One thing remains constant with horror-movie fans: they wanna' be scared. Though it seems almost impossible to actually SCARE anyone these days (with exception to last year's critically underrated and downright terrifying The Ring), we'll at least settle for something substantially "horrifying"—something more akin to the last golden age of horror films, the 1970's.
Rob Schmidt's Wrong Turn moves in that direction, with a story closer to Tobe Hooper's brilliant The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Wes Craven's now-dated The Hills Have Eyes than the wink-wink, nudge-nudge irony of the Scream trilogy. Though nowhere near the genius of Hooper's vision, Wrong Turn (horror fans hold your breath) holds its own against Craven's The Hills with suspense, gore, terror, and some well-placed humor. It's not a GREAT movie, but for what it is, Wrong Turn is certainly enjoyable, and tighter in execution than Rob Zombie's '70s attempt with The House of 1,000 Corpses (though you gotta admire Zombie for trying). You won't feel adequately soiled upon viewing Wrong Turn (that's a REAL '70s horror-film experience) and you'll probably sleep fine afterwards (unless you've got a camping trip planned), but you will be engaged watching the thing, and even, oddly cheerful at the outcome.

The story is exactly as the title states. Desmond Harrington plays Chris, a medical student who takes a detour while driving through West Virginia in his sporty vintage Mustang. When he smacks into the back of a jeep sitting in the road, his car is wrecked, ruining his ideas of finding an access road anytime soon. The Jeep occupants, happily, aren't a group of scary Hillbillies (the film has already sent up the redneck red flag with a creepy gas station attendant—West Virginian's must be thrilled) but some twenty-somethings who're lost with a munched car. The tires have been blown due to a mysterious wire in the road. Hmm…wonder whom that could belong to? Deeply inbred cannibalistic mountain men perhaps?

No one's the wiser quite yet as we meet hot-young-thing Jessie (Eliza Dushku), gooey-gooey-in-love couple Carly (Emmanuelle Chriqui) and Scott (Jeremy Sisto) as well as potheads Francine (Lindy Booth) and Evan (Kevin Zegers). Leaving the weed smokers back with the car, the others set out to find a phone. Scott's signal isn't working, which isn't hard to believe if you've ever driven through a mountainous back-road with a cheap cell phone. Soon after, Francine and Evan are slaughtered by something that looks not entirely human.

Meanwhile, our living young heroes stumble onto a cabin they dread entering ("May I remind you of a movie called Deliverance?" a character asks) but must in order to find a phone. Inside, the cabin proves disgusting—something even Ed Gein would find messy—with jars of teeth, a bizarre, gamy looking stew bubbling on the stove, and a refrigerator of human remains. And that's just the half of it. After lingering on these items longer than any reasonable person would (why in God's name would anyone open the fridge in that place?) they decide to exit. Only, it's too late. The mountain men return with their booty—Francine's corpse. In a frightening and grotesque sequence, Jessie and Chris witness the hideous hacking of Francine's leg while hiding under a bed. Once the inbreds doze off, the four slowly attempt to get out of "the garage sale from hell." But when the door slams, the disfigured, ravenous creatures wake up.

So here comes the rest of the movie—attempting to escape these creatures through the picturesque backdrop of the Appalachian Mountains (filmed in Canada). Running through woods, stealing cars, jumping into trees, and hiding under a waterfall all occur as the group a little TOO calmly (hysterics are always nice) flee from monsters who look more like an inbred race of Klingons than humans. With makeup a bit overdone, you'll wonder if the film would have been scarier had the villains been simply off looking, more like Hooper's Chainsaw family than balding, longhaired goblins with names that sound like rap singers—Three Finger, One Eye, and Saw Tooth.

Still, the creatures are shot darkly and the camera rarely fixes on them long enough for viewers to get a good eyeful. Intelligently, director Schmidt knew that the less you see the better. Which also accounts for the film's gore. Though we DO witness some sick stuff, it's never gratuitous on the level of pointless revulsion, which will undoubtedly disappoint some viewers.

Wrong Turn is tense, well directed, adequately acted and frequently funny—one scene involving a police officer will have more people howling than anything from Bruce Almighty. And the film's finale, which utilizes a little trick (so stay seated once the credits start rolling), will garner a chuckle. It's no Ring and certainly no Chainsaw Massacre, but Wrong Turn makes some right moves in never being, thank goodness, Scream 3.