Venom

The death of a voodoo priestess in southern Louisiana unleashes a slew of evil spirits, which possess the body of a tow-truck driver and stalk the bayous looking for hapless teenagers to slaughter. There’s only one interesting thing about this rock-bottom puddle of camera vomit: The fact that Miramax’s Dimension Films saw fit to release it in the wake of Hurricane Katrina is a testament (as if one more were needed) to the clueless crassness of Hollywood at its money-grubbing worst. None of the actors is identified until the very end of the credits; in fact, it would have been a kindness not to name them at all, so I won’t here (who knows, a few may redeem themselves one day). However, director Jim Gillespie and writers Flint Dille, John Zuur Platten and Brandon Boyce deserve no such consideration.