Complaints leveled against Children of the Corn: Genesis largely amount to “It hardly has any kids!” Well, good! God forbid a moribund franchise based on a Stephen King story tries to do something different, especially for one as far up as its eighth entry.
After a 1973 prologue pretty much unrelated to the remainder of the movie, married-and-expectant California couple Tim and Allie (Tim Rock and Kelen Coleman) are stranded in the middle of nowhere, thanks to car troubles. A brief walk puts them on the doorstep of rickety farmhouse occupied by the unfriendly Preacher (Billy Drago, The Untouchables‘ Frank Nitti) and his hot, young, European wife (Barbara Nedeljakova of both Hostels).
You know they’re in for the worst night of their middle-class lives because of the “rickety farmhouse” and “Billy Drago.” Soon enough and sure enough, a busted radiator and being unwelcome are the least of their worries. Finding that Preacher keeps a kid captive in a barn out back makes Tim and Allie need to figure out an escape not only for them, but that malnourished tot.
Pay no mind that this is not a prequel as the title suggests, nor that it bears little resemblance to the King tale. Genesis stands on its own quite well, heading into angles of poltergeists and possessions, leading me to believe it would be better-liked if not branded/burdened with the Corn name. However, without it, far fewer would see it. Ah, the Catch-22s of straight-to-video movies, which writer/director Joel Soisson (Mimic 2) can turn out better than most, right down to a cruel-for-a-laugh final shot. —Rod Lott
I was worried, but the 
Nick Jr. appears again in this installment, but he’s about 10 or 11 years old and not played for cute anymore. Dean Stockwell (TV’s 
I’ve never seen a horror movie that makes me feel as anxious as having to walk past a group of unchaperoned teenagers, regardless of the situation or location. One on one, I have no problems with the adolescent set, but gathered together, I find they can be as terrifying as suddenly running into a pack of feral dogs. Hollywood has long understood the fear we “old fogies” have for those whippersnappers, and has been too happy to exploit it for excellent dramatic effect.
It takes about one class for King to get on the bad side of these ruffians, led by a gifted maniac played by Timothy Van Patten (
Herschell Gordon Lewis, aka the Godfather of Gore, has still got it! By “it,” of course, I mean goofy jokes, amateurish acting, not-much-better direction, loads of gross-out shots and generally dirt-cheap production values, but if it all adds up to pure entertainment, who cares? 
Producers want to bring the hit cable series to network prime time, but not without changes that greatly upset host Jackie (Brooke McCarter, 
This gives way to a rollicking, stab-a-rific caper — perhaps even a love story between a lisping child and the demon to end all demons, bonding over harming innocents that include a pregnant woman, a newborn baby, a blind man, Dougie’s own father and many more. An elderly lady gets hanged to death on her porch by Satan, and Dougie, for whatever dipshit reason, thinks it’s the funniest trick he’s ever seen. Ditto for Satan squeezing Jenna’s generous breasts in her Renaissance slut costume. (“I can see your boomies!” says Dougie with a disturbing chuckle.)