Zero—possibly negative—budget flick about amateur filmmakers in NYC who discover a blank wall that reveals a face when seen through their camera, which leads them to bring in a psychic who spends the whole movie talking about hoodoo from other dimensions.
And you know what? I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the New-York-City-ness of the whole thing. I enjoyed two NYC goofballs talking hoodoo to a blank wall. I enjoyed the hammy, terrible acting of the "psychic" and her unidentifiable eastern European accent. I enjoyed that their budget was so low the for the one digital effect they used, a dimensional portal in the wall, they couldn't even afford to mask out, so it just was pasted in front of everything onscreen. I enjoyed that they somehow managed to make a talky, totally plotless 83 minutes with no action, no climax, no real ending somehow pass quickly. I enjoyed the cheezy '80s synth soundtrack.
And I'm amused, rather than annoyed, that the weird, photoshoppy image used for the promo pic on Tubi and IMDB doesn't at all resemble the cheezy, blurry rough sketch of a face seen on the wall in the movie.
I dunno. Sometimes a shit movie works for me despite everything. Weird.
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