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 So, we can’t animate fast enough to give you Scream Freaks full blown reviews of all the horror movies we’ve been watching lately, but we can give ya our straight shoot’n thoughts in bite size chunks. We like to think you trust our opinions, but remember, we’re fans of Killer Tomato movies!

Look up a review: # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z



In what could be called this century’s Nudist Colony of the Dead, an annual slumber party of nude pillow fightin’ becomes a witch’s steppin’ stone for immortality, pittin’ a cast of raunchy ladies in the buff ‘gainst a butt-load of CGI evils. Once I’m recovered from the initial shock of all the gratuitous bush this flick crams in the first few minutes, it slowly wins me over with an unexpected charm in its self-aware delivery of schlocky bathroom humor that’s in a league of its own. The story’s a little all over the place, I have no idea why it’s shot like an episode of The Office, and I lose track of the witch’s evil plans from time to time, but it’s well lit and edited, sports some impressive special effects, and has some stand-outs in the cast who keep me engaged with this sucker to its mulligan endin’. Explodin’ boobs, black magic rituals, Necronomicons spells, supernatural lasers to the face, risks for pink eye, tentacle boobs, kinky games of spin the hand, rigged games of dare or dare, fake movie trailers, tooth pullin’, pukin’, flashin’, fatal pillow fights, interdimensional travel, sunk tampon lookin’ witches, lesbo lovemakin’, offscreen assplay, golden acid showers, girls on the can, monstrous transformations, pickled souls, gunfights, tattooed flesh galore, hairy pits, full frontal brawls, and possibly the first ever anal possession ever committed to celluloid! 3/5! 


A ruthless grease-faced ringleader and his circus are cursed with supernatural powers that involve travelin’ in CGI twisters and immediately seek revenge on the cheatin’ redhead who made ’em that way while randomly tearin’ after small town yahoos I guess are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. More clown than ‘nado, this is a fun idea exploitin’ the whirlwind success of the Sharknado movies, but the biggest difference ‘tween the two is this trips itself up with too much explanation behind the clownado’s origin and fails to anchor the story to any one perspective for me to know who’s story this even is. My biggest problem, however, is the clowns’ motivation and the logic behind their cyclone curse regardin’ who they’re after, what they want, and how their evil can be so easily stopped with cold bombs and everyday handguns as if there’s nothin’ that fantastical ’bout ’em. Runaway teens, topless human dart boards, secret burials, weaponized wounds, storm chasers, head rippin’, monstrous titties, explodin’ cartoon heads with confetti, gun-fightin’, explodin’ liquid nitrogen, lotta pasty boobs, strippers, stalkin’ fathers, dwarf-sized respawns, non-stop redhead resurrections, circus witches, black Elvis impersonators, bar brawls, gut squishin’, high flyin’ heroes, flesh chompin’, stabbin’s, and a quick cameo by a punked out Linnea Quigley! 2/5!


After an hour of rough lookin’ ladies helpin’ a milf hide from her psycho ex-husband at a beach house, the last 30 minutes of this flick finally has some semblance of a horror movie when a trespassin’ couple forces everyone to play a game at gunpoint that pits them ‘gainst their most primal fears. More Ruin My Lifetime than horror, the filmmakers have all the elements they need for a decent flick but completely drop the ball with ramblin’ hot tub scenes with non-stop dissolves, fun and interestin’ characters bein’ more or less ignored like the ambitious filmmakin’ sister, story twists that feel like they were randomly drawn out of a hat to help finish the script, and the most unforgivable sin – buildin’ up to this highly anticipated throwdown ‘tween the psycho ex-husband and the home invaders, just to end in a few lackluster seconds. Well, at least the movie looks pretty. Offscreen rape, live burials, stabbin’s, geezer beatin’, near drownin’s, lotta unflatterin’ bikinis, horror filmmakin’, throat slittin’, backstabbin’, wife beatin’, and Joe Bob Briggs’ mail girl Diana Prince gets topless long ‘nough ‘fore bein’ removed from the picture without the perk of an actual death scene! 2/5!


