Category Archives: Cinema

Cinema Review: Black Bag (2025) – Christie meets le Carré in this stylish, sexy and witty spy whodunnit!

CINEMA REVIEW: BLACK BAG (2025)

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

Written by David Koepp

Produced by: Casey Silver, Gregory Jacobs

Main cast: Cate Blanchett, Michael Fassbender, Marisa Abela, Tom Burke, Naomie Harris, Regé-Jean Page, Pierce Brosnan, etc.


Cinematography by Peter Andrews

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



Steven Soderbergh’s career has been nothing short of a cinematic roller-coaster, blending big-budget spectacle, indie sensibilities, and a keen embrace of genre films in ways that defy easy categorisation. What makes his career so distinctive is his ability to seamlessly navigate between these different filmmaking realms, constantly evolving while retaining a unique voice and artistic freedom. His latest film Black Bag (2025) is a striking, starry, and decent-budgeted genre effort.

Soderbergh first rose to prominence with Sex, Lies, and Videotape (1989), a low-budget indie that catapulted him into the spotlight. The film’s success established him as one of the defining voices of American independent cinema during the 1990s. His subsequent works, such as Kafka (1991) and The Underneath (1995), reflected his interest in experimenting with narrative structures and visual styles, blending genre conventions with deep, sometimes surreal exploration of characters. These works were still firmly rooted in indie filmmaking, but they hinted at a growing ambition and versatility in his cinematic process.

Then, in the late ’90s and early 2000s, Soderbergh took a bold leap into big-budget territory. His Ocean’s Eleven (2001) series stands as a perfect example of his ability to handle mainstream, star-studded films with finesse. It combined slick, fast-paced storytelling with elements of the heist genre, demonstrating that Soderbergh could not only handle massive budgets but could also bring style, wit, and substance to a genre film. However, Soderbergh was never one to be pigeonholed, and in the same decade, he also directed both Erin Brockovich (2000) and Traffic (2000), both socially conscious, multi-layered dramas, with the latter about the war on drugs. Traffic earned him an Academy Award for Best Director, proving that Soderbergh but could also tackle politically charged narratives with profound depth.

Having moved back to indie filmmaking with The Bubble (2005) and The Girlfriend Experience (2009), Soderbergh made another unexpected turn with Magic Mike (2012), which, despite its premise (a male stripper drama), was a sharp social commentary on gender, exploitation, and masculinity. This film not only tapped into a niche market but was also a critical success, further cementing his ability to bring depth to various genres, whether mainstream or niche. Even when he announced his “retirement” from directing in 2013, he still found ways to work in other mediums, such as producing and experimenting with quality television (The Knick), and in 2017, he returned to directing with Logan Lucky (2017), a heist comedy that balanced mainstream appeal with Soderbergh’s signature offbeat style.



Soderbergh’s ability to jump between blockbuster entertainment and intimate, experimental narratives has been the hallmark of his career. Yet for me his serious genre dramas like the aforementioned Traffic (2000), plus Contagion (2011), Side Effects (2013), and his most recent project, Black Bag (2025) represent the pinnacle of his narrative precision and impact, solidifying his reputation as one of the best directors in genre cinema. One could argue that Black Bag (2025) leans heavily on spy film tropes, yet it has a certain emotional and conspiratorial depth beneath the familiar beats and sheen.

What sets these films apart from the rest of Soderbergh’s career is the seamless way in which he blends his usual intellectual ambition with a masterful, almost surgical delivery of genre tropes. Whether tackling the global panic of a viral outbreak in Contagion (2011), the psychological twists of a modern Hitchcockian thriller in Side Effects (2013), or the high-stakes political intrigue in Black Bag (2025), where a deadly uber-weapon McGuffin falls into the wrong hands. Here master-agent George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) must track down a mole, who may-or-may-not be one of his colleagues or indeed his wife, Kathryn (Cate Blanchett).

Black Bag (2025), expertly combines spy-game thrills within a series of “who’s-cheating-on-who” twists. It certainly helps that Soderbergh is working with an exceptionally crafted script from David Koepp and a cast to die for. Fassbender, Blanchett and Tom Burke especially stand-out, with Fassbender delivering yet another masterclass in filmic understatement. Overall, it’s a viciously funny and sexy genre piece that combines Agatha Christie, classic espionage thrillers and Soderbergh’s trademark framing, lens and lighting tricks. It’s the kind of genre filmmaking where every scene, every act, every word, every frame and every moment serves a narrative purpose. It’s a handsome bit of cinema and my word is my Bond!

