Cinema, New Releases, Oscar Bingo, Reviews

Cinema Review: The Odyssey (2026) – a loud, proud and phenomenal cinematic voyage!

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Cinema Review: The Odyssey (2026)

Directed by Christopher Nolan

Screenplay by Christopher Nolan – Based on Homer’s Odyssey

Produced by Emma Thomas & Christopher Nolan

Main cast: Matt Damon, Tom Holland, Anne Hathaway, Robert Pattinson, Lupita Nyong’o, Samantha Morton, Zendaya, Charlize Theron, Himesh Patel, Jon Bernthal, John Leguizamo, Bill Irwin and many more!

Cinematography by Hoyte van Hoytema

Edited by Jennifer Lame

Music by Ludwig Göransson

*** REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS ***

I’ve been weirdly reluctant to review Christopher Nolan’s rendition of Homer’s epic poem, The Odyssey (2026). Being honest, what I think of the film is pretty irrelevant. I mean, it’s an incredible feat of big budget filmmaking from, Sir Christopher Nolan, who remains one of the most brilliant filmmakers of the modern era. The film is likely to make more money at the box office than the debt of a small country as it sails the cinema seas. But I have to say amidst the incredible entertainment, stellar cast, jaw dropping sound and visuals and lengthy running time it does contain some dubious creative decisions, mainly where accents and casting are concerned.

I’m a big Nolan fan, but not all of his films land fully with me. My favourites remain: Memento (2000), The Prestige (2006), The Dark Knight (2008), Inception (2010) and Dunkirk (2017). Conversely, The Odyssey (2026) matches Oppenheimer (2023) for the array of Nolan’s ensemble of stars, confident and masterly direction, plus the sheer seismic scale of what his production team have committed to screen. Similarly though, while Cillian Murphy and Matt Damon give compelling performances as leaders in their field having to make tough choices to win wars, am I meant to care about these characters, who are effectively, “destroyers of worlds.”

Well, in J. Robert Oppenheimer’s case , dependent on your point of view, a huge debt of gratitude is owed to him and his team for producing a weapon to end all wars. If you ignore all the subsequent actual wars, proxy wars, invasions, conflicts and the blasted ‘Cold War’ which ensued after World War II ended, nuclear weapons have meant no other wars have occurred. So, The Odyssey (2026) is another Nolan film about war. But it’s also about duty, family, love, honour, comradeship, guilt and making the perilous journey home. Let’s be honest though, Odysseus is either a hero of Troy or a war criminal. Further, he’s a sneaky so and so – hiding in a gigantic hollow horse, and making the Trojans pull it into the city too! At least the Trojans got some cardiovascular exercise before they were all slaughtered.

Told in a non-linear fashion from shifting character perspectives, The Odyssey (2026) shows our hero and his crew facing a dangerous voyage back to Ithaca, questing the Gods, fighting nasty weather and meeting creatures like the Cyclops Polyphemus, gigantic metal knights, the Sirens, Charybdis and Scilla along the way. Furthermore, as well as focusing on Odysseus’ hazy, drugged memories, poisoned with lotus flowers by Calypso (a shrinking, Charlize Theron), we get woven historical flashes from Telemachus (Tom Holland) as he searches for his father, Penelope (Anne Hathaway) as she recounts their romantic commitments before the war, and Menelaus (Jon Bernthal), as he provides revelation on the post-war fate of his brother, King Agamemnon. I watched the stories-within-stories unfold totally enthralled and feeling like this was the Citizen Kane (1941) of epic historical cinema.

While the action and spectacle are undeniably compelling, it’s Nolan’s gift for weaving ancient myth into gripping cinema that impresses just as much. The casting, too, is full of intriguing choices. As expected, Nolan reunites with several familiar collaborators, and Matt Damon is superb as an ageing Odysseus – a battle-scarred general worn down by years of war but still determined to get his men home. Unfortunately, a string of catastrophically bad decisions ensures the gods have other ideas. In the world of The Odyssey (2026), poor judgement is practically a death sentence, and every time the crew think they’ve caught a break, another vengeful deity or monster appears to remind them who’s really in charge. None is more delightfully capricious than the witch Circe (Samantha Morton), who transforms the crew into pigs simply because… well, she can. Morton’s wonderfully imperious performance, thankfully delivered in her own British accent amidst an ocean of American ones, is a genuine scene-stealer.

Which does raise an interesting question. Why does Tom Holland, playing Telemachus, sound American? Is he following his on-screen father? Fair enough—but then what about the suitors, led by Antinous (Robert Pattinson), who’ve spent years occupying Ithaca while pestering Penelope and circling the throne like particularly persistent estate agents? Nolan famously pursued authenticity elsewhere, filming extensively in Greece, utilizing full-sized wooden ships, combining practical effects (Jet-Skis for the killer whirlpool) with discreet CGI, even building an enormous Cyclops model for Polyphemus. Yet somehow Jon Bernthal still sounds as though he’s just wandered in from a Brooklyn deli. (I know he’s not actually from Brooklyn… but, hey, what are ya gonna do?) The quest epics I grew up with often great British Shakespearean actors in them. While Laurence Olivier and Maggie Smith are not Greek either, they paradoxically somehow seem more authentic.

