Hereditary perpetrates the worst of all possible movie sins: It is flat-out boring.
It is, as Billy wrote, "much ado about nothing," and that's a huge drag, because the film had SO MUCH HYPE!
(In fact, where I saw it this evening, they were giving tiny stuffed birds to moviegoers participating in the "Apple Watch Heart Rate Challenge." Needless to say, there's nothing here that gets your heart racing.)
The film plods along for the better part of two hours, telegraphing everything with the deftness of a five-year-old strutting in Papa's pants and boots across the hardwood kitchen floor, striving to come at you like a freight train in the final seven minutes yet generating little more than a collective sigh from the audience.
After it was over, the man next to me looked up and asked, "Is that it?"
'fraid so, bro. "Major meh," I thought.
We do not have "this generation's Exorcist" or "the new Rosemary's Baby" on our hands. What we do have is hokum, and undelivered promise, and that's a shame.
