Andrew Wyatt’s review published on Letterboxd :
'Devil’s Gate' plays something like a kludgy, aimless episode of 'The X-Files', one with too many half-baked ideas and the running time to indulge them all. Arriving in a desolate stretch of North Dakota to search for a missing local woman, a hard-nosed FBI agent (Amanda Schull) quickly zeroes in on the victim’s paranoid, abusive husband (Milo Ventimiglia). Said suspect is hunkered down in a dilapidated, boarded-up farmhouse surrounded by booby traps, and it's in this clichéd setting that 'Devil’s Gate' stalls out for the remainder of its muddled and monotonous duration. The film gleans elements from several subgenres — police procedural, hick-sploitation, Lovecraftian horror, and alien conspiracy, to name just a few — and then mashes them together into an awkward, unsightly mass that it plainly (and incorrectly) regards as a bracingly original gestalt. It’s is too strange and ham-fisted to be a solid genre exercise, and yet too dull and derivative to be a future cult object.