The Unnamable: Terrible Movies #202

Having a thing that won't stop screaming locked upstairs in the attic of your creepy house is a pretty promising way to start your movie. Then suddenly and with very little warning, yuppie college students appear; and everything gets all tweed jackety, and top-sidery, and ankle-length skirty, and blown-out permy, and acid-washed jeansy, and several people wear a sweater cavalierly draped over their shoulders like a necklace which is a sure sign you're a gigantic douche and completely deserve to be slaughtered by a monster. If you're unsure what I mean, it looks something like this:

For crying out loud. Doesn't looking at that make you want to get in your car, drive to the hardware store, buy a shovel, and hit him in the back of the head with it? This entire ensemble says, "I am so affected, shallow, and smarmy that I don't care enough about this pink sweater to actually wear it, but I want to show the common people that I can afford to own it. It's made out of freshly ground kittens and it was very expensive.". That sweater with its cotton candy color and fluffy softness fills me with an uncontrollable rage. It probably smells like fabric softener, $50 bills, and the desperate tears of the impoverished. Anyway, back to the movie. Those meddling 30-year old kids all head to the haunted house with the screaming monster in the attic and are thankfully killed for some reason, and you don't really feel too bad because of the sweaters and they didn't really seem like people in the first place. That's about it. There's a screaming monster of undetermined gender, endless corridors, arterial spray, weird accents, sweaters, collegiate sweatshirts, and very little plot. I watched it on Netflix just to get it out of my queue. Here's a sweatery trailer: