One last straggling silent, and a bunch of other stuff:

The Bone Collector (1999), in which one detective who is not William Somerset guides another who is not Clarice Starling in a desperate hunt for a killer who really, really– no, seriously– is not John Doe…

Burnt Offerings (1976), in which you don’t have to go to Amityville to find real estate that isn’t nearly as good a deal as it looks…

Frankenstein (1910), in which Mary Shelley and Robert Louis Stevenson struggle for control over the destiny of a monster who just wants somebody to pay attention to him, damnit!…

Hard Candy (2006), in which a couple of tricky bastards actually manage to make me root for a child molester…

and…

Sugar Hill (1974), which a year and a half earlier would surely have wound up being called Black Zombie instead, without anyone ever noticing how redundant that would be.



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