Category Archives: Reviews

Cinema, New Releases, Reviews

Cinema Review: Wasteman (2026) – a brutal British prison drama with two intense lead performances!

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Cinema Review: Wasteman (2026)

Directed by Cal McMau

Screenplay by Hunter Andrews & Eoin Doran

Produced by Sophia Gibber, Myles Payne, Philip Barantini & Samantha Beddoe

Main cast: David Jonsson, Tom Blyth, Corin Silva, Alex Hassell, Paul Hilton, etc.

Cinematography by Lorenzo Levrini

Edited by James A. Demetriou

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

Wasteman (2026) presents another opportunity for David Jonsson to showcase his ample acting abilities. He first stole hearts with under-stated charm in low-budget rom-com, Rye Lane (2023), then proved he could spar at a higher-budgeted level in, Alien: Romulus (2024). He then delivered another strong performance in, The Long Walk (2025), further cementing his instinct for emotionally grounded genre work. Across romance, horror, drama and dystopian thriller, Jonsson doesn’t just adapt — he deepens.

In Wasteman (2026) his character. Taylor, is an inmate close to getting out having served a lengthy sentence. He must keep out of trouble in order to get a successful release. However, that proves difficult when a new cellmate, Dee (Tom Blyth) muscles his way into his four-walled existence. The narrative conflict and tension is built on a stark clash of personalities. Taylor is quiet, cautious, and emotionally guarded — a man who keeps his head down in prison, desperate to survive. He avoids confrontation and moves through the system almost invisibly, shaped by drug addiction, guilt and the need for redemption.

Dee, on the other hand, is the complete opposite: loud, aggressive, and unmistakably alpha. He walks into the prison with dominance in his bones, quickly asserting control through intimidation, charisma, and violence. Where Taylor retreats, Dee advances desiring to take over the prison wing. Where Taylor stays silent, Dee provokes the other drug dealers on their floor stealing their trade. Their dynamic becomes the film’s central pressure point — a volatile relationship between a man trying to disappear and another who refuses to be anything but the most powerful person in the room.

Prison dramas are always enthralling as the characters are trapped like caged animals. Further, where there is masculinity, ego and mental fragility, violence is likely to follow. There are a number of fearful scenes and harsh encounters that raise the heart rate, especially between Dee and his prison rivals. Taylor tries to navigate the war but unfortunately gets dragged into a series of highly brutal battles. Dee also strives to manipulate Taylor too with a carrot and stick approach. How Taylor extricates himself from this dangerous situation proves very suspenseful.

Overall, Wasteman (2026) is not for the faint-hearted. Director, Cal McMau and his cinematographer, Lorenzo Levrini, make the most of the crammed jails, using big-close-ups to get in the face of the characters and audience with searing intensity. Moreover, the interspersing of vertical phone 9:16 aspect ratio shots also heightens the verisimilitude, giving it a raw documentary style. Finally, the end pivot of Taylor and Dee’s power struggle provides a subtle narrative conclusion rewarding David Jonsson and Tom Blyth tour-de-force performances with a cathartic and memorable denouement.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11

Articles, Cult Cinema, Nickel Cinema, Reviews

Cult Film Review: American Movie (1999) – a bittersweet documentary profiling the ups and downs of a low-budget filmmaker!

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Cult Film Review: American Movie (1999)

Directed by Chris Smith

Produced by Sarah Price & Chris Smith

Main “Cast”: Mark Borchardt and Mike Schank

Cinematography by Chris Smith

Edited by Barry Poltermann & Jun Diaz

Music by Mike Schank

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

Given I am a low-budget filmmaker myself I am amazed I had never seen, American Movie (1999) before. Thankfully The Nickel Cinema in London screened it at the weekend and I really enjoyed it. Filmed between 1995 and 1997, this cult classic documentary American Movie (1999) chronicles Borchardt’s heroic, chaotic, and deeply Midwestern quest to finish his indie horror short Coven (pronounced ‘COH-ven’, and yes, he will correct you). The short is meant to raise money for his real passion project, a feature called Northwestern. But first? He has to survive reality. And reality is brutal.