Still, The Odyssey (2026) is a glorious reminder of what cinemas were built for. It is loud, proud, unapologetically epic, and although it runs for three hours, the time flies even as it threatens to blow your eardrums out. This is filmmaking on the grandest possible scale—war, monsters, storms, impossible voyages and heroes—designed to overwhelm an audience in ways no living room ever could. Nolan understands that some stories demand the biggest IMAX screen imaginable. In an age when entertainment is increasingly consumed in fragments, The Odyssey (2026) insists on total immersion. It isn’t subtle, and it isn’t trying to be. It’s spectacular cinema in the truest sense of the word.

Perhaps that’s what cinema has always been for: gathering in the dark to watch wars, death and monsters on a screen, if only to distract ourselves from the wars, death and monsters waiting for us in reality. As the philosopher Guy Debord observed, “The spectacle is not a collection of images, but a social relationship between people that is mediated by images.” And as Heraclitus famously put it, “War is the father of all things.” The Odyssey (2026) reminds us that, three thousand years later, humans are still captivated and bombarded by both.

Mark: 9.5 out of 11

Cinema, Cult Cinema, documentaries, Nickel Cinema, Reviews

Cult Cinema Review: The Gods of Time$ $quare (1999)

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Cult Cinema Review: Gods of Time$ $quare (1999)

Written, filmed, edited and directed by Richard Sandler

As a cultural and spiritual journey I am currently on a pilgrimage of watching many faith-based or what can be classed as religious films. This is because I am intrigued as to why I never really believed in God. Plus, I am writing a feature film screenplay that centres around a religious character whose faith is tested in the face of extreme adversity and violence.

I personally am not religious in the traditional sense and have no specific faith or God to worship. While at school I was asked to join in prayers, sing hymns during assemblies, and take part in Easter and Christmas services. But at home I was not brought up in any particular faith or religion. I did not find faith independently either. As a younger person my logical mind could not grasp the concept of an almighty being existing. For the simple reason: I could not see or hear them. Moreover, while the Bible has many, many incredible stories I was more drawn to the narrative power of film, VHS videos and television more. In certain regards, the cinema was my church growing up and continues to be.

I have begun watching and rewatching many religious films and hope to write an article or essay outlining the different kinds of stories there are within the subgenre. I am likely to create a video essay too, similar to the recent one about revenge cinema. Ultimately, as I have got older I have grown more open-minded about spirituality so perhaps I will find faith and spirituality from within these films.

The Gods of Times Square (1999) is more than a documentary; it’s a time capsule for a vanished New York. Filmed over six years, Richard Sandler captures the final moments of a Times Square that was chaotic, democratic and gloriously unpredictable—a place where preachers, prophets, philosophers and eccentrics all claimed a corner to share their truths.

As Disney’s corporate redevelopment swept through the city, those voices were drowned beneath the bright lights of global brands, transforming one of the world’s great public stages into a polished, commercial spectacle. The old gods of faith, protest and free speech gave way to new deities such as Mickey Mouse.

Sandler deserves enormous credit for preserving this disappearing world with such curiosity and compassion. His camera lingers on an unforgettable cast of believers, zealots, outsiders and dreamers, each wrestling with their own ideas of God, society and identity. Though its restless handheld style and rapid-fire editing can occasionally feel rough around the edges, those imperfections become part of the film’s authenticity.

The Gods of Times Square (1999) endures not simply as a documentary, but as an invaluable portrait of a city—and a spirit of public expression—that can never truly be recreated. Did it create a sense of belief and faith in me where God could exist? Unfortunately, not. However, it did explore many different warts-and-all aspects of human behaviour and the personalities who do have faith.

For more information check out his website: https://www.richardsandler.com/gods-of-times-square

Support independent cinema by visiting the Nickel Cinema – https://thenickel.co.uk

Cinema, New Releases, Reviews

Cinema review: Tuner (2026) – a cracking romantic thriller which hits all the high notes!

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Cinema review: Tuner (2026)

Directed by Daniel Roher

Written by Daniel Roher & Robert Ramsey

Produced by JoAnne Sellar, Lila Yacoub, Teddy Schwarzman, Michael Heimler

Main cast: Leo Woodall, Havana Rose Liu, Lior Raz, Tovah Feldshuh
Jean Reno, Dustin Hoffman, etc.

