Without effective indulgence of the supernatural or the poetic motivating nuances of humanity, all this creative team has to hope for is effective usage of its middling, unoriginal elements. 'Party of Five' gone maniacal then genetically unescapable there's little rooting interest because the singular non-homicidal element is a second-rate bland awful-acting 'Wes Bentley' mopester. In fact, all of the acting is skin deep. Even though the dark-haired women appeal, the salaciousness is kept to a minimum. No nudity here. Also lacking are sufficient buckets of blood. All sensations are kept at a teasing, safe distance...an unfortunate fact considering the given name of the directors is 'butcher.' Only the soundtrack, the droning angsty alt-country and the tense fluctuating score provide any palpable tension. Sometimes some static storyboarded compositions add appealing low-angles that adds to the malaise...but for a film that calls itself horror, I did not even get close to flinching once. Perhaps a greater emphasis on societal rejuvenation through blood intake, scenes directed with varying geometric shapes outside the square, and a sustained focus on playfulness through the family's maliciousness or traps sympathetic characters need to escape in order to escape their dilemma would have improved my opinion, but this was not a good start to my excursion through horrorfest.
Review of The Hamiltons
