The concept is pretty intriguing: A quaint New England college campus is terrorized by a faceless killer who draws inspiration from "urban legends" . . . You know, those hazy un-truths that strike fear into the hearts of modern man like the old lady who tries to dry her cat in the microwave or the killer is making the calls . . . from inside the house.
Alicia Witt is our obligatory "nice" heroine. Her friends and colleagues - "obnoxious joker," "doubting frat boy," "gothic slut," "floozy blonde," and "newspaper editor/jr detective" - begin to die. Someone is out to get Ms. Witt . . . Who could it be beneath the not-scary parka? You don't have to wait long before suspects begin to die off and a motley crew of hilarious red herrings ("mad professor," "stuttering gas station attendant," "dean-in-denial," "creepy janitor") begin to pop out of the dark at opportune moments.