Mark has not just zero money; zero organization; a rotating cast of confused friends and relatives as crew; functioning alcoholism; mounting debts, but also has the gift of the gab and a never ending passion for filmmaking. What unfolds is less “behind-the-scenes documentary” and more Shakespearean comedy AND tragedy staged in Milwaukee houses, static caravans, cars, junkyards and local woods.

Borchardt is equal parts Ed Wood and tortured auteur — passionately explaining his artistic vision one minute, begging his elderly uncle for production money and picking up his editing assistant from prison the next. His crew ranges from loyal-but-clueless to openly skeptical, yet somehow the production lurches forward. Barely.

The documentary crew shot over 90 hours of 16mm footage, capturing every awkward take, every blown line, and every moment of Mark’s delusional optimism. We watch as Coven repeatedly derails thanks to bad planning, worse luck, and the universal law that says: if something can go wrong on an indie film set, it absolutely will. But here’s the twist — it’s weirdly inspiring. Because underneath the chaos is something pure: a guy who just refuses to stop making movies. No money. No resources. No safety net. Just pure passion and obsession.

What’s most hilarious is the double act comedy exchanges between Mark and his best friend and Mike Schank. Mike, a very capable musician, has a permanent grin and the look of an acid-trip casualty, yet almost-perfect comedy timing. He clearly loves Mark’s passion and helps as best he can. I was sad to read Mike had passed away in 2022 from cancer.

If you stumbled into American Movie (1999) blind, you’d swear it was a proto-sitcom about delusional dreamers armed with a battered 16mm camera, a camcorder and misplaced confidence — a spiritual ancestor to Trailer Park Boys and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. It plays like a painfully funny hangout comedy about a self-proclaimed auteur and his band of well-meaning screw-ups trying — and repeatedly failing — to make something “serious.” The arguments are petty, the ambition is sky-high, and the incompetence is operatic. You laugh, you cringe, and somewhere along the way you realize this isn’t scripted chaos — it’s just raw, unfiltered obsession captured on camera.

Mark: 9 out of 11

Cinema, New Releases, Reviews

Cinema Review: Send Help (2026) – a riotous survivalist horror treat!

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Cinema Review: Send Help (2026)

Directed by Sam Raimi

Written by Damian Shannon & Mark Swift

Produced by Sam Raimi & Zainab Azizi

Main cast: Rachel McAdams, Dylan O’Brien, Edyll Ismail, Xavier Samuel, Chris Pang, Dennis Haysbert, etc.

Cinematography by Bill Pope

** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **

Having watched the trailer for survivalist horror-comedy, Send Help (2025), starring Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brien, I thought the blend of bloody chaos and desert island class warfare was right up my street, well, beach. But when I knew one of my favourite directors, Sam Raimi, and film composers, Danny Elfman, were involved, I realized it was not just a recommendation but a personal summons to the cinema.

Send Help (2025), takes inspiration and feels spiritually indebted to the extended final act island meltdown of Triangle of Sadness (2022). But this is an all the more riotous, funny and gory battle of survival. Overlooked for promotion by new-CEO-son-of-deceased-boss, Bradley Preston (O’Brien), Linda Liddle – a fantastic McAdams – is full of downtrodden and bubbling rage. Preston, an arrogant, apparent-alpha wants to sack her, but the business needs her prodigious work ethic for an upcoming business summit to Bangkok. Following an exhilarating plane crash set-piece, that Raimi rinses brilliantly for suspense and surprises, the two become the only survivors. With Linda armed with survival knowledge, and Preston’s leg smashed, the tables, in terms of power, are turned, resulting in all manner of twisted, mental and bodily torture.

