In this movie people watch a different movie, and it's one of those movies the killer can come out of into the theatre. He does. And it's one of those theatres with doors he can lock and not even a wrecking ball could break you out. Thought you could stop the projector? Ha! No.

Oh my unholy god this again. I'm all set down with my bowl of genuine batchelor-made minestrone to enjoy a horror movie after another frustrating day at my job of being a creepy guy, movie opens up with a little insane asylum violence and a midnight horror show and I'm thinking hey, maybe, then a child with a bowl haircut up and marches right in through the movie's front doors. Want to tell me about scientology and your horses there too?

So the brat is sent home 'cause the older kids think the movie would be too scary for him. Say, do you reckon there's any chance he might sneak back in? Will the screenwriter recognise his opportunity to employ that delightful plot device which was tortured into his very soul during film school catechism?

In fairness this is nothing approaching the level of spirit-crushing brutality we suffered in Silver Bullet or {shudder} Phantasm III, but the fact remains there's a brat running around in my horror movie. It's actually named Timmy for christ sake, so it's literally "Where's Timmy? Save Timmy! Run Timmy run!" until you just wish Flanders was dead.

If that weren't sickening enough, we're subjected to the most noble, heroic, nice-haircut college boyfriend of all time. I don't know which is worse, this angel or the usual obnoxious asshole. Ah but we don't have to choose - here comes an asshole now. Anyway get ready for a big wet warm fuzzy listening to the lovey dovey dialogue about how lucky they are to have each other and how he'll never let anything bad happen to her.

But how, boyfriend, will you protect her without a functioning eye cavity? 'Cause I'm happy to tell you it gets chunked by a big sharp corkscrew thingus. That's not a spoiler, it's a helper. Even then though I had a feeling we somehow hadn't seen the last of him. The movie's frustrating that way; I could occasionally dig its midnight theatre vibe and healthy body count, but every time we'd start to hit it off there'd go Timmy squealing across the screen or golden boyfriend would exist.

It does however present you with the unique phenomenon of watching other people watch a better movie than you are... watching. Unlike most of these movies about movies, this one actually shows you a quite a bit of its fake film. Called "The Dark Beneath", it's an old 1960s looking slasher flick which is sort of interesting since they didn't actually make slashers back then and it's weird to see one in black and white. Unfortunately they jump cut away from its kill scenes as I guess they were unable to pull off the level of banned brutality the movie's supposed to depict.

The movie - the real one I mean - also demonstrates why masked killers tend to be the strong silent type. They let this guy talk, and it's not good. And of course like every badguy in every movie he sucks at catching little kids. Probably a career minor leaguer, though he does have two boyfriends on his tally which I guess I can respect. This might have been a midnight worthy movie if only they'd left Timmy at day care and sent Josh and Mandy back to Dawson's Creek, or just showed us the rest of The Dark Beneath.

Those were actually their fake names, I think. Not looking it up. Not picking on people named Josh and Mandy. Am picking on Timmy.