I Rather Would, Actually

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I want you all to prepare yourselves! I'm about to say something I never thought I'd say. You ready? Here goes. Ahem. Okay. Here goes. So... you should see a Brittany Snow movie. I said it! Hooray! Alright sorry Brittany, I'm a dick - she's totally fine in Would You Rather?, and I promise to never display such an attitude again, or you know, for a bit or whatever. Would You Rather? is basically House on Haunted Hill meets Saw, without any of the latter's moral hypocrisy - it has the decency to be indecent, if you will. It doesn't pretty up its villain's villainy with faux-morality and act as if he's teaching us all the deepest of lessons about ourselves, and in so doing, I think it actually gets at what it's getting at and teaches us some, gasp, lessons about ourselves. 

It's also troubling and queasy-inducing as fuck (while remaining relatively gore-free... relatively) and that's what we're here for, and it knows this. We, for better or worse, most certainly worse, are here to watch bad things happen to people. Let's not kid ourselves. We're here to plunk ourselves down in the driver's seat and ask ourselves that steady water torture drip drip of what if's, and it's plenty grueling in that car crash way. I don't want to overstate my case - it's not Beckett here; we're not walking out of it finding our comprehension of the world shaken or anything. But in its distinct avoidance of pretension, of underlining itself, I think it works. So you're forgiven for the Prom Night remake, Brit! For now. Dun dun dun. In summation, Hi Enver!