Sinister (2012)

The poster alone, and its announcement that Sinister comes to you courtesy of the producer of Paranormal Activity and Insidious, should be enough to convince most to pass this one up. Over the past few years, American horror films have become increasingly trite, consisting of endless sequences of tense build up, followed by a pop scare. The result is that the audience spends more time with their eyes closed in anticipation of the next demonic creature to pop out than they do looking at and engaged in the film. This is exactly what Sinister is. Basically, a true crime writer moves his wife and kids into a house where a gruesome murder took place (without their knowledge, of course), and discovers a box of snuff films in the attic. What are the snuff films but recordings of serial killings committed by Babylon demon-deity Baghuul (aka Mr. Boogie). The best parts of this movie are Ethan Hawke's meetings with the awkward starstruck deputy who wants nothing more than to help his hero write his new book. The rest is just mind-numbing, and it features an ending that can only be described as dumb. Movies like this are made for teenage boys (and adult males who might as well be teenage boys) who consider this sort of thing to be the pinnacle of cinematic art to geek out over. No doubt in my mind exists that the script was lifted verbatim from some online creepypasta. Hell, I have read creepypastas that are scarier than this. Horror is a difficult genre to pull of correctly. Usually, the best kind of horror is the kind that adds an element of farce to the spills and thrills. The other main problem with Sinister, aside from its repetitive and predictable nature, is that it is so drab and dreary and unimaginative. There really is nothing more for me to say. Avoid this one, unless you want to spend an hour and a half hiding under a blanket in anticipation of cheap pop scares.