"Silent Night, Deadly Night" - 3rd Time's a Charm

A drifter by the name of Billy Chapman (Rohan Campbell) rolls into the snowy town of Hackett, and procures a job at a Christmas shop alongisde eccentric perky Pam (Ruby Modine). But he harbours a dark secret: an imaginary friend named Charlie (Mark Acheson) and a need to fill his homemade advent calendar with the blood of those who have been "naughty"...

(Photo Credit: Rotten Tomatoes)
In what appears to be a newfound Christmas tradition, we've got a Christmas themed slasher/horror movie ("Krampus", "Violent Night", that fucking God-awful "Black Christmas" remake, "Rare Exports" which was pretty good, "Terrifier 3", "It's a Wonderful Knife", "Christmas Bloody Christmas" which, fun story there...) this time the 3rd crack at the rather atrocious "Silent Night, Deadly Night" from decades ago and after the rather fun breezy bloodbath of 2012 with Malcom McDowell (fuck yes) and Jaime King. Where the first was a rather sloppy slasher film with the then-unique gimmick of "what if the killer dressed as Santa?" and is best remembered (rightfully) for the absolute classic meme "Garbage Day" in its somehow-worse sequel, and the remake of 2012 went for a knowing irony of the time; this (helmed by, of all people, Mike Nelson from the "Wrong Turn" reboot) aims for a slightly more cerebral blend of commentary about mental illness and psychological stigma, and a slightly more satirical take on the violence.
It's actually pretty fun and relatively tight, for what that's worth, particularly when compared to the previous efforts and a lot better than what the material deserves. Rohan Campbell is good as Billy, and Mark Acheson fantastic fun as the psychotic murderous yet oddly supportive voice in his head; and the much-needed and underused Ruby Modine is the film's highlight as the first real flesh and blood friend Billy gets, who has issues of her own (and a fun bit at an ice hockey rink); she's very good when her ex-boyfriend returns. It gets kind of real actuall, kudos there Modine.
The thrills pile on later as we get murders of people who very much deserve it (the centrepiece is a rather Republican Santa Claus convention), it never really overstays its welcome and becomes more of a character piece between 2 (well, technically 3) people. I like the characters and their arcs, they're well done, and it's all competent fare with good blood effects. It never soars to the goofy heights one would expect from the premise and ultimately reigns it in a little bit - how much you enjoy that is going to be up to the individual reviewer. I appreciated the rather darkly Christmas ending of real friendships and the journey on the way, that was more on theme than either of the previous efforts.
I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, it's fun.

Top Albums of 2025

End of Year Albums Fuck it, we're close enough to the end of the year, I've had a couple of beers, so here are my favourite albums of the year: Let's go!
5. "West End Girl" - Lily Allen
I'm fucking delighted we got a return to form from Lily Allen, but it's tragic that it had to be through the catastrophic slow-motion "monkey swallowing a hand grenade" spectacle of a disintigrating marriage. Frank, confessional, and a mish-mash of genres (foreshadowing is a literary device...) which should not work: it's the sort of raw, pure art I admire. Highlights are "Dallas Major" (a truly miserable, "what the fuck am I doing here?" track framed as upbeat, one hundred percent my jam) and "Relapse" (she brought back trip-hop! I want to kill myself over this, but you know progress!)
4. "Parasites and Butterflies" - The Nova Twins
A late entry. What a band. They're great. The Nova Twins are unapologetic about their mishmash of genres and weird shit (callbacks are a literary device...) but crucially have that ear for hooks, tunes and heavy pounding shit I kind of love. They do my main benchmark of a good album: just make a shitload of good tracks individually and parcel them in. Highlights are "Drip" (the horny track they've taken 3 albums to make... well worth it), "N.O.V.A", "Parallel Universe" and "Hide and Seek".
3. "That's Showbiz Baby" - Jade
Absolutely unhinged. Jade is the best member of the excellent Little Mix, and came out fucking swinging with this album: the lead single switched tempo and genre 5 times whilst sampling "Puppet on a String" by Sandy Shore, and only got weirder from there. Feeling like a simultaneous primal scream (hah, I actually kind of want a Primal Scream influenced Jade album now, she'd suit it) against the predatory sexist industry of commodification and "product", and a celebration of all things queer: she just made the equivalent of a riot in a gay bar circa 2008. I love this. Absolutely bananas. Highlights are "Midnight Cowboy" (horny and a bonkers 2000s Euro Club track), "IT Girl" (fucking abso-fucking-lutely fuck yes fuck) and obviously "Angel of My Dreams".
2. "Mad!" - Sparks
Sparks are the best band on the planet. Name a band you love, and chances are their favourite band is Sparks. There is no band like them. At the ages of 78 and 80, brothers Russel and Ron Mael (who fathered half of Europe and do this for love of the game) still find ways to sound fresh, unique, interesting and ahead of the curve despite nobody having caught up to them even now. With their usual glib, coy "are we in on the joke or is this just what it seems?" energy (which, at this point, could just be the joke...) they scamper and dance through the highest octaves of vocals the spectrums of human emotion, making something so quintessentially them and yet something new; no mean feat after their 3rd comeback (!) in the public zeitgeist with their last chart-topper "The Girl is Crying in her Latte". I saw them tour this album, and once again Sparks changed my life but more importantly: I took 2 friends of mine to the gig and they are changed people now, Sparks superfans after going in blind. Highlights are "I-405 Rules" (a love letter to their favourite motorway), "Drowned in a Sea of Tears" (I got emotional seeing it live), "Do Things My Own Way" (their thumping, heavy, thesis statement of 5 decades, and an absolute fucking belter) and "Running Up a Tab at the Hotel for a Fab" (pure Sparks, nothing else to say)
Before I get to number 1, some honourable mentions:

"Sleepless Empire" - Lacuna Coil
I knew "Swamped", and got this for my partner who is a massive fan. I fucking love these Goth-rock icons. Unironic, unabashed, incredible live. Highlights: "Sleep Paralysis", "Gravity", "Hosting the Shadow"
"Closer" - Kim Wilde
It's a Kim Wilde album in 2025! And it's fucking great! She's fucking great guys, why did we let her go away? It's a master of the craft doing what she does best. Highlights: "Midnight Train", "Hourglass Human", "Trail of Destruction".
"Princess of Power" - Marina
Continuing the momentum of "Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land" (a future classic in her canon, not even an underrated one) with the eclectic madness of her early works, the introspection of "Froot" and the feminism and coherent point missing from that piece of shit "Love and Fear". Highlights: "Cuntissimo" (obviously), "Princess of Power" (openers are never a problem for her), "Final Boss" (I got to hear Marina scream "FINISH HIM"), and "Hello Kitty"

"Let All that We Imagine Be the Light" - Garbage
It was never not going to be this. The darkest parts of the soul for every outcast, reject and person just fucking furious at the world have put out their "optimism" album, in their 60s. And unlike many of that era they've not lost their minds: the album calls for trans rights, black power, and crushing the madness which consumes us. They used to embrace the misery and darkness, because they were cool outsiders, but now that same darkness consumes the bright and subsumes decency: and they are unleashing that roar of disapproval in the way only they can. It's furious, sad, happy, melancholic and bright in equal measure. From songs about the lead singer adoring tramadol after an operation, to the extent that it caused her to reconnect with her lapsed Catholicism (the real shit, the Scottish shit) in a near-death experience, to aforementioned political songs, whilst never once losing their git for hook after hook after riff after jam. Every song is layered with enough to make this shit look easy, and they keep piling them on not out of ego but to advance the project. This shit was what I needed. We can all be good people: Garbage are a bunch of aging rockers still furious at the injustice of the world, and doing their part, in their lane, mastering it. Highlights: "Get Out of My Face (AKA Bad Kitty"(funky, dark, quintessential Garbage), "Sisyphus" (we're ancient but if we can one piece of good with our tired and fragile bodies, we are content), "Hold" (even the simplest love songs sound urgent and terrifying in their hands), "Have We Met (The Void)" (Jesus Christ... age will come for us all, we die. How you confront that? That's on you. These legends can at least maintain dignity and the illusion of happiness in its face), "Chinese Firehorse" (sexism and ageism in the music industry needs to be burnt out like the cancer it fucking it. Based as fuck), and "R U Happy Now" (probably my track of the year: a nightmare Goth rave held by a girl 800 leagues out of yours. ""We have an idea, no one can take part. We sew a seam but then they pick it apart. It's picture perfect, so white, so clean... They kill books, they break rules, they kill dreams")

"Wake Up Dead Man" - Review

At the parish of "Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude", young and once hot-headed Reverand Jud Duplenticy (Josh O'Connor) finds himself caught up in a murder amongst the eclectic shitheads of his congregation. Surrounded by bastards, with their suspicion and bastardry closing in, he calls upon famous debonair detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) to solve the murder.