What starts as survival thriller territory quickly mutates into full-blown horror farce, complete with makeshift weapons, crustacean poison, tropical storms, shifting power dynamics, and the kind of escalating insanity that feels one chainsaw away from Evil Dead 2 (1987) territory. Not only do the horror beats land, but the tit-for-tat power struggle and verbal sparring between Linda and Preston also heighten the the conflict and dramatic stakes. Indeed, Linda inhabits the alpha-hunter role on the island, culminating in a bloodening and sacrificial slaying of a wild boar. Preston, once he is on his feet, is keen to even up the power balance and challenges Linda’s authority in a desperate attempt to get off the island.

McAdams and O’Brien’s combative chemistry on-screen adds to the enjoyment and at one point I even wondered if Raimi and the screenwriters were going to redeem their battle with a potential romance. Instead they double and triple down on the twisted violence in the final act to much eye-gouging hilarity. Lastly, like Triangle of Sadness (2022), the film weaponizes the underdog’s survival against privilege, flips hierarchies and skewers toxic masculinity in the process. The final act becomes particularly frantic, pushing the horror genre framework, and the class satire into a brilliant pay-off of Linda’s ascendant arc. This ensures Send Help (2026) launches a flare into the sky as an early contender for one of my favourite films of the year.

Mark: 9 out of 11

Articles, Cinema, Reviews

Cinema Review: Pillion (2025) – a fantastically acted and directed erotic rom-dom-com!

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Cinema Review: Pillion (2025)

Directed by Harry Lighton

Written by Harry Lighton – Based on Box Hill by Adam Mars-Jones

Produced by Emma Norton, Lee Groombridge, Ed Guiney &
Andrew Lowe

Main cast: Harry Melling, Alexander Skarsgård, Douglas Hodge, Lesley Sharp, Jake Shears, etc.

Cinematography by Nick Morris

Edited by Gareth C. Scales

There’s a tender audacity to Pillion (2025), an erotic rom-dom-com that sneaks up on you with the gentleness of a confession. What begins as an off-kilter meet-cute blooms into something far more vulnerable: a rites-of-passage story about sexual awakening, self-recognition, and the courage it takes to accept pleasure without apology.

At its heart is Colin, played with exquisite restraint by Harry Melling. Melling has always been an actor of intelligence, but here he finds a new register—soft-spoken, watchful, quietly aching. His performance never reaches for easy beats; instead, it accumulates detail. A look held a fraction too long. A smile that arrives late. Colin’s desire isn’t announced; it’s discovered, moment by moment, and the effect is deeply empathetic.

Opposite him, Alexander Skarsgård’s Ray is all smoulder and swagger on first impression—an insouciant masculinity that seems effortless, almost cocky. But Skarsgård is doing something more interesting beneath the surface. The sexuality is undeniable, yes, but it’s armoured. Pain leaks through the cracks, giving Ray a bruised romanticism that complicates the dominant energy he projects. The push and pull between the two men becomes the film’s most potent charge.

Director Harry Lighton deserves enormous credit for navigating this tonal tightrope. His direction is fantastically nuanced, allowing intimacy and humour to coexist without deflating either. The film understands that eroticism can be funny, awkward, even faintly ridiculous—especially when it’s new—while still honouring its emotional stakes. The explicit moments are handled with confidence rather than coyness, lacing the heartfelt beats with risqué shocks that provoke gasps, laughter, and the occasional wince. The physical opposites of Harry’s mild-mannered traffic warden versus Ray’s macho biker also add characterful humour to the mix.

The contemporary setting, rooted in the London suburb of Bromley, is another inspired choice. This is not a glossy, aspirational London; it’s resolutely unglamorous, familiar, and quietly stifling. That ordinariness makes Colin’s awakening feel all the more radical, a private revolution unfolding in plain sight. Furthermore, strong support comes from Lesley Sharp and Douglas Hodge as Colin’s parents, whose love is real but imperfect, shaped by generational discomfort and unspoken fears. Their scenes add texture rather than judgment, grounding the film in a recognisable family dynamic.

