Taking the “born in the wrong generation,” shtick and pastiche to a completely new and horrifying level, Last Night in Soho bears the brunt of pigeon-holed nostalgia paired with the underwhelming static of the modern horror genre. Reigniting some fire into that genre is a near-lost cause. Edgar Wright may have a firm hand in that style, always using it one way or another in his films, but never focusing on it all that much. Shaun of the Dead had typical horror elements lying dormant under the barrage of laughter, and Hot Fuzz had the terrifying pretence that small English towns were fuelled by murder and funnelled that raw aggression into winning small-town prizes. None of that features in Last Night in Soho, a more streamlined look at the horror genre with a desire to replicate the period without crossing into a full parody of it. Wright and Thomasin McKenzie are well-meaning in their efforts here.