Boundless scenes of 'the Stuff' bubbling and moving in a very non-threatening manner take up the bulk of the narrative. A manageable handful of deaths occur, either from 'Stuff addiction' or from being pointlessly shot, and only one memorable animatronic body mutation is recorded. Ultimately, a substantial lack of substance that even the likes of R.L. Stine would deem scare-less. While not dismissing the film's evident merits - the hokey stabs at political satire, the endearingly poor acting, the endless superimposed images and sketchy animations to curb costs, the entire script - its cult stature seems somewhat undeserved. Whereas its genre's doppelgängers such as Carpenter's They Live (1988), Jackson's Bad Taste (1987), Muro's Street Trash (1987) sustain an invincible magnetism, Cohen's The Stuff has lost almost all of its allure.