Night Shyamalan’s career is a real horror show itself (not “real horrorshow”). For someone who built up a crazy amount of goodwill as a moviemaker with 1999’s The Sixth Sense, he appears to have instantly bought into the hype machine at the time, and then proceeded to self-destruct in an explosion of unfounded hubris. I didn’t care much for the crushingly self-important Unbreakable, but it wasn’t a bad movie. Signs was an improvement, despite one of the most badly-written endings I can recall seeing, but as the years passed, when producers kept throwing money at him, the movies just got worse.
AT THE FOOTHILLS OF MADNESS 