House at the End of the Street Reviews
This is the rare horror film so bad you almost wish it had turned into a good old connect-the-gory-dots slasher movie. The only mystery at work is how Lawrence's agent ever let her sign on.
Tonderai steers the story cleanly around its queasy hairpin turns, perversely toying with one of pop cinema's most cherished cliches: the audience's inculcated desire to side with the underdog.
Feisty girl + troubled young man + house full of ugly secrets = hackneyed horror movie you've seen a hundred times before, even if Jennifer Lawrence keeps it watchable.
What could be so bad about a new Jennifer Lawrence movie that its distributor opts to keep it away from critics and release it with minimal ad support? Please, allow "House at the End of the Street" to answer that question.
It's made for - and presumably by - people who haven't ever seen a horror movie. What's even more frustrating is that its inherent ineptitude doesn't ever become entertaining in a "this is hilariously horrible" fashion.
It isn't very scary, but it does pile a bunch of really tasteless twists on towards the end that make no sense and it almost becomes a comedy. On one hand, is a failure as a horror film, but as an exercise in desperation, it's kind of a hoot
House at the End of the Street reveals itself to be merely another forgettable PG-13 thriller banking on the brain-dead mall crowd to tweet their unending love for a crummy feast such as this.
The screenplay has a nice twist that could have supported a stylish giallo-style thriller; unfortunately, director Mark Tonderai delivers a mess -- an almost random tangle of choppy edits, handheld camera, 'shock' sound effects and other horror cliches.