Hooper stages everything with expressive bursts of smoke and color that lends to an already elegant formal construction. The way his camera glides pushes for an immediacy when the primary narrative reaches its most absurd. Anchored by Ted Levine's world-weary cop, this baroque nightmare does hint at the pitfalls of industrialization, especially in the make-up of a small town. Fantastic schlock.
At least more crazy and active than other Hooper films, but it still further demonstrates his flash-in-the-pan stature in horror. It's easy to get sick of what this loud irritant is shoveling out really fast.
It's a Stephen King story about a possessed laundry machine that kills and folds people. You don't go into a movie like this expecting something complex like The Shining or The Green Mile. Still, for a ludicrously trashy yarn with shoddy acting and off-kilter pacing, Tobe Hooper manages to make it "work," thanks in part to a gloriously hammy performance from Robert Englund.