(Credit: Netflix. Also fuck them)
I got to see this in the cinema, chomping at the bit for this.
Screw Bond: this is Daniel Craig's legacy, and will forever be Rian Johnson's.
Much like the first and second, it's a slippery, tricksy, whimsically naughty and playful beast: dishing out a delectably cromulent locked room murder, a mysterious treasure, and a gallery of weasels with their own dastardly bastardry, overseen by a detective so fun to follow you can sense Daniel Craig's need for seasoning for all of the scenery, and relishing the mad twists and turns, and chewing the dialogue like he's Rob Halford. It's a fun mystery, yes, but there's also (much like the previous entries) things Johnson is saying, this time turning his ire onto a church which has lost its way: here he skewers, rather effectively, the wealthy elites who use their churches as places to shun and despise others, and fall under the thrall of charismatic hate mongers, calcifying congregations and leaving societies and communities unable to open up, change and evolve. The cast are, as is now par for the course, relishing these parts: Josh Brolin plays a bombastic, furious, vile priest and pillar of the community whose actions are rotting it from within; Josh O'Connor's excellent as the audience surrogate and sympathetic, admirable priest in the footsteps of Martha Cabrera and Andi Brand from previous adventures (his buddy cop shenanigans with Blanc are highlights) and he has a fantastic little bit in a graveyard in the rain; Glenn Close is the iron-clad bitch right-hand woman who rules this congregation like a witch; Andrew Scott is a fading sci-fi author starting to lose his mind and become paranoid from too long in the weird world around him; Thomas Haden Church is playing his character from "Easy A" if he smoked enough hash to put Cheech and Chong in a coma, and living in a shed (I love Thomas Haden Church); Jeremy Renner goes somewhat against type as a spineless local doctor wallowing in alcohol and post-divorce misery with none of the self-reflection; and Caelee Spaeny is a disabled musician with a funny line delivered to Glenn Close. As I hoped, good old Johnson collaborator Noah Segan is back, this time as "Nikolai" the bar owner whose place is central to the case (That sequence is fucking brilliant payoff, trust me). The characters are fun to follow, and whilst some are clearly red herrings there for flavour, the taste of the dish is still a sumptuous one.
Yet it's not a simple side-swipe either: the film goes to lengths to show that these are not simple charicatures but people. Fading science fiction author Lee Ross (Andrew Scott) is aware that he's starting to attract kooks, and is self-aware enough to know that he needs to change, but the allure is too powerful (and he ends on a pretty funny "Big Lebowski" joke); for example. Craven little bitch boy Cy Draven (Daryl McCormack, here NOT attempting to have sex with an older woman, thus playing against type wonderfully) is a standout as the failed Republican candidate and streamer seeking any strand or moment of fame and prestige, yet still a victim of tragedy and able to turn away if he really wants but lacking the spine and gumption to do so: because being a grifter and shithead is easier and even encouraged by this world and the vast multitudes of bastards populating it and encouraging it.. The central message of the film is that we can do better, but many choose not to.
It's excellent fun.
Highly recommend this outing of the marvellous Mr Blanc.

"Blue Moon" - Review

Once adored, famous composer Lorenz Hart (Ethan Hawke. I kept writing "Larenz" at first, maybe I'm thinking about "Dead Presidents" too much) sits in a bar on the opening night of "Oklahoma!", composed by his old partner Richard Rodgers. He reminisces on the glory days, seethes about Rodgers' newfound success with a talentless hack Hammerstein, and esposes hagigraphic overtures to the muse and love of his life, Elizabeth (Margaret Qualley) to the bartender Eddie (Bobby Cannavale), pianist Morty (Jonah Rees) and anyone else who will listen or merely be in the vacinity.

(Photo credit: IMDB)
Magnificent.
I watched this the same day as "The Running Man". That movie has a budget of $110,000,000 and left me feeling an empty nothingness I will forget about in 6 hours; this one cost £2,000,000 (which probably wouldn't cover that movie's catering budget) and was a witty, thoughtful, funny, pensive little tour-de-force showcase for one of the best to do it, and sticks in my memory days later.
Whilst something of a meme between my partner and myself, we forget that Ethan Hawke is actually really bloody good, and this is his most magnetic, compelling, hypnotic performance outside of the "Before" trilogy. It feels like a stage play, from author Robert Kaplow, and whilst verbose, is still fiercely intelligently written: Hart is eloquent and fun to be around (par for the course with an Ethan Hawke character), bouncing off of the simpler Eddie in a class play, but we see him push and pull against his own takes on art (so confidently thrown out early on out of earshot of their targets) when actually defending their success and appeal against Rodgers (a rather good Andrew Scott) or a clearly disinterested writer by the name of E.B White (Patrick Kennedy): it's not necessarily a case of all crown and no filling, however. The film has discussions about the accessibility of art, purity of art, the "real America" Versus an America which never exists (illustrated with his Hart sees his own works, from a quaint and already nostalgia-infused time, something he is oblivious to on the surface, but maybe simply avoiding); all with a subtle self-loathing and deflection and self-awareness. It's really a wonderful character for Hawke to sink his teeth into, especially when the creepier, more possessive and ambiguously obsessive sexual (maybe?) angle comes in with Elizabeth (an excellent Qualley), culminating in the 3rd act in a conversation between the two littered with history and subtext and different wants and needs. Unlike some lesser central works focusing on a single performance in the centre where every other part is in service of the central actor, this one has room for actors to breathe and explore: Andrew Scott's awkwardness at being cornered by an old friend clinging to the past; Patrick Kennedy trying to be polite and droll, matching him intellectually but finding him a tad odd or dull; and Qualley is fantastic in the last act, a much-welcome relief from that festering piece of shit "Honey, Don't!" (her accent slips through her and it's fun), and the writing features callbacks and long-term gags paying off later (Bobby Cannavale, always excellent and usually underused, gets one of the best).
The film is funny too, very funny in fact.
And not to underplay the directing: it's not flashy but doesn't have to be, it's a 2 location piece, and Linklater (oh yeah, of course Richard Linklater directed this) works wonderfully with his actors and keeps it from feeling staid or claustrophobic.
I loved this. I absolutely loved this.

"The Running Man" - Reaction

In the not-too-distant future, a once promising filmmaker burnt out by the studio process tackles his greatest challenge yet...

(Credit: Abbeygate Cinema)
It's been a good year for King adaptations, with "Life of Chuck" and "The Long Walk" (a short story and arguably his weakest Bachman novel respectively) being nothing short of a miracle, considering the history of most King adaptations. This could have been a slam dunk (not to tip my hand too early): a filmmaker known for his unique takes, adapting a dystopian satire of showbusiness and updating it for the modern day, with Glen Powell as the lead and the backing and approval of King himself.
Edgar Wright has not been exciting in a long time. His Sparks documentary remains my favourite of his works and the last time he made a great movie: "Baby Driver" left me cold and "Last Night In Soho" was confused right up until its ending utterly shat the bed. This adaptation of the book apparently is an attempt to skew closer to its grittier roots, but the colourful, memorably campy Arnold Schwarzenegger version rears its head frequently whenever the movie thinks we're getting bored and tries to be "fun". The mish mash of tones is the worst of both worlds: none of the pop, or the fun, well edited works of early Wright (in fact there is an atrociously choppy fight sequence in the cockpit of a plane) - and all of the basic story points of the book with none of the grit and way of King's writing. The tonal shifts are not the problem (well, not the main problem) though they are best exemplified by Michael Cera appearing to give a rather good performance as a rebel whose father was slain by the state, then to be "oh-so-wacky" with a water gun as the same goons invade his house and he sips from Monster Energy whilst giving exposition. It would be satirical in more interested hands.
The entire affair is soulless, empty and left me feeling cold and bored. As dumb as the Arnie movie it, it's at least consistent and kind of bonkers in its casting and characters, and knew what it was. Here the film just limps along, committing to neither bit and feeling anonymous in its direction, yo-yoing between tones.
The book has suffered from a "John Carter of Mars" syndrome in that many of its best ideas and themes and images have been pilfered by other works, and "showbiz murder" satire has been done better and more consistently in things such as "Series 7: The Contenders", "The Hunger Games" (alright, I'm not a fan of that one) and the exemplary "Battle Royale" to name a few; but this defence falls away like cardboard when you try to admire the movie on its own merits. Staid, by the numbers and anonymous.
They even pussy out of the book's ending.
I watched "Pool Party Massacre" on DVD after this, having picked it up for 3 quid. That was a far better time: it knew what it was, there was a coherent vision, the characters were more fun, and the movie was never confused about what it was trying to be.