Cinematography by Lowell A. Meyer

*** May Contain Spoilers ***

Tuner (2026) is an immensely satisfying crowd-pleaser that effortlessly blends character drama, romance, crime and edge-of-your-seat suspense into one of the year’s most enjoyable genre films. Beginning with a wonderfully original premise, the story follows Niki White, a gifted piano tuner whose extreme sensitivity to sound has robbed him of the musical career he once dreamed of. Yet what first appears to be a cruel twist of fate gradually becomes an extraordinary gift, as his heightened hearing opens the door to an unexpected talent for cracking safes.

Leon Woodall delivers a superb leading performance, combining effortless charisma with genuine vulnerability. Niki is a hero you instinctively want to see succeed, and Woodall carries his emotional journey through every setback, triumph and moral dilemma with remarkable warmth. His path is packed with tension, surprises and emotional highs and lows, making him an endlessly engaging protagonist.

Moreover, Dustin Hoffman brings warmth and gravitas as Harry Horowitz, Niki’s boss, mentor and surrogate father. Havana Rose Liu is equally delightful as Ruthie, providing a romantic spark that never feels forced and adds another layer of emotional investment. The film is further elevated by a beautifully judged score that moves seamlessly between jazz and classical music, perfectly complementing both the intimate character moments and the escalating suspense.

One of the film’s smartest ideas is the way it connects the worlds of piano tuning and safe-cracking. Through inventive sound design and razor-sharp editing, both crafts become almost indistinguishable, transforming listening itself into an act of suspense. Niki’s hyperacusis is continually redefined throughout the story—at times a devastating burden, then an astonishing advantage, before once again revealing its painful cost. It’s an elegant and imaginative use of disability within the narrative.

Director and co-writer Daniel Roher skilfully juggles multiple genres without ever losing sight of the characters. Family relationships, romance, crime caper thrills and deeply personal drama are woven together with confidence, building towards a genuinely rewarding conclusion that feels both earned and emotionally satisfying. Ultimately, Tuner (2026) is exactly the kind of tightly constructed, “Save the Cat”-style genre movie I love: a compelling central character, ingenious storytelling, emotional stakes, thrilling set pieces and a hugely satisfying payoff. It’s intelligent, entertaining and immensely rewarding from beginning to end.

Mark: 9 out of 11

Cinema, horror

Cinema review: Backrooms (2026) – an eerily impressive adaptation of the YouTube viral sensation!

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Cinema review: Backrooms (2026)

Directed by Kane Parsons

Written by Will Soodik

Based on Backrooms by Kane Parsons

Produced by James Wan, Michael Clear, Roberto Patino, Shawn Levy, Dan Cohen, Dan Levine, Osgood Perkins, Chris Ferguson, Peter Chernin, Jenno Topping, Kori Adelson, etc.

Main cast: Chiwetel Ejiofor, Renate Reinsve, Mark Duplass, Finn Bennett, Lukita Maxwell, etc.

Cinematography by Jeremy Cox

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

Following hot-on-the-heels of Curry Barker’s recent low-budget horror film hit, Obsession (2025), comes another YouTube filmmaking sensation, the even younger, Kane Parsons. His found footage, YouTube series, Backrooms, films can be viewed here. It’s heavy on atmosphere, mystery, point-of-view terror suspense, themes relating to technology gone wrong, interdimensional space and time, mental breakdown, plus incredible eye-for-detail in terms of architecture and sound design. While there is a narrative thrust, each episode stands alone, drip feeding into the other as a scientific experiment gone awry, has somehow created a never-ending liminal space for bodies and minds to get lost in.

While I am not a fan of the found footage subgenre, Parsons is clearly an ultra-talented creative with an intriguing and imaginative vision. Using a mix of online 3D software, Blender, library sounds, live actor’s performance and voices, the Backrooms YouTube series is an enthralling visual, aural and psychological experience. I especially enjoyed piecing together the short episodes to create my own understanding of what is unfolding. I could also see influences from videogames such as Portal and Shane Carruth’s bamboozling time-travel cult film classic, Primer (2004). But what of A24’s big screen adaptation of Backrooms (2026)? Does it retain the power of the no-budget viral sensation essentially built by a teenager on his bedroom laptop?

Directed by Kane Parsons himself, and supported by many more experienced filmmaker as producers, Backrooms (2026), stars Chiwetel Ejiofor, Renate Reinsve, and Lukita Maxwell. The film follows Clark (Ejiofor), a flailing furniture shop owner, recovering from a recent bitter divorce. After finding a spatial fissure in the shop he begins slipping between reality and a vast labyrinth of impossible rooms. After some time passes, Clark, has vanished to the rooms and his therapist, Mary (Reinsve) tries to find him in the ‘Backrooms.’ Here distorted memories, unresolved trauma, and an unknowable force lurk beyond every fluorescent-lit corridor. As the boundaries between the physical and psychological collapse, these characters must navigate an ever-shifting maze that seems determined to consume their identities.