While a baby sittin’ ginger with an underdeveloped past and motives is busy pullin’ a Grinch at her latest job, the young’n she’s supposed to watch interrupts her Christmas heist with the ghosts of three kiddie killin’ witches he accidentally releases from dad’s collection of cursed oddities. I don’t really feel the Christmas spirit in this holiday horror, but it’s still entertainin’ with a nice mix of clashin’ characters, cool monsters, funny twists, and playful lightin’ that reminds me of Suspiria given the witch theme. These moments are soured, however, ’cause the flick’s doesn’t kick things up a notch ’til the last third of the movie, and the filmmakers pepper in details ’bout the sitter, but never ‘nough to understand who she is for me to relate to much less root for. Let’s start with why she’s robbin’ and runnin’, how she knows anyone in her circle of jerk off friends, and how ol’ she’s supposed to be, ’cause I call bullshit on her not bein’ ol’ ‘nough to drink! Possessions, cat-burglar cosplay, TV ghost hunter wannabes, head stabbin’, spooky whisperin’, attemped robbery, boobs, hair rippin’, eye gougin’, implied doggie deaths off camera, bra flashin’, witchy poo kissin’, hangin’, finger bitin’, GoPro ghost fightin’, dooby smokin’, paper cuts, cursed books made from witchy remains, throat slittin’, and young’n killin’! 3/5!

PURE (2019)

Instead of makin’ promises with their virginity at a purity camp, two half-sisters curiously dabble in black arts that summon the first woman, an Instagrammed filtered Lilith, who quietly hangs in the background ’til the girls beg for help standin’ up to fathers tellin’ ’em how to use their bodies. My biggest problem with this Into the Dark film is it treads a lot of water with very little escalation, tension, or build-up to completely justify its hate-fueled endin’ with images that remind me of Hereditary. The camp and its oddball dads feels off and slightly uncomfortable, but things are never pushed ‘nough to ever be scary much less wanna see everyone with a dick die. If the worse the dads can do is put girls in a time-out to pray, then the filmmakers need to rethink their antagonists. Black magic, purity rituals, baby mama drama, semi-skinny dippin’, bunk bangin’ with no boobs, supernatural possessions, head bangin’, gang floatin’, secret lust tests, and girls in cages! 2/5!


A pissed off scuba diver goes on a grisly killin’ spree, yankin’ whoever he can into the polluted canals of Amsterdam, and only a single super cop dad has any chance of stoppin’ him. A who-dunnit slasher with ‘nough gore to separate it from yer average crime thriller, this European cop drama’s a little long at ’bout two hours, but made well ‘nough to keep my attention with well paced action and unintentional side splitters like a dork teenager bein’ dubbed with a voice that could belong to Superman. I think the biggest sour this flick pulls is wastin’ our time with suspects for the killer, just to reveal he’s some random yahoo at the last second. Steppin’ in cat food, chicken carvin’ close-ups, scuba-vision, deflated rafts, decapitations, dead boobs, hooker hangin’, wannabe psychics, cake smooshin’, attempted bakery robbin’, motorcycle chases, speed boat chases, harpoon suicides, handsy taxi-drivers, seances, graphic canal tours, sewer chases, and gun shots to the face! 3/5! 


A stolen tribal vase with a lotta mythical baggage is smashed in an illegal collector’s home and releases a big-ass spider that may or may not be some ancient goddess out to bite a anxiety ridden druggie mom and her young’ns. This creature feature has a lot goin’ for it as far as production value and a compellin’ cast, but the story feels oddly constructed despite how much thought is obviously put into it. The mom has this whole tragic backstory ’bout losin’ one of her kids I think would be more effective if changed to a dead husband so the whole family can be more included in that drama, the spider gets this big build-up as a manifestation of a goddess’s wrath but does nothin’ more than any other venomous spider would, and the film has a solid beginnin’ and end but barely registers a middle section with any escalating danger or redeemin’ qualities for the flawed mom I never cared to root for. Milky bug guts, nasty lookin’ spider bites, gouged eyes, egg layin’, spider vision, car wrecks, moultin’, bullets to the head, dead cats, hidey hole attics, medicine stealin’, and webbin’ galore! 3/5! 


In this horror anthology, passin’ pedestrians are compelled to enter Mickey Rourke’s movie theater that looks like a set leftover from one of the From Dusk Till Dawn movies and watch shorts based on their supposed deaths they completely forgot ’bout. Sportin’ a collection of works by some of the best talents in horror and one of the sweetest soundtracks I’ve heard in a long time, this mash-up of twisted tales keep me on my toes with a nice mix of sub-genres that include slasher, sci-fi , supernatural thriller, and even a dash of arty fartsy, most of which come off like homages to popular fright flicks and their directors. The sour that completely ruins the movie for me as a whole, however, is the filmmakers tryin’ to thread these mini-flicks together with some half-ass developed host played by Mickey, a shirtless projectionist whose explanation for his segments in Nightmare Cinema conflicts with the nature of the shorts themselves and leaves me unnecessarily confused how it all fits together by the end. Space spiders, head splittin’, inside-out torchin’, hammer throwin’, e.t. carryin’ meteors, throat slittin’, fatal car jackin’s, demonic possessions, evil young’ns, fatal freefalls, slice ‘n diced young’ns, human pin cushions, sword fightin’, contorted possessions, fugly surgeries, sixth sense young’ns, ghostly murders, pastors bangin’ nuns, head stabbin’, and black and white fugly-vision! 2/5!


