Beware the first weekend in January. It is the dumping ground, the time of year studio’s choose to release films guaranteed to disappear from theaters within a week, are panned by critics and appear on DVD shelves seemingly just a couple of months later. The first weekend in January is for the dogs; Hollywood knows it, critics know it and lord know moviegoers unlucky enough to wander into any of its new releases know it, too. They just find it out after forking over ten dollars of their hard-earned money.

There are exceptions to the rule, of course, horror movies in particular discovering the first month of the year to be prime time to unleash their spooky wares. For fans of the genre, this can be a treat, many of these, while not critical darlings, sure to satisfy their need for blood and guts. This is where the new movie “Hostel” from writer-director Eli Roth comes in. Unscreened for critics (at least here in Seattle) and produced under the aegis of Quentin Tarantino, Roth’s follow-up to his cult gore-fest “Cabin Fever” is far more self-assured and expertly made then the usual January release. It is a splendidly plotted gross-out, taking the genre’s slasher and sadomasochistic conventions and spinning them tightly upon a severed ear. If last year was the beginning of the end for horror films, Roth shows there is still life – life in death – in the old girl yet.

Don’t let this lead you to believe “Hostel” is the horrific thrill ride genre fans have been waiting for. It’s not, and while it does come tantalizingly close to being so it’s just too masochistic and ugly to actually make it. Worse, it’s just not scary. Unsettling, sure, and Roth definitely knows how to twist a person’s stomach into ever-tightening knots. As for scares, however, there really aren’t any, and no amount of blood splattering against the screen can change that.

Luckily, what Roth does do is engender interest in and empathy for his two main characters. Surprising, really, because a film about two hedonistic Americans backpacking across Europe looking for sex, alcohol and marijuana isn’t exactly my cup of tea. More so, the two guys; extrovert Paxton (Jay Herandez) and introvert Josh (Derek Richardson); are remarkably homophobic, Roth using some of the most noxiously virulent gay stereotypes this side of a 1980’s Eddie Murphy comedy. And yet, by the time the twosome discovers they’ve been tricked into staying at a Slovakian hostel that doubles as a farm for a murderous house of horrors, I was more than a bit astonished to discover I actually cared for the duo.

This is because Roth wisely dives into things slowly, using the first thirty minutes to let the audience get to know the characters and the world they inhabit. The recent Australian horror movie “Wolf Creek” did this, too, only there it took a sleep-inducing hour and built to a “what the f**k?!?!” climax so upsetting it made sitting in the theater feel like an agonizing waste of time. Thankfully, Roth doesn’t follow that example, realizing you can subvert genre all you want just as long as you remember to give the audience at least one thing to hold on to.

I’m not saying you need a happy ending; not at all. What I am saying is that you have to get to a point by the end where the audience feels like they’ve earned something for all their heart palpitations. After watching a kid snap a couple of tendons in his freshly scalpel-cut ankles or a woman lose her eye to a blow torch, viewers want some comeuppance for the villains after having to deal with all this sadistic ultra-violence. The protagonist doesn’t have to get away (and I’m not about to reveal if they do here) but they do have to inflict enough payback that our seat-squirming ends up being justified.

For the most part, Roth manages to achieve this goal, keeping our attentions riveted on our heroes as they literally go through hell trying to escape. The filmmaker ratchets up the tension beautifully, twisting the net tighter and tighter until we’re sure there’s absolutely no way for the duo to get out before their spines are snapped in two. Along the way, those we hate the most are dealt with as wickedly as a bloodthirsty audience could ever hope for, even the most liberal and nonviolent amongst us secretly cheering when one of the bad guys finds their head underneath the tire of a speeding car.

Still, the fact that “Hostel” is as repugnant and disquieting as it is but not remotely scary is a major problem. The production design is a downer, the whole thing looking like the S&M dungeon-style world of “Saw” crossed with the dingy dankness of “Seven,” more than a couple moments so derivative of those shockers (and of “Silence of the Lambs,” “Last House on the Left” and – of all things – “Hard Target”) it’s impossible not to take note. It’s also nowhere near as clever and witty as Roth obviously thinks it is, the director too enraptured with his own creation to notice how implausible and downright repulsive some of it really is.

Still, the movie sticks with you and is extremely well made. Roth manages some innovative moves, most notably using a camera phone as something integral to the plot progression and not as a dimwitted product placement. It is also much better acted then these things usually are, both John Vlasák and Rick Hoffman turning in bit performances so disturbingly memorable they’re impossible to forget.

Let’s be clear. Pictures like this one are not remotely for everyone. It is deranged and diseased, reveling in human degradation and torture so heinous a person should probably have their head examined when they choose to go and see it. But if this is your cup of tea (and if it is you, like me, already know who you are) Roth has managed to craft something that should meet your expectations and then some. It may not be a place a person would ever want to stay, but for a vacation spot venturing into the world of the sick and twisted a person could do a heck of a lot worse then grabbing a bed in “Hostel.”