, Annabelle delivers what it promises: suspense, creepiness, and some solid scares (in addition to a surprisingly engaging human element). It’s not perfect, but it’s good Halloween fun.

9/10

Deliver Us from Evil

The movements of a plush owl is one of the creepiest things that the film has to offer.

Whenever a horror film boasts that its plot was “BASED ON (or INSPIRED BY) TRUE EVENTS”, it’s usually used as a device to entice prospective viewers and get butts into theater seats. While the connection between the supposed true events and the film’s content is usually quite loose, it doesn’t seem to matter much as long as its plot is satisfying. Unfortunately, the plot of the based-on-true-events crime thriller-horror hybrid, Deliver Us from Evil, isn’t.

In the film, Eric Bana plays real-life Bronx cop Ralph Sarchie who begins investigating a series of seemingly interconnected crimes. When confronted by a priest (Édgar Ramírez) who warns him that the crimes may be demonic in nature rather than mere human criminal activity, Bana’s skeptic cop and Ramírez’s open-minded priest team together to figure out what’s going on.

It’s here’s where the film hits its biggest problem: it never seems to know what it wants to be. Is it a cop-propelled crime thriller, or a horror with a goal to scare? It blends elements of both but the results are uneven at best. The film has a lot on its mind and throws it all at the audience—a decent family man haunted by his job (and past demons), a tale of possession, the unraveling of a mystery that may be more than it seems, commentary on religion, and various other plot threads—so that we’re never quite sure of its focus. For the most part, Deliver Us from Evil has a lot of good pieces, but when put together create more confusion than anything else.

The characters’ motives and actions are not as clear as they should be as you find yourself thinking things like: What are they doing now? or Hey, why are they at this abandoned building? As a result, you’re never quite sure where the plot’s going or what harrowing climax to look forward to later on. And when the film’s climax does come, you can’t help but feel unaffected by its significance.

Although Evil boasts an occasionally creepy atmosphere and a few shocks, there’s more jump scares utilized than anything else which is disappointing because there’s more than enough opportunities in its ample runtime to feature a slow build-up of genuine atmospheric scares. On that same note, the film is just too long. Clocking in just two minutes under two hours, having a large amount of content isn’t its problem; rather, it never seems to know what to do with it. It tries to sustain a sense of suspense and terror but ends up becoming unfocused instead, allowing itself to meander back and forth from plot point to plot point, unaware that the viewer may be getting lost along the way.

Deliver Us from Evil doesn’t offer anything incredibly new or groundbreaking to the genre. It has good ideas, but just doesn’t know what to do with them.

6/10

Carrie (2013)

Look familiar?

Whenever I hear that another Stephen King adaptation has been green-lit, I cringe. Because, let’s face it, most adaptations of King’s works (and novels in general) are less-than-stellar. So when a new adaptation of Carrie was announced (reported to be a more faithful retelling of the novel rather than a remake of the 1976 film), I was cautious. Cautious, but optimistic.

Directed by Kimberly Peirce (Stop-Loss, Boys Don’t Cry), there’s an obvious personal connection between Peirce and the material. That, combined with putting an updated (yet novel-faithful) spin on the material, results in a fantastic first half that, surprisingly, gives the original a run for its money (which is not to say that De Palma’s film doesn’t have anything worthwhile to offer). Everything flows seamlessly and the film does an exceptional job at following the pacing and plot of the novel while giving us a tense and emotional character-driven precursor of things to come.

The performances from Chloe Grace Moretz and Julianne Moore are particularly exceptional throughout and both actresses play off of each other in a way that elevates the mother-daughter relationship of Carrie and Margaret to new levels of tension, fear, and heartbreak. (The opening scene of the film adds a layer to Margaret from the novel that is spellbindingly chilling.) While much younger than Sissy Spacek was in filming the 1976 adaptation, Moretz’s performance successfully captures the same mix of child- and adult-like emotions that the role of Carrie requires: fear, shame, love, hate, rebellion. Moretz makes you feel sorry for Carrie through her humanization of the character. She’s a helpless victim, but at the same time, she’s all too aware of her desire to be like the girls that have tortured her for so many years. All it takes is a slight flick of the eyes or a downturned head in shame for us to really feel the emotion that Moretz’s Carrie carries (no pun intended) within. It’s also a testament to the film that they didn’t prettify Moore for her role. The glazed eyes and unkempt hair and haggard face transforms her into a Margaret that is recognizable, yet unique enough that it’s distanced from Piper Laurie’s performance.

With its focused beginning and expert balancing of staying true to the novel and a re-imagining of King’s source material, the first half of the film should be a reasonable example of what the second half has to offer.

And then, however, we get to Prom.

It’s almost as if all of the film’s painstaking efforts to make Carrie a multilayered, developed character are forgotten. While the first half concentrates on character development and cleverly building tension, the second the bucket of blood falls from the gym rafters in a ribbon of red, the film turns into a special effects show, turning Carrie’s telekinetic ability into the star rather than Carrie herself. Like the novel, Carrie’s retaliation should be thoughtful, methodical, a slow emotional buildup of using her powers to jump-start the destruction and letting the chaos of fire and human panic do the rest. Here, however, her rampage—again, we’re cheated out of the destruction of the entire town in favor for a more localized devastation—begins almost immediately following the iconic Blood Dump (a scene which is unfortunately cheapened by showing it three different times from three different angles. It’s almost as if Peirce couldn’t make up her mind as to which way to show it) and the intended high point of the film ends up being reduced from a multi-layered climax to an all-or-nothing destruction scene. The school is blown apart, tables are thrown through the air, fire and debris rain from the ceiling, and Carrie’s at the center of it all. While that’s true of both the novel and its 1976 adaptation, the unfortunate issue is that there’s no tension here, no progressively tense emotional build-up that really earns the destruction and subsequent horror of Carrie’s revenge.

