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!
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 Destinationfranchise 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.
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.
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) andNuts 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.
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 inThe 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).
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 Manmay 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.
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!
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)
Produced by Tessa Ross, Juliette Howell, Michael Jackman, Alice Dawson and Robert Harris
Main cast: Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Sergio Castellitto, Isabella Rossellini, Lucian Msamati, Carlos Diehz, etc. Cinematography by Stéphane Fontaine
Music by Hauschka
*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***
When you think about organized crime families, images of the Sopranos or Godfather-esque figures probably come to mind. But, if we’re playing with definitions one might allege the Catholic Church—an ancient institution with global influence—is one of the biggest crime organisations ever historically and in the present. I mean, organized crime families are notorious for their code of silence. The Church has had its fair share of. . . shall we say, discretion? From the Vatican’s secret archives to a several public scandals they’d rather we not dwell on, there’s certainly a flair for keeping things in the family.
The Pope, aka the Holy Father, wears white, sits on a throne, and apparently has a direct line to the big “man” upstairs. Replace “Vatican” with “Sicily,” and suddenly, the resemblance to the Mafia is uncanny. Moreover, crime families thrive on wealth accumulation. The Vatican’s art collection, gold reserves, and prime real estate make even the most successful mobster green with envy. Not to forget, from Rome to Rio, the Catholic Church has an unparalleled network. Mobsters may have their territories, but the Church claims everywhere. With over a billion followers worldwide, even Don Corleone would bow to that reach. Thus, power struggles ensue within many organisations with coups and betrayals and internal competitions occur, including who is going to be the new boss. Welcome to the cinematic adaptation of Robert Harris’ novel, Conclave (2024); a beautifully constructed, serious and ultimately quite silly story.
Ralph Fiennes is majestic as Cardinal-Dean Thomas Lawrence, the individual tasked with finding a successor after the Pope dies of a heart attack. Fiennes anchors this serious faith-based drama with an intellectual depth as a series of potential candidates throw their zuchettos into the ring including:
Aldo Bellini (Stanley Tucci) of the United States, a liberal spirit echoing the compassionate legacy of the late pontiff.
Joseph Tremblay (John Lithgow) of Canada, a voice of moderation, bridging the Church’s timeless values and modern sensibilities.
Joshua Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati) of Nigeria, a steadfast advocate of social conservatism, grounded in enduring traditions.
Goffredo Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto) of Italy, an unwavering traditionalist, fiercely loyal to the ancient rites of faith.
With a narrative based on a book by Robert Harris, it is certain that the powerful developments and twists will grip the audience. Furthermore, Edward Berger’s direction is undeniably captivating, as is Stéphane Fontaine’s cinematography, which paints each scene with a reverence befitting the Vatican’s grandeur. Their collaboration crafts a visually stunning vision, pulling viewers into the cloistered rituals of electing a new Pope. Yet, for all its technical brilliance, the process itself feels devoid of emotional resonance.
Why should we, the audience, care about who becomes the next Pope? Unless one is deeply invested in the Catholic Church or its doctrine, the stakes remain distant. The election of a spiritual leader for over a billion followers is, of course, significant—but the film offers little to make this significance tangible for those outside that fold. Harris’ story spices things up with a provocative, irreverent twist in its final act. Yet, this narrative grenade lands with a thud rather than an explosion. Yes, it’s shocking, even subversive, but it doesn’t pack enough weight to unsettle an institution as colossal and entrenched as the Catholic Church.
Ultimately, Conclave (2024) is a masterclass in craft but a missed opportunity in damning the status quo of this alleged criminal organisation. Berger, Fontaine, Fiennes, plus the production design, score and sound-mixing artistry elevate the film, making it an incredibly effective cinematic version of the proverbial page-turner. But the story’s failure to connect on a deeper, emotional level found me losing my religion; what little I have left.
Produced by: Hirokazu Kore-eda, Minami Ichikawa, Kenji Yamada, Megumi Banse, Taichi Itō and Hijiri Taguchi
Main cast: Sakura Andō, Eita Nagayama, Sōya Kurokawa, Hinata Hiiragi and Yūko Tanaka
Cinematography by Ryuto Kondo
Music by Ryuichi Sakamoto
*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***
Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Monster (2023) exemplifies his continued mastery of humanist storytelling, a hallmark of his career. As with prior works such as the classic Afterlife (1998), critically acclaimed Shoplifters (2018), and the recent, arguably more commercial comedy-drama, Broker (2022), Kore-eda demonstrates a keen ability to explore the quiet complexities of human relationships, here through themes of bullying, young love, and the tender, taboo nature of queer affection. Monster (2023) delves deeply into the fragility of human connections, revealing the pain and misunderstandings that arise when societal expectations collide with individual identities.
The story focuses on shifting narrative perspectives of two young boys, Minato (Sōya Kurokawa) and Yori (Hinata Hiragi), Mugino’s mother, Saori (Sakura Andō) and the boy’s teacher, Michitoshi Hori (Eita Nagayama). Initially, Minato begins displaying slightly disturbing behavious such as cutting his own hair and throwing tantrums in class. His mother then believes the teacher is bullying him and begins to campaign for Mr Hori’s punishment. What then unfolds is something altogether more complex and powerfully ambiguous.
With Monster (2023), crafted via a Rashomon-style structure by screenwriter Yuji Sakamoto, the narrative approach provides a formidable layer to the film’s emotional resonance. It allow the audience to revisit pivotal events from multiple perspectives. By shifting viewpoints the script highlights how perception shapes reality, illustrating the subjectivity of truth in deeply personal and often painful ways. The multifaceted storytelling reveals how moments of cruelty, compassion, and misunderstanding ripple across different lives, underscoring Kore-eda’s central humanist message: no person is simply a villain or a hero, but a complex amalgam of motives and vulnerabilities.
