The Midnight Horror: 'American Poltergeist: The Curse of Lilith Ratchet' (2018)

♰ Welcome to The Midnight Horror! ♰

Why do horror movies get made? Well, there’s one straightforward answer: to make money. Shocking, isn’t it? But wait, let’s dig deeper. Why do filmmakers keep churning out an endless stream of bad low-budget horror films? The answer is just as simple—horror flicks are a reliable cash cow. Just sprinkle in some gratuitous nudity and a dash of sex, and voilà! You’ve struck gold. This mentality drove a wave of subpar horror onto the shelves of video rental stores back in the glory days of VHS. The trend continued with DVDs, and then came streaming, ushering video stores into an overdue, painful demise.

Thanks to smartphones, virtually anyone can grab a decent camera and crank out a horror film at the touch of a button. Suddenly, hundreds—if not thousands—of godawfully bad films are being birthed in the blink of an eye. You might wonder, "How are they turning a profit?" when so many of these disasters go straight to Tubi or Pluto, where they sit like unwanted relatives on a late Saturday night—sitting in your parents' basement, too cheap for a drink, flicking through these cinematic monstrosities, pondering why you’re still single. You’ll struggle to endure even the campiest plot twists, lose sleep, and somehow find yourself nursing a hangover the next morning. Wait a minute... Am I just narrating my Saturday nights? I digress.

This brings us to the bewilderingly titled American Poltergeist: The Curse of Lilith Ratchet. I can only assume the filmmakers had a classic case of indecision, ultimately muttering, “Screw it, let’s just mash the two titles together.” Genius! Let’s see what this chaotic concoction has in store.

Our story follows Alice and her best friend Lauren, who unwittingly unleash a hellish curse after acquiring a mysterious shrunken head—a default souvenir for paranormal enthusiasts, apparently. Curiosity piqued, they seek out the wisdom of the popular paranormal podcast host, Hunter Perry from "Beyond the Veil." In a fit of misguided ambition, Hunter wishes to exploit the eerie allure of this ancient relic by broadcasting a LIVE podcast that aims to introduce the legend of the shrunken head to the unsuspecting masses. Alas, they’re oblivious to the fact that by playing an ominous game and calling forth Lilith Ratchet’s name, they’re unwittingly releasing an ancient demonic spirit.

Now, let’s tip our hats to Eddie Lengyel—the mastermind behind this cinematic nightmare—as he wrote, produced, and directed this ill-fated venture. Admittedly, the storyline has a certain twisted charm, even if it feels like a rehashed blend borrowed from the "Nun" of the Conjuring franchise. Not to mention the scenes that appear suspiciously influenced by classics like A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) and Halloween (1978)—I can’t believe I have to append dates next to those iconic titles. Here’s a friendly piece of advice for Hollywood: Quit making those damn remakes!

In terms of direction, Lengyel did his best with the shoestring budget and cast at his disposal. While some performances glide along the realm of the decent, others flop hilariously, reminiscent of the acting in a softcore flick—which, I’ll admit, reveals a little too much about my teenage escapades. Don’t judge me; we’ve all done something ridiculous in our lives. There I go again... rambling. Sorry about that.

Every character in this film exhibits a special brand of moronic stupidity, making the kind of questionable decisions that cause you to groan. Spoiler alert: a certain female character meets a grisly demise because, you guessed it, she does something monumentally foolish! There’s that word again—digress.

Why, you may ask, am I giving American Poltergeist: The Curse of Lilith Ratchet a cinematic nod of two stars? Because, despite its flaws, I found it hilariously entertaining—even if Lengyel didn’t intend for his film to elicit laughter. Sure, there’s some bloodshed and a beheading or two, but this is the kind of C-level horror flick that reminds us that even in the realm of the grotesque, laughter can be the best medicine. ╌★★✰✰✰

〜B.J. Burgess