Mark: 8.5 out of 11


Romford Horror Film Festival 2025 appreciation post!

Romford Horror Festival 2025 – review and thanks!

The Romford Horror Film Festival in Essex has quickly become a key destination for both emerging and established voices in horror cinema. With a mission to champion independent filmmaking talent, the festival provides a crucial platform for new directors, writers, and producers to showcase their work to enthusiastic audiences and industry professionals.

One of the festival’s standout features is its dedication to fresh, original horror storytelling. By curating a diverse lineup of indie horror shorts and feature films, the event serves as a launchpad for up-and-coming talent, offering them exposure, networking opportunities, and even awards that can propel their careers forward. The festival frequently hosts Q&A sessions, panel discussions, and filmmaker meetups, giving creatives a chance to engage directly with fans and industry insiders.



Alongside its celebration of new talent, the Romford Horror Film Festival also pays tribute to the classics of the genre. Screenings of beloved horror films from the past ensure that attendees not only experience the latest innovations in horror filmmaking but also gain an appreciation for the genre’s deep roots. By blending the past and future of horror, the festival fosters a sense of community among horror enthusiasts, creating an environment where cinephiles, filmmakers, and genre veterans can connect.

I attended on the Saturday and watched my short film Inferis (2024), plus a stream of other amazing short films. I then got to see Lucio Fulci’s gore classic, Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979) on the big screen. A very entertaining Q & A featuring cast members including Ian McCulloch followed. The programme also contained several more Fulci horrors, Threads (1984), The Evil Dead (1981), Metropolis (1927), Man Bites Dog (1992), Razor Blade Smile (1998) and many other vintage classics alongside the best of new indie releases. If you love horror films then check out their website for future events here!


Cinema Review: The Monkey (2025) – a hilarious horror sketch-show with gore masking an inconsistent totemic tale!

Cinema Review: The Monkey (2025)

Directed by Osgood Perkins

Written by Osgood Perkins

Based on “The Monkey” by Stephen King

Produced by James Wan, Dave Caplan, Brian Kavanaugh-Jones, Chris Ferguson, etc.

Main Cast: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Christian Convery, Colin O’Brien, Rohan Campbell, Sarah Levy, Adam Scott and Elijah Wood.

Cinematography by Nico Aguilar



Following the financial success of his 2024 psychological thriller Longlegs (2024), Osgood Perkins has recently embarked on adapting Stephen King’s short story, The Monkey, into a feature film. While I didn’t quite connect with it Longlegs (2024) it had many impressed with its strange, atmospheric tension as well as Nic Cage’s crazy look and performance. The Monkey (2025), differs in tone though as it this adaptation with a blends horror and dark comedy, allowing Perkins to showcase his versatility as a filmmaker.

The narrative of The Monkey (2025) centres on twin brothers, portrayed by Theo James, who encounter a cursed toy monkey linked to a series of gruesome deaths. Perkins expands upon King’s original short story, infusing it with themes of family, fatherhood, reconciliation and a litany of grisly sudden deaths. Having found the simian death totem as teenagers, Hal and Bill Shelburn find their lives and those around them impacted in the most bloody explosive of ways. Indeed, there is much thought and planning given to these Saw and Final Destination franchise influenced on-screen set-pieces. In fact, the exquisite surprise and laugh-out-loud hilarity which occur throughout somewhat overpowers any emotional connection with the thinly-written protagonists.



The film’s gore and relentless pace are undeniably its strongest assets — the kills are extreme, inventive, and staged with a gleeful disregard for realism, echoing the chaotic energy of ’80s horror comedies. Each death sequence feels like a miniature horror short, packed with practical effects and over-the-top carnage. Perkins crafts these moments with a twisted sense of humour, making the film feel like a sketch-show carousel of nightmarish vignettes, each more outrageous than the last.

However, despite the visceral fun, The Monkey (2025) struggles to leave a lasting impression. Unlike the original Saw (2004) by James Wan and Leigh Whannell — a film that balanced its brutal horror with sharp social commentary and tightly woven mythology — Perkins’ adaptation lacks a deeper foundation. The cursed toy monkey serves as a simple harbinger of death, but the film never establishes consistent rules for how the curse operates or why it escalates the way it does. Without clear internal logic or meaningful subtext, the horror loses weight, and the emotional stakes fizzle.