After an awkward goth kid played by Ryan Reynolds fatally cracks his brain basket, his egghead classmate Frank revives him in the name of experimental science by swappin’ his gray matter out with a pickled brain he stole. Problem is, turns out it’s a criminal’s brain he dropped in Ryan’s noggin, and now it’s touch and go as to how evil or not this stranger in a classmate’s body is. A decent flick that rides that fine line between family friendly and mature fun, my biggest problem with this movie is its lack of focus and escalation regardin’ the exact threat the resurrected felon presents, and folks’ reaction to it. The filmmakers pepper in hints this felon in Ryan’s body is bad news, but no one, especially Frank, seems to care one way or ‘nother if he’s a thief, killer, or rapists minglin’ ‘mong an unsuspectin’ student body. And when people do give a shit what’s happenin’, it’s for weird reasons like the girl runnin’ for help while screamin’ bloody murder ’cause she simply sees Ryan’s forehead stitches. It’s all light hearted fun but makes absolutely no sense. Peepin’ toms, thunder stormin’ science experiments, attempted armed robbery, Halloween dances, house parties, bullies’ just desserts, extension cord strokin’, and m.i.a. boob jobs! 3/5!


The Losers’ Club is all grown-up and returns to Derry after 27 years to once again stop Pennywise the Clown from eatin’ young’ns in his toothy vagina cave. The challenge of this semi-sequel ain’t toppin’ the second half of the original TV version of It (which doesn’t take tremendous effort), but out-doin’ the re-envisioned first half from 2017 that became a runaway hit. Unfortunately – it doesn’t. The filmmakers do their best to stick to King’s original vision, give us a strong cast (that’s a little overshadowed by Bill Hader’s performance), and strike those same scary notes as the first time ’round, but it just feels like three hours of lukewarm entertainment with only two to three unnervin’ scenes at best to speak of. Pennywise simply doesn’t up his game (even as a giant CGI spider), scared adults just ain’t as compellin’ as scared children, and I’m not the biggest fan of the story here bein’ told in compartmentalized chunks as opposed to a natural flow of interweavin’ story threads. Still a movie worth watchin’, but could be better. Hall of mirrors chasin’, monster scenes lifted right out of John Carpenter’s The Thing, leper chokin’, creepy dads, underground hidey holes, flamin’ hair-dos, fat shamin’, belly carvin’, haunted houses, dragon balls, Native American rituals, chest bitin’, monster killin’ through the power of belief, heart crushin’, red balloons galore, giant Paul Bunyan attacks, tall gangly hags, face stabbin’, impalement, goo vomitin’, severed dancin’ legs, monstrous dogs, car wrecks, lotta graphic close-ups of Bill Hader vomitin’, kiddie eatin’, gay lynchin’, childhood flashbacks galore, and roofied storytellin’! 4/5!


In what’s basically The Most Dangerous Game with satanists, a clueless bride upholds her fat-cat in-laws’ weddin’ tradition with a game of hide-and-seek and quickly realizes she’s gotta fight tooth and nail to win or be sacrificed to the devil by board game barons believin’ they’ll die by sunrise if they lose. Full of fun tension, this weddin’ horror hits on all pistons with escalatin’ dangers, solid characters, dark humor, thoughtful cinematography, and an entertainin’ build-up to one of two equally great endin’s! Samara Weaving continues to soar as one of horror’s newest icons, provin’ fantastic at every level from victim (Ash vs Evil Dead) to killer (The Babysitter) to the last girl in this flick. Only minor sour I can bitch ’bout is the backstory to the family’s pact with the devil bein’ a little too convoluted to follow. Bare minimum weddin’ scenes, Clue board game nods, hot tea pots to the face, impaled hands, young’n smackin’, dead maids galore, bullets and arrows to the face, dumbwaiter deaths, decapitations, strangulation, car wrecks, spontaneous combustions, satanic rituals, dead pits, goat pens, house fires, poisonin’, head bashin’, what I think are cursed boxes, stabbin’s, and booger sugar! 5/5!


