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Ah, good old Hollywood nepotism. It landed Sean Stone, Oliver’s boy, a gig as part of the “investigative team” on Jesse Ventura’s since-cancelled “reality”  TV show Conspiracy Theory, and when that didn’t pan out, it got him a job directing the atrociously lame 2012 “found footage” horror flick we’re here to take a look at today, Greystone Park (now playing on Netflix instant streaming, as per my self-imposed — and already broken once or twice, sorry — rules for this month).

Certainly the younger Stone’s ostensible “talent” alone didn’t win him this less-than-plum assignment, as none seems to be in evidence, but the premise — a film crew decides to spend a night in an abandoned mental institution (the titular Greystone Park) known for its radical — and radically inhumane — treatments like electroshock “therapy,” lobotomy, sensory deprivation, all that jazz, is at least mildly promising. These days the place is, of course, rumored to be haunted.

Surprise! Those rumors prove to be fact, and as  faux-shaky hand-held camerawork documents this entire series of purportedly “true” events, you won’t jump or squirm or shudder even once, because you’ve seen all this stuff before.

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Speaking of been there and done that, in tried and true “mocukmentary”  fashion our intrepid cast consists of Pete Antico as Pete, Zana Markelson as Zana, John Schramm as John, Monique Zordan as Monique, Monique van Vooren as another Monique, Coralie Charrriol Paul as Coralie, Antonella Lentini as Antonella, Stone and his co-writer, Alex Wraith, as Sean and Alex, respectively, and even daddy Oliver stops in for a turn as, you guessed it, Oliver. Gosh, it all seems so real, doesn’t it?

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Anyway, into the old asylum (this flick has also been released under the alternate title of The Asylum Tapes overseas, but it doesn’t really matter what you call it — shit is shit, after all) they all (well, okay, most, since not everyone hung around for the entire shoot, and who could blame them?) go , and the standard questions begin swirling,  most notably who will live?, who will die?  — you get the picture.

The best question of all, though, is who will care ? Certainly not you, if you have any sense.

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If it sounds like I’m being pretty hard on,  or even outright dismissive of,  Greystone Park, well — guilty as charged. This is a movie with absolutely nothing going for it, and while a fair number of flicks we’ve reviewed around these parts lately — Willow CreekThe DenAbsenceThe Conspiracy — ably demonstrate that “found footage” horror hasn’t completely shot its wad yet, this is one that makes you think that all the naysayers ought to bury this particular subgenre might be right after all.

Rancid, boring, predictable, and tedious, if this is the best Sean Stone can do, it’s well past time for him to consider selling power tools or digging ditches for a living. I’m sure a phone call from dad will be more than enough to get him hired at any hardware store or assigned to any manual labor crew. There’s nothing more for you behind a camera, pal —  go on out there and hustle up an honest living.

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