It comes from Wes Craven, so anything goes. The hither-and-yawn storyline encompasses a psychic high-school football star (why is it that this youth can't outrace a foot-dragging gimp?), a slasher with a hunting knife, a migratory soul on a Body Snatcher rampage, a sort of Demon of the Electrical Circuits who travels into TVs and a vibrating chair (the last three entities are one and the same), a blood-soaked ghost cum luminous guardian angel, with a gold pendant miraculously transformed upon her death into a magic talisman. With so little coherence and conviction, with so much funny business mixed with gory business (the baddie bites off a human digit and quips, "Finger-lickin' good!"), the only thing really to be nervous about is the possibility of a sequel. Michael Murphy, Peter Berg, Cami Cooper. (1989) — Duncan Shepherd
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