I live in a small house, surrounded by many other small houses. At night, seemingly barricaded by clothes, a sleeping baby, and more dressers than one room should have, numerous sounds interrupt my oft-desired (and potentially deserved) peace and quiet. From an endless number of cars speeding by, to my neighbor's dog barking to finally be let in, or even some random asshole talking to himself during his leisurely stroll, it can be maddening. I'll lay there and think, f--k this. I want to live in a big house in the middle of nowhere, where I can't hear or see anyone.
Then, on a different night (and in my slightly more spacious living room), I'll watch a horror movie and think, f--k that. Those cars aren't so bad. I actually really like that dog. And that guy talking to himself? A fine gentleman, I'm sure of it.
You're Next is yet another entry in the home invasion sub-genre of horror flicks. Possibly peaking with The Strangers in execution, or The Purge [review] in concept, this is a welcome trend in modern horror. Sure, the torture angle was fun for while, but when we started sewing asses to mouths [review], it literally began to suck ass.
Most horror movies, at least when watched at home, are only marginally scary to begin with. But to truly make it work, at least for me, I need to be able to imagine myself possibly being in the situation at hand. I will be at home. I will take a shower (potentially cleaning my ass and breasts for minutes). But backpacking through Europe with two hot sluts? Not f--king likely.
Anyway, You're Next, like countless scary movies before it, is very effective early on. A large, wealthy family has come together for a 35th anniversary party in their (surprise!) sprawling, secluded manor. Mom and Dad are not only thrilled to have each of their four adult children home at the same time, but each has brought with them a significant other. What do ten white people do when they get together (other than struggle to play quality full court basketball)? They eat.
Then, on a different night (and in my slightly more spacious living room), I'll watch a horror movie and think, f--k that. Those cars aren't so bad. I actually really like that dog. And that guy talking to himself? A fine gentleman, I'm sure of it.
Most horror movies, at least when watched at home, are only marginally scary to begin with. But to truly make it work, at least for me, I need to be able to imagine myself possibly being in the situation at hand. I will be at home. I will take a shower (potentially cleaning my ass and breasts for minutes). But backpacking through Europe with two hot sluts? Not f--king likely.
Anyway, You're Next, like countless scary movies before it, is very effective early on. A large, wealthy family has come together for a 35th anniversary party in their (surprise!) sprawling, secluded manor. Mom and Dad are not only thrilled to have each of their four adult children home at the same time, but each has brought with them a significant other. What do ten white people do when they get together (other than struggle to play quality full court basketball)? They eat.