While The Monkey (2025) succeeds as a frenetic, blood-soaked thrill ride, it ultimately feels ephemeral. The film’s surface-level scares and comedic flair make for an entertaining watch, but the absence of narrative substance or thematic resonance leaves it as little more than a fleeting novelty — a film you enjoy in the moment, but rarely think about after the credits roll.

Mark: 6.5 out of 11


Cinema Review: I’m Still Here (2024) – A searing portrait of resistance in the face of military tyranny!

Cinema Review: I’m Still Here (2024)

Directed by Walter Salles

Screenplay by Murilo Hauser and Heitor Loreg

Based on I’m Still Here by Marcelo Rubens Paiva

Produced by Maria Carlota Bruno, Rodrigo Teixeira and Martine de Clermont-Tonnerre

Main cast: Fernanda Torres, Selton Mello, Fernanda Montenegro, Valentina Herszage, Luiza Kosovski, Barbara Luz, etc.

Cinematography by Adrian Teijido

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



On March 31, 1964, the Brazilian military, with support from the United States and segments of the civilian population, overthrew the government of President João Goulart in a coup d’état. Goulart, a left-wing president who had been in power since 1961, faced rising opposition due to his policies that included land reforms and more progressive labour laws. These policies alarmed conservative sectors of society, including the military, business elites, and parts of the middle class, who for many feared the spread of communism in the context of the Cold War. From reports I have read, the military’s move was framed as a necessity to prevent Brazil from descending into a left-wing revolution, but the coup marked the beginning of a brutal 21-year period of military dictatorship. Be careful what you wish for.

Under the military regime (1964–1985), Brazil saw widespread censorship, repression of political dissidents, the establishment of a climate of fear, and the use of torture against suspected leftist militants and activists. The military government justified its actions as necessary to combat communist insurgency, but its reign was characterised by systematic violations of human rights. The regime implemented institutional acts that curtailed democratic freedoms, silenced political opposition, and controlled the media, all while claiming to defend the country from Marxism. The dictatorship lasted until 1985, ending when the military handed power back to a civilian government, but the effects of this period are still deeply felt in Brazilian society, as many families continue to search for the truth about the victims of torture and forced disappearances during the dictatorship.



Yet, while the film may not explicitly focus on the 1964 coup or the military dictatorship. I’m Still Here (2024) addresses the aftermath and themes of identity, resistance, and survival in the face of oppressive systems. Director, Walter Salles, uses the personal as a lens through which broader social and political issues are explored. One could consider how the legacy of fear, control, and the impact of a regime still reverberates in contemporary Brazil.

In I’m Still Here (2024), the filmmakers take a distinctive approach to the thriller genre by moving away from the typical tropes associated with suspense-driven narratives. Instead of focusing primarily on action or a series of dramatic plot twists, the film shifts its attention toward a more intimate, personal, and familial story. There is suspense and tension, but it is more under-stated and subtle. This departure from overt political thriller conventions allows the film to delve into the emotional and psychological terrain of its characters, with a particular focus on the matriarch, Eunice Paiva, played by the powerhouse Fernanda Torres.

Rather than relying on external action or traditional thrills, I’m Still Here (2024), centres around Eunice’s emotional journey and the impact of her environment on her family when her husband, Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) is taken away by what may-or-not-be the military. The film positions Eunice as the central figure whose personal evolution drives the narrative, illustrating the profound effects of her choices and relationships on her family. Salles skilfully weaves family celebrations, events, and home movie footage to create a swell of warmth amidst the fear and paranoia created when Rubens disappears.



Eunice Paiva’s character is given a powerful depth in I’m Still Here (2024), with Fernanda Torres delivering a standout performance. Rather than positioning Eunice as a victim or a purely heroic figure, the film complicates her character, showing her as a multifaceted individual. Eunice’s actions are driven not by external thrills or pressures, but by the emotional and psychological burdens she carries as a matriarch, dealing with familial responsibility and navigating the complexities of her relationships with her children, spouse, and extended family.

