William Friedkin cranks up the aesthetic meds in "Bug," a garden-variety variant of the psycho-solider genre which should snare first-weekend horror fans as surely as a No-Pest strip. A genre film torched with psychological accelerants, "Bug" is narratively compacted into a single motel room, a cinematic space akin to the cramp of a Santa Monica Boulevard no-Equity theater. With his vigorous camera compositions and a talented cast, he manages to straddle a wickedly fine line between taught portrayal of paranoia and parody of paranoia.

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