A recently divorced yuppie couple bicker over their insufferable teenaged daughters and purchase cursed room decor in this tedious Lifetime-esque family drama. All the cliched trappings are in place; yawn-inducing familial discord, tasteful houses on quiet cul-de-sacs, dads getting blamed for everything, rooms filled with CGI moths, ancient yellow molars, a teacher being flung through a plate-glass window, a tween girl crawling around on all fours and growling like a Rottweiler with a Flintstone-sized beef steak dangling from her mouth, and Matisyahu.
I really don't see what the big deal about a cursed box is. I have them all over the penthouse. I have one sitting on the dining room table right now. It's intricately designed and filled with diabolical items sure to cause tragedy, heartbreak, and sorrow. Here's what it looks like: