Oz Perkins’ adventure in toxic family dynamics — toxic in a way that results in copious quantities of spilled blood — hits so many of the beats from Silence of the Lambs that some viewers may wonder if it’s some kind of supernaturally-skewed gloss. It’s not just the green female FBI agent with the traumatic past, the major clue via hidden Polaroids, the tense conversation with the terrifying monster who might be able to help crack the case, the helpful but unsettling meet-up with the research nerd, the nightmare basement lair with the thumpy music, etc. etc. It’s also the feel of the thing: the cloud-dimmed middle-American dread, the sadness of old houses and abandoned souls, the threat of violence just outside the door. And all that similarity-bordering-on-sameness might have been okay if the story this time was a little better told, if the murderous mechanics were a little less arbitrary. As it is, the supernatural stuff is strangely tethered to some highly specific, totally natural, and weirdly unlikely conditions that feel manufactured for the sake of the Big Reveal. And even so, all might have been forgiven but for the so-flat-it’s-funny final confrontation. That said, the big hook here is an almost unrecognizable Nicolas Cage as a fellow who worships Satan but does not seem to have gotten anything for his trouble except for an unpleasant and unprofitable skill set. He’s wonderfully creepy, but that’s about it. At least Buffalo Bill had a motive beyond “Hail, Satan!” (2024) — Matthew Lickona
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