Wes Craven (Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street) returns as both writer and director to take us on another thrilling and horrific journey. The Riverton Ripper, an unstable family man informally diagnosed with multiple soul disorder, wreaks havoc, killing his wife and several others on a spree that leaves a community traumatized for years, thinking that his soul might have passed on to one of the seven children born the night he struck.
Sixteen years later, apparently its time to settle the score and Craven had the bright idea to capture it in 3-D.
But about five minutes into the movie he must have decided this was horribly unoriginal because he obviously scrapped the plan, along with any sense of story, continuity or intention of directing his actors. The ragtag collection of scenes here is nothing short of an abomination from a filmmaker who should know better.
Having given audiences a series like Scream that deconstructed the horror genre so cleverly and expertly, it seems as if Craven attempted to break every single rule or code of filmmaking conduct and destroy all of the trust and goodwill he has built up over his career. My Soul to Take is, by far, the worst movie of this year and is happily competing for the all-time worst crown. Grade: F