Torres’s portrayal emphasises Eunice’s inner conflict—her desire to protect her loved ones, while also grappling with personal loss, regret, and the external societal forces that shape her world. Constantly denied answers and closure by the authorities, Eunice refuses to give in and continues to fight for decades, even when the military rule is over. The emotional intensity of Eunice’s character arc is one of the most compelling aspects of the film, as Torres’s performance brings a deep authenticity to the role, grounding the story in real, human struggles rather than sensationalised action.

By moving away from traditional thriller tropes, I’m Still Here (2024) creates a more reflective and intimate cinematic experience. Rather than simply delivering suspense through external action, the film explores the internal tensions of its characters and their relationships, magnifying the quiet, profound impact that such personal struggles can have on a family. Having lived through such adversity the Paiva family would stand proud in the face of this evil regime, overcoming all that is thrown at it. I mean, there is so much evil in this world and throughout history, that Eunice Paiva and similar quiet heroes are to be cherished. In short: why can’t such admirable individuals run the often horrible world we live in.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11


Cinema Review: September 5th (2024) – an inside-out snapshot of tragedy at the 1972 Munich Olympics!

Directed by Tim Fehlbaum

Written by Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum and Alex David

Produced by Philipp Trauer, Thomas Wöbke, Tim Fehlbaum, Sean Penn, John Ira Palmer and John Wildermuth

Main cast: Peter Sarsgaard, John Magaro, Ben Chaplin, Leonie Benesch, Jim Mckay (archival footage), Zinedine Soualem, etc.

Cinematography by Markus Förderer

Edited by Hansjörg Weißbrich

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



The events of September 5th, 1972, during the Munich Olympics are deeply connected to the tragic and harrowing story of the attack by the Palestinian group ‘Black September’, which targeted the Israeli Olympic team. This day is crucial in understanding the impact of the attack, as it marks the beginning of what became known as the ‘Munich Massacre’. The documentary One Day in September (2000) directed by Kevin Macdonald, offered a detailed account of the events providing chilling footage, interviews with survivors, and insights from those who witnessed the attack and as a moment that deeply altered the course of history, influencing global politics, the perception of terrorism, and the nature of security at international events.

Steven Spielberg’s fictionalised film Munich (2005) dramatized the aftermath of the ‘Munich Massacre’, focusing on Israel’s covert response to the attack. The film based on the book Vengeance by George Jonas, told the story of a team of Israeli agents tasked with assassinating those involved in the planning of the massacre. The plot of Munich (2005) unfolds as these agents track down and kill individuals connected to ‘Black September’. The film, criticized for a series of inaccuracies, portrayed the moral complexities and psychological toll of vengeance, showing the personal conflict faced by the agents as they carry out their mission. Now, covering the same event, we have September 5th (2024), a drama-documentary that snapshots the conflict from the perspective of the ABC Sports crew and their coverage of the events.



Director, Tim Fehlbaum, and his talented production team effectively utilize constraints in geography, time, space, and structure to craft a highly claustrophobic thriller, drawing viewers into the escalating crisis as it unfolds. From the moment the athletes are taken hostage the ABC media team headed by Peter Sarsgaard as Roone Arledge, the president of ABC Sports, John Magaro as Geoffrey Mason, the head of the control room in Munich and Ben Chaplin as Marvin Bader, the head of operation at ABC Sports are on red alert striving to capture the story and prevent it being taken from them by the ABC News team. Fehlbaum makes use of limited settings, “real-time” structure, and confined spaces expertly as the audience find out information of the hostages plight and subsequent runway killings at precisely the same time as the crew do.

The films’ use of psychological space, close-ups, shadows and screens, creates a claustrophobic atmosphere, starving the audience of air and making them feel the increasing emotional pressure on each character. Like the world’s population today witnessing the brutal events unfold between Israel and Palestine on the news, they ultimately have little power over the situation as news of tragedy bleeds through to them. Further, the cast are uniformly compelling with Peter Sarsgaard, John Magaro and Leonie Benesch, as a translator for the ABC crew, stand out amongst an impressive ensemble. Lastly, special mention for the editing team led by Hansjörg Weißbrich, who skilfully weaved in actual footage from the ABC archive, creating a seamless and powerful cinematic experience.

Mark: 8 out of 11


Cinema Review: Hard Truths (2024) – an unflinching look at a family struggling with depression.

