The Front Room

The Front Room is an entertaining, morbidly funny slice of perverse B-movie exploitation horror. In the best way, it feels like something Joan Crawford would have starred in the 60s.

Kathryn Hunter elevates everything she’s in, which goes double for a film as limp and directionless as The Front Room, the directorial debut of Max and Sam Eggers.

The perverse playfulness with which Hunter handles even the most grotesque scatological scenes fuels a disturbing yet stellar performance, one that’s far more memorable than the movie as a whole.

Judging by the enthusiasm at the theater for Belinda’s sharpened jibes as Solange’s antics become impossible to ignore, The Front Room does capture one delicious, rich truth: hell hath no fury like a mother-in-law scorned.

The premise proposes a battle of wits and control via a brewing storm between the two leads that never really comes to pass.

A mean-spirited hagsploitation movie, neither scary nor funny. “The Front Room” just puts your gag reflexes to test by humiliating an old body, and tries to get away with it by making the owner of that body an actually awful mother-in-law from hell.

"The Front Room" is a banal, watered-down version of "Rosemary's Baby"

In spite of its high blecch factor, it's kinda hard not to like The Front Room for being amusingly deranged.

The Eggers brothers' The Front Room is certainly off-putting and carried by a great Kathryn Hunter performance, but is far too predictable.

Professionally made, well-acted, and unfussy, this glossy horror movie still feels like it doesn't really have anything going on and is built from elements we've seen many times before.