"Predator Badlands" - Review

Alien runt of the litter Dek (Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi) embarks on his first hunt, fuelled by vengeance and a thirst to be accepted by his aggressive warrior tribe. Seeking the unkillable Kalisk, the highest honour his hunt could bestow, he heads to its equally dangerous home planet Genna. He encounters a damaged yet still perky robot named Thia (Elle Fanning) and begrudgingly agrees that he may need her expertise and help in this matter. Together they embark on a hunt.

(Photo credit: IMP Awards)
The concept for this got announced and I was rather keen. I enjoyed Trachtenberg's "10 Cloverfield Lane", which was an excellent little bottle movie, and am always keen on simpler, old-school campier adventures like this.
It's a fun ride, very much at home with the buddy cop angle: it's the classic "I'm an edgelord who doesn't need friends" partnered with the "perky cheerful robot who does not understand your silly ways", and much like telling my fiancee they look cute: it always works. Elle Fanning is wonderful as the robot, and steals the show in my eyes, but "second-guess the first name spelling" Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi is also excellent, sprinkling a little of Bautista's "Drax the Destroyer" in the lead role, and really having fun as the defrosting, confidently powerful warrior whose heart grows 2 sizes. Their relationship is the staple, and it works, it's competently put together.
The beginning is fucking rough: all CGI blurs and nonsense greenscreen mashing together like a 2000s cut-scene tossed into a blender from a moving car, but once it hits the equally CGI-heavy planet and you turn your brain off, it's fun. The "BRAND!" and "FRANCHISE" stuff is honestly a tad distracting and a damning indictment that we can't even have 80s throwbacks or "Enemy Mine" homages without there being "INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY" attached to it (though it's not anywhere near as bad as "Alien Romulus" for its ghoulish nostalgia mask), such is the state of movies...
This was still fun, and will make for a good 9:00PM Film4 movie.
Plot was bollocks and the least interesting part, but its themes of overcoming societal expectations, toxic masculinity and found family elevate it above the standard fare.

"Valley of the Shadow of Death" - Review

Pastor Leung (Anthony Wong, star of "Untold", "Hard Boiled" and every Johnnie To movie) went through a tragedy years ago, but his marriage to his wife (Louisa So) surprisingly remains, as well as his firm conviction in God and dedication to his church. However, all three of these things, and the man himself, are tested when a young man named Chang Tsz Lok (George Au) is brought in for help.

(Photo Credit: "Film at Lincoln Center")
I went to see this on a whim, there were no other showings in the week, due to it starring the excellent, interesting and prolific yet underappreciated Anthony Wong.
It's my film of the year and I never want to watch it again.
It begins as a quietley excruciating look at grief and the emptiness of one's life when you lose somebody: Louisa So making noise to drown out the questions asked about the missing person before leaving the house, the two of them sitting in silence with a birthday cake, a room of stuffed bears. You feel like you shouldn't be here, it's intimate and skin crawling and gut-churning. Then the plot itself kicks in and becomes a 3 hander, as the film simply poses the question of what it means to want to reform, and what you do in the face of legitimate evil wishing to change, when it has directly harmed you. The towering performance of Wong is something to write home about: torment and turmoil and a boiling whirlpool of feelings inside, conveyed with a simple look or a glower or a snap at somebody, he carries himself with the emotional complexity the script requires as a man's faith is challenged and he has to decide if it's something he truly believes or just what he has been telling himself in order to get through the day. He's fantastic in this. Lousia So and George Au are also bloody excellent here, and they are given a lot to work with. Excellent editing too at a dinner table in the 3rd act. Some may find the plot revelations too dramatic or overstated, but I feel that they landed just right.
It's an ugly, unpleasant movie which throws these questions out on the table, lets them squirm, and leaves you to watch and prod and be drenched in the results. It's the sort of thing Schraeder and Scorsese made in the 70s. The ending is a phenomenal understated shot.
I loved this.
I never want to see it again.

"Black Phone 2" - Review

Four years after defeating serial killer "The Grabber" (Ethan Hawke), his only known survivor Finney (Mason Thames) is struggling to keep his life together, self-medicating with marijuana and engaging in reckless violence to avoid the trauma. His gifted younger sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw) receives visions of horror at a youth camp, and needs to confront it. Finney accompanies her there, alongside their friend Ernesto (Miguel Mora), and the pair are forced to confront the past head on...

(Photo credit: Bloody Disgusting. Hell yeah, they're still going! Good job!)
I appreciate Scott Derrickson (writer and director of "Hellraiser: Inferno") and Todd in the Shadows patron C Robert Cargill as filmmakers, despite not being big on "auteur theory" as film is a collaborative medium, as the pair often make genuinely unusual and interesting movies when they work together, blending things and taking a few swings. We never needed a sequel to "The Black Phone", but it made all of the money, so here we are. This one kind of works, I like it. Rather than focusing on the very marketable, obvious spooky mask-sporting killer (an excellent Ethan Hawke), the sequel decided to turn its lense to that story's more interesting element of psychics, and make that a story about how we deal with trauma, how we dwell upon it and the lingering effects it has on the psyche and the community. They have fun with the psychic stuff, and some solid imagery throughout to compliment it (I appreciated the scratchy Super 8 films of the dreams and premonitions, looking like a snuff film and reminiscent of earlier work "Sinister" in many ways), which blends with the backdrop of snow and blizzards and the 1981 aesthetic to create a moody little piece. It's never truly terrifying (or "Sinister" if you will... I will not apologise) and the jump scares early on seem perfunctory and actually a tad annoying, but when doing its own thing (here a riff on "Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors" with sprinklings of "Akira"! Fuck yes) and preferring to be thoughtful and interesting rather than spooky, it works. Its look at these characters and how they react to the news, spedning time in their heads.
The score is fucking phenomenal, worth the admission alone.
And it's lovely seeing Arianna Rivas in something non-"Working Man" this year, you go girl.
I like it. It's an unecessary film transformed into an intriguing one. It loses steam when Demian Bechir begins explaining the plan, but recovers at the end with ice-skate battles and psychic children detonating phoneboxes.

"Good Boy" - Review

After his owner (Shane Jensen) comes down with an illness and heads to his grandfather's old cabin to clear his head, excellent dog Indy (Indy) sticks by his best friend and settles into a new home. But something is awry, in between tapes of the old man (Larry Fessenden), odd noises and even odder behaviour of his owner, and Indy sets out to investigate and do his best.

Filming a horror movie from the perspective of a dog (owned by director Leon Berger, such a Goddamn fitting name) is absolutely a gimmick, but by God is it a gimmick which works. We'd have gotten this thing all sorts years ago (and indeed, friend of horror Larry Fessenden shows up in this to practically flex the filmmakers' horror indie credentials), a sweet little low budget affair which uses that budget to its advantage, very much my thing.
The film is not particularly scary outside of a few select images (I'm a sucker for a silhouette at a window, and looming figures in the background), and it's rather short. So coming into this as a traditional horror fan here for the oogety-boogety boo scares may leave you a tad underwhelmed, as its story is rather simplistic. The film, however, not only soars with its protagonist: where a simple mewling or quizzical look shatters my heart; but manages to relish and work around its low budget to good effect in order to create a more melancholic piece akin to "Let's Scare Jessica To Death" (Junta Juleil's Culture Shock has a wonderful piece on "Melancholic Horror" I can highly recommend). It's little things which come together: the humans' faces are never seen, for they are not people, but presences in Indy's life; the darkness of the well-lived in house feels rich and detailed; and the dubbed dialogue is well hidden but allows (apparently) the makers of the film to have been there to give commands to the dog.
It's, at its heart, a film about how terminal illness consumes you and pushes away those who love you the most: all of their love in the world cannot stop the inevitability of death. I wanted to give Indy a hug at the end. It's a melancholic, well made little allegory and a darkly human (hah) character focused 2-hander in a cabin. Lovable stuff.
I cried at the final lines of the human.
Also Bandit is a fucking excellent boy also doing his best, and deserves better

"Dead of Winter" - Review

Recently widowed Barb (a rather game Emma Thompson) heads to a frozen lake in the Canadian wildnerness to scatter her husband's ashes. She comes across a crime in progress, as a woman in a purple coat (Judy Greer) and a man in a camouflage coat (Marc Menchaca) have stashed a bound woman (Laurel Marsden, no relation to James) in their cabin. Unwilling to let surely bad things happen to this girl, but with no special skills outside of tenacity and age, Barb does battle with the pair.