CINEMA REVIEW: HARD TRUTHS (2024)

Directed by Mike Leigh

Written by Mike Leigh

Produced by Georgina Lowe

Main Cast: Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Michele Austin, David Webber, Tuwaine Barrett, Ani Nelson, Sophia Brown, Jonathan Livingstone, etc.

Cinematography by Dick Pope

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



Mike Leigh’s career has been defined by an unflinching exploration of everyday existence, shaped by a commitment to realism and a deep understanding of human behaviour. His films, whether contemporary or period pieces, dissect the nuances of ordinary lives, often capturing the struggles, aspirations, and quiet triumphs of working- and middle-class individuals. His signature improvisational approach—where actors develop their characters through extensive rehearsal—allows for an organic authenticity that makes his work resonate with honesty and emotional depth.

Leigh’s early films, such as Bleak Moments (1971) and Nuts in May (1976), established his interest in the mundanities and disappointments of daily life. His later films, such as High Hopes (1988) and Life is Sweet (1990), continued this trend, portraying ordinary people navigating personal and societal challenges with humour and pathos. Secrets & Lies (1996), one of his most acclaimed works, epitomizes his fascination with human vulnerability, as it dissects family relationships, race, and identity in a way that feels raw yet tender.

Leigh’s career trajectory has also included excursions into period dramas, notably the heart-wrenching, Vera Drake (2004) and arguably his most political film, Peterloo (2018). But rather than abandoning his focus on the intricacies of human experience, he applies the same observational precision to historical subjects. Topsy-Turvy (1999), about the creation of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado, examines the creative process with the same detail he grants his modern-day working-class protagonists. Mr. Turner (2014), a biopic of the painter J.M.W. Turner, similarly explores the artist’s struggles, eccentricities, and societal context without falling into the clichés of the genre. These films reveal that, for Leigh, the past is not a grand spectacle but an extension of the same human complexities that define his contemporary work.



His latest film, Hard Truths (2024), follows in this tradition, delving into the stark realities of its characters with the same empathy and directness. Set in London in the present day, it focuses on the Deacon family unit and extended relations, notably two personality-divergent sisters, Pansy Deacon (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) and sibling, Chantelle (Michele Austin). Pansy is a middle-aged London housewife whose relentless irritability and sharp tongue mask a deep-seated inner turmoil. Her acerbic interactions—whether berating her husband Curtley, chastising her son Moses, or lashing out at unsuspecting strangers—serve as both a source of dark humour and a window into her dissatisfaction with life. Indeed, some of her rants are absolutely laugh-out-loud hilarious.

Leigh’s nuanced direction ensures that while Pansy’s outbursts may elicit laughter, they simultaneously reveal the tragic underpinnings of her character. Her vitriolic remarks, often delivered with biting wit, are symptomatic of her internal struggles, painting a portrait of a woman grappling with unarticulated pain. This duality is evident in scenes where Pansy’s caustic rants thinly veils her profound sense of isolation and despair. The film delves deeper into Pansy’s psyche during interactions with the more upbeat, Chantelle. A pivotal moment occurs during a Mother’s Day visit to their mother’s grave, where Chantelle confronts Pansy about her pervasive anger. Pansy’s anguished admission, “I don’t know!” encapsulates the bewildering nature of her depression, highlighting how her defensive humour serves as a barrier against this insidious mental illness.

Marianne Jean-Baptiste’s absorbing portrayal brings emotional depth to Pansy’s character, capturing the delicate interplay between her abrasive exterior and the fragility it conceals. Similarly, Michele Austin brings light and optimism to the screen, along with her effervescent daughters, somehow striving to combat the all-pervasive cloud of depression. Some of my favourite scenes of the film were with Chantelle in conversation with customers in her hair salon. Thus, in essence, Hard Truths (2024) presents a compelling character study that intertwines humour with the sombre realities of depression. Through Pansy Deacon, Leigh illustrates there are no easy answers to the pain of an affliction that remains silent and invisible but is ever-present within everyone’s lives.

Mark: 8 out of 11


Cinema Review: The Brutalist (2024) – There will be Concrete!

CINEMA REVIEW: THE BRUTALIST (2024)

Directed by Brady Corbet

Written by: Brady Corbet & Mona Fastvold

Produced by Trevor Matthews, Nick Gordon, Brian Young, Andrew Morrison, Andrew Lauren, D.J. Gugenheim and Brady Corbet
.