Be warned: Pillion (2025) doesn’t shy away from explicit sex scenes or moments of leather-adorned domination (including BDSM), and those elements may provoke strong reactions. But they’re not there for provocation alone. Lighton uses them as part of the emotional grammar of the film, insisting that tenderness and risk, humour and heat, can occupy the same frame. Ultimately, Pillion (2025) reveals itself as something quietly radical—a deeply touching romantic comedy that treats sexual self-discovery with empathy, intelligence, and a disarming lack of shame. It lingers not because of what it shows, but because of how carefully it listens to its characters while they learn who they are.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11

Cinema, horror, New Releases, Reviews

Cinema Review: 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple – a visceral journey into satanic cults, full of head-ripping gore and fiery devilment!

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Cinema Review: 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple

Directed by Nia DaCosta

Written by Alex Garland

Produced by Andrew Macdonald, Peter Rice, Bernie Bellew, Danny Boyle, Alex Garland, etc.

Main cast: Ralph Fiennes, Jack O’Connell, Alfie Williams, Erin Kellyman, Chi Lewis-Parry, etc.

Cinematography by Sean Bobbitt

28 Years Later: Bone Temple (2025) is not a film that eases you in. It grabs you by the throat and refuses to let go, piling atrocity upon atrocity until meaning begins to seep through the blood. This is apocalyptic cinema as ritual punishment, and under Nia DaCosta’s direction, it becomes something ferociously alive.

At the calm, moral centre of the chaos stands Ralph Fiennes, delivering a performance of astonishing gravitas and unexpected tenderness as Dr. Ian Kelson. In a world rotted by infection and cruelty, Kelson represents something almost radical: goodness without irony. Fiennes plays him not as a saint, but as a weary human being who still believes care, cure and compassion matter, even when the world insists otherwise. His presence anchors the film, giving its excess a conscience.

Opposing him is Jack O’Connell’s Jimmy Crystal, a vicious cult leader whose charisma curdles into something genuinely frightening. Crystal preaches violent “charity” in the name of Satan, offering salvation through brutality, and O’Connell leans hard into the performance’s ugliness. Leading his young, droogy, Savile-esque followers, he wages war not just on human survivors, but on the infected as well, collapsing any moral distinction between mercy and massacre. It’s a performance that feels designed to make your skin crawl—and it succeeds. Alas, Spike (Alfie Williams) gets caught up in Jimmy’s insanity and the sense of fear for him reigns throughout.

DaCosta directs with visceral energy, staging sequences that are frequently jaw-dropping in their gore and sadism. This is not a film particularly interested in an actual plot, clean narrative arcs or deep psychological excavation. Instead, Bone Temple unfolds as a succession of brutal set-pieces, each more punishing than the last. Some viewers will undoubtedly find it too much—too loud, too violent, too relentless.

But that relentlessness is also the point. What makes 28 Years Later: Bone Temple so compelling is how it mashes thematic power with B-movie exploitation ultra-violence. Beneath the spray of blood and bone is a furious meditation on false charity, moral absolutism, and the terrifying ease with which cruelty dresses itself up as righteousness. It’s ugly, abrasive, and often overwhelming—but it’s never empty. Indeed, if there is a more stylish and powerful scene in cinema all year than the ‘Number of the Beast’- Iron Maiden-soundtracked-fiery-ritual-sequence then I can’t wait to see it.

Ultimately, this is apocalypse horror as endurance test and sermon, and while it won’t be for everyone, I found it exhilarating. In its refusal to soften its blows, 28 Years Later: Bone Temple (2025) earns its place as one the most savage entries in the franchise, so far.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11

Cinema, New Releases, Oscar Bingo, Reviews

Cinema Review: Song Sung Blue (2025) – a heartfelt celebration of love and music!

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Cinema Review: Song Sung Blue (2025)

Directed by Craig Brewer

Written by Craig Brewer – Based on Song Sung Blue – documentary by
Greg Kohs

Produced by John Davis, John Fox, Craig Brewer

Main cast: Hugh Jackman, Kate Hudson, Michael Imperioli, Ella Anderson, Mustafa Shakir, Fisher Stevens, Jim Belushi, King Princess, etc.