(Photo credit: thefutureoftheforce.com Fucking websites not using fucking JPGs, bastard piece of shit internet, fuck it)
A fairly solid thriller, all things considered. It's not going to set the world on fire (hah!) and doesn't exactly reinvent he wheel - but it doesn't have to. It's a tight enough fare (through it loses steam in the cellar in act 3), with lovely scenescapes, good use of flashbacks, and a focus on the nitty-gritty survival elements like soaking clothes in a sink to screw with people, and how actually bloody difficult would be to sew up one's own wounds. I like that the protagonists are ordinary people (Barb has twinges in her back, people slip over and drop things in fight scenes, for example), there's no "secret military background" or crowbarred tangent: it feels natural and fun and a touch of class. It's a nice, simple movie and a quirky change of pace for Thompson, who's really good in this.

"Honey, Don't!" - Autopsy

Freed from the shackles of his (now evidently more talented) brother, an aging filmmaker (Ethan Coen) indulges in lesbian fetish pornography, with a somehow worse plot, at the age of 68, under the guise of "trashy" cinema, insulting such sensibilities and betraying his origins as a poser in the process.

(Photo Credit: Fort Lauderdale film festival)
I think some would argue that having the credits be done to The Animals' "We Gotta Get Outta this Place" was the 2nd alarm bell for this movie (I will not say that I am too big a person to make a joke about the first being the title, nobody is above that. I will not change), and the shit show we are about to see, but I would argue that it is the 3rd: the 2nd was in fact the opening shots being a dead woman in a car, then lingering, leering, tongue-drooling slathering of a camera upon a scantily dressed Frenchwoman in leopard print, before a gratuitous full frontal bathing shot in a river and then further closeups of her dresing in leopard print before strutting away. That was effectively a fucking clarion bell for what followed.
A hollow, empty facsimile of a film, devoid of any heart, warmth or understanding of the genres it pillages in this quest for titillation. Attempting to be a throwback to "private eye" movies, replete with what the filmmaker clearly thought was witty rapport, but instead is smug, stilted and feeling like a 1st year film student's take on Raymond Chandler or the Coen Brothers; the central mystery aims for quirk and complexity, but instead stumbles and fumbles its way through like Zach Braff with basic structure. Events are random, unconnected, and strung together with the elegance of inserting Zach Snyder hagiography at a funeral - scenes are overtightened, cut short, and for every good transition (I like one involving a ceiling fan to a pool, and another I can't remember) or cute shot (I liked the sunspots in the Frenchwoman's sunglasses, once the camera was done oggling her on a sun lounger) there is a desperate sense of throwing scenes on the page, never letting them breathe, simply hopping sporadically and frantically from one plot cul-de-sac to another.
Kind of like a Coen Brothers movie, funnily enough, but with none of the charm, the wit, or good writing and tension.

It's quite frankly an embarrasing showing (more so than this blog, honestly) as characters throw out "pithy" one lines and exchanges, but are less people and more vessels for whatever the writers thought would "sound film noir" in the moment. Thus it sounds stilted, and the miscasting of Qualley (side note: she fucking rules in "The Substance", watch that three times instead of this!) as a "hard bitten sassy lesbian detective" doesn't help, coming across more as a "highschool roleplay" than anything else (don't let the makers read that, unless they get ideas... Jesus fucking Christ) as try as she might with the awful material being given, it never rises above "quoting something and thinking it is a pastiche or homage". But when they have her march into a bar to finger Aubrey Plaza on a bar stool, and have 2 sex scenes with her and her pierced nipples? You'd better believe that they are interested in the character then...

The makers wish to be "fun throwback trash" but don't write plots, characters or people of interest or note first: thus when we're expected to "put that to the side and enjoy the sex scenes" it doesn't feel like trashy cinema, it feels gross. All of the best exploitation cinema (I am a fucking connoisseur of that shit, trust me) and stuff unfairly maligned for sexy, topless parts, at least remembers to have plots or characters or moments where people are allowed to emote and act, not roughly strung together scenes, not a mystery which solves itself off screen and with no intervention from the detective (aside from flirting with the perpetrator at a cross roads whilst she's dressed in a scarf, knee high boots and a robe, and little else). But we have sex scenes! We have those! There are 5 scenes of fucking, and a dreadful recurring "gag" wasting Charlie Day on hitting on the lead, so that we can see that she is very much into girls, you see, because (despite all of the lesbianism), she's very much a lesbian, you see?

This gives us a mystery movie with a dull mystery and no interest in showing detective work (aside from the lead discovering a set of fetish-wear), a quirky movie not interested in telling jokes, a character piece which gives little for the characters to do, and then has the gall to tack on a serial killer story at the end, wrap it up briefly and have a throwback to a kill in "Miller's Crossing" but with none of the impact or humour.
Reading it back makes me sound like I'm averse to lesbians or a prude of some sort, and because our critical landscape is fucked more than Margaret Qualley in this backwards arse movie, some may read into that. I am CRAVING some diversity in cinema, and we've made a lot of progress, hell this is progress! Lesbians too can have their worst fucking pervy shit detective movies, shadows of creativity and empty "homages" to better detective throwbacks, just as the boys can! We've done it! We've achieved equality!

Equality at last! Just make sure that you forget the almost entirely white cast (at least "Drive Away Dolls" has the ever-wonderful Geraldine Viswanathan in a leading role) and don't focus on the writing, editing, plotting or humour. We made it kids!
Oh, and another thing, a coda to this:

(Last one, I swear)
The film is confused about what it's aping and what it's paying tribute to. When you make a throwback to trash, you make "Toxic Avenger: Unrated" or "Manborg" or "Clown in a Cornfield", or if you're making a detective film you put a spin on it (think "Brick", "Vengeance" or "The Nice Guys"): you come into MY FUCKING HOUSE, you make a film which understands the genres its doing, aesthetics aren't enough. The surface level always needs more. As refreshing as it is to see the film fail on its own merits of bad writing, it's still kind of a bummer to see Ethan Coen behind it. Even the worst Coen Brothers movie ("The Ladykillers", a fairly uncontroversial pick I feel) is merely "fine" (it doesn't feel Coen Brothers-y, and doesn't come close to the original Ealing Classic) and stands head and shoulders above this. A baffling misfire. Jesus fucking Christ.
Chris Evans was fun.

"The Long Walk" - Review

In another, similar time, in another, similar place: 50 boys sign up for "The Long Walk". An arduous march across America, where the last one standing receives any prize they desire: all televised for the country, inspiring them to greater productivity with this display of strength, endurance and hope! Of course, like any fair contest, there are rules: do not drop below a certain number of paces, do not deviate from the path, and if you violate again after 3 warnings? You punch your ticket. Entering the contest is Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman), who has his eyes on the prize. He walks, walks and walks, meeting the other walkers, learning their stories, but never taking his eyes off the prize, no matter what happens...

