Horror anthology films are generally a mixed bag, and that's also been the case across V/H/S' found-footage franchise which launched in 2012. Like the first three, the fourth V/H/S installment, V/H/S/94, varies in quality, but its overall entertainment value may be the highest of the series to date. After 2014's disappointing V/H/S: Viral, V/H/S/94 puts the franchise back on track as a pre-eminent showcase for indie horror filmmakers. Here, that includes a couple of returning V/H/S veterans (Simon Barrett and Timo Tjahjanto), along with series newcomers Jennifer Reeder, Chloe Okuno, and Ryan Prows.

Reeder kicks things off with a wraparound story, which follows the same basic structure as the wraparounds from previous V/H/S movies, and is similarly underwhelming. The purpose of this segment is to provide context for the various "videos" that contain each separate segment, and all it really needs to do is show some characters discovering mysterious videotapes. Reeder accomplishes that task in her story about a police raid on a labyrinthine compound full of video monitors and people who seem to have been gruesomely killed by watching what's shown on the screens. One character calls it "a far-out fetish film cult," and that's enough. It doesn't come to a satisfying or coherent conclusion, but neither do the franchise's other wraparound movies.

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V/H/S/94

As the title implies, V/H/S/94 takes place in 1994, a prime era for VHS tape. The anthology's first segment takes the most advantage of its period setting. Okuno lovingly and often hilariously recreates a cheesy local news broadcast, complete with groan-worthy banter and terrible fashion. A reporter (Anna Hopkins) is investigating sightings of what sounds like an urban legend, a creature that people call "Rat Man." Her report starts with straightforward interviews of concerned citizens, but as she and her cameraman venture into a storm drain, the report takes a dangerous turn.

Okuno's segment is ultimately more comical than scary, ending on a note of gross-out absurdity. It even includes a ridiculous mock-infomercial clip directed by PG: Psycho Goreman filmmaker Steven Kostanski. But it's clever and stylish with some nice surprises along the way. Just when it seems to be following one particular formula, it switches gears unexpectedly.

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V/H/S/94

Barrett's second segment is more of a traditional horror piece, albeit effectively executed. A lone funeral home employee is assigned to oversee an overnight wake for a dead man, but no one shows up to mourn him. The man's family has insisted that the wake be recorded, so there are cameras set up around the room, ideal for capturing the woman's reactions to the requisite flickering lights and strange noises. Eventually, one creepy guy does arrive, and his brief visit sets even more terrifying events in motion.

Barrett, who previously wrote and/or directed segments in the first two V/H/S movies, keeps things fairly simple until the gore-soaked finale. Barrett's segment features some of the series' strongest special effects. His segment is a methodical slow build, which is rare for the chaotic found-footage format of the series, but it makes for an appealing change of pace, with a quick but unsettling payoff.

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Fellow series veteran Tjahjanto, whose V/H/S/2 contribution is one of the highlights of the entire franchise, takes the opposite approach to Barrett with a gonzo story. In Tjahjanto's short, a mad scientist abducts people and performs sadistic experiments on them in hopes to create cyborgs. Most of the segment is from the point of view of one of these experiments -- a woman conveniently has a camera implanted in her head. As a police unit raids the doctor's laboratory, Tjahjanto shows officers recoiling from the main character's grotesque appearance, while teasing the audience with how horrifying she must look.

Much of the segment resembles a first-person shooter video game. The confused main character faces would-be rescuers who turn into attackers, and tries to figure out what's happened to her. The creature designs for the scientist's creations are suitably disturbing, but there's so much graphic, sustained violence that the segment eventually becomes tiresome, even as Tjahjanto's creativity remains impressive.

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The final segment offers some pointed modern-day social commentary while maintaining the 1994 setting. Prows comes up with an interesting take on vampires, employed as organic weapons by a group of right-wing militants in Michigan, planning to attack a federal building. Prows portrays the militants as dumb but dangerous, but he doesn't leave them as ridiculous caricatures. He captures the rural environment that's home to this kind of sentiment, and demonstrates how pernicious it can be as it spreads throughout the community. He also shows off some gnarly vampire kills, in a climax that is intense and a bit tough to follow.

V/H/S/94 ends with the frustrating conclusion of the framing sequence, but the cumulative result is still positive. The anthology format offers endless possibilities -- even when sticking to the found-footage approach -- which the filmmakers here stretch in various ways. There are plenty of options for future installments as there are always more sinister tapes to discover.

Directed by Jennifer Reeder, Chloe Okuno, Simon Barrett, Timo Tjahjanto and Ryan Prows, V/H/S/94 premieres Wednesday, Oct. 6 on Shudder.

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