With Lights Out now on home video we wanted to remind you to not turn the lights out on this one.
I love a good scary movie and personal reasons take my love for them to a whole other level. The emotional response to the suspenseful music, that moment of terror right before you know something bad is going to happen, the gasp and jump as a result of a clip well-done… I love everything about them. Give me some whiskey and popcorn and I’m in heaven.
Unfortunately, most scary movies miss the bar and tank, but this… this is not one of those tankers.
I don’t think you can set the mood for an awesome fright flick any better than by using a large, dark warehouse filled with oddly postured mannequins covered with foggy tarps. If the dummies aren’t creepy enough for you, try the first ten lines being centered around a FaceTime convo with daddy and son about how weird mommy is being because she’s been “talking to herself” and hasn’t been taking her “vitamins”.
Then creeps in the shadow girl from the spine-tingling trailer that disappears when you turn the lights on and reappears when the lights are out. Can I just say the movements this thing makes are just so eerie it’s haunting. Nothing moves like that. The glitchy, quick, and jerking movements are like a combination of the girl from The Ring and a demon. This is like a recreation to the beginning of my worst nightmare. No thanks.
WARNING: Be prepared to jump early on into the movie.
I won’t lie, it scared the crap out of me even though I was waiting for it. That scene brought a word out of me that I try not to use all that often and then had me laughing at myself because “it’s just a movie”, right? Negative.
I don’t want to give away too much about Lights Out since it’s fairly new, even for home video. So, here’s the 40k foot view.
Big sissy, Rebecca, has commitment issues derived from absent daddy syndrome. She soars in to rescue little brother, Martin from their mother’s nighttime friend, Diana. (Shameless shout out to the person who decided to toss an A7X ‘Hail to the King’ poster on the wall in Rebecca’s apartment. Kudos, my rocker friend, I see you!)
Rebecca does some digging and finds out mommy’s creepy buddy that lives in the dark was evil incarnate when she was alive. Then everything takes a turn for the worst. Oh by the way, not only is the shadow friend known for her homicidal violent behavior, but she hates and manipulates light. Obviously.
The safety and well-being of this poor little boy who just lost his father, is currently dealing with child protective services, and a mother who’s manic depressive state prohibits her from functioning normally, tears at your heart strings. Then you’re right back at a high when the black light fun takes a turn down Mutilated Mannequin Lane (trademarked) littered with ghostly graffiti all over the basement walls. All that coupled with being hunted by the unseen. Just think about the forever damaging imprint of psychological trauma that would leave.
The electric company would absolutely love me because I’d never turn the lights off again.
Lights Out is a rollercoaster ride of emotions. The awkwardness of the characters’ behavior makes you like them more and more through the progression of the movie which is full of suspense, twists and turns.
There were a couple cheesy parts that could’ve been left out and although the boyfriend, Brad was hot, he could’ve stepped up his acting game a little or been recast. Those are my only “eh” reactions.
If you haven’t seen this yet, I suggest you hit up a Redbox and rent it. Totally worth the $1, and honestly, I’d have loved to see this in the theater on a big screen with the surround sound. I would’ve jumped more, for sure. But isn’t that true about most movies? I loved it and am convinced whoever made it is friends with the devil.
And now I have to go to bed and try to forget about what I’ve just witnessed… with the lights on of course.
She is fluent in sarcasm, a serious goofball, and enjoys gaming with her Manchild. Bucket list items include: a round of poker with the Baby Jesus, a personal tour of the Batcave, and a little quid pro quo over a glass of chianti with Hannibal Lecter.