Queen of the Damned combines the plot elements from the two disappointing novels Anne Rice cranked out as the sequels to Interview with the Vampire and contrives to be better than the book it is named after, but not by much. The vampire Lestat (a pale, pretty Stuart Townsend) awakens after a century-long nap and discovers flamboyant metal music, then irritates the vampire community by "coming out" and courting celebrities. His sub-Marilyn Manson songs interest paranormal-watching human librarian Jesse (Marguerite Moreau), who looks him up in a Mile End Goth club that caters for an undead clientele, but his tunes also awaken Akasha (Aaliyah), eponymous mother of all vampires, who makes him her number one disciple and sets about devastating the world, opposed by a cadre of conservative vampires who include Lestat's sire Marius (Vincent Perez) and Jesse's Aunt Maharet (Lena Olin). The plot is of the "one-damn-thing-after-another" variety, zipping about the world from New Orleans to Glastonbury to a huge concert in Death Valley as broody characters exchange solemn but comical dialogue and indulge in fight scenes too swift for the camera to catch. Like Blade 2, it offers some spectacular vampire combustions, but its romance is strictly 15-certificate blood-nuzzling and it's hard to take Lestat himself seriously when Townsend plays him as such a feckless twit. -Kim Newman.

George A Romero continues his revival of his iconic zombie franchise with Diary Of The Dead, the fifth film in a series that kicked off back in 1968 with Night Of The Living Dead. And while his latest doesn't manage to match the heights of the earlier films, there's still something refreshing about watching a genuine master of the genre at work. This time around then, Diary Of The Dead heads a little back to basics, with a film that follows a group of amateur filmmakers who find themselves under siege from zombies, allowing the legendary director to take some less-than-subtle swipes at the YouTube generation. Sadly, his cast don't help him very much, ringing in primarily forgettable performances, and this certainly nullifies some of the points that Romero tries to make. Yet when it comes to the zombie action, there's no number you'd call faster than Romero's, and here's where the great man delivers. Diary Of The Dead does work along the law of diminishing returns, and is the weakest of the series, but it's not without a general collection of skilful moments that fans of the genre won't want to miss. Diary Of The Dead isn't a film that you need to have seen the others before it to appreciate, but it is a primarily quite ordinary film from an often-extraordinary director. That said, it still easily eclipses the army of imitators of recent times (the splendid zombie romantic comedy Shaun Of The Dead excepted, of course), and has more than enough horror to fill an empty night. -Jon Foster.

Given that Resident Evil is a Paul Anderson movie based on a computer game which was itself highly derivative (especially of George A Romero and James Cameron films), it's probably unfair to complain that it hasn't got an original idea or moment in its entire running time. In the early 1980s, Italian schlock films such as Zombie Flesh Eaters and Zombie Creeping Flesh tried to cram in as many moments restaged from American originals as possible, strung together by silly characters wandering between monster attacks. This is a much-improved, edited, photographed and directed version of the same gambit. As amnesiac Milla Jovovich remembers amazing kung fu skills and anti-globalist Eric Mabius mutters about evil corporations, a gang of clichéd soldiers with nary a distinguishing feature between them (except for Michelle Rodriguez as a secondary tough chick) are trapped in an underground scientific compound at the mercy of a tyrannical computer-which manifests as a smug little-girl-o-gram-fending off flesh-eating zombies (though gore fans will be disappointed by the film's need to stay within the limits of the 15 certificate) and CGI mutants, not to mention the ever-popular zombie dogs. It's tolerably action-packed, but zips past its borrowings (Aliens, Cube, Deep Blue Sea) without adding anything that future schlock pictures will want to imitate. On the DVD: Resident Evil on disc has the expected trailers, both teaser and theatrical; a half-hour making-of; zombie make-up tests; featurettes on music (with Marilyn Manson), production design and costume. A lively commentary track features Anderson, Jovovich, Rodriguez and producer/zombie Jeremy Bolt-Jovovich upbraids Anderson for talking about different gradings of film stock over her nude scene and everyone else talks about how much she hurt them by punching them out during action sequences. Anderson mentions an alternate commentary track with visual effects designer Richard Yuricich, but it isn't included. -Kim Newman.

