Any hatred toward the Rosemary’s Baby prequel Apartment 7A seems misplaced to me. After all, look what happened to Look What’s Happened to Rosemary’s Baby. I mean, director Sam O’Steen obviously is no Roman Polanski, but did anyone involved with this sequel see the original? (You, too, Ruth Gordon.)

The made-for-TV abortion picks up a handful of years after the 1968 classic film. Mia Farrow demonstrates good instincts for once by not returning as Rosemary, so Patty Duke fills the role with her Valley of the Dolls histrionics. Irked that her son’s bedroom is decorated with items from Hobby Lobby’s Goebbels/LaVey collab, Rosemary flees the home of those satanic Castavets with the tot, Andrew. Mother and child go on the run.

But because Minnie Castavet (Gordon) has somehow acquired GPS-enabled ESP, she’s able not only to pinpoint their location, but tell if a “colored fella” is present, too. Soon, a woman named Marjean (Tina Louise, SST: Death Flight) kidnaps Andrew by tricking Rosemary to get stuck on a bus driven by … no one! No one at all! AAAIIIEEEEE!

Prologue over, we meet adult Andrew (future Pontypool DJ Stephen McHattie, actually decent), having been raised in a “castle casino” by the ginger Marjean and her unflattering hairdo. There’s a devilish battle brewing for his bod to bring about a new dawn, but Andrew has not yet demonstrated his worthiness to obtain all of Papa Satan’s powers — not with those tiny, red laser-pointer eyes of his. The satanists’ bizarre ritual involves painting his face like a mime and dancing to fuzzed-out music.

Then a freak storm sends Andrew to a clinic where Donna Mills (Nope) works and pronounces “comatose” as “comma-toes” before mounting him to extract his demon seed and get it all up in there.

Although I never expected greatness, much less goodness, from this ABC Friday Night Movie, I don’t think it’s unfair to expect something resembling an effort. Not only is it tonally distant from its Academy Award-winning predecessor, it’s also dreadfully bad. Since Gordon was nearing 80, it’s possible she did not give a fuck and just wanted to work to stave death. Plus, it wasn’t like her Oscar would be rescinded — a knowledge nugget her onscreen spouse, the equally minted Ray Milland (taking over for the deceased Sidney Blackmer), also may have kept in mind.

Meager even by television’s lowered standards, the primetime-friendly horror elements feel disconnected from what Baby established; in fact, they have more in common with what was just around the bend: namely, Exorcist II: The Heretic and Dance Fever (you can choose which episode). Even worse, they make no sense.

This coven needed another bake in the oven. —Rod Lott

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Since 2012, the V/H/S franchise has emerged as the definitive, modern horror anthology series. (Sorry, The ABCs of Death, we hardly knew thee.) Unfortunately, save V/H/S/2 and V/H/S/94, few of the collections have offered a compelling reason to rewind and rewatch. Sure, we might revisit “Storm Drain” and “Safe Haven,” but one compelling segment never single-handedly saves an entire film. The series’ latest entry, V/H/S/Beyond, doesn’t feature the best shorts across the entire franchise. It does, however, offer one of the most cohesive experiences yet.

Framed by a mockumentary directed, written and starring Jay Cheel (Shudder’s Cursed Films), the anthology’s interludes explore the viability of two tapes allegedly containing proof of extraterrestrial life. It dials down the intensity of the previous films’ frame narratives, but it’s nonetheless memorable and interesting. It also wraps up with a confusing, albeit creative and stomach-churning climax.

The shorts themselves offer a mix everything. While loose sci-fi seems to be the connective thread, most feel like they could’ve easily been plugged into one of the previous entries. That said, it’s nice to have them all in one flick, even if only a few reach very far “beyond.”

Jordan Downey’s “Stork” and Justin Martinez’s “Live and Let Dive” are the most thrilling entries by a mile. “Stork” is a zombie-filled police raid oozing with [REC] residue. “Live and Let Dive,” on the other hand, pushes the boundaries of found footage through an intense sky-diving sequence. However, its luster wanes a bit, as Martinez overexposes his monsters despite an extremely short runtime. Virat Pal’s “Dream Girl” falls in a similar camp, though what could’ve been the most substantial short quickly descends into a hollow — and hard-to-see — splatter fest.

Christian and Justin Long’s (yes, that Justin Long) “Fur Babies” is perhaps the furthest removed from the overarching theme, but emerges as the most deranged and delightful segment. Imagine if Dr. Moreau and Annie Wilkes from Misery started a doggy daycare business. This inherently goofy premise goes full Tusk, yet unlike Kevin Smith’s podcast-inspired horror, doesn’t overstay its welcome.

V/H/S/Beyond saves the best for last with Kate Siegel and Mike Flanagan’s “Stowaway.” It’s an intriguing look into obsession that features a final shot and prosthetic not far off from the creature effects of 2014’s Spring. It’s also so damn sad, pulling at an emotional cord that most V/H/S stories don’t even consider, let alone try to approach. Even so, “Stowaway” still feels like it could’ve benefited from an extra few minutes and clearer camera work, though addressing the latter could infringe on the short’s level of intimacy.

If anything, V/H/S/Beyond hopefully sets a new standard for what the franchise can be. It sits in that funny space where it doesn’t blow past all other entries, but offers a variety not seen in the previous installments. If you can only pick one anthology film to fill out your Halloween movie marathon, you should just rewatch Creepshow. Though V/H/S/Beyond would be a solid second choice. —Daniel Bokemper

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Who doesn’t love a good old fashioned evil kid movie? From bona fide classics like The Bad Seed and The Omen to “trashier” fare like Bloody Birthday and the underrated Devil Times Five, there’s just something special about seeing prepubescent boys and girls slaughtering those around them.

Situated somewhere below the line of quality and good taste is Mikey, which bears the tagline “Remember, Jason and Freddie [sic] were kids once, too,” which lets you know exactly what kind of movie this is. Though it never gets quite as violent as the films in those franchises, the intent is clear: We’re here to see a psycho child off people in increasingly creative ways.

Mikey never really gets as creatively brutal as it could, giving audiences a movie that no doubt ran mostly uncut on basic cable back in the ’90s. Starring as the titular bad boy is Brian Bonsall, known primarily as the youngest Keaton child on Family Ties and from the Disney fever dream Blank Check. The audience is tipped off pretty quickly that Mikey is disturbed when he kills his entire foster family within the first 10 minutes.

He claims an intruder committed the crimes, and is hurriedly placed with another couple, played by John Diehl and Mimi Craven. The question then becomes: How soon will little Mikey kill again? We don’t have to wait terribly long, as the boy soon becomes obsessively infatuated with his friend’s older sister (Josie Bissett, All-American Murder), and plots to get rid of her boyfriend the only way he knows how. Ashley Laurence of Hellraiser fame plays the boy’s teacher, the only adult who knows something about Mikey just isn’t right.

If you’re looking for a frank exploration of child psychology and patterns of violence, don’t look here. Also, don’t look to Mikey if you prefer that good triumphs over evil in your entertainment, because you won’t find any of that here. Watch this movie only if you’re in the mood for some pure-grade schlock wrapped up in a nasty, 90-minute package. —Christopher Shultz

Get it at Amazon.