Cast: Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones, Guy Pearce, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, Stacy Martin, Emma Laird, Isaach de Bankolé and Alessandro Nivola.

Cinematography Lol Crawley

Edited by Dávid Jancsó

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



A new wave of American filmmakers—directors like Todd Field, Robert Eggers, and Brady Corbet—have emerged as some of the most technically proficient and ambitious voices in contemporary cinema. Their work is marked by rigorous formal control, deep thematic ambition, and an almost obsessive dedication to craft. These filmmakers, arguably influenced by auteurs like Sofia Coppola and Paul Thomas Anderson, demonstrate an understanding of film language that is both deeply referential and boldly experimental. Whether it’s Eggers’ meticulous historical recreations, Field’s austere and cerebral storytelling, or Corbet’s overtly intellectualized narratives, they all exhibit an undeniable mastery of their medium. Their films, often dense with literary and philosophical allusions, cater to cinephiles who relish formal precision and narrative audacity.

Yet, for all their brilliance, there’s an argument to be made that their work veers into self-indulgence, if not outright pretension. Their films sometimes feel like exercises in artistic superiority, catering to an audience that appreciates the challenge but perhaps not the emotional accessibility that cinema can offer at its best. Whether it’s the cold remove of TÁR (2022), the self-serious mythologizing of The Lighthouse (2019), or the arch, affect-laden approach of Vox Lux (2018), these works often feel encased in a layer of knowing detachment. There’s a fine line between intellectual rigor and a kind of smug, insular artistry, and some critics argue that these filmmakers, however talented, sometimes tip too far in the latter direction—prioritizing aesthetic and conceptual ambition over genuine human connection. I mean, I love a lot of these filmmakers’ work, but I was raised on the American films of Coppola, Scorsese, DePalma, Spielberg, Lucas and Friedkin; auteurs who knew their art, but also how to entertain the audience too.



In Corbet’s, and film partner’s Mona Fastvold’s, phenomenally designed and constructed film, The Brutalist (2024), Adrien Brody portrays fictional László Tóth, a Hungarian-Jewish architect and Holocaust survivor. Brody’s is an incredibly memorable piece of work, acting as a spiritual performance sequel to his Oscar-winning role in The Pianist (2002). But rather than focus on an individual attempting to escape the Nazis during the war, the narrative concentrates on Tóth, who arrives in post-war America with nothing but his talent and ambition, only to find himself trapped in a system that celebrates his work while rejecting him as a person. In America, racism is delivered with a smile, and generosity is a means of control. High society rewards Tóth but also suffocates him with subtle condescension, as he is paraded around as an artistic trophy but never fully embraced as an equal.

As an epic character study of the life of an immigrant and exploitation of the financially stricken Jew in America, The Brutalist (2024), is a powerful work. Such themes compel us to think of today and the fact that America continues to struggle with the integration of people travelling there, even though it was built with the hands of migrant families. Here the screenplay exerts true power in critiquing the United States’ treatment of those travelling to America with hope. As the narrative unfolds across the decades, Corbet, Fastfold and Brody illustrate the slow erosion of Laslo’s dreams in an America that welcomes his work but not his humanity. As the key antagonist, Harrison Lee Van Buren, Guy Pearce delivers another chilling and precise character study. Van Buren is a spoilt, rich and brattish man whose charm and refinement mask a deeply exploitative nature.

Photographically, The Brutalist (2024) is indeed a work of art. Lol Crawley and the production team immerse viewers in a stark, architectural visual language—monolithic structures, rigid compositions, and a muted, desaturated color palette mirroring the emotional and physical isolation Tóth experiences. Yet, for for all its incredible craftsmanship and bold cinematic ambition, the film is a test of endurance—an unrelenting, patience-draining experience that stretches well beyond three hours. Even the inclusion of chapters, and a self-consciously “prestigious” intermission only serve to amplify the film’s pretensions, prolonging the agony of watching layer upon layer of misery unfold like a slow-moving roller-coaster that induces motion sickness with no escape. It’s a brilliant film that demands submission rather than engagement, wielding its bleakness like a weapon against the audience’s stamina. It will probably win the Academy Award for Best Film. That or Wicked (2024).

