Timber Falls

Ah, the Virginian foothills, where you’re never more than a few feet away from a jam-jar of homemade moonshine, an awkwardly confront-ational Bible-Belt crackpot or a plaid-shirted local who’ll come hyuk-hyuk-hyuking out of the brush with a loaded 12-gauge and an aggressive distaste for ‘the cityfolk’.

Mike (Josh Randall) and Sheryl (Brianna Brown) are trying not to let all of this get in the way of their quiet weekend sojourn, but having decided to take the ‘Timber Falls’ hike path (against the advice of the folksy park ranger), quickly find themselves chained up in the basement of a remote log cabin and used as unwitting human pin-cushions for another tawdry ‘survival horror’ yarn.

Daniel Kay’s lame-duck script and Tony Giglio’s sluggish, bland direction are a match made in horror genre hell, both a hotch-potch of cliché, empty homage and feebly mounted shock set pieces. Even the main bad guy, the deformed (and understandably irate) rapist Deacon, with his black leather jacket and modified mini-scythe, is not enough to muster up the requisite scares.