The Cherry Hill Chainsaw Massacre

In Brian De Palma and Lawrence D. Cohen's 1976 supernatural horror film, Carrie , an adaptation of the first novel published by Stephen King, there's a pivotal moment in which Carrie White, the titular telekinetic protagonist, finally asserts herself to her fanatical mother, Margaret, and reveals her knowledge that her father, Ralph, despite Margaret's assertion that the Devil infiltrated his body and "carried him off," abandoned them for another woman. Who is this other woman that Ralph ran away with, and did he impregnate her with another telekinetic offspring? Both of those questions are answered in The Rage: Carrie 2  by screenwriter Rafael Moreu, who uses that single line of exposition from De Palma's bullied-revenge classic as the jumping-off point for a belated sequel that lacks the astonishingly animated atmosphere, campy sense of humor, suspenseful buildup, and colorful characters that made its predecessor alternately entertaining, tragic, and passion...

If there were such a thing as truth in advertising, the previous installment, subtitled The Final Chapter , would have closed the book on the Jason Voorhees saga, and it would have snuffed him out on a bloody high note. In the seemingly definitive conclusion, the hockey-masked, machete-wielding half-man, half-monster finally met his match in the form of a most unlikely opponent: a 12-year-old boy with a penchant for video games and mask designing, whose clever imagination and ability to thrive under stress led him to shave his head and manipulate Jason into believing he was staring at a doppelganger of his 11-year-old pre-drowning self. While Jason had his back turned, Tommy picked up a machete, snuck up behind him, and embedded the blade into the side of his skull. After detecting a flicker of movement from his fingers, Tommy began hacking away at Jason until he was finally dead.  In the closing scene, Tommy visits his sister, Trish, in the hospital and embraces her, glaring sinis...

The ocean is the Devil's playground. A vast expanse of salty, wavy water in which vacationers are permitted to relieve themselves of the oppressive heat of the sweltering sun shining down from the sky. For many people, including yours truly, the beach represents the ideal setting in which to enjoy the lazy, liberating days of summertime. Even if you're just sitting on a sand chair for the majority of the day, staring out at the ocean before you, the sensation of your feet in the sand is unsurpassable, as is the view. As soon as you step into the ocean, however, you assume a degree of risk. Wander in just deeply enough to where your waist is submerged but your feet are still planted on the sand, and you're within a straight line across the lifeguard, and you should be safe to enjoy the refreshing invigoration of the water, free to ride the waves along with your fellow beachgoers. At worst, you may step on some broken shells or get nipped by a small crab. Wander out just a li...