X (2022)

Rural Texas in 1979 is no place for a group of young people in a camper van. Have they not seen The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)? If they had they’d realise you never get off the main road, let alone take rooms on an out of the way farm, with reclusive hosts who look like they feed on human flesh. You defiantly don’t start making a skin flick.

Ti West’s entire shtick is a riff on the grindhouse horrors of Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven. X is no different. It stays in its lane, with a some grizzly moments that land this side of entertaining, rather than genuine vomit inducing scares Hooper or Craven might’ve dished up. You want unhinged, you get a squeaky gate.



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