Mr. Jones

Early scenes prove an exception to most of this genre du jour's tired rules, which makes it especially disappointing when the third act does little more than reinforce them.

A nature-meets-nightmare tale that unfortunately gets lost in its own thicket of tricks.

It all gets very artsy and weird in Act III (and I watched it twice) but hey, I'll take a bit of cerebral effort over just a bunch of door-slamming and bloodletting.

There's a shred of an interesting idea in Mr. Jones, but the film is far too unfocused, sloppy, and downright dull to leave any kind of impact.

No matter how creative its frames, Mr. Jones is [...] just an unimpressive stack of sticks and skulls.

An imperfect horror film, but it's worth a look for its atmosphere, and valiant attempts at supernatural and meta-storytelling.

That it half succeeds, in spite of its cloying self-seriousness, means that it's at best a convincing copycat of a definitive expression of ego and influence in art.

In attempting to experiment with horror tropes and the found-footage format, director Karl Mueller tries too hard and walks away with a muddled, drastically uneven hodgepodge.