Parsons demonstrates remarkable visual ambition, translating his found-footage origins into a striking cinematic experience. The film’s warped architecture, unsettling spatial logic, eerie soundscape, and dreamlike production design create an atmosphere unlike anything else in contemporary studio horror. Oversized furniture, impossible room dimensions, and bizarre wall angles transform mundane office spaces into haunting liminal nightmares, showcasing a filmmaker with a singular visual imagination.

One of the film’s most interesting choices is its decision to graft a more traditional psychological-journey narrative onto the inherently abstract mythology. By focusing on character development and emotional trauma, the film adds a welcome layer of human depth that many adaptations of internet horror would lack. The performances, particularly from Renate Reinsve, ground the increasingly surreal proceedings with genuine emotional weight. Yet this approach comes with a paradoxical cost. The original Backrooms concept derives its terror from uncertainty, emptiness, and the sense that nothing can ever truly be understood. By providing emotional context and narrative explanations, the film inevitably diminishes some of that primal fear. What is gained in characterisation is, to some extent, lost in dread.

The issue becomes more apparent in the final act, where the film leans heavily into conventional monster horror. While technically accomplished, these sequences feel at odds with the uncanny atmosphere that makes the earlier sections so effective. The introduction of more explicit threats undercuts the terrifying ambiguity of the environment itself. Quite frankly, the creature-focused climax trips up what is otherwise an extraordinary visual achievement. Overall, the screenplay by Will Soodik has many strengths, yet Parsons’ vision remains the film’s greatest strength. Backrooms (2026) succeeds most when it trusts those images to do the frightening. It’s a fascinating, visually breath taking horror film that occasionally explains too much of what was once terrifying precisely because it could never be explained.

Mark: 8 out of 11 (Feature film) / 9 out of 11 (YouTube series)

Film Festivals, horror

Thanks to Horror Con 2026!

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Thanks to Horror Con 2026!

Earlier this month – appropriately running from 06.06.2026 to 07.06.2026 – myself and my wife attended the Horror Con 2026 event in Sheffield, England. My short film The Suicide Shift (2026) screened alongside many other great indie horror shorts there amidst a plethora of other wonderful happenings and people.

If you are a fan of all things horror from films, television, comic books, music, theatre, literature, posters, cos-play and also a memorabilia collector then this is definitely an event you should visit. As well as meet, greets and talks from horror stars, actors, writers, directors and musicians of now and yesteryear there are a myriad of stalls containing all manner of fantastic merchandise and collector’s items.

For more information check out their website here!

As well as the screening of The Suicide Shift (2026), the event was an opportunity to meet and hear from the legends of horror, cinema and TV more generally. I specifically met Fred Williamson, former American football star, actor from Black Caesar (1973), From Dusk til Dawn (1996), The Inglorious Bastards (1978) and many more blaxploitation and action films. He’s 88 years young and was so full of energy and it was amazing to meet and get his autograph.

Further, I also had the pleasure of meeting and speaking to self-proclaimed genius horror author, TV writer/producer/actor, Garth Marenghi, whose Channel 4 horror-comedy show Garth Marenghi’s Dark Place (2004) was an essential early-millennium watch. I spoke with him about his experience and knowledge working on the weird horror film Possum (2018). Garth remarked that was done by the ‘other guy’, Matthew Holness, and it nearly broke him as the writer and director of that feature film. It was a highly amusing experience, even just chatting for a short time, to a performer so fiercely staying “in character.”

My wife, Melissa, would herself meet and get the autograph of comedy and horror great, Reece Shearsmith on the Sunday. His creative partner, Steve Pemberton (Saturday only), was also in attendance along with such luminaries as Ian Ogilvy, Heather Langenkamp, Caroline Munro (who I met at Romford Horror Festival 2026), Camille Keaton, Nancy Loomis (Kyes), plus the most intriguing appearance from composer and longtime Lucio Fulci collaborator, Fabio Frizzi. Most pleasing of all was Fabio and a fellow guitarist gave a classical guitar performance in the event hall of many of his horror film compositions. Along with the talks from the hilarious, Garth Marenghi, and brilliant, Reece Shearsmith, Frizzi’s musical performance was one of the major highlights of the weekend.

If you love horror I can certainly recommend making the annual pilgrimage to the Magna Centre in the Rotherham area of Sheffield in the future. It has been going for over a decade now and grows ever popular.

Here is a slideshow selection of photos from the event.

Reviews, YouTube Video Articles

Six of the Best Revenge Films – Video Essay

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Six of the Best Revenge Films

This year I have set myself a creative challenge to learn the fundamentals of video editing software such as Adobe Premiere and DaVinci Resolve. In order to achieve this I have set myself a target of writing, filming, editing and releasing on social media platforms various short videos and films, documentary or narrative. This video essay was based on a recent blog post I wrote that can be found here. So, I basically adapted, narrated and edited a video version of six of the best revenge films down below. Check it out!

