Often pretentious independent filmmaker Mike Figgis must have needed a paycheck pretty badly to sign up for directing a no-surprises, straight-to-video quality family-in-peril psycho-killer thriller like "Cold Creek Manor" -- and what's worse, whatever he was paid, he sure didn't earn it.
Laden with every dusty convention in the pantheon of bygone horror movies (including a dusty, creaking old house) and brazenly foreshadowing every fright with all the subtlety of a charging rhinoceros, this picture attempts to evoke the essence of "Cape Fear" -- if "Cape Fear" had been written by a room full of monkeys.
Launched into theaters only by the minor marquee power of Dennis Quaid (recent Oscar nominee) and Sharon Stone (attempting a comeback), this glossy stinker pits oblivious cityfolk, who buy a cavernous, overgrown countryside fixer-upper in a foreclosure, against the house's previous owner, a seethingly bankrupt, emotionally unhinged young redneck parolee (Stephen Dorff) who grew up there and wants to prevent family skeletons tumbling out of the still-full closets.
Continue reading: Cold Creek Manor Review
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