Rest Stop Movie Review (2006)

This is one of those horror movies that gives the genre a bad name. Within the first five minutes, I knew exactly what kind of ride I was in for: our heroine bolts from home, lights up a joint, and dives headfirst into some clichéd, consequence-bound fornication. It's a checklist of tired tropes. The film is so painfully predictable that it becomes a test of patience rather than suspense. Just when I thought it couldn't be more obvious—bam, it hits every beat like it's following a script titled "Horror Movie 101." Maybe I've just seen too many of these films, or maybe this one is just that creatively bankrupt. Likely both.

And if the lazy storytelling doesn't kill it for you, the acting will. The lead actress barely manages to emote beyond a vague sense of confusion, and let's be honest—Joey Lawrence has never exactly been the thespian of our time. When your big third-act twist is the arrival of Mr. "Whoa!" as the would-be savior, you're not just out of luck, you're out of hope. At that point, you're better off grabbing the nearest stick and fending off the crazed redneck yourself.

This film doesn’t honor the horror genre; it desecrates it. It’s the cinematic equivalent of what you do at a rest stop—and yes, it’s that bad.

~TJ