As with any carnival come-on, the joy of horror-film worship often lies not just in the movies themselves, but in the way they’re marketed around the world. Indeed, historically, in some cases the poster hyperbole outdid the picture it shucked, and you know what? That’s OK.

In this writer’s estimation, there are two distinct periods in the postapocalypse genre: that which came before Cormac McCarthy’s devastating novel THE ROAD, and that which came after. We don’t necessarily need to judge the genre against it, but when you title your book CARRY THE FLAME—a popular mantra in THE ROAD—you kind of invite that dangerous comparison.

“Why religion?” is a topic bordering on cliché in current affairs. The rise (or perhaps the gathering in volume) of atheism and strict Christianity now permeates the media and beyond to such a staggering extent that, when you begin to hold Internet, TV, film and written content against each other, the oldest argument in history seems to be everywhere.

Patrick Freivald’s TWICE SHY (JournalStone) is cute. That’s not meant to be derogatory; it’s really the best way to describe this novel about a teenage girl living incognito as a zombie.

On the surface, COME OUT AND PLAY is simply a flat, soulless remake of one of the killer kid greats, WHO CAN KILL A CHILD? Coupled with one-named director Makinov’s bullshit, it’s a joke.

I imagine THE AMERICAN SCREAM will be an immensely personal experience for all audiences, but horror/fans of the macabre, especially.

Lit like a Skinemax homage to colorful Eurohorror and Sam Raimi, MEMORY OF THE DEAD ends up an inept, juvenile sub-Tommy Wirkola bit of occult horror that only manages to confirm its filmmakers have—much like you—also seen EVIL DEAD 2.