The Crites return to Earth, and they’re in a race with an e.t. slaughterin’ Dee Wallace to catch a small-town babysitter’s flock of pre-teens who stuffed their alien queen in a backpack. Returnin’ to its semi-serious roots, this latest entry in the Critters series does a great job checkin’ all the boxes regardin’ character development, escalatin’ threats, a steady body count with consistent gore, and we even get a break from the tired bounty hunters from space routine with Critters alum Dee Wallace (who may or may not be the same character from the first Critters) slingin’ the heavy artillery. The only hint of sour I get from this flick is feelin’ like the pacin’ could be a little quicker with how soon the main characters come ‘cross our favorite tumbleweeds from space, and the lack of realistic reactions to everythin’ happenin’ which is more than likely intentional. Projectile quills, big-ass critter balls, rub-a-dub deaths, explodin’ Crites galore, bagpipe mix tapes, maulin’s, Crite on Crite violence, secret e.t. monitorin’ rooms, spaceships, Crite pups, meteors, drunken law officials, air horn defenses, Crite stowaways, dead dogs, and sushi chef street fightin’! 4/5! 


In this Halloween/Election Night horror set in 1968, a gang of teens are cursed by a dead girl for stealin’ her book of scary stories from her local haunt and are now bein’ killed by monsters she’s pennin’ into existence through new tales written just for ’em. Based on the infamous series of kiddie books mamas made a national stink ’bout forever ago, ya might be quick to compare this motion picture adaptation to the Hollywood treatment of R. L. Stine’s work, but let me tell ya, this ain’t Goosebumps! This creature effects spectacle dares to push the envelope and features blips of gore and an impressive number of death scenes folks don’t come back from. The only sours I have to bitch ’bout are some cop-out scares (the lazy way the toe monster finally nabs the one kid and the girl with spiders in her face bein’ hidden under so much darkness you can barely see her), and the confusin’ nature behind what exactly the filmmakers are tryin’ to say gives the dead girl the power to write people’s fate from beyond the grave. Livin’ scarecrows, straw man transformations, flamin’ projectile bags of poop, car wrecks, drive-in chase sequences, draft dodgers, mutilated body parts, toe stews, home invadin’ corpses, young’n absorbin’, monstrous huggin’ fatties, tragic backstories, shady business cover-ups, hospital chases, car vandalizin’, creepy recordin’s, neck snappin’, monstrous car chases, wailin’ ghosts, spider baby pimples, and stories written in blood! 4/5!


The second sequel to a spin-off of The Conjuring that falls who-knows-where in the continuity of director James Wan’s movie-verse, Annabelle the evil doll escapes her day job as a haunted prop in the Warren’s museum of cursed oddities and raises some PG-rated hell sicin’ a houseful of spooks and demons after her captors’ daughter and sitter’s souls. This flick ain’t as violent or creepy as the last Annabelle movie and periodically drags from time to time , but it’s still a fun little feature full of likable characters and ghostly threats that feels like an episode of the Real Ghostbusters. Possessed bridal gowns, attempted stabbin’, ghostly visions, sinister shadows, soul suckin’, hell hounds, zip body count, future broadcastin’ TVS, haunted piano tunes, angry ghost dads, gangs of eerie ferry men who seem to be payin’ folks to ride with ’em versus the other way ’round, supernaturally locked doors, gravely lynch mobs, birthday parties, haunted samurai armor, school bullies, spooky nether regions, handsy board games that take too long to be executed in lackluster ways, and possibly the first exorcism ever performed through a home movie recordin’! 4/5!


