Were it not for televised news reports, it's entirely possible that Ben, Barbara, and the other doomed travelers in Night of the Living Dead might have believed they were combating an outbreak of violent mania, rather than a pandemic of resurrected corpses. Remove those two minutes, and it's a completely different story. Trey Edward Shults' It Comes at Night is that story, sort of. A family barricades itself in a wooded house, fending off an illness/supernatural (hyper-natural?) malevolent force. Supplies are as limited as trust in strangers, and oxygen masks and gloves are mandatory when stepping outside. Shults and company present danger, paranoia, and infrequent moments of hope subjectively--a technique that will leave some shaking their heads in frustration (who or what "It" is remains a mystery), and have others applauding the filmmakers' ability to focus our attention on fears so primal they'd make the bogeyman dive for the covers.