Devoid of positive attributes, Scarecrows follows a group of criminals as they’re knocked off one by one by the sentient (and psychic) title creatures – with the movie, which transpires entirely over the course of one very long night, suffering from an almost stunning lack of sympathetic (or even partially-developed) central characters. It is, as such, impossible to work up an ounce of interest in or sympathy for the protagonists’ ongoing endeavors, with the arms-length atmosphere compounded by director William Wesley’s less-than-competent visual choices (ie so much of the picture transpires in oppressive darkness). The movie’s top-to-bottom atmosphere of amateurish is especially noticeable within the various performances, as every actor in this mess delivers a hopelessly broad turn that only enhances the picture’s underwhelming vibe. And although the second half of the movie does contain a few solid instances of gore, Scarecrows, which runs about 75 minutes without credits but feels at least twice as long, ultimately comes off as a fairly worthless 1980s slasher that’s been deservedly forgotten in the years since its theatrical release.
1/2* out of ****