October 03, 1997 at 04:00 AM EDT
We gave it a D-

Bad horror movies used to have lame, clunky plots. Now they have no plots at all. ”Presented” by Wes Craven, Wishmaster could leave even a Fangoria convention hissing with boredom. It’s a mausoleum-glum, Scotch-taped-together mess about an underworld genie who appears in two guises: as a slime-demon version of Ingmar Bergman’s Death and as a pockmarked humanoid (Andrew Divoff) who leers like the young Richard Nixon as he cons assorted innocents into striking nonsensical Faustian bargains. The special effects, which consist of the usual intestinoid body parts exploding from the usual split rib cages, descend from the most overlooked horror film of the last 20 years (John Carpenter’s spellbinding 1982 remake of The Thing), but here they look more like a series of extremely bloody and rubbery omelettes. D-

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