Main cast: Amelia Kinkade (Angela Franklin). Kris Holdenried (Vince), Gregory Calpakis (Nick), Patricia Rodriguez (Abbie), Stephanie Bauder (Holly), Tara Slone (Lois), Christian Tessier (Orson), Joel Gordon (Reggie), Larry Day (Officer Larry), and Vlasta Vrana (Lieutenant Dewhurst)
Director: Jimmy Kaufman

Welcome back to Hull House, folks! Yes, that’s right, someone looked at the diminishing returns of Night of the Demons 2 and thought, “You know what this franchise needs? A third helping!” Beating a dead horse isn’t just acceptable, it’s a business model.

Night of the Demons 3 follows the same tired formula as its predecessors with the dedication of a McDonald’s worker following the Big Mac assembly instructions, except with significantly less budget and even more questionable casting choices.

Once again, we open with Angela Franklin – or whatever demonic entity is cosplaying as her this week – dispatching some poor soul who made the brilliant decision to wander into Hull House. It’s like watching someone stick their hand into a blender and acting surprised when things go poorly.

Then, we get another batch of “teenagers” who look like they’ve been collecting social security for at least a decade. The plot kicks into gear when our merry band of middle-aged adolescents picks up cheerleader Holly and her friend after their car breaks down.

Their leader, Vince, had the bright idea of using a fake ID to buy beer – and this guy looks so old that the cashier probably asked for his AARP card instead of his driver’s license. Naturally, this sophisticated enterprise goes sideways faster than a shopping cart with a broken wheel, resulting in poor Reggie getting shot and the whole crew fleeing to the one place in town where people go to die horribly. It’s like choosing to hide from a serial killer in an abandoned summer camp – technically shelter, but probably not your best option.

At Hull House, our wounded hero Reggie gets the full “abandoned by his friends” treatment while Holly and the allegedly nice guy Nick try to escape. And when I say Nick is the “nice guy”, I mean that in the most relative sense possible – like being the least toxic person at a Chernobyl cleanup site. How nice can you really be when your friend circle includes sociopaths and crazies?

Now, let’s talk about this movie’s production values, or rather, the tragic absence thereof. From the opening credits, it’s crystal clear that the budget for this film was approximately seventeen dollars and whatever loose change the producers found in their couch cushions. The practical effects look like they were crafted by a middle school art class using supplies from a dollar store clearance bin. In one particularly memorable moment, what’s supposed to be a terrifying demonic creature is clearly just someone wearing a glove that’s been painted to look vaguely snake-like. It’s the kind of special effect that makes you appreciate just how sophisticated sock puppets can be.

This is genuinely tragic because the script, while not exactly destined for the Criterion Collection, actually attempts to return to the horror roots that made the first movie work. Sure, it’s basically a greatest hits cover album of the original – same house, same demons, same basic plot structure – but there are some genuinely solid ideas buried under all that budgetary incompetence. It’s like watching a talented musician try to perform a symphony on a kazoo: you can hear the potential, but the execution makes you want to cover your ears and pretend it’s not happening.

The movie does make a valiant attempt to subvert some horror stereotypes, though it’s about as subtle as a marching band in a library. You can spot the Final Girl from orbit because she’s literally the only character who doesn’t make you want to root for the demons. It’s process of elimination so obvious that even a concussed goldfish could figure out who’s making it to the credits.

Then there’s Lieutenant Dewhurst, a character concept so promising that it hurts to watch them waste it. He’s supposed to be the smart, wisecracking cop who actually wants to help the protagonists instead of dismissing them as hysterical teenagers (which would be fair, considering they look old enough to remember the Carter administration). It’s a great idea – a competent adult authority figure in a horror movie! – but his role never comes together, like a jigsaw puzzle missing half its pieces. He ends up being less cool cop and more the guy who showed up to work but forgot his lines.

Despite all these glaring flaws – the nonexistent budget, the recycled plot, the special effects that would embarrass a local public access show – there’s something oddly endearing about Night of the Demons 3. It’s technically terrible, but you can’t help but appreciate the effort.

There’s an undercurrent of genuine effort running through this trainwreck that makes it somewhat likable despite its many, many shortcomings. The movie tries so earnestly to recapture what made the original work that you almost want to pat it on the head and tell it that participation trophies exist for a reason.

So, even if it fails spectacularly at almost everything it attempts, the movie fails with such sincere effort that you can’t help but respect the hustle. Just don’t expect it to be good, scary, or particularly memorable beyond its impressive commitment to being aggressively okay.