Not to be confused with Them!, They Live, and Ils (AKA Them), this film starts of in interesting enough territory: a little kiddo is lying in bed at night, freaked out by the opening of his closet door and the sound of something rustling and screeching. A dark mass bolts out from the shadows, grabs the kid and the picture fades to black with him screaming. Who can't relate to that when they were little tykes? Being scared of something grabbing you in the dark or the boogeyman showing up bedside (that thought alone kept me up many a times).
Fast forward to present day and a female psychology student is visited by her best friend from childhood who's been going cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. They meet up in a diner and he begins to tell her all kinds of nonsensical babble about creatures that are lurking in the dark, just waiting to pluck him from this world and drag him into theirs. He relates to their experiences as kids and his gal pal (being all smarty farty psychological now) totally blows him off, claiming all that happened before was just kids being afraid of the dark, you know, normal kid stuff. So after her non-supportive ass shrugs him off, guess what he does? In a diner full of people he promptly whips out a revolver and blows his head off. That'll show her!
She goes home that night and starts experiencing the same freaky deeky things that he was (ha, told ya beotch!). After hearing the little screechies in her closet, she enters the bathroom to get ready to go nighty night. She looks into the mirror on her medicine cabinet and becomes entranced. She reaches into it, which has now become some kind of other worldly portal, and pulls back an oeey gooey, black tar-like substance with her hands. She flips the fuck out, her boyfriend rushes in, and aides by helping her get a grip (AKA shaking the shit out of her).
The next day, she attends the funeral of her old friend who blew off his cabeza (that was quick!). She runs into two of his friends (one a goth-y looking gal and another an artsy fartsy painter guy) that had been looking after him as he descended further and further into nuttiness. As they reminisce about the friend and talk about the events leading up to his suicide, the psychology student remarks 'Wasn't he on some kind of meds?' To which the painter dude remarks 'Uh yeah, that sure did a lot of good, didn't it?' Way to be an insensitive prickwad, you a-hole face.
So anywhos, as the three dimwits band together, each one exposing their own recent experiences with the little screechy monsters, they begin to get picked off one by one in the most boring-est of fashions: one while swimming, all the lights inexplicably turning off in the gymnasium, which allows the little buggers to appear (they never show up when any light is present, BTW). The other, gets trapped in his studio elevator and as the electricty shorts out, is besieged by the screechies. Never showing exactly what happens to them, each presumed kill or dragging off to Never Neverland is shown as a cut away. Lame-O-Rama.
By the time we reach the climax, in which we see the psychologist girl chased out of her apartment and into an underground subway, you really don't give two shits about what happens. The acting is so terrible that you never feel a genuine sense of fear at all and no one perpetuates this lack of fear more than the female lead. Throughout the ENTIRE film, she has one look and one look only. That of complete and utter dumbfounded-ness:Its hard to take her seriously and even that much harder to empathize with whatever 'terror' she is bearing witness too. And because of the constant cut aways and herky jerky way the monster scenes are shot (not to mention the really terrible lighting) you never get a close glimpse of the creatures themselves. I had to head over to Google just to find out what the hell they looked like:
No blood, no gore, and no honest to goodness scares to be found at all. You also never find out why it is these monsters are after them and ONLY them. This film lacks in so many areas its unbelievable. At least with some folks (see here), they are actually making an honest attempt, even if they do miss the mark. I'm surprised Wes Craven attached his name to this shit heap (albeit from the standpoint of 'Wes Craven Presents'). The IMDB.com says the script was re-written 10 times after the original was drafted by the director. If I was the director, I'd be a little pissed and the film definitely had a feeling of 'Oh well, fuck it'. Even finding pictures from the film via aforementioned search engine was difficult. Maybe everyone that was involved have done their damndest to distance themselves from it. I sure would.
Cortez the Killer
P.S. Apparently no trailer exists for the film. I'm sure I could dig some more but I don't really feel like it. The End.