I love intelligent horror. I'm not a fan of torture porn/slasher flicks. I love Hitchcockian subtlety, and nerve-jangling set-ups. This film has none of the above. It begins promisingly enough with a brooding college student accepting a ride home for the holidays from a stranger who's posted an available lift on the campus ride-board. How many times did I myself catch a ride home in this manner while in school...always feeling a tiny bit chilled by the possibility of danger. Her driver, an odd young man, is full of mystery. It appears that he knows a wee bit too much about his passenger. Interesting premise. Then all hell breaks loose. The script descends into horror cliché ("Penny Dreadful" did the trapped-in-the-woods routine much better) and inarticulation. In short, it makes no sense. Oh sure, there's the dime-story theology and philosophy that's supposed to make this mess look cerebral. But, it never quite delivers--leaving viewers scratching their heads and asking "who was that?"..."what was that?" and "huh?" Pity, because Emily Blunt is terrific. Unfortunately, her character has the IQ of a grapefruit, which makes her a tough gal with whom to sympathize. <br /><br />Incidentally, comparing this film to the brilliant "Rosemary's Baby" is blasphemous. Polanski's masterpiece is still the gold-standard by which fright flicks are judged--40 years after its release. Who will be discussing "Wind Chill" six months after its straight-to-video debut?