(Photo Credit: Polygon. Apologies for not doing this for so long, my brain is all over the shop)
I read the novel (written in 1979, Jesus H Christ...) by Stephen King years ago, and it imagery and characters still remain jammed in my mind (I think most nerds got through his backlog as teenagers) all these years later. I was pleased and pleasantly surprised to see that this is effectively almost verbatim the book, and most enjoyable at that since I don't even find the book the strongest of the Bachman works, let alone King's ouvre.
A resonant, rich character piece, with the stark horror (hah, that's a Bachman pun...) and a fine script by JT Mollner. We get to know these walkers, their lives, peppered across some excellent visual storytelling by Francis Lawrence (burnt out cars across the desolate landscape, mentions of "the great war", a very retro setting making the time period ambiguous) which I really respect. Standout performers are Ben Wang as Olson (the shit-talking Bronx kid doing an excellent John Magaro in "Overlord" impression), Charlie Plummer as Barkovitch (the antagonistic unhinged dickbag) and particularly, getting much rightful praise once again, David Jonsson as McVries. It tackles how we approach death, resistance in all of its forms, solace and hope in the face of adversity, and moves across the emotional spectrum pretty fluidly. It's excellent stuff, a pleasant (if grim and dystopian) surprise with an excellent anti-fascist bent and a delightful scenery-devouring Mark Hamill.

"Tornado" - Review

In the year 1790, across the ribbon of cold moors known as "Scotland", a young Japanese woman named Tornado (Koki) performs in a travelling puppet show with her father Fujin (Takehiro Hira), rebellious and chafing against his authority. When they cross paths with a ruthless gang of bandits led by "Sugarman" (Tim Roth), Tornado's world becomes the namesake of her name and against a backdrop none-too-removed from her family's shows, and she is forced to become a whirlwind across the landscape just to survive.

(Photo Credit: The Upcoming. What a fucking poster, man!)
John Maclean did "Slow West" a few years ago: a delightfully droll, pleasant, picturesque little surprise of a Western, and I thought he'd done more films in the meantime, but no! Hollywood is a nightmare and it has taken him 10 years to get a 2nd film released. I don't believe that this is going to get the acclaim and adoration "Slow West" did, which is fair but also a shame as I really rather liked this.
It's a lean affair, began in media reas and clocking in at 91 minutes with a flashback in the middle and a bloody, fun finale. A hybrid of a chase movie and a Samurai film, dressed up in the beautiful scenescapes of Scotland with the visual flair, colours and oddities; it is reminiscent of the Coen Brothers with its quirky humour. It could do with being a bit longer, and some of the tonal shifts never land quite as fluidly as they should (fitting, considering the setting of a travelling circus troupe), but the tone as a whole is strong: the movie feels like a mournful lament, the dying gasps and whispered sorrows of a dying man. The central arc and foreshadowing/parallels of Tornado are well done, and the cinematography and colour grading make this look closer to a storybook or an oil painting than a traditional "gritty" Western, and I really enjoy this. The finale is fun too, very chanbara in the woods

"The Toxic Avenger - Unrated" - Review

In the corrupt, rotting city of St Roma, the chief industry is a heavily polluting pharmaceutical plant. It is here where widowed mild-mannered janitor Winston Gooze (Peter Dinklage) works to support himself and his stepson Wade (Jacob Tremblay), until a horrifying accident transforms him into a toxic beast ready to avenge himself upon the town that has wronged them!

(Photo Credit: IGN)
This is a movie tailor made for me.
The original Troma "classic" is the cornerstone and touchpiece for their brand of trash, outsider mayhem and gross nonsense, I proudly have Lloyd Kaufman's autograph, and a copy of the film in a trashy DVD on my shelf. I've listened to the musical multiple times (the only one I've done so outside of the Golden Age classics) and just adore this kind of outsider art. And when Macon Blair (behind the fucking excellent underrated genre-bender "I Don't Feel At Home in this World Anymore"), star of "Blue Ruin" and "Green Room" was announced to finally be the one going ahead with this long-squelching remake, my interest was piqued.
With my bona fides out of the way, let's get this part done with: There's nothing quite so Hollywood was taking an underdog cult trash classic piece of punk outsider art and remaking it glossier and with bigger stars; though it has Kaufman (now best known to the kids for his appearences in James Gunn movies) and Michael Herz behind the producing wheels, it still was stuck in development hell. Oh Hollywood.
It was always going to lose some of that lovably incompetent, wild, anarchic jank in the transition. That being said:
I fucking loved this.
From the opening shots being an overly Gothic-lit office with "Award for Good Journalism: Melvin Ferd" (the name of the lead in the Toxic Avenger musical) and him being played by Shaun Dooley (Barnsley represent!) before a bunch of weirdly dressed, chicken-headed, clown-make-up clad, parkour-flipping goons burst in and start trying to murder: I felt that Macon Blair has the same love for this movie as I do.
What follows is bloody, stupid, punky, outrageous, bloody, gory, stupid, juvenile, bloody and campy, with lots of gore and stupid blood to push things to the limit.
Dinklage cuts a man's face in half, revealing a pulsating brain, with a radioactive mop.
The chicken man gets a fucking fantastic gross pay off.
Kevin Bacon (embracing his weird era in films, side note watch "Super" and he's super fun in "Elephant White") hams it up to the extreme with his deliberately snarling, cartoonish dialogue.
Elijah Wood, also relishing his weirdo era, plays a put-upon "Igor" esque brother to Bacon, complete with atrocious hair and cane.
Peter Dinklage proclaims: "Alright, I need to get my dick out!".
Said dick is actually Chekov's gun.
At a murderous "post-hardcore punk" concert, reaction shots consist of flashed titties and penises.
The transformation into the titular creature is a deliberately 50s style psychadelic throwboack with headshots and swirling screens, done to the Mozart monster theme, you know the one.
It still has the outright gall and audacity to be an underdog story, a corporate satire, and a commentary on the American healthcare system (not a subtle one, but, come on man... we're past this) in the final cut.
This movie is far better made than the original, but puts that budget and effort into being gross, stupid, ridiculous and capturing the Troma sense of humour, without the mean-spiritedness (well... almost...)
It's a niche movie for a niche crowd, but I am that niche crowd.
I was laughing a lot, and when I wasn't laughing I was beaming from ear to ear.
I want Blair to go very far after this, unpredictable career that he has.
I guess if you like stuff like "Wolfcop", "Hobo With a Shotgun", "Street Trash", "The Stuff" and "Demons", go for this!
Fuck yeah.

"Nobody 2" - Review

Long after his rough and tumble tangle with the Russian Mafia brought mild-mannered super-killer Hutch Mansell (Bob Odenkirk, which I still cannot get over) back into the game, he has been doing contract work for The Barber (Colin Salmon, nice) to settle affairs. But this has all alienated him from his family, so he decides to arrange a holiday! Alongside ballsy wife Becca (Connie Nielsen), gangly rebellious son Brady (Gage Munroe), endearing daughter Sammy (Paisley Cadorath) and unhinged father David (Christopher Lloyd); Hutch decides to head off to beloved theme park/waterpark of his youth Plummerville! But you can never fight the tides, and soon Hutch finds himself trying to simply enjoy his holiday and avoid the orbit of sleazy weirdo sheriff Abel (Colin Hanks), scuzzy owner Wyatt (John Ortiz) and mysterious maniac Lendina (Sharon Stone) - easier said than done.

(Photo Credit: Amazon Prime Video)
The first film is rather fun and a pleasant surprise where action movies are concerned, marketed largely successfully on it being from minds behind "John Wick" and Bob Odenkirk in the leading role. This one keeps that momentum going but also seems unsure where to go with it. Having Indonesian Timo Tjahanto behind the wheel adds an askew crookedness to standard Americana, which is welcome and adds to the quirk: it's a nice twist on the setup and brings spark to the tale. When blood and vicious gore of the director's previous efforts like "The Night Comes For Us" begins to get spattered across the faded All-American theme park and other such things, it's a tad jarring but spices up things.
Otherwise it's a rather busy movie, with lots of characters bouncing around the place, scheming, counter-scheming and having mini-arcs which get kind of dropped and forgotten about; and Sharon Stone's villain is given little guidance or things to do so sort of has to pull a Matt Smith in "Morbius" and make up quirk as she goes along (including a dance sequence); but the whole affair is bloody fun and comes into its own on a boat fight and during the finale at the theme park. Much like Hutch's holiday (hell, the film even uses Cliff Richard...) it's fun while it lasts, and it won't be as good as you remember when you look back on it, but enjoy the ride.
Plus RZA gets to be the samurai of his dreams in the final act and gets the best, pulpiest line against legal-requirement bad guy Daniel Bernhardt.

"The Life of Chuck" - Review

It's the end of the world. Schoolteacher Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejifor) watches the slow, gentle descent with a melancholic acceptance, as people take stock of what matters and madness spirals around them, peeling away all that doesn't matter and makes it all seem to small. Making events odder are constant adverts and billboards thanking a gentleman named Chuck (Tom Hiddleston) for 39 years. Over the end of the world, an extended musical number and a coming-of-age tale - a trio of chapters tell a story of a man's life in snapshots.