Cinematography by Amy Vincent

** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **

Song Sung Blue (2025) is a warm, big-hearted musical drama that wears its love for music—and for people—proudly on its sleeve. Based on the 2008 documentary of the same name, the film arrives as a crowd-pleasing celebration of performance, devotion, and the quietly heroic act of expressing emotion through song. Under Craig Brewer’s direction, the film hums with sincerity, lifted by a strong ensemble cast and the enduring power of Neil Diamond’s music.

At the centre of the story are Mike and Claire Sardina, known on stage as Thunder and Lightning from Milwaukee. They are not presented as mere lookalikes or imitators, but as fully formed performers who carry the Neil Diamond torch with genuine artistry and respect. Their performances are less about mimicry and more about connection—channeling Diamond’s songs as emotional vessels for love, longing, and resilience. The film is at its best when it allows music to speak where words fall short, and Thunder and Lightning embody that truth beautifully.

The acting across the board is excellent. Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson bring warmth, vulnerability, and an easy chemistry that grounds the film’s emotional core. Their characters feel lived-in and deeply human, making their shared journey feel earned rather than sentimental. Supporting turns from Michael Imperioli, Fisher Stevens, Jim Belushi, Ella Anderson, King Princess, and Mustafa Shakir add texture and personality, giving the film a rich, communal feel that mirrors the supportive world of local performance and fandom it portrays.

Craig Brewer’s vibrant direction leans into the idea that music is not just entertainment, but a lifeline. The film’s big-hearted characters use performance as a way to communicate love, heal wounds, and navigate life’s many trials and tribulations. In that sense, Song Sung Blue (2025) doubles as a loving tribute to Neil Diamond’s songwriting genius—his songs serving as emotional shorthand for feelings that are often too large or too complicated to articulate otherwise.

The film is incredibly dramatic too dealing with life themes relating addiction, depression, debt, disability and family trauma. Arguably it tries to cover too much in the two-or-so-hours finding topics such as the adoption subplot skimmed over in favour of maintaining pace and momentum. While this keeps the film buoyant and accessible, it occasionally feels like a missed opportunity to explore those themes with greater depth.

Still, these minor shortcomings do little to diminish the overall impact. Jackman and Hudson just fly throughout, making Song Sung Blue (2025), a heartfelt, affirming experience—one that understands how music can bind people together and how love, expressed through song, can carry us through even the most difficult chapters of life. It’s a film that leaves you smiling, misty-eyed, and humming a Neil Diamond tune on the way out of the theatre.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11

Cinema, Reviews

The Cinema Fix presents: 12 Favourite Films of 2025!

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The Cinema Fix presents: 12 Favourite Films of 2025!

Happy 2026! I feel like I have watched even more films last year at the cinema and the many streaming platforms.

My instinct is it’s been a decent year overall of quality films, especially from independent or what one would class as indie-minded filmmakers. The bigger budgeted films or traditional blockbusters have been mainly not great or I just didn’t enjoy them. Aside from perhaps the entertaining Mission: Impossible finale.

Of all the genres, horror has really risen to the top in terms of overall quality the last few years, doing big box office and being recognised at awards ceremonies too. Having said that, and this could be my age and is nostalgia-driven, I find myself enjoying older, cult and more obscure film releases than the today’s modern film releases.

Anyway, here my my 12 FAVOURITE films of 2025. Not the BEST films, but the ones I enjoyed the most. There’s a few high quality, critically acclaimed films which do not make the list including Train Dreams (2025), Sorry, Baby (2025), Eddington (2025), Warfare (2025), Good Boy (2025), The Brutalist (2024) and I’m Still Here (2024), but remember these are my FAVOURITE films of the year.

For reference my favourite films of 2024 are below and here.

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)

Twelve Favourite Films of 2025

28 YEARS LATER (2025)

BLACK BAG (2025)

BRING HER BACK (2025)

BUGONIA (2025)

A DIFFERENT MAN (2024)

THE GORGE (2025)

THE LONG WALK (2025)

MARTY SUPREME (2025)

ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER (2025)

SINNERS (2025)

WAKE UP DEAD MAN (2025)

WEAPONS (2025)

Cinema, New Releases, Oscar Bingo, Reviews

Cinema Review: Marty Supreme (2025) – a breathless anti-hero journey driven by purpose, anxiety and adrenaline!

