Do you, like me, love to be scared? Really scared, edge-of-seat shaking terrified, as opposed to just grossed-out (although that too has its pleasures)? Sadly, I am almost never genuinely scared by a movie or book. Entertained, yes. Titillated now and then with a frisson. But I had almost forgotten what it is like to sit in a movie theater and think that you can’t stand it another minute because something’s going to happen, any second now, and you don’t know what, and you’re crushing your partner’s hand in a death-grip only he doesn’t notice because he’s hyperventilating. . . .
So we went to that French horror film Ils (Them) tonight.  It’s good. If you are interested in that sort of thing, I have a word of advice: Don’t read reviews, don’t look it up on the Internet, and certainly don’t even let your eyes fall on the movie poster or ad. I’m completely serious. A great part of the eerie, ghastly thrill of this movie was that right up to the end I could not be entirely certain exactly what was going on. Too much advance knowledge–any, really–would greatly have diminished the experience.

And now, if you can believe the ghastly horror of my own situation, I have another six pages on Forensics to write before I can turn in.