Mark: 8 out of 11


Cinema Review: Wolf Man (2025) – short changes both fans of Leigh Whannell and the horror genre alike!

CINEMA REVIEW: WOLF MAN (2025)

Directed by Leigh Whannell

Written by Leigh Whannell and Corbett Tuck

Produced by Jason Blum

Main Cast: Christopher Abbott, Julia Garner, Matilda Firth and Sam Jaeger

Cinematography by Stefan Duscio



Leigh Whannell’s Wolf Man (2025) brings a fresh twist to the classic tale, grounding the werewolf transformation in a visceral metaphor for illness. The concept has undeniable merit, with the protagonist’s physical deterioration mirroring deeper themes of paternal guilt and the crushing weight of family responsibilities. Whannell’s knack for melding genre thrills with human drama is evident, as he did so effectively in Upgrade (2018) and The Invisible Man (2020). In fact, along with Predestination (2014), and the recently released, The Substance (2024), Upgrade (2018) is a low-budget masterpiece which SHOULD appear in many best-of-the-millennium-film lists, as opposed to over-rated, art-house garbage like Joanna Hogg’s, The Souvenir (2019).

Anyway, back to the Wolf Man (2025). The film’s decision to confine its narrative mostly, apart from a suspenseful flashback prologue sequence, to a single night, significantly undermines its potential. Once the parental unit portrayed by nervy and ticky, Christopher Abbott and woefully underwritten, Julia Garner is established, the rushed structure sacrifices emotional depth and character development, leaving its poignant ideas about illness, fatherhood and family obligations feeling under explored. The claustrophobic time frame allows for tense, kinetic set pieces and decent gore, but it stifles the broader emotional resonance that Whannell has demonstrated in his previous work.

For fans of Upgrade (2018) and The Invisible Man (2020), Wolf Man may feel like a missed opportunity. Those films balanced high-concept storytelling with sharp social commentary, whereas this latest effort feels more like a half-formed howl in the night. Indeed, there seemed to be a whole bite taken out of the second act with the film hurtling toward the underwhelming denouement with little tension and suspense. Further, if you have ever watched Ozark, then Julia Garner’s electric energy and acting power is truly under utilized. Plus, the film was SO dark. I know it’s a horror film, but it would be great to actually SEE what was going on as the characters go into the woods. Oh, and I did not like the monster design at all to be honest. Bring back Rick Baker I say. Overall, while there’s brilliance in the premise, the execution lacks the quality needed to fully transform it into something truly memorably metamorphic.

Mark: 6.5 out of 11


The Cinema Fix presents: 12 Favourite Films of 2024!

The Cinema Fix presents: 12 Favourite Films of 2024!

Good day and I hope you are well. I am slightly late to the party with these but happy new year nonetheless.

Here are my favourite films of 2024 that I watched at the cinema and on streaming platforms. The majority would have been released last year, however there were quite a few that crossed the last eighteen months or so. I cheated slightly with The Quiet Girl, but I watched in 2024, so there you go.

If I have missed any films then please let me know in the comments. I have either NOT seen them or did not enjoy them as much as you. Remember these are my FAVOURITE films seen in 2024 of new(ish) releases. So all purely subjective and am happy if you agree or disagree. Have a wonderful 2025!

Oh, for control and interest, I include my favourite films of 2023!



Ten Favourite Films of 2023

https://wordpress.com/post/thecinemafix.com/77015

ANATOMY OF A FALL (2023)
ASTEROID CITY (2023)
BROKER (2022)
MAY DECEMBER (2023)
OPPENHEIMER (2023)
PAST LIVES (2023)
SALTBURN (2023)
TAR (2022)
TOTALLY KILLER (2023)
THE WONDER (2022)


Twelve Favourite Films of 2024

ALL OF US STRANGERS (2023)


AMERICAN FICTION (2023)


HERETIC (2024)


THE HOLDOVERS (2023)


THE IRON CLAW (2023)


LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL (2023)


MONSTER (2023)


POOR THINGS (2023)



THE QUIET GIRL (2023)


SPEAK NO EVIL (2024)


THE SUBSTANCE (2024)


THE ZONE OF INTEREST (2023)

Cinema Review: Nosferatu (2024) – At the Intersection of Horror and Eroticism!

