Baskin at its heart both reveals and revels in the self-defeating, inescapable rituals of masculinity, and the visceral, inescapable horrors that can accompany them.

Stylishly mounted, well paced, with clever use of flashbacks, and written with panache.

For all the mortified, mottled flesh and salacious shots of butcher's equipment, Baskin is just not very frightening.

Can Evrenol's film would make for a great double feature with Tales From the Hood, if you were looking to center your sense of overwhelming horror in latex and goo on screen and not in real life flesh and blood.