New York Post

If you can stomach the lavish gore, The Beyond also treats you to a three-ring circus of atrocious acting, loopy dialogue, a cheesy wah-wah guitar and synthesizer score and endless jump-out-at-you shocks. [12 Jun 1998, p.053]

Christian Science Monitor by David Sterritt

There's more than enough gruesomeness to keep hard-core horror fans screaming, but others should stay a million miles away - or 2 million, if spiders make you squirm. [12 Jun 1998, p.B2]

Chicago Tribune by Michael Wilmington

You know the drill: Seven gates of hell. The walking dead. Blood and spurting eyeballs. Strictly for horror mavens hungry for kitsch. [03 Jul 1998]

TV Guide Magazine by Maitland McDonagh

Classic Italian splatter directed by Lucio Fulci, reviled and adored in equal proportions by Euro-horror fans.

Austin Chronicle by Marc Savlov

Does it make any sense? Nope. Does this detract from the film? Not at all. It's classic Italian Grand Guignol at its most disturbing; a car crash, autopsy, and disembowelment all wrapped up in a nice, soggy package.

The A.V. Club by Keith Phipps

The Beyond's first half-hour or so is extremely entertaining, alternating between genuinely frightening, gory shocks and hilariously awkward, atonal acting. After a while, however, it becomes as dull as its repetitive Italian prog-rock soundtrack, neither good nor bad enough to hold your attention for long.

Slant Magazine by Ed Gonzalez

Even by Argento standards, Fulci’s film is nonsensical to the point of distraction.

San Francisco Chronicle by Bob Graham

The thriller is populated by the usual dimwits who stumble into horrific situations and don't have the good sense to leave, and it tries to pass off some of the sorriest excuses for zombies ever seen.

Time Out

A shamelessly artless horror movie whose senseless story - a girl inherits a spooky, seedy hotel which just happens to have one of the Seven Doors of Hell in its cellar - is merely an excuse for a poorly connected series of sadistic tableaux of torture and gore.

Chicago Sun-Times by Roger Ebert

It's the kind of movie that alternates stupefyingly lame dialogue with special effects scenes in which quicklime dissolves corpses and tarantulas eat lips and eyeballs.