Horror Chick, With Melissa Lafsky: 'Paranormal Activity' Is the SCARIEST MOVIE EVER (About Suburban Yuppie Starter Homes)

We all have irrational fears. Random terror at things that, in reality, have little to no chance of killing us. Spiders, clowns, snakes, commitment, wet bread—the list goes on. My irrational fear is that I'm being watched. Ever since I hit puberty, it's been the same: there's a camera behind my bathroom mirror, or a telescope pointed at my window where some cackling dipshit is observing everything I do (and judging me the whole time). Yes, it's silly—;though back when I lived in SoHo it turned out to be truer than I'd like. (Note to self: Never take the ground floor apartment.)

Horror movies that play to this fear bother me. Even if they star Tom Hanks's son and stink worse than pig shit on a hot day. (For anyone who has no clue what I'm talking about—which is everyone, since no one saw this film but me and my friend Morty—I'm referring to Alone With Her, which reached levels of suckery previously reserved for Ishtar.) So when I started hearing buzz about this "next Blair Witch" that was supposedly the SCARIEST MOVIE EVER and was all "recovered footage" from a camera in a couple's bedroom, I said no thanks—too many childhood neuroses packed into an hour and 39 minutes. And then I saw it anyway, because I am a total fucking sucker to peer pressure, particularly when the pressure-er offers to buy me ice cream. Plus it's October, and October is the only month that condones mass consumption of life's two great joys: Candy and horror movies. (Add sex, and you've hit the joy jackpot.)

If you haven't heard anything about Paranormal Activity, you're not spending enough time on the Internet. But not to worry, since I spend enough time in the tubes for both of us. Blah blah blah it was made in 2007 on a budget that makes Blair Witch look like Spiderman 3, then sat on a shelf 'til it finally got limited distribution (which goes nationwide on Oct. 16). The one theater currently showing it in Manhattan is selling out every night to a slew of crazy people. One guy in line kept screaming "NONE OF YOU WILL SLEEP TONIGHT!" Some dude leaned over during the previews and offered me a Xanax. Seriously.

So what's the Big Fat Scary Deal? Premise: Young photogenic couple moves into obligatory 3-bedroom tract house ("Just sign this negative amortization no-income-no-asset loan, my pretties, and aaaallll your problems will be over") and the too-cute-to-bear girlfriend starts hearing things. Impossibly normal boyfriend buys camera to film what's going on. Freaky shit happens. Cue the entrance of random psychic, who diagnoses a demonic presence in the house (which makes sense—I mean really, who hasn't felt something demonic in all these suburban shrines to Bed Bath & Beyond?).

Pluses: There's not much "Ooh let's sprint from the scary demon lair but hey don't forget the camera!" so you avoid the seasick pukery of other "recovered footage" films like Blair Witch or Quarantine. And the characters are likable, so you avoid the thank-Christ-those-assholes-finally-died of Cloverfield. But come on—"SCARIEST MOVIE EVER" my ass. My cab ride home was scarier. Sure, it's impressive when a movie made for peanuts delivers more eek factor than most $30 million studio projects. But seriously people—shit ain't that scary, particularly when you're worried that the guy sitting across the aisle might try to feed you to his imaginary friend.

Really, what saves this film from borderline suck is the boyfriend. He's a genuinely good guy (they do exist—I still believe) trying to do the right thing for the demon-bait he unwittingly agreed to cohabit with. He's the kind of guy you can't not root for—does right by his woman, cooks dinner, likes gadgets and porn (I don't trust guys who don't like porn. I dated a guy who didn't like porn, and he was a douche. So Not-Like-Porn = Douche. Yes folks, I did well on the LSAT with that logic). Too bad he gets a big fat demon foot up the—oh wait! I won't spoil it! You'll have to hit the asylum to see it yourself! And for Christ's sake don't forget the Xanax.

Melissa Lafsky really likes horror movies.