Area 51

When my friendly, neighborhood Alamo Drafthouse Cinema offers me nearly free tickets to see a movie, I don’t usually think twice about it.

I probably should sometimes.

Last night I saw Area 51. It was supposed to be one of those found-footage/dudes running about while filming their experiences horror films. Note that I said “supposed to be.”

They succeeded at unstable, nauseating cinematography. (Does that even really count as cinematography?)

What they failed at was the horror.

I didn’t jump. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even feel particularly uncomfortable (aside from the motion sickness).

Now, this was from the same director as Paranormal Activity, which managed to have a suitable number of creepy, uncomfortable, and/or jumpy moments, all without fucking with my equilibrium, so I expected this to, at least, not be terrible.

Was it terrible? Not particularly. But it certainly wasn’t good, either.

Overall rating: Bored with a side of “Where’s my Dramamine?”

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