Less chiller, more adventure for King’s dancing harlequin ‘I never had any friends later on…
Chucky, the Marxist cipher.
Hard-edged and humdrum horror.
The King renaissance hits a bump.
Bonkers, dense and straight up scary.
Little call for hurray.
A decade-too-late entry in the deathtrap genre.
Muscular and mythical, tiresome and nauseating.
Blood-splattered Nazisploitation fun.
An over-the-top ode to 87’s majesty.