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Cinema Review: Marty Supreme (2025)

Directed by Josh Safdie

Written by Ronald Bronstein and Josh Safdie

Produced by Josh Safdie, Ronald Bronstein, Eli Bush, Anthony Katagas
and Timothée Chalamet

Main cast: Timothée Chalamet, Gwyneth Paltrow, Odessa A’zion, Kevin O’Leary, Tyler Okonma, Abel Ferrara, Fran Drescher, Sandra Bernhard, etc.

Cinematography Darius Khondji

Music by: Daniel Lopatin

Anxiety cinema, though always a part of film history, has seen a surge in prominence in recent years, with directors like Gaspar Noé, the Safdie brothers, Sean Baker and Ari Aster leading the charge. These filmmakers specialize in creating films that push audiences to their emotional limits, heightening tension and discomfort without offering the cathartic release often found in more traditional thrillers or suspense films by the likes of DePalma, Hitchcock, and Spielberg. Rather than resolving the anxiety with a tidy ending or a moment of relief, these films leave viewers on edge, their blood pressure elevated, and their minds unsettled, reflecting the growing cultural sense of unease and existential dread.

It’s important to note that it would appear, with the release of the frantic Marty Supreme (2025), it is Josh Safdie and Ronald Bronstein, not Benny Safdie, who could be seen to be the driving forces behind the anxiety-driven films like Good Time (2017) and Uncut Gems (2019). Their collaborative work has come to define the frantic, high-pressure style of modern anxiety cinema. In contrast, Benny Safdie’s more recent work, The Smashing Machine (2025), highlights a shift toward more authentic and subtle character development, offering a quieter, more understated take on human drama. While Josh and Bronstein continue to escalate tension to dizzying heights, Benny’s approach focuses on exploring deeper, more introspective emotional journeys.

So, Marty Supreme (2025), is it any good? Let’s just say that this isn’t a Christmas or feelgood film, so I can only think the marketing team are being ironic with the poster tagline ‘Dream Big – Christmas!’ This is a 1952 period set anti-heroic-rites-of-passage rollercoaster journey profiling Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet), a New York shoe salesman with dreams of hitting the big time as a world champion table-tennis player. But rather than being characterised as a Rocky-style underdog sporting personality who the audience can root for, Marty (loosely based on real-life Marty Reisman), is in fact a fast-talking-arrogant-crisis-addicted-confidence-trickster and womaniser who is not averse to “friendly” armed robbery to get what he wants. Oh, by the way, Marty is also a phenomenal table-tennis player.

Having previously cast Robert Pattinson in Good Time (2017) and Adam Sandler in Uncut Gems (2019) as their disaster-prone, masculine leads, Josh Safdie and Ronald Bronstein took a new direction in Marty Supreme (2025) by casting Timothée Chalamet. Known for his charisma and commitment, as showcased most recently in Wonka (2023) and A Complete Unknown (2024), Chalamet brings an entirely new energy to the table. As Marty, he is nothing short of a force of nature—physically commanding as a table tennis player, yet intellectually and verbally dominating the screen. His performance captivates with a magnetic presence, delivering lines with such intensity and precision that he becomes impossible to look away from. Chalamet’s portrayal of Marty is both memorable and transformative, showcasing his versatility as an actor who can take on the manic, chaotic energy required by a character in a Safdie-Bronstein film while adding a unique layer of depth and intrigue.

Marty’s journey represents a fascinating emotional dialectic, one that leaves the audience both drawn to and repelled by his behaviour. While I didn’t necessarily enjoy his character arc, that’s exactly what makes Chalamet’s portrayal so compelling. Marty is, in many ways, his own worst enemy—he can’t follow rules, he’s a liar, and he cheats to get ahead. Yet, his raw talent and unwavering sense of purpose give him an undeniable charisma, pulling the audience in even as his decisions spiral into reckless, life-threatening situations. The character’s hustle, constant scheming, and pursuit of personal gain lead him into a series of humiliating, violent confrontations that highlight his self-destructive tendencies.