A confined setting is a useful tool for thriller-makers, and Vacancy is definitely boxed in: a run-down motel way, way off the Interstate, the kind of place where unsuspecting movie characters go to get stabbed to death in the shower. If Vacancy doesn't quite live up to its Hitchcockian forbears, at least it provides 80 minutes of well-designed mayhem. You know somebody's paying attention just from the opening credits, a clever vortex with pounding music by Paul Haslinger. Then we meet unhappy couple Luke Wilson and Kate Beckinsale, driving along in the dark and forced to stay at the Pinewood Motel after a car breakdown. There's a night man (Frank Whaley, World Trade Center) in the tradition of Dennis Weaver's Touch of Evil gargoyle, but the real mess of trouble is waiting in room number 4. Director Nimrod Antal, who scored a stylish international hit with the Hungarian thriller Kontroll, squeezes maximum juice out of the Route 66 atmosphere of the motel, although the movie doesn't get under your skin the way Kontroll did. Wilson and Beckinsale are a little too marquee-namish for this kind of heavy-breathing work, and the script doesn't give them much to play with. But hey, it's not that kind of movie. Where it really belongs is on the top half of a drive-in double bill, or maybe as a nightmare-scenario TV movie from the Seventies. Either way, it works. [+]

Gabriel Byrne plays Father Kiernan, a young Jesuit priest whose degree in chemistry makes him a sort of priest/detective as he investigates weeping Marys and the like around the world. Meanwhile, Frankie (Patricia Arquette), a rave-generation Pittsburgher, is afflicted with the stigmata-holes that appear in her wrists, resembling the wounds of Christ. The young woman's symptoms filter back to the Vatican and Father Kiernan is assigned to the case. The priest is puzzled by Frankie's atheism; usually the stigmata only appear on the devout (hence the age-old controversy of miracles vs. hysteria). Other manifestations appear on Frankie, and the priest's cardinal (Jonathan Pryce) is brought in, leading to political manoeuvring within the Church hierarchy. The film owes a large and obvious debt to The Exorcist (at one point, Frankie's bed scoots across the room and she levitates into a crucifix position) but to term it an Exorcist rip-off would be to short-change Stigmata. The premise and screenplay are more cerebral than in the l973 film, and the source of the phenomenon is coming from a completely different place. Unfortunately, amid Stigmata's high-octane editing and slick technique, the chills of The Exorcist aren't there, giving the movie a sort of identity crisis: horror movie or intellectual thriller? Several elements of the film challenge basic tenets of the Catholic faith, hence the brief furore that erupted at the time of the film's release; if nothing else, the internal workings of the Church are shown in a very unflattering light indeed. Byrne excels as the sceptical priest, as does Arquette as the tortured young woman. [+]

More of a supercharged revamp than a remake, Rob Zombie's take on John Carpenter's Halloween expands the back story of masked killer Michael Myers in an attempt to examine the motivation for his first deadly attack, as well as some reasons for his longevity as a horror icon. Zombie's Myers is a blank-eyed teen (played by Daeg Faerch) whose burgeoning mental problems are left unchecked in a horrific home environment; harassed by schoolmates, a randy sister, and his mother's deadbeat boyfriend (William Forsythe, terrific as usual), Myers' homicidal explosion seems inevitable, and intervention by Dr. Sam Loomis (Malcolm McDowell, who offers a fast-talking, hippiefied version of the Donald Pleasance character) does little to impede his development into a mute, unstoppable killing machine (Tyler Mane) bent on finishing off the only survivor of his family's massacre-his sister, now grown into teenaged Laurie Strode (Scout Taylor-Compton). Opening up the psychological motivation of a cipher like Michael Myers is an interesting approach, but Zombie's script possesses neither a depth of character nor dialogue to offer more than a clichéd thumbnail character sketch. Zombie's Halloween isn't terribly suspenseful, either; he has a keen eye for visuals and the details of chaotic environments, but his scares are nothing more than brutal showcases for his special effects team. The end result barely surpasses the original film's numerous sequels, though the Who's Who of cult and character actors in the cast (including Zombie regulars Sid Haig, Bill Moseley and Ken Foree, as well as Brad Dourif, Udo Kier, Clint Howard, Richard Lynch, Danny Trejo, Dee Wallace, and Danielle Harris) adds a touch of late-night monster movie charm. However, the film's best performance belongs to the director's spouse, Sheri Moon Zombie, who brings unexpected pathos to the role of Myers' downtrodden mother. - Paul Gaita.