(Picture Credit: Cosmopolitan. Thank you for still using JPEGs)
Somewhat bizarrely, this is directed by Mike Flanagan: bizarre in that it is not a horror movie, and that it is somewhat hopeful and upbeat. But it being Mike Flanagan we get a fucked up hand and a selection of cameos and supporting parts from Carl Lumbly ("Doctor Sleep"), Jacob Tremblay ("Doctor Sleep". Please watch "Doctor Sleep"), Katie Siegel ("Hush", "Oculus", "Oujia: Origin Of Evil", "Gerald's Game") and Karen Gillan ("Oculus"), and even a soundtrack by the Newton Brothers. It's an experimental fare: told in three parts, in reverse, switching genres each time from melancholic apocalyptic drama to extended musical sequence and finishing on a longer coming-of-age story; incredibly unusual and something of a curveball as a film. It's pretty good for the most part.
The switch and mix-match of genres is an aquired taste, and for some it may go on too long in parts 2 and 3, but personally I enjoyed them. They slotted together nicely and with care, the film shot in a way which captures the vividness of King's writing: we're caught with those details, little things leap out at us. It's a remarkably poingnant film about how when we die, we remember not what we choose to but random moments in life: there is no rhyme or reason to it, and that is what makes these moments wonderful. A dance. A sound of a tap. Sharing a moment with a woman (Annalise Basso) having the worst day of her life and just intrinsically knowing it will get better. My favourite scene, and the one which got me choked up, is the one with Flanagan's partner Katy Siegel as Miss Richards the hippie teacher not cut out for the school system explaining what Walt Whitman's "I Contain Multitudes" means: people who change our life (especially in the schooling system) are there all too briefly, they'll vanish in a moment, existing only as a briefly vivid light in the skies of our minds.
Mia Sara (much missed!) is wonderful, as is Mark Hamill as a grandfather; and "Miss Rohrbacher" is the most Stephen King name in recent memory. It's a sweet, soaring, whimsical film.
We indeed contain multitudes.

"Weapons" - Review

At 2:17AM, seventeen children rise from their beds in Maybrook, sprint away into the night, and disappear. As the town reels, attempts to make sense of it and come to terms with what has happened, they attempt to lay blame: every child was from a single classroom of new teacher Justine Gandy (Julia Garner), and one child remains (Cary Christopher), clueless as to what happened. Wracked with grief and confusion, the town spirals, and we watch a dark mystery unfurl from multiple perspectives...

(Piture Credit: Bloody Disgusting)
I was so, so, so excited for this. Off the back of "Barbarian" (my second favourite film of that year), I was all too eager to see where the wild, unpredictable Zach Cregger would go.
Fucking hell yes.
Abso-fucking-lutely yes.
Told in a "Rashomon" style (an absolutely fantastic choice and creative idea) the film keeps that unpredictability and slipperiness of "Barbarian", as a mystery unfurls across several perspectives. The horror begins as a ruinously effective, somewhat bleak, human element: a town tears itself apart and delves into its base instincts, blaming innocent people, transforming it all into a witch hunt. It's great shit. And Cregger remains grounded not just in the human elements (Josh Brolin sleeping in his missing child's bed and screwing up at work, whilst his wife angrily tells him "she's going to work", cold and with a wedge driven between them by this tragedy) but in horror too: I was genuinely gripping my seat, unsure where it was going, what was going to happen, and driven to anxiousness by the simplicity of an average American suburbia draped in darkness and evil behind its walls, like a David Lynch painting shot by a documentarian. Is this person approaching Miss Gandy in a shop during an excruciating long take here as a grieving mother blaming her, or something far more dangerous?
It's excellent with the atmosphere, and flickers between 6 perspectives fluidly, crossing over and overlapping wonderfully, whilst ending each on a genuniely great "what the fuck?!" moment. I don't want to spoil too much, because the mystery is genuinely fun, though when it settles on a resolution, it loses steam in the 6th perspective and drags a little too long (it could have been halved) despite doing a good job delving into abuse and how it's behind closed doors, though the absolutely barmy and energetic 3rd act pulls it out of the bag and salvages it.
The performances are excellent across the board, and Cregger has a firm, solid, equally excellent grasp on characters: Garner plays Miss Gandy as a messy, kind of flawed and all-too-relatable human being; Josh Brolin is exceptional as the grieving father Archer Graff, who has a wonderful arc with Gandy and I ended up REALLY worried for him in the final act; Alden Ehrenreich (I'm happy he shows up!) plays a local cop and is great; and Benedict Wong man, Jesus fucking Christ... He'll haunt me forever. June Diane Raphael shows up too! Sweeeet! Toby Huss as well, in a cool supporting role.
It's great fun.

"The Naked Gun"

Do you really need anything here?

(Photo Credit: The Hollywood Reporter. I need to do this more often. Apologies.)
It was fucking funny, a great, wild time, just an old-school comedy of joke after joke after joke, and I was consistently giggling my tits off. Highlights include a particularly unhinged snowman sequence, a deranged jazz performance from Pamela Anderson, and a conversation with the barman. Puns, slapstick, wordplay, rule-of-three and more, there's comedy for everybody here.
Great time.

"Bring Her Back" - Review

When their father dies from falling over in the shower, siblings Andy and Piper (Billy Baratt and Sora Wong) are placed into the care system. Andy applies for guardianship, but cannot do so until he is 18. Not willing to be separated from the only person who means anything in the world to her, and not wanting his blind sister to be raised alone by strangers, the two kids stick together - and find themselves in the home of eccentric but beloved-in-the-community foster mother Laura (Sally Hawkins), who has lost a daughter of her own and is more than happy to take on Piper...

A bleak, harrowing tale of how grief transforms you, hollows you out and empties you, leaving you unable to recognise people, only remnants of that which you have lost and may never again have.
It's a far sturdier, far better film to the fairly solid debut "Talk to Me", and more than earns its 18 rating: It was torturous watching some of this, but never gratuitous. For the film makes sure to focus on true horror of being isolated, cut off from your support network, gaslit and betrayed by those who should trust you, being kept in the dark when horrifying things are happening. At the forefront are an excellent trio of performers: much has been made of Sally Hawkins' performance and she is indeed fucking incredible here. She gives me my favourite moment of the year, and is genuinely horrifying to watch on screen, all while being compelling, grounded, and bloody excellent in general: it's like her old Mike Leigh movies infested with demons. Yet she carries herself with a deep rooted, heartwrenching tragedy and sympathy, and is fucking so fucking good. But Baratt and Wong are not to be outshone here and should not be overlooked: Baratt (the grandson of Shakin' Stevens, fucking what?) is a sturdy, excellent lead who is put through the fucking wringer, and shows a lot of range. Wong has never acted before, and I want to see where the fuck she goes after this brilliant debut.
A gnarly, bloody, wicked film.
Don't go into it if you've had a bad day (this is weapons grade bad times), you have been warned.
It's a movie where nothing is going to be alright, nothing will ever be okay, death is random and grief will consume and destroy you if you let it.

"Materialists" - Review

In the affluent, oppulent world of high society dating in New York City, Lucy (Dakota Johnson) floats among the high-flying clientele as a successful matchmaker. At the wedding of two of her clients (her 9th such wedding), Lucy meets the groom's handsome, sexy, successful, charming and ludicrously wealthy brother Harry (Pedro Pascal), who can be more than just a good client for her. Lucy also bumps into ex boyfriend John (Chris Evans) working as a waiter as he struggles to become a successful actor, and remembers their shared past.

Following up "Past Lives", Celine Song had a monumental task ahead of her: making another movie after the kind of once-in-a-generational maststroke which we'll never get again. Obviously this was never going to be as good as "Past Lives", so for the different kind of movie that it is, it largely works without casting aside what makes Celine Song good: namely emotionally knotted, complex scenes with impeccable double-meaning in its dialogue, and scenes where the actors are allowed to breathe, stretch and say a lot with a little. Here it's more akin to a Jane Austen comedy with its wry humour, subtle wit and delightful interplay between characters as they dance around points and navigate social minefields in code: Pascal and Johnson are excellent here. Evans is allowed to stretch his acting muscles for the first time in years, and makes for a good foil in this love triangle. The classic love triangle and "defrosting materialist" are done well here, with some quite witty dialogue and a sense of longing, need, an intagiable desire, two people talking and interacting through some frosted glass, much akin to "Past Lives". When it brings in a twist in the second act, it is oddly dark for the material on display. Song is fairly deft and classy with how she handles it, and it doesn't feel gratuitous and in fact is a thing to ponder, but it still really throws off the whole affair tonally, it's something of an odd duck to have, especially when they circle back to it in the final act as a 3rd act romcom character beat.
The film's fairly well made and a good romance, with genuinely funny gags, but the 2nd act twist stops me short of fully endorsing it as much as "Past Lives".

