You know, deep down, my normally well disguised prejudices (hah!) tell me that only the psychologically flawed really, actually, honestly like arty films. Perhaps their bottoms were fondled a tad too arduously by a science teacher when they 13? Perhaps they dream about having their bottoms fondled? Just once before they die. Either way, I refuse to believe that anyone outside the Guardian really gives a flying fig as to who or what Rosebud is.
Back on planet normal, what we really want is attractive teenage girls running around screaming, sporadically being slaughtered in gruesome fashion, in a sorority house once inhabited by a man who slaughtered his family at Christmas.
That's really all you need to know about this remake apart from the fact that, yes, there is a shower scene and that, yes, I remembered to look away just as Michelle Trachtenberg was grabbed by the killer.
A proper film that does exactly what it says on the tin. Mind you, I was captivated by the cellar scene so reminiscent of the sixties Hungarian guerilla film making movement. Right!
:twisted :twisted :twisted :twisted / 4 out of 5