The Grudge 2 is a spooky installment in Takashi Shimizu's hardworking Ju-on/Grudge series of horror pictures. It doesn't carry the disorienting thrill of the very first Japanese Ju-on features, but it's a lot creepier than anybody could have expected. The story picks up from the end of the first Hollywood version of The Grudge, and has nothing to do with Ju-on 2, Shimizu's Japanese sequel. Sarah Michelle Gellar returns (a distinctly supporting role) as an American woman traumatized by her experiences with a haunted house in Tokyo; younger sister Amber Tamblyn flies over to help out. This particular storyline doesn't have much meat on it; the murder house is still there, and people who go inside have a disconcerting habit of dropping dead. Fortunately, two other plots thread into the basic one: a group of American schoolgirls in Tokyo become intrigued by the legend of the house, and some Chicago apartment dwellers are unsettled by domestic anxiety and the weird sounds coming from next door. (This storyline, featuring Jennifer Beals, gives the film its extremely satisfying opening sequence. ) As usual with these movies, sequences come to us in non-chronological order, and it's up to us to piece it together. You can guess where the film is going, but the slow trajectory toward its final sequences is surprisingly involving. The movie was widely panned upon its release, which says more about the presumption of the law of diminishing sequel returns than the film itself-it's a decent little horror flick. [+]

A lot of movies can be described as "dripping with atmosphere," but in the case of Silent Hill it's literally true. Faithfully adapted from the Konami video games by French director Christophe Gans and Pulp Fiction cowriter Roger Avary (both self-confessed video game addicts), this dark and grisly horror-fest is nothing if not a triumph of cinematography and production design, consisting of a minimal and mostly incoherent plot propped up by a mysterious maze of sets that literally seep, drip, and ooze with the atmospheric evil of past misdeeds. Welcome to the abandoned and perpetually foggy ghost town of Silent Hill, where grey ash falls like snow, a devastating coal-mine fire still burns in a hellish underground, and demons of various shapes and sizes make your worst nightmares seem like a walk in the park. It's here that distressed mother Rose (played by Pitch Black heroine Radha Mitchell) has taken her daughter Sharon (Jodelle Ferland) in hopes of discovering the source of Sharon's sleepwalking nightmares. What they find instead is a burned-out legacy of unspeakable evil, as Silent Hill's dark secrets are revealed. As opposing denizens of Silent Hill's meta-morphing underworld, Canadian actresses Alice Krige and Deborah Kara Unger seem to be the only ones who recognize this morbid mess as campy comedy; Gans (who established his visual flair with The Brotherhood of the Wolf) and Avary take it far too seriously, and the entire movie is utterly devoid of any emotional hooks or plot logic that would make us care about anything that happens. In crafting a loyal big-screen rendition of Silent Hill and its Playstation sequels, they've forgotten that movies play by a different and more demanding set of rules. As a result, they've made an impressive-looking but ultimately hollow horror film that only Silent Hill game-players can truly appreciate. -Jeff Shannon.

The 2003 version of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre adheres to the pure-and-simple slasher-movie formula: introduce a gaggle of sexy young people, make vague gestures to distinguish them-Jessica Biel wants to get married and doesn't like pot, so she's our moral compass-then start hacking them to pieces one by one. The visual palette includes grimy crucified dolls, fly-specked pig carcasses, body parts floating in murky jars, a tobacco-chewing redneck sheriff and many slender beams of sunlight cutting through dank, dusty interiors. The camera lovingly photographs Biel's tank-topped bosom and sculpted abs as she's running in terror from a bloated, chainsaw-wielding, human-skin-wearing maniac. This remake lacks the macabre comedy of the original; it's all about the nauseating sensation of waiting for something to jump out of the dark. -Bret Fetzer.