Like an egg from a poorly cooked omelette, this is not all it's cracked up to be. The original movie is now so revered, it would take nothing but a true-blue, gold-plated, bonafide idiot to put their name to anything other than terror perfected in cinematic form.
Step forward, David Gordon Green then, you are the lucky, albeit evidently bewildered, winner. And we know you have form for this type of unmitigated nonsense.
Shame the rest of us therefore have to be losers. If this was written better, enjoyed a more realistic and believable narrative, had some semblance of real tension, an air of menace, real malevolence and not just two girls doing their best Linda Blair impressions, then this would still have failed. This is 2023 and the audience that this effort craves is way too savvy for the likes of the bridge this is trying to sell you.
Honestly I don't know how this really got the time of day, much less greenlit for foolhardy consumption (and I include myself here), having led a merry coquettish dance around its potential by half-decent marketing. We should have known better, but unlike the girls here, you can't really fault the amount of faith we hold that someone might actually achieve something close to what we witnessed fifty years ago.
Horribly overstated and in your face in all of its unwarranted sanitized glory and barren atmosphere, this is not grubby or ugly enough, desperate or nasty enough to utter the name, much less pretend the throne of the original.
The original stopped me from breathing on several occasions. This just had trouble keeping me awake. A bad idea, executed horribly.
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