Well, not every Blumhouse joint can be Get Out, right? While the production company’s consistent track record of cranking out lucrative low-budget horror films — many of them smart, well-crafted — has been one of recent Hollywood’s most notable success stories, it’s just as evident that their brand can be home to a glut of low-tier dross like Truth or Dare. This one’s fundamentally a creaky remnant from the heyday of Final Destination/Ring cash-ins, upgraded to match the Black Mirror-age terrors of its present-day demo.
The premise — spring-breakers who fall under the deadly spell of a cursed game — is too arbitrarily conceived, playing fast and loose with its own internal logic. Sort of like It Follows with a lobotomy. The blandly harried direction of Jeff Wadlow (Kick-Ass 2) does the bare minimum to push beyond established teen-horror formula, and the script’s desire to address the insidious consequences of unchecked social virality was more satisfyingly executed in last year’s Nerve.
Truth or Dare does have one decent gimmick: when characters are possessed by the game’s spirit, their faces morph into an unholy cross between a U Mad? troll grin and a Guy Fawkes mask. The effect is overused to the point of laughability but admittedly creepy at times.
The truth is, if you stumbled upon this movie one bleary-eyed late night on an SVOD platform, it might go down inoffensively. The dare? Fork out $19 to watch this in a theatre and try not to come away feeling gypped by how mild it all is.
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