Hell Opens… at a Police Station
You know you’re in for a rough night when your horror movie’s title sounds like a death metal band that never made it past garage rehearsals. Inkubus (2011), directed by Glenn Ciano and written by Carl Dupré, wants to be a sinister supernatural thriller about a demon tormenting cops on their last night in a doomed precinct. What it actually is, however, feels like a rejected Law & Order Halloween special directed by a guy who just discovered fog machines.
The premise has potential: a skeleton crew of officers working their final shift before the station’s demolition. Then Robert Englund, horror’s beloved Freddy Krueger himself, strolls in holding a severed head and a smirk that says, “I read the script, but I cashed the check.” From there, the film descends into chaos—though not the fun kind with jump scares and infernal terror. More the kind where you’re checking your watch and wondering how a movie with this cast feels like it cost $47 and a box of Dunkin’ Munchkins to make.
A Demon Walks Into a Police Station…
Here’s the setup: Inkubus, an ancient demon played with weary charisma by Englund, literally walks into the police station and turns himself in. You’d think this would lead to psychological mind games, possession, maybe some moral unraveling. Instead, it plays like a bad episode of CSI: Hell Edition, with everyone standing around, taking notes, and looking vaguely confused about what genre they’re in.
Englund delivers his lines with the gusto of a man who could recite demonic monologues in his sleep—and probably did, somewhere between this and his last convention appearance. His Inkubus is suave, sadistic, and occasionally funny, but he’s surrounded by performances that range from “community theater” to “local car commercial.”
The cops, led by William Forsythe’s perpetually scowling Detective Diamante, look less like a law enforcement unit and more like a collection of people who wandered onto the set of Reno 911! and decided to stay. Joey Fatone, yes that Joey Fatone from NSYNC, plays one of the detectives, and honestly, it’s hard not to root for him simply because he’s clearly trying. You can almost see the thought bubble over his head: “I survived Lou Pearlman. I can survive this.”
The Horror of Dialogue
If Inkubus were judged solely on its dialogue, it’d be a war crime. Every conversation sounds like it was written by someone who watched Se7en once, fell asleep halfway through, and decided they’d absorbed enough. Characters don’t so much talk as they exposit loudly at each other.
“Who is this guy?” one officer asks. “He’s a demon,” Forsythe growls. “He’s been killing for centuries.” That’s not a spoiler—it’s literally in the first ten minutes. The film spends the rest of its runtime re-explaining that point in various tones of confusion and disbelief, as though hoping repetition might summon coherence.
Even Englund can’t elevate lines like “I was killing when your kind were still learning to walk upright.” He tries—oh, he tries—but it’s like watching Shakespeare performed in a strip mall parking lot.
The Set: Haunted by Low Budget
The film takes place almost entirely inside the police station, which would be fine if the location had any atmosphere. Instead, it looks like a converted dentist’s office with fluorescent lighting and too much beige. The filmmakers clearly want it to feel claustrophobic, but it just feels empty—like someone forgot to dress the set until five minutes before shooting.
There are moments where the lighting department seems to remember this is supposed to be horror and slaps a red filter over everything, giving the film that distinctive “student project on a sugar high” aesthetic. You half-expect someone to trip over a cable and apologize mid-scene.
And when the violence starts, it’s neither shocking nor stylish. Gore is flung around with the enthusiasm of a toddler finger-painting, but none of it lands. The special effects look like they were bought secondhand from a Halloween supply store that went out of business in 1998.
Robert Englund: Still the Dream, in a Nightmare of a Movie
Let’s pause to appreciate Robert Englund, the man, the myth, the Freddy. He gives Inkubus more than it deserves—oozing menace and camp in equal measure. His grin alone could curdle milk. Yet even his charm can’t keep this movie afloat. Watching him deliver lines about medieval murders and “ancient bloodlines” feels like watching a Broadway actor forced to perform dinner theater.
Englund’s Inkubus should be terrifying, but the film undercuts him at every turn. The camera lingers too long, the editing wobbles, and the pacing is slower than a haunted Roomba. By the third act, you start to suspect Inkubus isn’t trying to kill anyone—he’s just trying to escape the script.
The Supporting Cast (of Victims and Regrets)
William Forsythe plays the jaded detective with his usual intensity—gravel-voiced, chain-smoking, and perpetually seconds away from a coronary. He’s great, but the movie treats him like he wandered in from a much better crime drama. Jonathan Silverman plays the tech guy, apparently on loan from a sitcom that got canceled halfway through shooting. And then there’s Dyan Kane as Dr. Emily Winstrom, who’s there to deliver exposition and look clinically concerned about everyone’s life choices.
Joey Fatone, bless his heart, gives one of those performances that reminds you acting is hard. Every time he appears, it’s like the film briefly becomes an *NSYNC reunion special directed by Satan. Still, he has more energy than half the cast combined, and in a movie this somnolent, that’s practically heroic.
The Pacing of Purgatory
Inkubus clocks in at just over 80 minutes, but it feels like three separate shifts at the police station. Every scene drags, with endless shots of people standing around, arguing about whether demons exist while the literal demon smirks two feet away.
By the time the blood starts flowing, you’re almost relieved—it’s the first thing that’s happened in ages. But even then, the climax fizzles out like a damp firecracker. The film’s “twist” ending is telegraphed from so far away you could spot it from space, and when it arrives, it’s less shocking and more, “Oh, we’re doing that? Sure. Why not?”
The Horror of Wasted Potential
What makes Inkubus especially tragic is that the idea isn’t terrible. A supernatural interrogation set in a dying police station could’ve been brilliant—a mix of Fallen, The Exorcist III, and The Usual Suspects. But instead of tension and dread, we get long, droning conversations and bargain-bin cinematography.
There’s no atmosphere, no suspense, and worst of all, no fun. Horror can be many things—bloody, silly, profound—but it should never be this boring. Inkubus takes a premise brimming with promise and drains it like a vampire allergic to creativity.
Final Verdict: The Devil Made Them Film It
In the end, Inkubus isn’t a movie—it’s a hostage situation. Robert Englund does his damnedest to make it entertaining, but even Freddy Krueger can’t dream his way out of this mess. The rest of the cast oscillates between confused and catatonic, the direction is flatter than the Rhode Island landscape, and the script feels like it was written by a Ouija board having an off day.
If you’re looking for a fun, demonic horror film, you’d be better off watching The Devil’s Advocate, or, frankly, reading the back of a hot sauce bottle.
Verdict: ★★☆☆☆
One star for Robert Englund, one star for Joey Fatone’s effort, and zero for everything else. Inkubus is proof that not even the Prince of Darkness can save you from poor lighting, weak dialogue, and an 80-minute eternity in beige purgatory.
