Thirteen Ghosts (2001) Review

 

Thirteen Ghosts (2001)

Thirteen Ghosts follows Arthur, who, after being willed the home of his late, ghost hunting uncle, discovers that the house is a prison for vengeful spirits, looking to annihilate anything in their path. 

In the 20 years since its release, Thirteen Ghosts has become something of a cult classic in horror circles. Sadly though, I can’t think of a movie less deserving of that monicker than this absurdist dumpster fire that acts as a time capsule back into some of the worst years of the genre. The 2000s, particularly in the horror category, had two distinct sides to their thrills, heavy, hard R, bloodbaths and weird (Disney-like) PG horror, with this falling into the latter (though it’s still rated R for blood and nudity). It relies on cheap shock value, an overwhelming set (for the sake of being different), and a thin story that knows it’s thin, thus retreading the same ground in circles in the hopes you won’t catch on till its’ lackluster final act finally rears it’s ugly head. 

It doesn’t help itself out any either, running at a thousand miles per hour, explaining little and showing too much, in an overload of clueless information and plot points that just fizzle out (like any interest anyone had going into this movie). Sadly, it just becomes a pain to watch at points, what with the downright halfwitted actions of nearly every character (looking at you Kalina, the fucking ghost rights activist), the utterly ridiculous looking ghosts that look ripped right out of a bad Slipknot concert, and a final plan by ol Uncle Cyrus that is as insensible as it is foolish. 

Oddly enough, actual actors signed onto this, starring JR Bourne, Rah Digga, Shannon Elizabeth, Alec Roberts, Embeth Davidtz, F. Murray Abraham, Matthew Lillard, and Tony Shalhoub. Admittedly, it’s one bright spot was Lillard, who proves fairly competent in a more serious role, but the unbelievability of Shalhoub doesn’t do much to round out otherwise bland performances. 

Thirteen Ghosts, directed by Steve Beck, is a half-rate thriller that, on top of lacking in thrills, lacks in personality, acting as bland attempt at remaking an already gimmicky horror film from the 60s, and somehow doing it even worse, simply with an updated look for the modern times. 

2.3/10