Larry Drake, Holly Marie Combs, Glenn Quinn, Cliff De Young
A notably unimaginative horror movie of the modern lamebrain, gore-dripping school, this film may serve as vindictive therapy for people with grudges against physicians, but otherwise it is neither scary, funny nor has it a sign of intelligent life.
Drake, the L.A. Law regular, thumps around as a loony physician, doing more simpering than giggling as he randomly stabs, saws and clubs people. The only practice he doesn’t resort to is refusing to accept medical insurance. (In one bit of doctor-bashing, writer-director Manny Coto even has Drake assail a victim with a golf club (an allusion to doctors’ clichéd obsession with playing golf.)
Coto’s dreary sense of humor runs to having someone drop a condom in a toilet bowl, then use a toothbrush to fish it out. While Quinn and Combs are tolerable as the threatened, innocent teens, they don’t generate very much tension as they natter through a tepid romance while waiting for Drake to make his move.
The standard horror accoutrements are here: haunted house, carnival, house of mirrors, inept cops, naive parents (De Young is Combs’s father). Drake makes a feeble monster, though. The average dentist, giggling or not, is far more menacing. (R)