Film Credits

DEAD MAN’S SHOES (2004)
GET CARTER (1971)
KILL BILL: THE WHOLE BLOODY AFFAIR (2004)
MERMAID LEGEND (1984)
MS. 45 (1981)
OLD BOY (2003)
ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST (1968)
REVENGE (2017)

Credits

Written, narrated and edited by: Paul Laight
Music: Suspense Piano composed and recorded by Oak Studios.

The copyright of the images and trailers are those of the film studios. I do not own any of the images or films. This video article is an educational piece highlighting my favourite revenge genre films.

Cinema, Classic Film Reviews, Cult Cinema, horror, Nickel Cinema, Reviews

Cult Film Review: The Cremator (1969) – Buddhism, Fascism, and Psychopathy of the Soul!

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Cult Film Review: The Cremator (1969)

Directed by Juraj Herz

Written by Ladislav Fuks & Juraj Herz

Produced by Ladislav Hanuš

Main cast: Rudolf Hrušínský, Vlasta Chramostová, Jana Stehnová, Miloš Vognič, etc.

Cinematography by Stanislav Milota

Music by Zdeněk Liška

Few films feel as spiritually diseased as The Cremator (1969). Directed by Juraj Herz at the height of the Czech New Wave, the film is not simply a horror story about fascism or madness — it is a suffocating psychological descent into moral annihilation. Released in 1969, shortly after the crushing of the Prague Spring, the film arrived like a nightmare smuggled out of a collapsing world.

At first glance, The Cremator (1969) appears grotesque, even absurd. Its protagonist, Karl Kopfrkingl, is a Prague crematorium worker obsessed with death, cleanliness, Tibetan mysticism, and social respectability. But as the film unfolds, its black comedy slowly curdles into something far more terrifying: an anatomy of how spiritual emptiness and ideological seduction can fuse into psychopathy.

Set during the backdrop of the political radicalization of Europe during the 1930s, and the installation of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia under Hitler’s Germany in 1939, the events become a startling microcosm of the Nazi onslaught against humanity. The film’s power lies not only in its themes, but in the unnerving collision of performance, photography, editing, and tone. It is funny, horrifying, philosophical, and surreal all at once — a cinematic experience unlike almost anything else.

At the centre of the film is the extraordinary performance by Rudolf Hrušínský. His portrayal of Karl Kopfrkingl may be one of the greatest performances in horror cinema, precisely because he never behaves like a conventional villain. Kopfrkingl is soft-spoken, polite, articulate, even charming. He speaks in comforting aphorisms and philosophical musings. He adores his wife. He dotes on his children. He smiles constantly. Yet every sentence he utters feels faintly poisoned.

Hrušínský plays the character with such eerie serenity that the horror emerges not through aggression, but through calmness. He embodies a man who has entirely dissolved the boundary between compassion and cruelty. When Kopfrkingl speaks about cremation “liberating souls from suffering,” he genuinely believes himself to be merciful. That conviction is what makes him terrifying. The performance captures a specific kind of psychopathy rarely depicted on screen: not the explosive violence of rage, but the bureaucratic psychopathy of moral detachment. Kopfrkingl is capable of atrocity because he has transformed murder into an abstraction. He speaks of death with the same pleasant tone one might use to discuss gardening or architecture.

In this sense, the film becomes a chilling study of fascism’s psychological appeal. Fascism in The Cremator (1969) is not introduced through screaming speeches or military spectacle. It arrives through vanity, social aspiration, pseudo-spiritual rhetoric, and the desire to belong to something “pure.”

One of the film’s most unsettling dimensions is its use of Buddhist imagery and philosophy. Kopfrkingl constantly references the Tibetan Book of the Dead, reincarnation, liberation from suffering, and transcendence. Yet the film presents these ideas not as genuine spirituality, but as corrupted fragments filtered through narcissism and delusion. Real Buddhist philosophy emphasizes compassion, ego dissolution, and liberation from suffering through awareness. Kopfrkingl instead weaponizes spiritual language to avoid confronting guilt or empathy. He uses metaphysics to anesthetize morality.

Unlike many anti-fascist films, The Cremator (1969) does not portray Nazism as an external force invading society. Instead, fascism emerges as something already latent within ordinary life. Kopfrkingl is primed for it long before political ideology fully enters the narrative. He is obsessed with order, status, beauty, ritual, and cleanliness. He fears impurity. He wants social advancement. He craves meaning. Nazism merely gives structure to impulses already present within him.

The crematorium itself becomes the perfect metaphor for industrialized fascism. It is clean, efficient, mechanical, and emotionally sterile. Bodies move through the system with ritualistic precision. Death becomes administration. Kopfrkingl thrives in this environment because it allows him to feel spiritually important while remaining emotionally absent.

