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At the hotel on the California-Nevada border, seven strangers meet: a cleric, a soul singer, a street vendor, two sisters, the director and the mysterious Billy Lee - on a fateful night. Each of them has a mysterious secret and a painful past. The hotel turns into a battle between these seven under mysterious circumstances and bad things.
Bad Times at the El Royale starts with a lot of promise and a full head of steam; even half-way through I was engaged. But the movie eventually careens off the track.
Though imperfect, is saved by its magnificent first two-thirds, its A-list cast that stuns and shares the spotlight in rounds, its infectious selection of songs sung to divine perfection.
This Irwin-Allen-sized B-movie mostly works thanks to Goddard's knack for nesting-doll-style narrative compartmentalization and his talent for bringing out the best in his uniformly strong ensemble cast...
Careful framing, mysterious characters, slow builds, violent surprises, and a dynamite parade of very nearly on-the-nose songs from the mid- to late-1960s