This cold, contract-bound remake fails to capture the chilling essence of its source — but still boasts moments of eerie charm and unexpected star power.

When Village of the Damned landed in cinemas in 1995, it was already staring down the impossible — updating a revered British sci-fi horror tale (The Midwich Cuckoos by John Wyndham) and stepping into the shoes of the eerie, monochrome classic from 1960. And despite the might of genre legend John Carpenter behind the camera, the result was a forgettable misfire, marked by studio compromise and artistic disinterest.

The story still carries a chilling premise: a mysterious force knocks out a coastal town in California, and shortly afterward, every woman of childbearing age turns up pregnant. The children born from this strange phenomenon are pale, intelligent, and utterly devoid of empathy. It’s fertile ground for psychological horror and social allegory — but this version mostly settles for surface-level spooks and some unfortunately lifeless storytelling.

Christopher Reeve (in what would be his final film role before his tragic accident) brings dignity and gravitas as the town’s conflicted doctor, while Mark Hamill, in an uncharacteristically stern role, plays the local reverend. Seeing Superman and Luke Skywalker in the same frame offers a brief thrill for fans, but even their presence can’t overcome the flat tone and narrative inertia. Lindsay Haun as Mara, the children’s chilling leader, is one of the few bright spots — channeling icy menace with a gaze that deserves better framing.

Carpenter himself later admitted that Village of the Damned was a contractual obligation — and it shows. Absent is the spark of passion or innovation that shaped his earlier masterpieces. Even the usually standout Carpenter score feels half-hearted, composed in collaboration with Dave Davies of The Kinks but largely forgettable. What little levity the film does offer comes in moments of unintentional humour or scenery-chewing camp, rather than any clever writing.

And yet, there’s something strangely watchable about it. Maybe it’s the morbid curiosity of watching a great filmmaker go through the motions, or the way the story’s unnerving core still peeks through the cracks — a disturbing parable about control, conformity, and fear of the unknown. But in the end, this Village feels more like a ghost town.

• Saul Muerte