Visually, The Cremator (1969) is astonishing. Its black-and-white cinematography feels simultaneously elegant and diseased, full of warped close-ups, fisheye distortions, drifting shadows, and claustrophobic compositions. Faces loom unnaturally close to the camera. Rooms seem to bend inward. Mirrors fracture identity. The world feels unstable even before the narrative fully collapses into horror.

The editing in The Cremator may be its most radical achievement. The film’s montage structure constantly fractures time, space, and emotional continuity. At times, the film feels like it is edited according to subconscious logic rather than narrative logic. This creates a sensation of spiritual suffocation. The viewer experiences Kopfrkingl’s psychological fragmentation from the inside as he begins his reign of murder. The film itself begins to think like its protagonist. What is remarkable is how modern the editing still feels. The film doesn’t simply tell a story about insanity — it formally reproduces insanity.

Perhaps the film’s greatest achievement is its impossible tonal balance. The Cremator (1969) is genuinely funny. Kopfrkingl’s pompous speeches, obsessive vanity, and bizarre philosophical tangents often border on absurdist comedy. Some scenes play like dark satire, exposing the ridiculousness of authoritarian self-importance. And yet the laughter quickly becomes uncomfortable. This fusion of horror, drama, and comedy is what makes the film feel so original. Most horror films separate terror from satire. The Cremator (1969) understands that the truly grotesque often contains both simultaneously. The result is a film that feels spiritually corrosive in the best possible way — a nightmare that smiles while it strangles you.

Cinema, horror, New Releases, Reviews

Horror Cinema Reviews: Hokum (2026) and Obsession (2026) – a double-bill of modern film terror not for the faint-hearted!

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Cinema Reviews: Hokum (2026) and Obsession (2025)

It is a testament to the continued popularity and money-making ability of the horror genre that it is now receiving prime release dates throughout the year at the multiplex cinemas. While Halloween is a favoured release period for horror films at the cinema, as well as the many streaming platforms, the genre is now a staple of the spring and summer schedules. Two films released within a week of each other, namely, Hokum (2026) and Obsession (2025). While both films differ in themes, it kind of made sense to offer a dual review.

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

Hokum (2026)

Directed and written by Damian McCarthy

Main cast: Adam Scott, Florence Ordesh, Peter Coonan, David Wilmot
& Michael Patric

Damian McCarthy’s previous film Oddity (2024) was a genuinely unnerving mix of ghostly, vengeful and creepy doll manifestations. While drawing on familiar horror elements it felt fresh and is definitely recommended. McCarthy’s new film, Hokum (2026) is similarly unsettling and slow burn in approach, however, the narrative elements are far more recognizable. Indeed, Adam Scott is Ohm Bauman, a grizzled and successful writer suffering from creative block. So-far-so-Stephen-King. In an attempt to break his inertia he takes a trip to rural Ireland to lay-to-rest his parents ashes, while also dealing with a festering childhood trauma.

The blocked writer overcoming grief and trauma within the ghostly trap of an old building, in this instance a hotel, has been done many times before. Yet, Damian McCarthy is an ultra-talented director and he creates atmosphere, startling images, shivering scares and a pervading sense of dread throughout. The main issue I had was Scott’s Ohm is unlikeable and I did not really care if he lived or died. I cared even less that he finished the novel he was working on. The most empathetic character, Fiona, meets an early demise becoming a plot point and victim, despite Florence Ordesh’s memorable screen presence. Overall, Hokum (2026) contains some fantastic visuals and chilling moments despite not wholly reconciling the themes of grief, ghosts, witches, toxic masculinity, guilt, trauma, murder and nefarious hotel staff.

Mark: 7.5 out of 11

Obsession (2025)

Directed, written and edited by Curry Barker

Main cast: Michael Johnston, Inde Navarrette, Cooper Tomlinson, Megan Lawless & Andy Richter

Another horror film and another ultimately unsympathetic male protagonist where late-twentysomething, Bear (Michael Johnston), finds himself deservedly terrorised by a primal and horrific cycle of events. Unlike the confident, Ohm from Hokum, Bear is a low-self-esteem-Beta-male who is obsessed with, but “friend-zoned” by his work colleague, Nikki. Unfortunately he is so crippled by shyness he cannot ask her on a date for fear of rejection. When Bear desperately makes a wish using a “One Wish Willow”, (monkey paw equivalent), his desire for Nikki to “love him more than anything in the world” completely backfires as she succumbs entirely and frighteningly to the wish. While I empathised with such romantic anxiety it’s incredibly painful to watch.