Cinema Review: Nosferatu (2024)

Directed by Robert Eggers

Screenplay by Robert Eggers

Based on Nosferatu by Henrik Galeen and Dracula by Bram Stoker

Produced by Jeff Robinov, John Graham, Chris Columbus, Eleanor Columbus, Robert Eggers, etc.

Main Cast: Bill Skarsgård, Nicholas Hoult, Lily-Rose Depp, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Emma Corrin, Willem Dafoe, Simon McBurney, etc.

Cinematography by Jarin Blaschke

Music by Robin Carolan

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



Firstly, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, the 1922 silent German Expressionist vampire film directed by F. W. Murnau remains one of the greatest and most iconic horror films of all time. It is arguably the greatest adaptation of Bram Stoker’s, seminal gothic classic, Dracula, too. Of which there have been many. So, who would be brave enough to attempt to master another version of this often-told monstrous tale. Step forward the acclaimed and relatively young American auteur, Robert Eggers.

Robert Eggers has built a reputation for crafting films that blend mythical and fantastical elements with folk horror and psychological thriller sensibilities. His works often transport audiences to meticulously recreated period settings, which serve as the foundation for his exploration of human fears, desires, and the supernatural. His debut feature film. The Witch (2015) exemplified folk horror rooted in Puritanical fears of the supernatural. Set in 1630s New England, it drew heavily from folklore, historical accounts, and period-authentic dialogue. The film explored themes of isolation, religious paranoia, and the breakdown of a family due to their belief in the presence of witches.

Similarly, The Lighthouse (2019), a psychological thriller merged maritime folklore with hallucinatory horror. Set in the late 19th century, the film delved into isolation-induced madness as two lighthouse keepers grappled with mythological themes such as mermaids, sea gods, and Promethean punishment. Moreover, as with his short films Hansel and Gretel (2007) and The Tell-Tale Heart (2008) he is drawn towards established texts, with the bruising, battering ram of The Northman (2022) covering the original myth on which Hamlet was based. Eggers vision immersed the viewer in violence, Viking culture, shamanic ritual and mysticism. Unsurprising therefore, he has now delivered the German Expressionist classic, Nosferatu (2024) with his signature period aesthetic and focus on the macabre.



With a stellar cast, production design and incredibly stylish vision, Eggers has produced a praiseworthy example of fantastical cinema. As usual there appears to be meticulous historical research, including accurate costumes, set design, and period-specific dialogue. This attention to detail in Nosferatu (2024) grounds the supernatural elements in a believable world, enhancing their impact. Furthermore, Eggers creates a sense of dread through his use of sound design, stark cinematography, and claustrophobic settings. His restrained pacing allows for the gradual unraveling of characters’ psyches, making the supernatural elements more impactful.

Yet, while steeped in folklore, Nosferatu (2024) centres on human struggles—family disintegration, fate, guilt, madness, lust and sex. Indeed, Nicholas Hoult’s Thomas Hutter (née Harker) does not stand a chance. From the opening scene his sensual wife, Ellen, is inextricably linked via a lustful fever dream to a mysterious figure, who, if you couldn’t guess, is Count Orlok (an unrecognizable Bill Skarsgård). It is Ellen’s orgasmic connection across oceans of time which drives Orlok to lure Thomas away and commit blood-draining murder as he creeps cross-country and sails the seas from Transylvania to Germany. Ellen’s surreal and orgiastic desire unfortunately brings the plague and causes the death of extraneous supporting characters portrayed by the likes Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin. A note to say Willem Dafoe is as usual a joy as the ‘Van Helsing’ substitute.

Nosferatu (2024) is undeniably a sumptuous adaptation, brimming with signature attention to period detail, atmospheric dread, and a striking visual palette. However, for those seeking a viscerally terrifying Dracula film, the movie might fall short, leaning heavily into the realm of erotic horror and psychological tension rather than outright scares. While the stunning cinematography, the film’s shadow-drenched landscapes, intricate set design, and haunting score evoke the satanic allure of the original silent film this focus, however, shifts the film away from raw horror and toward a more introspective exploration of vulnerability and eroticism. Ultimately, the film’s reinterpretation of Count Orlok and its restrained approach to gore might alienate viewers expecting a more terrifying vampire film. This left me impressed but more disturbed by the overlong runtime than by the nightmarish allure of the bloodthirsty undead.

Mark: 8 out of 11