It looks like another in an endless series of teen horror flicks, but I've read that it is not. This from the StarTribune's review:
Like the proto-Surrealist creepshow "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," it twists a standard horror saga into something resembling a collaboration between Franz Kafka and Lewis Carroll...I'm open to comments (but not to spoilers).
There is an epic amount of hemoglobin in this film, but it is splatter shed with festive energy, in service of a ferociously clever idea. The film is at once a homage to popcorn hack-and-slash yarns and an IQ 200 critique. It isn't just a "Scream"-style dialogue with the genre; the questions here are intellectually ambitious, almost metaphysical. Why does every culture have its own tradition of scary stories, why do suffering characters give us pleasure, and just how powerful are the inner demons our nightmare scenarios appease?
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