Cassidy Gifford as Cassidy Spilker and Ryan Shoos in a film that flicks at dissecting puberty’s own manufactured drama and the corrosive power of urban legends, but doesn’t get far before settling on quick scares and lazy killings.
It would be easy to spend hours trashing The Galllows if it just wasn't so disposable.
As the latest entry in the tired "found footage" horror subgenre, this on-the-cheap film has never met a cliché it didn't embrace like sweet death itself.
From the annoying sidekick and the dismissive cheerleader to the creepy VHS tape and last-minute twist that's no twist at all – it's as if directors Travis Cluff and Chris Lofing hit CTRL+C on randomly selected pages from dozens of other, slightly better horror screenplays.
Following the restaging of a high school play 20 years after the original lead died on stage – great idea, students! – the film flicks at dissecting puberty's own manufactured drama and the corrosive power of urban legends, but it doesn't get far before settling on quick scares and lazy killings.
I'd suggest summer school, but that would mean being saddled with a sequel.
Barry Hertz