"I Know What You Did Last Summer" - Review

Ava (Chase Sui Wonders) returns to her home town of Southport for the engagement party of her best friend Danica (Madelyn Cline) and her loud fiancee Teddy (Tyriq Weathers), surrounded by opulence and success. Reconnecting with the pair, as well as blandly inoffensive Milo (Jonah Huer-King) and fresh-from-rehab Stevie (Sarah Pidgeon), the reunion of the old friends is off to a rip-roaring start. But upon causing a car wreck due to the tomfuckery of their absolute worst friend, the friends cover it up at the behest of Danica, with the aid of Teddy's wealthy father (Billy Campbell. Nice), and attempt to move on. But a year later, the excellent Danica receives a note stating "I Know What You Did Last Summer", and a movie ensues...

I've asked that if one must remake movies, they remake bad ones and try to get them right: once again a finger on the monkey's paw curls...
The original "I Know What You Did Last Summer" is one of the more famous efforts where 90s horror films are concerned, and has aged about as well as milk on a radiator: it's tacky and lame and has the suspense of a deflated trapeze artist holding a wet kipper, only remembered for its cast and possibly a chase sequence involving Sarah Michelle Gellar. Nobody likes or remembers its two sequels.
Yet do not let that dissuade the makers of this film! They shall milk nostalgia wherever it may lie: the introductions of Freddie Prinze Jr and Jennifer Love-Hewitt are most egregious, sweeping dynamic camera shots to soaring scores, but then give them little to do until a limp wristed attempt at the end which comes out of nowhere and really seems to do disservice to the characters. A chase sequence happens in an old warehouse of floats (you know movie, I should be watching "Thanksgiving", you're right!) including the one from the aforementioned chase sequence, and Sarah Michelle Gellar appears in a dream sequence to speak not to the main character of the film, but a different character who shares Gellar's role as "best part of the film" (though I get ahead of myself), whilst the new cast even visit the graves of previous victims. A particularly unctuous, odious "true crime" podcaster (it's a tortology, I know) even sports a t-shirt with Gellar's face and proclaims "I love your work!" to the killer - it's almost a pretty good satire there! But again, I could just watch the blood-curdling "Halloween" movie... None of this fawning, worshipful nostalgia comes from a place of love, and none of it matters because the script is dreadful.
It's actually refreshing to have a movie where you can pinpoint its flaws to a single issue. Don't get me wrong, this is not a "Five Nights at Freddy's" situation wherein I belive that the entire written word was a mistake and that I want to question if Scott Cawthon has ever interacted with a person; but until that movie's sequel comes out I don't believe I'll see a worse written one this year: lines about "beta males" and "keys to my crypto wallet" help me to pinpoint the exact year this was written, and often when the dialogue is not exposition it is clunkier than The Tin Man doing a pole dance
If you watch enough bad movies or slashers in general like me (first of all I'm sorry, there is hope for you) then you can sort of dissect how they work as you're watching them, which is already a bad sign that the film is dull and not engaing me: and here it was a case of me immediately calling who the killer was the moment they were introduced. (Hint: it's an early character who is given a backstory but otherwise gets nothing to do, and who is present but of screen for all of the big chase moments and kills. I'l admit it was better done than the school sequence in "Thanksgiving", so touche there movie). The dialogue is particularly heinous, save some genuinely funny lines from Danica about new age healing and wellness, and even established names and reliable hands like Billy Campbell and Freddie Prinze Jr are stuck with some true clunkers. Or even structural issues stand out:
We're introduced to Chase Sui Wonders (I like her, and she does what she can in this, but Simon Rex and Mikey Madison could not save this dialogue) in what I thought was going to be a throwback to "Scream" with a fakeout as to who our lead character was going to be, only we're stuck with Garth Marenghi dialogue and clunky lines of exposition after she talks to a mirror for a bit about her dead mum (which never comes back, neither does her dad) and heads off to Danica's house. Provisionally, Ava is the main character of the film.
But Danica instigates the plot, investigates much of it, is the one to receive the note, and gets the chase sequence and dream sequence with Sarah Michelle Gellar. Danica also receives an arc in the form of her improvements as a human being and her developing relationship with the shitbag Teddy, which actually becomes quite sweet over the course of the film. Danica is also the most entertaining to watch and follow by a country mile, and is elevated beyond the 2-dimensional shitbag she would have been in earlier movies (I like the little bit where she's fleeing a killer and stops immediately to take off her heels to run better, it's oddly clever and such a simple touch) with her developed arc and actually really endearing, funny dialogue. Chase Sui Wonders (who again, is great when she's in stuff, even thankless roles like this) gets some bisexual representation early on (I think?) which feels more like tease and titillation than any sort of relationship or character, and gets to chat with Jennifer Love-Hewitt.
It does not help that by far and away Madelyn Cline is so unironically good in the role of the New Age, "empath", materialistic rich kid queen bee Danica that she carries the movie and kind of saves it with her performance? She's actually infuriatingly good in this.
I don't want to shit on the director (Jennifer Kaytin Robinson) who has some great sweeping shots and to be fair never makes the film boring, she paces it well and has a few interesting ideas in the melting pot.
Plus (maybe incredibly importantly for this) a couple of the kills are good, and there's only CGI blood at the Sarah Michelle Gellar sequence, but it's not worth your time as a slasher movie. Watch it for Madelyn Cline (genuinely one of my favourite performances of the year) but maybe stick with "Clown in a Cornfield" or "Final Destination: Bloodlines" and "Heart Eyes" from this year alone.
Fuck Cline is amazing in this, it makes me angry.

"Superman: Legacy" - Review

The world is coming to terms with the existence of a supreme, powerful alien being known as "Superman" (David Corenswet), who intervened in an invasion by an ally of the United States government, courting controversy with his unsanctioned actions. Billionaire Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult) is determined to bring him down by any means necessary, aided by technology, brains and an endlessly ambitious ego. Forces collide, with the world as their battle ground, over ideologies and symbols on the line.

The movie is a good fun, a throwback to the bright, garish, colourful Saturday morning cartoons one grew up with and would associate with Superman, and in a good way it feels like those old movies and shows designed to sell toys: Lex Luthor has a detachable spaceship in his tower, there's a revolving crystal fortress, eclectic superhero trio "The Justice Gang" do battle with intergalactic imps in the background, etc. We get things like Superman discussing things with a rather excellent Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan) illuminated by a battle between a neon "Dimensional Imp" and the "Justice Gang" in the night skies behind him, pretty stuff and all good fun. There's even that cute little quirk/trademark of Gunn's where he has a character (here Edi Gathegi's "Mr Terrific", a character I was unfamiliar with, showcasing Gunn's wonderful nerdy love of comic books, and here played as a genius done with life and the bullshit of idiots around him) do a creatively done fight scene well-shot, to a pop song you've not heard in years (though here the song's one I don't really like, so... great job there), and Gunn embraces the weird stuff. It feels, in some regards, very much a "Gunn Film" - harking back to his "Guardians of the Galaxy" trilogy and, to a lesser extent, "The Suicide Squad", what with its bright colours and garish pastels and overwhelming sense of anarchic glee.
The character work is strong across the board, always a strength of Gunn's:
Corenswet is endearing, wonderfully cast as Superman: he's a big joyful good boy trying to do his best, and going out of his way to save squirrels and little girls so they don't get squished in his monster battles, he dives in headfirst to resue his asshole dog (a highlight of the film, and set to become a fan favourite. Because of course he is: it's Krypto!) because "he's scared and alone". He's a great Superman, what you think about when you think of the character.
Rachel Brosnahan (fantastic name) is also marvellous as Lois Lane: she's integral to the plot, investigating and poking and solving things whilst Superman does the smashing, yet also questioning him and forcing him to confront his own actions and morality (there's a bloody excellet scene of a mockup interview between the two of them), and is not merely relegated to doe-eyed love interest or sassy quip machine, I enjoyed her very much. Her sugar scene was nice.
Nicholas Hoult was one of my favourites going in, one of the most interesting actors working today, and his Lex Luthor is suitably cartoonish, over the top, grandiose, arrogant, and a foil for all that is good in the world. He gets an excellent scene where Superman tears through his office like a hurricane and he is unfazed, and a great speech at the end about his grandiose desire for attention, humanity's need to innovate, and why he despises Superman. Lex Luthor is not "relatable": he's a billionaire who despises a man for being good. I'll save the scholarly examinatons of Superman and Lex Luthor and how they relate to current events for other blogs.