Marty’s a deeply flawed person desperately trying to make something of himself. But he also makes his own bad luck through poor decision-making. Whether it’s falling through a hotel ceiling in a bath; retrieving a missing dog for a psychopathic gangster; locking horns with the table tennis authorities and the uber-businessman he’s seeking patronship from; fighting a cuckolded neighbour whose wife, Rachel Mizler (Odessa A’zion) he possibly loves – not forgetting the scintillating table tennis games – the film is a litany of combative and panic-attack inducing set-pieces. The emotional tension lies in watching Marty repeatedly sabotage his own potential, a cycle of ups and downs that plays out as a cautionary tale. Marty’s journey doesn’t just depict failure; it explores the emotional complexity of someone trapped in their own worst impulses.

Marty Supreme (2025) stands as a masterpiece of filmmaking, with creative choices that not only subvert expectations but elevate the entire storytelling experience. From its striking cinematography to the anachronistic 1980s soundtrack, every visual and auditory detail feels meticulously crafted to immerse the audience in the world of Marty Mauser. The gritty, authentic production design brings a raw realism that grounds the film, while the ensemble cast—many of whom are quirky non-actors—brings an undeniable energy and authenticity to the narrative. In conclusion, the collaboration between Chalamet, Josh Safdie and Ronald Bronstein, and the entire cast and crew gave me both a nervous breakdown and an unforgettable cinematic experience.

Mark: 9.5 out of 11

Cinema, Cult Cinema, horror, Reviews

Cult Film Review: Black Christmas (1974) – a festive horror film gift worth opening!

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Cult Film Review: Black Christmas (1974)

Directed by Bob Clark

Written by Roy Moore

Produced by Bob Clark

Cast: Olivia Hussey, Keir Dullea, Margot Kidder, John Saxon, Marian Waldman, Andrea Martin, Art Hindle, etc.

Cinematography by Reginald H. Morris

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

Black Christmas (1974) remains a cornerstone of cult horror, steeped in creeping dread thanks to director Bob Clark’s unnerving ability to build eerie atmospherics. As a series of obscene phone calls begin to plague a sorority house, the film patiently tightens the noose, revealing that a psychopath is homing in on the “sisters” with sinister intent. Even as the police attempt to trace the calls, Clark toys with perception, suggesting that nothing—and no one—is quite what it seems.

Beyond its surface-level shocks, Black Christmas reveals a surprisingly progressive and unsettling thematic undercurrent. The film’s menace is deeply entangled with ideas of toxic masculinity: male entitlement, surveillance, and violence seep into almost every threat faced by the women. The killer’s obscene phone calls aren’t just frightening—they’re exercises in domination, attempts to invade private space through verbal abuse and sexualised rage. Even ostensibly “normal” male authority figures are depicted as dismissive, incompetent, or quietly threatening, reinforcing the sense that danger is systemic rather than anomalous.

Most striking for its era is the film’s pro-choice stance. Jess’s determination to have an abortion—presented as a firm, rational decision rather than a moral failing—grounds the horror in real-world anxiety. Her boyfriend’s furious reaction exposes a fragile masculinity rooted in ownership and expectation, aligning emotional coercion with the film’s broader atmosphere of male control. Horror here isn’t just the killer in the attic; it’s the social pressure bearing down on women’s autonomy.

Familial breakdown also looms large. The sorority house functions as a fractured surrogate family, one that offers warmth and camaraderie but ultimately fails to protect its members. Traditional structures—parents, police, institutions—are either absent, drunk, or found wanting, leaving the women isolated within spaces that should be safe. This erosion of trust amplifies the film’s dread, making the violence feel inescapable.