The result is a rushed climax that, while no-doubt exciting, plays it a little too close to De Palma’s 1976 film (Margaret’s death is almost an exact replica). In a film that’s clearly trying to be its own entity, it almost makes me wonder why Peirce felt the need to use De Palma’s vision as a crutch. Because, as the first half of Peirce’s film proves, it didn’t need one.

While Carrie certainly has its fair number of things going for it, it’s special-effects-focused second half mixed with its too-close replication of the 1976 film keep it from being truly elevated to the great status that the first half promised (and the novel deserves). If Carrie does anything, however, it serves as a prime example that a good adaptation can be made from its source material…it just may take a couple more tries to get it right.

7.5/10

The Lords of Salem

I had been looking forward to Rob Zombie’s fifth feature film since I heard that it was going to be coming out a couple of years ago. This is my third Zombie film that I’ve seen now, so I’m more aware of and in-tune with his filmmaking style since I first saw House of 1,000 Corpses (which I’m not a fan of).

Release Date: April 19, 2013 Runtime: 101 minutes

The premise of Lords is that Heidi, a radio DJ for a Salem-based rock station, receives a record oddly left for her specifically. The only identifier is that it’s from “The Lords”, which the DJs refer to as the titular “Lords of Salem”. As they play the music, though, it has an odd effect on some listeners. What’s the mystery behind the music, and why is it so unsettling? Who sent it? Is it a harmless record as it seems, or something with a more supernatural link?

That’s the central mystery behind the film. And it’s a good one. The beginning third of the movie had a really great buildup and overall felt a lot more focused than I’ve noticed Zombie to be in the past (for the record, The Devil’s Rejects is my favorite).  However, the clever plot build-up and sprinkling of unsettling, genuine horror throughout disappears soon after. What follows plays like a series of good ideas thrown together onto the screen with only the barest of commonalities linking them together. The end result is, unfortunately, a fairly disjointed film.

Judging by the beginning of the film, The Lords of Salem had potential to be one of Zombie’s best. Although his restraint is sporadic at best, it’s noticeable that he’s really learned to reign in the “crazy” of his films, so to speak, and produce compelling horror with a clear beginning, middle, and end.

Though, that’s not to say that The Lords of Salem doesn’t have its share of weird. Because believe me, it does. I don’t mind crudeness in films, especially horror (it’s almost to be expected nowadays), and have seen my fair share of weirdness in films; but, at times, in true Rob Zombie fashion, the weirdness comes at such times and places where it just seems like the weirdness is injected solely for the sake of being weird. “Hey! This looks a little too normal,” you can almost hear Zombie saying in the director’s chair. “Let’s weird it up!”

In the end, while I appreciated the focused beginning of the film, not even the intriguing plot, enticing mystery, or cameos from horror icons such as Dee Wallace and Patricia Quinn can save it from being a bit of a mess. Rather, the film’s strange imagery and plot points seem to be masking the lack of cohesiveness of the film’s plot.

While I probably won’t be giving this a second watch any time soon, I can say that I will be back for the next Rob Zombie film, whenever that may be. If there’s one thing you can say about Zombie as a director, though, it’s this: his movies are (unapologetically) weird, the imagery surreal, and the semblances of plot, creative. Regardless of whatever the pros and cons of this film and his films in general may be, there’s just enough intrigue to draw me back to the next one.

5.5/10

The Collection

I usually judge whether a movie is good or not based on two main criteria: one, would I pay to see this (if I haven’t already); and two, would I watch this again? For The Collection, my answers are: maybe, but I’m glad I didn’t; and yes, I probably would. See what I’m getting at here?

Writing duo Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan’s follow-up to 2009’s The Collector is like the jumbo-sized box of candy or popcorn you probably ate while watching: junk food. And like junk food, you know it’s not perfect, and it’s definitely not good for you, but you keep eating because it’s good.

Release date: Nov 30, 2012
Runtime: 81 minutes

There’s nothing about the movie that’s Oscar-worthy, that’s for sure, but it fills a void for someone looking for a fun horror film (did I just call torture fun? I think I did). The plot is formulaic, the characters generic, but it’s still entertaining to watch Arkin (our surviving protagonist from the last film) lead a group through the Collector’s house of traps to locate his latest victim (Emma Fitzpatrick) while attempting to evade theCollector and becoming a part of his collection.

As some viewers have noted, it’s definitely totally different than The Collector. Where The Collector was dark and brooding, more careful at building suspense, The Collection is like its predecessor on speed. Everything is –er: faster, bloodier, darker, implausible-er (okay, not a word but you get the idea). It’s almost as if the film is made up of remnants from the editing room floor of the Saw franchise, minus the character development and clever writing: helpless people in life-or-death traps, dark, claustrophobic locations, inept cops, and music-video style death sequences and scene transitions. Throw in a score by Charlie Clouser and bam! There you have it. (I propose that anytime someone in the film shouts, “help!” or “it’s a trap!”, you take a shot. Of what, that’s up to you.)

The varying set pieces offer promise of good things to come, but when you start off a movie with a roomful of people getting mowed down by rows of rotating blades descending from the ceiling, how do you top that? That’s one of the film’s biggest problems: there’s no real build-up to a climax; rather, each scene is its own climax—which keeps the film as action-packed as possible, but also backs away from providing any big payoff.

The Collection isn’t a perfect film by far, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be; it’s fun, entertaining, and really suspenseful when it wants to be and sometimes, in a world filled with enough cheap horror films, that’s enough.

6.0/10