Malakai Johnson

The Front Room is like a boiled peanut left in the sun—soggy, tasteless, and liable to make you sick. This film ain’t just bad; it’s “Florida Man wrestles gator in a kiddie pool” bad. The plot meanders like a lazy river going nowhere, and the dialogue is as stale as week-old cornbread. Brandy, bless her heart, does her best to keep this sinking ship afloat, but even she can’t save this disaster. Kathryn Hunter’s performance is so over-the-top it makes a possum playing dead look subtle. The so-called horror elements are about as scary as a sunburn at the county fair. The pacing drags like a tractor stuck in the mud, and by the time it reaches its limp conclusion, you’ll wish you’d spent your time watching paint dry on a barn. If you’re looking for a horror movie that delivers chills, thrills, or even basic entertainment, steer clear of this train wreck. Zero stars. This movie is a waste of good popcorn.