“It’s not every day that you walk into a horror movie expecting it to make you choke up. Usually, we pay the price of admission to scare ourselves silly and enjoy some good old-fashioned exploitative voyeurism; we watch imperiled characters get bumped off with hideous creativity, and once it’s all over, we have the privilege of being able to step out into the lobby and appreciate being alive. In Todd Strauss-Schulson’s The Final Girls, the contract between the viewer and the film gets a rewrite. Our renewed zest for life remains intact, but it’s sourced from a different place than we expect. Instead of feeling grateful for surviving – hurray, the killer didn’t disembowel me! – we feel grateful for the people who make the journey into mortality with us.” (Via Movie Mezzanine.)
A Constant Visual Feast 