Heart Eyes: Happy Valentine’s Day

The good news is restaurants should be much more affordable this Valantine’s. The bad news is a serial killer has been killing couples on Cupid’s day for the last few years. Conspicuous PDAs can be fatal, as well as causing nausea in others. Ally and her new work colleague Jay are absolutely, positively not a couple, but they look good together, so they still attract the killer’s attention in Josh Ruben’s Heart Eyes, which opens this Friday in theaters.

Ally just released a bizarre ad campaign featuring famous dead lovers, like Romeo and Juliet, that would be considered grotesque even if the so-called Heart Eyes Killer (H.E.K.) weren’t terrorizing romantic couples. He is definitely still active, as we see during the Scream-like prologue. Many of his targets are obnoxious Instagram-driven Millennial jerkweeds, but HEK willingly slashes through any innocent working stiff who get in the way.

Jay is the supposed marketing wizard brought into clean up Ally’s mess. They are natural rivals, but there is also an undercurrent of attraction, making their dinner meeting, on Valentine’s Day—the boss will love his expense report—even more awkward. That also means he goes with it, when she kisses him for her ex’s benefit. Of course, you know who else sees that smooch and starts chasing the not-lovers through the city.

Arguably, Heart Eyes is a better Scream movie than the later Scream movies that perversely shifted away from Sidney Prescott and Gale Weathers. The screenplay (credited to Phillip Murphy, Christopher Landon, and Michael Kennedy) is slyly droll in a knowing but not excessively ironic way. There is a lot of humor, but Ruben and the screenwriters are just as concerned with the start-and-stop development of the hunted non-couple’s romance.

Olivia Holt and Mason Gooding have terrific romantic and comedic chemistry together as Ally and Jay. Devon Sawa and Jordana Brewster are also perfectly matched as the two lead detectives, Hobbs and Shaw—yes, its an in-joke, which the cops themselves don’t get.

Cellar Door, Co-Starring Laurence Fishburne

If this manor house was in Kansas, John and Sera Winter might need access to the cellar, but since they live outside Portland, the wrought iron fence and the vintage firearm collection that comes with the estate look much more attractive. The terms and conditions of their tenancy are strange, but it is a desperate real estate market. However, their deal takes on Faustian dimensions in Vaughn Stein’s Cellar Door, which opens this Friday in theaters and on VOD.

After losing their unborn baby, the Winters need a change of scenery, but most of the properties in the tony suburb they settle on are beyond the means of riff-raff like them. As a last resort, their realtor refers them to wealthy ascot-wearing Emmett Claymore, who offers them a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They can live rent-free in his McMansion as long as they agree to never look inside the padlocked cellar. He also requests they keep the display of artifacts unearthed on the property, including some revolvers, which look like they might still work—but the cellar is the biggie. One peak and their next address will be in eviction-city.

Of course they agree, but as soon as they move in, bad luck starts plaguing the Winters. Awkwardly, his co-worker and former ex, Alyssa Hayes, accuses him of sexual harassment. Too ashamed to explain to his wife, especially since he was having a final fling with Hayes while his wife miscarried, Winter pretends to go to work each day.

The house just seems to have bad mojo, like when a former tenant shows up with a gas can, urging them to burn it down. Pretty soon, old John is practically clawing at the cellar door, whereas newly pregnant Sera is determined to safeguard their luxurious and economical living arrangements.

The truth is Cellar Door really is not much of a horror movie. However, screenwriter Sam Scott tries to build towards an intriguing revelation of what it all means. His concept is surprisingly thoughtful. It would just be better suited as a shorter instalment of an anthology series in the tradition of Tales of the Unexpected. That is not a slight—far from it. Nevertheless, the fact remains the film is conspicuously padded, especially on the front half.

Home Sweet Hell: the “Till Death” Part Can’t Come Soon Enough

If Dr. Phil took a good look at Don Champagne’s marriage, he’d only be able to offer his deepest sympathies. The same would also be true for a reputable marriage counselor. There is no question who is the decision maker in his family—his wife, Mona. Type A does not even begin to describe her. By now Champagne is resigned to her bossing, especially after an infidelity explodes in his face. “Happily” does not necessarily go with “ever after” in Anthony Burns’ Home Sweet Hell (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Everything Champagne has, he owes to Mona’s ambition and her father’s money, or so she constantly reminds him. Frankly, he is mostly content managing their thriving furniture store, but his home life is something else. Champagne must constantly deal with relentless self-improvement projects and goal statements. Sex is something that must be sparingly scheduled ahead of time, not that it really matters, considering how emasculated he is.

It is hard to judge Champagne too harshly when he allows his hot new employee to seduce him. Unfortunately, Dusty turns out to be too good to be true. Facing blackmail, Champagne confesses to his wife, who always keeps a cool head in a crisis. Despite her understandable disappointment, she is not going to let some saucy adventuress sabotage her happy home. Of course, Champagne is not man enough to permanently fix the problem, but Madame Champagne is a different story.

Casting Katherine Heigl and her lingering bad PR as Mona Champagne was a risky gamble. Unfortunately, rather than earning credit for knowingly mocking her problematic image, her shticky but joyless performance is likely to add fuel to the hate fires. Patrick Wilson does not exactly do himself any favors either as Don Champagne, the cringy doormat.

It is also rather sad watching Jim Belushi stagger through the film as Champagne’s shlubby assistant, Les. The underrated Belushi brother can be an effective everyman with an attitude, but it has been a while since his best work in The Principal, Wild Palms, and Taking Care of Business. (It has also been a while since Heigl’s best role as Steven Seagal’s obnoxious niece in Under Siege 2). Bizarrely, Jordana Brewster takes the honors in HSH, with her comparatively nuanced performance as Dusty—honest, she does.

Essentially, HSH is a black comedy without the black humor. It never embraces the gore or mayhem required by midnight movie connoisseurs while the profoundly unappealing one-note characters will give mainstream audiences the stiff arm. Not recommended, Home Sweet Hell opens today (3/13) in New York, at the AMC Empire.