Tamara

Tamara raises the stakes: it throws in even more teen hormones than House of Wax. Tell me if this sounds familiar: an ugly duckling named Tamara (Jenna Dewan) is accidentally killed while being bullied about uncovering steroid usage at school. But death, of course, never keeps a good girl down. She returns as a cleavage-sprouting hottie with an axe to grind against the kids who put her in the ground, using her new-found power to make people do what she wants. She also makes time to try to get close to Mr. Notally (Matthew Marsden), the dreamy teacher who ignored her before her death. Don't get me started about how Tamara drives her dispatchers to self-mutilation and homosexual tendencies. Oh, and her father is a booze hound, in case you didn't know.

First things first: Screenwriter Jeffrey Reddick has bootlegged the plot to Carrie and peppered it with some A Nightmare on Elm Street gore to create complete confection carnage. This is boring, trite writing that never brings out any real subtext about sexuality, death, revenge, or high school. There is a lack of passion in the writing or any apparent interest in the subject matter. This brings me to Jeremy Haft, the director. Those who want to give this a pass on B-movie standards should check out the work of Larry Cohen, the great '70s B-movie horror director who took time to season his tacky horror films with thoughts on abortion (It's Alive!) and religion (God Told Me To). Tamara doesn't have one new thing going for it, nor does it really have anything tacky or funny enough to qualify it as a guilty pleasure. You can feel the ennui of the director, actors, and writer in every single frame.

What really gets me about the film is that it's not a rare thing. Good horror films have started being imported from other countries, but we are in a serious drought in this country. Even notable exceptions like 28 Days Later and The Devil's Rejects don't hold much of a candle against a film like Takashi Miike's Audition. Tamara's crime isn't that it is a bad movie, necessarily, but rather the fact that furthers the idea that it's okay to just crank out horror films with such low expectations. Of course, the other side is cold, soulless films like Wolf Creek and High Tension, but you're either ripping off Tobe Hooper or Wes Craven in that tennis match. To treat a genre that has been honored by such visionaries as David Cronenberg, George A. Romero, and John Carpenter with this sort of ignorance has the stench of money over integrity.

She doesn't look so scary.