When Andy’s given a factory busted robo-doll named Chucky for his birthday, the toy’s malfunctionin’ iPhone for a brain copies what it sees in Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 and assassinates anyone it sees as a threat to their artificial friendship. A reimaginin’ of the ’88 horror classic featurin’ a serial killer’s spirit trapped in a My Buddy spoof, this legal loophole of a film ixnays all the hoodoo voodoo in favor of technophobia with the killer ankle biter now written as a confused robot linked with surroundin’ devices it can sic on folks. I think this is a solid movie overall and should really be a vehicle for introductin’ an all new horror villain ‘stead of recyclin’ Chuck for an easy payday. Especially since this robo-Chucky is never self-aware, leavin’ it devoid of any personality or grit that made the original psycho-doll so much fun to watch. The only sour I have to bitch ’bout is the horrible castin’ regardin’ age range, ’cause Andy looks way too old for this toy, and the chemistry between him and his youthful lookin’ mama feels more like siblin’s than parent and child. Cat stranglin’, dissin’ palybacks, bone snappin’, wrong uses of the word “poetic,” stabbin’s, massacred heads, several E.T. nods, killer drones, self-drivin’ car wrecks, pervy maintenance guys, table saws up the crotch, robotic operations, gift-wrapped watermelon’s decorated with cheatin’ lovers’ faces, dead cats, hacked TV bashin’, killer doll vision, kidnapped milfs, fatal freefalls, extremely disgruntled factory workers, retail store massacres, doll lynch mobs, small armies of killer dolls, and Mark Hamill slips into Joker for the briefest second at the very end! 3/5! 


Agent M is the newest rookie to join the world’s only defense ‘gainst intergalactic scumwads, and her first assignment is at the M.I.B.’s European branch where she meets Agent H and investigates a suspected mole in the organization who’s aidin’ an e.t. invasion of Earth. It ain’t easy followin’ a box-office act like Agent K and J after three solid movies, but the filmmakers successfully give the franchise a fresh new spin while keepin’ things familiar. The newest M.I.B. partners are brilliantly written as clever role reversals of J and K, the series mythos is effortlessly expanded, and the story allows for a more epic adventure. The biggest sour, unfortunately, is I don’t think any of it is funny, and the filmmakers lack that stylish touch that makes director Barry Sonnenfeld’s movies so special. I also have problems with some story points, understandin’ Agent M’s trainin’ timeline and her exact expertise, and silly melodramatic moments forced into a fizzle of an endin’, but would forgive all that if any of it made me laugh. E.T. tentacle sex, slow-mo powers, illusion fields, neuralizers, beard e.t.s, e.t. agents, poisonous snake bites, weaponized car accessories, explosions, e.t. dance clubs, drugged darts, three armed hotties, pocket-size canyon blastin’ guns, toyetic sidekicks, space portals, Thing-themed e.t. baddies, Eiffel Tower set pieces, flyin’ bikes, bunch of dead e.t.s, trans-continental super trains, flyin’ cars, and fatal meltdowns! 3/5!


When a scientist builds a fancy bird caller to yap it up with the world’s biggest critters, she manipulates them to wreck the planet in the name of cosmic balance. Things get out of hand, however, ’cause the three-headed dragon Ghidorah’s starts callin’ the shots, and it’s up to Godzilla and a monster stalkin’ organization to restore the natural order. Arguably the best Godzilla flick yet, it definitely blows the other two American attempts at capturin’ Japan’s biggest mon-star outta the water. Lotta kaiju brawlin’, epic globe trottin’, and a cast of root-worthy humans perfectly co-existin’ with impressive special effects exhibitin’ genuine girth. Godzilla vs Ghidorah vs Rodan vs Mothra, volcanic entrances, maybe the lost city of Atlantis, gift wrapped nukes, atomic booms, plane crashes, in-flight ejection meals, stormy body odor, nuke beams, three-way dragon’s breath, regeneratin’ appendages, Fenway Park chaos, metamorphosis, King Kong references galore, history lesson wall art galore, submarine rescue missions, 3-4 background beasts of city stompin’ size, and Blue Oyster Cult’s tune is finally used in a Godzilla flick! 5/5! 


A horror spin on Superman’s origin, a couple from Brightburn, Kansas raise a crashed e.t. baby as their own, but come to regret that decision as he approaches puberty and undergoes dangerous changes that make him an unstoppable super threat manipulated by the space wreck he arrived in. An interestin’ genre mash-up, this bizarro version of Smallville doesn’t bring a lot of surprises to the table, but does offer a jaw droppin’ moment of gore or two and some unsettlin’ jump scares I can’t believe work. Not a spectacular flick mind ya, but impressively noteworthy none the less. Shattered glass in eyes, crushed hands, heat vision galore, plane crashes, fatal freefalls from 30,000 ft., super strength, hot heads, dissected corpses for wall art, chicken coop massacres, splattered law enforcement, farm 51, peepin’ toms, dislocated jaws, super flight, murder scene callin’ cards, tell-all doodle art, flickerin’ power outages, and one home wreckin’ super young’n throwin’ the temper tantrums to end them all! 4/5!

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