Matt Donato

The Greasy Strangler is a perverted fever dream that will please few audiences, but those who enjoy it are in for one f*#ked up treat.

Pet Sematary is proficiently tense, dashingly macabre and soaked in nightmarish tones that thrive on audience screams.

It’s a sweet, savory blend of oddball mythology and deadpan humor that’s easy to adore, worth many a healing smile.

A Road House movie shouldn’t be boring, especially this boring. A Road House movie shouldn’t have to enhance its fight choreography in post-production, nor should it be such a tonal mishmash. I guess Liman didn’t get the memo? His Road House remake is an uninspired chore that never properly unleashes Gyllenhaal or nails even the most basic functions of bar fight nostalgia porn.

With a steely reserve and killer instinct, Extraction 2 thrives as a buffet of brutality that plays back the mercenary thriller hits with a fresh coat of camouflage paint.

Happy Death Day 2U is a more ambitious, more entertaining - albeit less horror powered - time-warp sequel that proves Jessica Rothe's blinding talent no matter what dimension she's in.

With Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, Tim Burton focuses all his energy on a dusty, far-too-droll buildup that's far from worth whatever short-lived excitement his finale brings.

Grab on for dear life and expect a freakish, wild, and seriously f#cked up ride from start to finish - which, of course, is every horror fan's dream.

I’m torn on Barbarians, because while the film displays sharpened technical filmmaking chops, it’s an unbalanced invasion thriller caught between its subgenre intentions.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson deserves more credit as an actor, because he's the only reason this Iraq War thriller hobbles steadily on two legs.

The Munsters is a wholesome labor of love that’s probably for the most diehard sitcom fans because for better and worse, Rob Zombie makes the Munsters reboot he wants to see.

It's a frustratingly one-note experience that boasts technique and potential, ultimately undone by a narrative blandness painted by numbers. Separately, everything works — the plan just never comes together.

Sting is sweet, silly and savage in sectioned bursts, but fails to pull everything into an intricately woven web of creepy-crawly terrors.

The Ritual may start on familiar footing, but trust in David Bruckner's ability to summon some nasty tension and a third act that horror fans will be talking about all year.

Sweeney takes plenty of risks in a lead role that’s rigorous and emotionally demanding, but the film ultimately feels a bit surface level considering how it approaches horror.

James Franco is a stand-out in I Am Michael, but the film's specific story struggles to relate on a broader scale.

Us And Them might be a little slighter than expected, but Jack Roth's charismatic fire-starter has enough anarchistic anger to appreciate.

Sonic The Hedgehog 3 lets its animated heroes shine. There’s less “live” in this impressively blended live-action movie, which is not a detriment.

McKee’s darker genre touches in titles like The Woman and All Cheerleaders Die are sorely missed in Old Man, which is too reliant on performances that outshine a story seen coming like an asteroid the size of Mars.

Dear Joe Lynch, please let me see your Director’s Cut ASAP? Knights Of Badassdom is an unfinished product, but it passes based on the content our director was able to salvage.

Haaga knows what works, and ensures that we get heavy doses of the good stuff (although more Alisha Boe would have been nice).

This is just the sweeps-week Fast And Furious that jumps the shark, ready to right itself come next season – and it better. Dominic Toretto’s team deserves to go out in a blaze of glory, not a slippery skid that can’t be controlled.

Storks is momentarily funny when it’s not boorishly and exhaustively begging for your attention.

Michôd’s military dramedy is more about press tours, TV interviews and power plays. That’s what makes this Netflix new release redeeming in its political poignancy – but having Brad Pitt doesn’t hurt.

Take Me is a sunny little daydream about fetishistic domination, spun around one man’s jabby little gender battle. There is a sweetness to it all, as well as an undeniable creep factor.

Incarnate is just another buried Blumhouse special, and I assure you its neglect is with good reason.

It's a suspenseful family drama that drowns in the location's surroundings, unable to capitalize on its Shyamalanian influences.

It's rough around the edges when heavy special effects are required, yet proficient in shanty-shady tones and detectable darkness that hides secrets from one sequence to the next. It's an experience that lulls you in with hospitality and scored choral chants, plunging its stinger once you've become helpless beyond defense.