PAUL (Lukas Hassel) and JENNIFER HEMDALE (Natasha Henstridge) have just moved into their dream house. But their happy marriage is about to be put to the test as they slowly discover the secret behind the black room in the cellar.

Director and writer Rolfe Kanefsky has definitely created an interesting premise: a dream home is actually infested with demons that prey on the sexual desires of mortals, this time on Paul (Lukas Hassel) and Jennifer Hemdale (Natasha Henstridge), a married couple with a surprisingly active sex life. However, Paul soon becomes possessed by the entity that lives in the basement, turning him into a ferocious incubus that claims several victims, from Jennifer’s goth-girl sister Karen (Augie Duke) to the pervy plumber Oscar (Robert Donavan). It’s up to Jennifer to rescue her husband from the creature that has possessed him and get the hell out of this house. 

Ultimately, The Black Room needs to decide if it wants to be scary or funny. It takes itself far too seriously to be a comedy, but somehow ends up being laughable. Much like the sex life of the film’s nymphomaniacal married couple, The Black Room attempts to be sexy and thrilling, but is ultimately cringeworthy. 

Henstridge in particular is a veteran actress in a variety of well-known films, including Species (1995) and The Whole Nine Yards (2000), which makes her a promising lead. I honestly give both Henstridge and Hassel a pass–even Gary Oldman couldn’t bring life to the cliched, spoon-fed script (believe it or not, characters do not have to loudly announce every thought they have when alone in a room). They should be given a humanitarian award for their efforts, at the very least. 

I would be lying if I did not commend the film on trying to take several risks, including a good amount of gore that can keep all the sickos satisfied, and by attempting to pay homage to the titillating exploitative B-movies that often boasted an excessive amount of nudity. However, there is a notable difference between classic transgressive grindhouse films and a film that is grown man’s idea of what a 15-year-old boy’s fantasy is like. Similar to the phallic demonic appendage that Jennifer Hemdale rips from the stomach of a female victim in the basement, the execution of the film’s overt sexuality is slapped across your face and rammed down your throat like a big… well, you know. The Black Room is good in theory and bad in practice–no amount of originality can save this film from its utterly misogynistic objectification that masquerades as sexual prowess. 

I wish I could suggest this film if one was in need of a good laugh, but they would be laughing in all the wrong places.