But that is Curry Barker’s thing! He is committed to creating as many awkward, sickening and shocking moments as possible. He takes this horror / gag set-up and runs the plays ensuring the conceit gets sicker and sicker with each scene. Using Inde Navarrette’s phenomenally psychotic performance, gross bodily outpourings, satanic smiles, and severe moments of self-harm Barker delivers terror of the highest order. His use of shadowed figures, head-smashing violence and sound effects especially created a heady mix of nervous laughter and palpable tension. My main criticism is that many scenes were TOO dark and I could not see the characters. Yeah, I know I this was deliberate but it’s a recent lighting style many cinematographers choose that I really dislike.

Zach Cregger, the Philippou brothers and now Curry Barker have moved from short film, sketch, viral video and comedy content to the horror genre with incredible success. Sudden shocks, surprises, and powerful punchlines work brilliantly for both comedy and horror although, of the three, the Philippou brothers have delivered the more emotionally resonant films compared to Cregger and now, Barker. Still, Barker’s propensity for sickening gore and humour is to be admired. Further, the true horror is in Barker’s exploration of toxic masculinity and the desire to trap femininity. The place where Nikki’s consciousness was imprisoned is where the resonant evil of Obsession (2025) truly remains.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11

Cinema, Classic Film Reviews, Cult Cinema, Films That Got Away

Classic Film Reviews: Sorcerer (1977)

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Directed by William Friedkin

Screenplay by Walon Green – Based on The Wages of Fear (1950 novel) by Georges Arnaud

Produced by William Friedkin

Main cast: Roy Scheider, Bruno Cremer, Francisco Rabal, Amidou, Ramon Bieri, etc.

Cinematography by John M. Stephens & Dick Bush

Music by Tangerine Dream

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

I love The Wages of Fear (1953). It is one of my favourite films of all time. I have reviewed it here. Yet, for years I had never seen William Friedkin’s adaptation of the same 1950 novel, titled, Sorcerer (1977), but thankfully it was screened on Film Four a few years ago, so finally caught up with it. Even better, during the first May Bank Holiday this year it was screened at the Prince Charles Cinema in central London. Amidst a packed crowd I marvelled in the crazed and majestic vision of Friedkin’s filmic adaptation.

Sorcerer (1977) represents one of the clearest examples of how a major studio film can become both a catastrophic commercial failure and, decades later, a revered cult masterpiece. Friedkin, who was at the height of his directorial power, unfortunately did not receive the deserved commercial or critical response during its release and the film disappeared from public view for years. A major reason for the film bombing is it ran directly into the release of Star Wars (1977).

Audiences suddenly wanted escapist fantasy, optimism, and spectacle. Sorcerer (1977) offered the exact opposite: bleak existentialism, sweaty paranoia, moral ambiguity, long stretches of tension and despair and no traditional heroes. Further, audiences were confused by the title, which sounded supernatural even though the film has nothing to do with magic. Many viewers assumed it was a horror or fantasy film and mixed initial reviews, a slow, demanding pace and the film’s nihilistic tone did not help.

The narrative is tension personified. Four desperate fugitives are handed what is essentially a suicide mission: drive two battered, barely functioning trucks 218 miles through a brutal Latin American jungle, carrying crates of decaying dynamite so unstable that every pothole, every jolt, every wrong move could ignite the sweating nitroglycerin inside and annihilate them instantly. The road is collapsing beneath them, the jungle is unforgiving, and death is riding in the back seat with every mile. This premise gave rise a series of double-crossing plot events and incredible action set-pieces, notably the crumbling bridge scene where you can virtually feel the stormy weather on your face while watching.

As such — the trucks crossing a collapsing rope bridge during a storm — became one of the hardest sequences ever filmed at the time. Friedkin refused miniatures or obvious effects work. The crew built a full suspension bridge over a real river in the Dominican Republic. Then the river dried up. They had to abandon the location, search for another river, rebuild portions of the bridge, and engineer artificial rain systems powerful enough to create a storm effect. Due to this and crew members falling ill in the tropical conditions, the production went over schedule and over budget.

The drama after release did not end. Sorcerer (1977) became trapped in rights issues and studio neglect where quality prints were difficult to find and television broadcasts were rare. Friedkin himself even left a comment on a DVD copy on sale on Amazon saying “DO NOT BUY THIS!” Thankfully a fully restored Blu Ray version was released in 2014 and The Criterion Collection released Sorcerer (1977) on Blu-ray and Ultra HD Blu-ray in June 2025. Thus, the story behind the film mirrors the narrative itself with obsessive men undertaking an impossible task, pushing beyond reasonable limits, suffering incredible stress and barely surviving the journey.

At the time, Hollywood treated Sorcerer (1977) as evidence that the auteur era had gone too far. In retrospect, many see it as one of the last uncompromising masterpieces before blockbuster logic transformed the industry permanently. Lastly, while the characters are all anti-heroic and difficult to root for in Sorcerer (1977), the sheer brilliance of the practical effects, epic Tangerine Dream soundtrack, nerve-shredding editing, stunning cinematography and insane effort make this one of the most suspenseful and incredible action films of all time.