As is par for the course with Gunn: we get excellent character work even in the smaller parts, again proving the adage that there are no small parts, only small actors. Skyler Gisondo (another actor I was excited to se cast, he's great in "Santa Clarita Diet" and yet another arrow in the quiver of "Everything Gets Better if you Cast from the Booksmart Cast") is a delightfully cast Jimmy Olson, played here as a complete pussy magnet and a joy to watch, who weaves into the plot masterfully. On a similar note is Sara Sampaio (I appreciate that Gunn focuses on talent rather than names) as Luthor's selfie-obsessed girlfriend Eve, who kind of stole the show for me and got a brilliant payoff to her writing, making her more than a gag character: pictured here imprinting herself in my brain and heart forever:

Nathan Fillion shows up as Guy Gardner and nails it, the ever-wonderful Isabela Merced shows up (side note: her "Dora the Explorer" is still an all time favourite performance) for about 5 minutes as Hawkgirl and whilst I was gutted her dialogue was not entirely screeching and feral screaming she was good fun.

It's a breezy ride.
Unfortunately it is also a ride of one central paradox: it's simultaneously not James Gunn enough, whilst being too James Gunn.
I've followed Gunn's work since the start: I love "Tromeo and Juliet" and maintain "Super" is the best superhero movie ever made, hell I had him respond to me on Facebook about "The Specials" years ago. I've been in his corner forever, and so beyond happy to see him come so far and do well. He loves films, making them and creating in general. But "Superman" has been somewhat neutered of 2 of things which made him great: the anarchic blood and guts DIY filmmaking and chaos bred from the Troma mines (the CGI and backdrops and gleaming things all seem to blur together after a while), and his attention to leting emotional beats land by weaving the darkness and sorrow into the proceedings (here the characters are a tad glib and cartoony, which whilst fun does undercut it all a bit). I'm not an idiot: I'm not asking for "Superman" to be a bloodbath. The movie's constant clamouring for activity and action and fun and hijinks and jokes is never on the scale of a Marvel production (though there is a forced and somewhat excruciating joke about a Harem which feels too forced for my tastes), but it does mean that the emotional beats don't get as much of a chance to breathe. I was missing that soaring emotional high I wanted from it all in favour of fun, and it felt more like a James Gunn movie than a Superman movie in some of its dialogue, but never enough to be quite subversive. The touches were there (an alien baby so ugly it became adorable, a gang of oddballs, hints at body horror with the character of The Engineer) but pulled back a little too much. It's a good intro, and I look forward to when it can breathe properly and spread its wings.
It does well as a blockbuster and breezy fun time, its tone is all over the place, and it's a wild and crazy time. But despite my flaws and ranking of it in the middle of Gunn's ouvre (below "Super" and above "Slither"), the central messages are still good: kindness is decent, billionaires and corporations are bad, and we should (and can) all strive to be better people by remembering what makes us human. There's a lot to love, maybe too much, but it has Frank Grillo and a cameo from the golf club wielding Flo from "The Suicide Squad" too, so endeared itself to me.

"M3G4N 2.0" - Review

Years after her family-friendly toy went rogue and killed several people, robotocist Gemma (Allison Williams) has reinvented herself as an advocate for safety measures for A.I and preaching the dangers of technology one must monitor, whilst also caring for her fellow survivor and now-teenage niece: aspiring tech developer Cady (Violet McGraw). But her life is upended when the FBI approach her seeking help in tracking down rogue robot AMELIA (Ivanna Sakhno), currently on something of a rampage against creators. Gemma, cornered and under suspicion, is forced to team up with her killer creation M3GAN once again, in order to protect herself and Cady, and stop the evil robot's killing spree...

After the surprising success of the solid, fun satire of "M3G4N", the makers have been ordered to make a sequel and thus pulled a "Happy Death Day 2 U" and hurled everything possible at the screen. Fortunately they have recruited Akela Cooper, co-writer of cinematic masterpiece and peak cinema "Malignant" to help them in this endeavour, and have doubled down on the comedy, tossing out the horror almost entirely, for a rather messy film which just about lands on the right side of amusing fun to be enjoyable. Embracing the camp was also a good idea. The second act is a mess, and the mish-mash of ideas mean it's rather scattershot in its approach, but the jokes come thick and fast, Jenna Davis is having a wonderful time as the titular M3G4N, and Jermaine Clement shows up and steals the show as a tech bro shit, which is always welcome. It's a lot bigger than the previous movie, and has doubled down on what fans ask for: there's a dance sequence, M3G4N is Saturday morning cartoon evil but with a budding "family pet" relationship which is rather enjoyable; and whilst the villain is fucking dreadful (aiming for milquetoast but coming off as limp, weak and wooden in parts) as well as predictable, it's made up for by the performance of AMELIA, who adds physicality and straight-woman proceedings to it all. The makers bring in another "James Wan Cop" turned up to 11 in the form of Timm Sharp's FBI agent, and when it goes screw-loose bananas off the reservation, it still remembers to keep it light and roll with it. The writing seems more "tossing out an idea, geting bored with it, tossing it out and moving on" than a deliberate blending of genres, but I liked it well enough. Weirdly they bring back both of the assistant comic relief characters of the first film (Brian Jordan Alvarez and Jenna Van Epps) but keep finding ways to write out the later without killing her, and keeping comedic shenanigans of the first. I enjoyed it, and I'd probably watch it on Film4 in the evening if it were on. Just watch "Child's Play" 2019 if you need this sort of thing, but it's still fun.

"Final Destination: Bloodlines" - Review

Haunted by nightmares of her grandmother Iris dying horribly, mathematician Stefani Reyes (Kaitlyn Santa Juana) returns home to clear her head, figure out what it means and try to contact the woman in question for answers. Unfortunately, a series of events shall soon befall the clan, as the mystery peels back like skin on a Cenobite's partner...

The "Final Destination" series has always been a rather silly one, at its best when it embraces the series of cartoonish stunts, improbably intricate deaths and Rube Goldberg machinations of messy mayhem. As a teenager/schoolkid you'd always hear the kids go "oh my God did you watch that movie on Channel 4 last night with the logs?! That was messed up!"
"No way! That bit with the lift!"
And it was always a race to what would be the goriest, stupidest death.
They weren't really for me, but this one manages to nail that series and is probably the best written of the bunch?
The best of the bunch previously was 2: because it had Jonathan Cherry and enjoyed the assignment (the barbed wire death remains one of the funniest) and whilst this movie seems to agree and owes a lot of debts to it (frequent passing of log trucks for the most part), it does its own thing and puts in a lot more effort than it needs to for this sort of assignment, clearly made by people who love the material. That goes a long way in my book. It begins with a very creative, fun little flashback of the entire dream set in the 60s, complete with a mini-story within about just how an obnoxious child is going to die, which perfectly sets the tone for things ahead.
The kills are creative, and peppered with wonderfully unpredictable red herrings (particular highlights are a tattoo parlour and a hospital...), whilst the usual line-up of doomed goons are not your typical horror movie dickbags. Sure, they're not given too much to do, but the family dynamic is pleasant enough, and the makers (directors Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein, and writers Guy Busick from Radio Silence and Lori Evans Taylor who doesn't have a Wikipedia page) weave in a rather solid "reconnecting with one's family" arc for a much needed human touch and some more pitch black humour. A standout is Richard Harmon's "Eric", the eldest cousin who has rightfully been getting praise; but personally the final and only scene of the impeccable Tony Todd was my highlight: the poignancy of his death adding weight to a final farewell and send off, giving me chills in the cinema as I watched it. Farewell king.