A new director labors under an old curse: Gary Sherman, who did the excellent Raw Meat and the less excellent but still good Dead and Buried. This series, however, is so set in its ways that it needs only a carpenter, not an architect. The most that Sherman can do is to prolong the ominousness -- the cracked mirrors, the peekaboo apparitions, the chilly atmosphere -- and to put off the blinding lights, the hair-ruffling gusts, the slamming doors, the clutching hands, the peeling flesh, the self-driven dodge-'em cars, the mummy masks, the "anger, rage, evil," etc., etc. And it falls to Nancy Allen to deliver the fitting valedictory: "What does it matter anymore? Who the hell goddam cares?" With Tom Skerritt. (1988) — Duncan Shepherd
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