Articles, Classic Film Reviews, Cult Cinema, Films That Got Away, Nickel Cinema

Films that Got Away #18 – Star 80 (1983)

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Films that Got Away #18 – Star 80 (1983)

Directed by Bob Fosse

Written by Bob Fosse – Based on Village Voice article, “Death of a Playmate” by Teresa Carpenter

Produced by Wolfgang Glattes & Kenneth Utt

Main cast: Mariel Hemingway, Eric Roberts, Cliff Robertson, Carroll Baker, Roger Rees, David Clennon, etc.

Cinematography by Sven Nykvist

*** CONTAINS SPOILERS ***

Bob Fosse remains one of the most singular figures in American entertainment — a director and choreographer whose style fused seduction, cynicism, theatrical precision, and emotional exhaustion into something instantly recognizable. Emerging from Broadway before conquering Hollywood, Fosse developed a visual language built around angular movements, tilted hats, snapping fingers, smoky jazz-club sensuality, and a relentless awareness of performance as both liberation and self-destruction.

Films like Cabaret (1972), Lenny (1974), and especially All That Jazz (1979) transformed the movie musical into something darker and psychologically raw, stripping away optimism in favour of obsession, ego, mortality, and the corrosive cost of show business. His influence can still be felt across modern cinema, music videos, and stage choreography, from contemporary Broadway revivals to filmmakers drawn to stylized performance and fractured antiheroes.

His final film, Star 80 (1983), stands as perhaps the bleakest expression of that worldview. Based on the true-crime murder of Playboy model Dorothy Stratten by her estranged husband Paul Snider, the film abandons glamour almost entirely in favour of a grim examination of exploitation, fame, misogyny, and possessive violence. Despite strong performances and critical admiration over the years, Star 80 remains comparatively difficult to encounter on television or major streaming platforms, partly because of the film’s emotionally punishing tone and its frank, lascivious depiction of the exploitation surrounding Stratten’s rise and death.

Unlike nostalgic Hollywood biographies that soften tragedy into inspiration, Fosse offers no comforting catharsis. The film ends not with redemption, but with the crushing inevitability of a young woman destroyed by the appetites of the men around her. That uncompromising darkness has contributed to the film’s lingering reputation as both a major work and an uncomfortable one — admired more often than it is revisited. So, thanks to the Nickel Cinema in London for screening this dark 1970’s based cult classic.

In Star 80 (1983), Mariel Hemingway gives an emotionally vulnerable performance of as Dorothy Stratten. Hemingway captures Stratten not as a caricature of Playboy fantasy, but as a genuinely sweet, almost painfully open young woman whose natural beauty and modest charm made her seem like the quintessential girl-next-door suddenly thrust into the machinery of adult celebrity. There is an innocence in Hemingway’s performance that never feels naïve or artificial; she understands Dorothy as someone eager to please, hungry for affection, and slowly awakening to her own independence just as the forces around her become more dangerous. Fosse frames her as both radiant and tragically exposed — a woman transformed into an object of desire by an industry that sees glamour as currency and vulnerability as weakness.

Opposite her, Eric Roberts delivers a frighteningly intense performance as Paul Snider, one that avoids simple imitation in favour of total embodiment. Roberts plays Snider as a man consumed by insecurity, narcissism, and desperate possessiveness, turning toxic masculinity into something sweaty, twitching, and deeply pathetic. He is not charismatic in the conventional movie sense; instead, Roberts makes him volatile and emotionally ravenous, a man whose entire identity depends on controlling the woman he helped “discover.” The performance becomes increasingly difficult to watch because of how recognizable the psychology feels — jealousy mutating into resentment, then humiliation, then violence.

Fosse refuses to sensationalize that descent in Star 80 (1983). The naked glamour of the Playboy world, the pornographic undercurrent of the entertainment industry, and the seductive surfaces of Los Angeles all become drenched in sordid, emotional decay. There is nudity and a sense of exploitative lingering on the feminine form, but there is understandable context. Cliff Robertson’s appearance as Hugh Hefner is not simply a caricature, but rather a caring, avuncular figure, despite building an empire out of, arguably, the exploitation of women. Further, Aram Nicholas (a thinly veiled, Peter Bogdanovich ) is a film director who tries to make Dorothy Stratten a movie star, but begins an affair too, sending Snider over the edge. Thus Stratten’s body and soul pinballs between these dominating men.

Overall, Star 80 (1983) lingers long after it ends. Fosse, Hemingway, Roberts and Sven Nykist’s cinematography contribute memorable work. Beneath its glossy imagery lies an overwhelming feeling of bleakness — the sense that every flashbulb, every photo shoot, and every promise of fame is shadowed by exploitation, stolen innocence, and inevitable tragedy.

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