The Pony and I dodged The Devil this morning, and went to see Apollo 18.
That's the best I can do. It was not nearly as good as I had hoped. It had kind of a Blair Witch Project feel to it. And it was kind of slow-moving.
There was a passel of teenage boys who rambled in at the last minute to fill an entire row. I think they were bored out of their gourds. One by one, they got up to get candy or go to the bathroom or wander aimlessly or perhaps sit in another theater to see something more exciting. Like The Help.
One thing Apollo 18 had going for it was the GOTCHA factor. Several scenes had me recoiling from the screen, from surprise. Kind of like when Jason pops out of the lake at the end of Friday the 13th. Oops! SPOILER! Hope nobody that hasn't seen that movie made in 1980 is reading. Or like when Carrie's hand reaches out of the rubble of her house to grab at Sue Snell. Oops! I did it again. 1976, people. If you haven't seen these classics by now, you deserve spoilage.
Anyhoo, I can't really recommend Apollo 18, except to hard-core conspiracy theorists. A better monster might have helped. Too much Alien factor without a decent alien.