Slotherhouse (2023)

Slotherhouse is the kind of delightfully deranged midnight movie that understands its own ridiculous premise and plays it with a straight face just long enough to make you laugh before it makes you wince. It takes the slasher template, drops it into a glossy sorority world, and lets an “awww”-worthy mascot become a deadpan engine of chaos, delivering punchy, increasingly inventive set pieces with a wink and a splatter. The tone is campy, brisk, and self-aware—more crowd-pleaser than nightmare fuel—so you can feel the filmmakers actively trying to entertain you rather than impress you. If you’re game for bloody, dark-comedy violence and B-movie energy that commits to the bit, this is a surprisingly fun hang; if you want subtle horror or realistic stakes, you may find it too knowingly silly.

Slotherhouse is clearly trying to be a cheeky, self-aware B-movie riff on sorority politics and slasher tropes, with the absurd hook of a “cute” sloth as the killer. The problem is the joke doesn’t always stretch to feature length: the pacing drags, the characters and dialogue feel more functional than funny, and the kills can start to blur together into the same clawing gag. If you’re hoping for genuinely scary horror or sharp comedy, you may find it too thin and repetitive to stay entertaining. But if you enjoy low-budget creature-feature silliness, don’t mind some bloody dark-comedy violence, and can laugh at the sheer stupidity of the premise, it has just enough novelty to kill an evening.