The ambiguous ending remains divisive. By denying the audience catharsis or moral resolution, director Bob Clark leaves the horror unresolved, lingering long after the credits roll. For some viewers, this refusal to “close the case” is profoundly unsettling; for others, it risks dissatisfaction, as the absence of narrative justice feels incomplete rather than subversive. Yet it’s arguably this very lack of closure that cements Black Christmas’s power. The evil isn’t vanquished—it’s merely unseen, waiting—an idea that would echo loudly through the genre and unsettle audiences for decades to come.

Standout performances from wise-cracking Margot Kidder, ethereal Olivia Hussey, and the intensely unsettling Keir Dullea elevate the material. Revisiting the film after a twenty years hiatus, I felt the fear factor is occasionally undercut by arguably silly humour and moments of heightened over-acting. Yet, its influence is undeniable—paving the way for filmmakers like John Carpenter, who would refine and surpass its template with the classic Halloween (1978).

Mark: 8 out of 11

Cult Cinema, Nickel Cinema, Reviews

Cult Film Review: Mermaid Legend (1984) – a poetic but brutal hidden Japanese film gem!

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Cult Film Review: Mermaid Legend (1984)

Directed by Toshiharu Ikeda

Screenplay by Takuya Nishioka

Main cast: Mari Shirato, Junko Miyashita, Kentarō Shimizu, Jun Etō, etc.

Cinematography by Yonezou Maeda

Music by Toshiyuki Honda

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

I took a gamble on an unknown Japanese film at the Nickel Cinema and walked out genuinely shaken. Mermaid Legend (1984) isn’t just a cult oddity—it’s a film that mutates before your eyes, seducing you with beauty before drowning you in blood. I was stunned by how something so lyrical could also be so brutally confrontational.

The story begins almost modestly, as a coastal drama about a fisherman and his wife, Migiwa. They bicker constantly, their marriage worn thin by poverty and exhaustion, yet there’s an undeniable bond beneath the arguments. That fragile domesticity is shattered when the fisherman stands in the way of an industrial development scheme. The business developers—faceless, polite, and utterly ruthless—have him murdered, disposing of his life as casually as industrial waste.

From there, Mermaid Legend (1984) transforms again. What starts as marital realism becomes a corporate espionage murder mystery, steeped in anger at nuclear energy, environmental destruction, and the cold machinery of corporate greed. Migiwa, a powerful-lunged pearl diver, initially hides, retreating into grief and the sea itself. But this is not a film about quiet mourning. When she decides to act, she does so with mythic force.

Played by the ethereal and astonishing Mari Shirato, Migiwa becomes something halfway between woman, avenging angel, and sea spirit. Shirato’s performance is magnetic—serene, sensual, and terrifying. As her vengeful pursuit begins, the film plunges headlong into extreme violence and explicit sexuality, reclassifying itself yet again as one of the most shocking exploitation epics I’ve seen from Japan in recent years. These scenes aren’t gratuitous in the lazy sense; they’re confrontational, weaponized, daring you to look away while refusing to let you feel comfortable for a second.

What makes Mermaid Legend (1984) so intoxicating is how its elements collide. Poetic underwater cinematography turns the ocean into a womb, a grave, and a cathedral. Religious, angelic, and environmental imagery blur together, as if Migiwa is both martyr and executioner. The music is heavenly—soaring, mournful, almost sacred—creating a surreal contrast with the carnage on screen. Beauty and brutality coexist in the same frame, each intensifying the other.

And then there’s the ending. The final, elongated pier stabbing rampage is completely off the chart—relentless, bloody, and hypnotic. It plays out like a ritual rather than an action sequence, stretching time until violence becomes abstraction, then meaning, then release. By the time the last body falls, Mermaid Legend (1984) has fully shed realism and entered the realm of legend, justifying its title in blood.

This is a film that shouldn’t work, yet does—furiously, defiantly. A genre-shifting fever dream that moves from domestic drama to political thriller to erotic exploitation to mythic revenge tragedy, Mermaid Legend (1984) is both beautiful and brutal, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Seeing it by chance at the Nickel Cinema felt like discovering a secret too powerful to stay hidden.

Mark: 9.5 out of 11