One might anticipate a shockingly bleak denouement from a Stephen King adaptation, as in the desperate familicide of The Mist. Or from some arthouse nihilism, as in the horrific self-sacrifice of Martyrs. But a PG-13 horror comedy from the man who’d just finished helming the first Spider-Man trilogy? And yet Drag Me to Hell left audiences so shellshocked that screenings should have been accompanied by free therapy.