The script’s structural ingenuity enhances the film’s exploration of societal issues, such as the alienation of queer youth and the lasting scars of bullying. Each retelling reframes the characters’ actions, fostering empathy for even the most seemingly antagonistic figures. This interplay of perspectives elevates Monster (2023) beyond a straightforward tale of adolescent struggle, transforming it into a profound meditation on the intersection of memory, identity, and the pursuit of love and acceptance.
By marrying Kore-eda’s subtle directorial touch with Sakamoto’s intricate script, Monster (2023) achieves a rare cinematic feat: a story that is as intellectually engaging as it is emotionally devastating. Moreover, it reaffirms Kore-eda’s place as a preeminent chronicler of the human condition. Safe to say that it is beautifully filmed, cast and acted. To elicit such incredible performances from these boys is wondrous direction. It also features a fragmented but beautifully poetic final film score of the recently departed Ryuichi Sakamoto. Overall, it’s cinema that breathes pathos and humanity into each and every character, and provides no easy solutions. Monster (2023) is a film that burns, like the fiery tower block featured throughout, long in the heart and memory.
When Welsh filmmaker Gareth Evans burst on the cinematic scene with martial arts film, Merantau (2009) and followed it with the seminal action classic, The Raid (2011), he precipitated a welcome interest in Indonesian cinema and visceral fight films too. On reflection, Evans’ rise has influenced Indonesian director, Timo Tjahjanto, and their collaboration played a significant role in shaping the latter’s career. The two directors worked together on the action-packed Safe Haven segment of the anthology film V/H/S/2 (2013), which gained critical acclaim for its intensity and creativity. This partnership showcased Tjahanto’s knack for blending horror, action, and suspense, a style Evans is also known for through his work on the aforementioned The Raid series.
Thus, as a massive fan of The Raid (2011), I decided to watch Tjahjanto’s most recent Netflix releases. Their shared focus on high-octane action and stylized, bloody violence has led to comparisons between each of the filmmakers’ work and a sense of mutual inspiration. Tjahjanto has often expressed admiration for Gareth Evans’ meticulous approach to action choreography and storytelling. Evans’ ability to balance fast-cutting action, physically powerful actors and pulsating sound effects likely resonated with Timo, who has implemented similar techniques in his own films.
Here are three short reviews of those Netflix actioners from Tjahjanto, who is soon to be directing Nobody 2 (2025). I realise scenes where characters are garroted, decapitated, strangled, snapped, shot, hung and impaled with their own splintered bones are not the most seasonal of films to recommend, but if you absolutely love fist-blade-gun-bomb-stick-knife-head-tools-led set-pieces then do check them out.
** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **
THE NIGHT COMES FOR US (2018)
Main cast: Joe Taslim, Iko Uwais, Julie Estelle, Sunny Pang and Zack Lee
Fans of the The Raidseries will recognise Iko Uwais immediately, however, he is not the main hero in this frenetic and ultra-violent crime thriller. Not that there are not many heroes on show here. Tjahjanto is very much a genre writer and director, presenting big archetypal gangs involving the South East Asian Triads, groups called ‘The Big Six’ and characters called ‘The Operator.’ While there is an attempt to create emotion, Tjahjanto’s strength is in directing and choreographing blistering battle scenes between these various gangs.
The Night Comes For Us (2018) plot finds Joe Taslim’s, Ito, as enforcer saving a young girl’s life and trying to turn his back on crime and violence. It’s easier said than done as all hell breaks loose when various crime factions pursue him in a myriad of ferocious set-pieces. Here Tjahjanto vision of violence serves as more than just a tool for storytelling; it becomes an overwhelming, nihilistic force that shapes the film’s worldview and emotional tone. The relentless brutality and graphic depiction of human suffering go beyond entertainment, creating a numbing effect that forces viewers to confront the inescapable cycle of destruction and loss. The theme of redemption is at the heart of Ito’s journey, but ultimately it’s the high body count that stays with you.
Mark: 8.5 out of 11
THE BIG 4 (2022)
Main cast: Abimana Aryasatya, Putri Marino, Lutesha, Arie Kriting and Kristo Immanuel etc.
The Big 4 (2022) takes a sharp tonal shift from the grim and nihilistic world of The Night Comes for Us, embracing a blend of high-octane action and irreverent humour. While both films showcase the director’s trademark flair for elaborate action choreography and over-the-top violence, The Big 4 tempers its brutality with comedic undertones, a zany dysfunctional family dynamic, and a sense of fun reminiscent of The A-Team.
The film is peppered with witty banter, physical comedy, and absurd situations that lighten the mood, even during intense action sequences. The violence, while still extreme, is stylized in a way that leans more toward cartoonish spectacle than visceral horror, allowing the audience to laugh along with the chaos rather than feel emotionally drained by it. At the heart of The Big 4 is the relationship between its central group of misfit assassins, who operate more like a chaotic, bickering family than a traditional hit squad. The result is a film that retains Timo Tjahjanto’s penchant for adrenaline-fueled spectacle while delivering a more comedic and uplifting familial experience.
Mark: 7.5 out of 11
THE SHADOW STRAYS (2024)
Main cast: Aurora Ribero, Hana Malasan, Taskya Namya, Agra Piliang, Andri Mashadi, Chew Kin Wah etc.
Tjahjanto’s latest release, The Shadow Strays (2024) melds the sleek, character-driven intensity of Nikita(1990) with the mythic, stylized world-building of John Wick, resulting in a brutal and visceral cinematic experience that showcases his signature flair for action. The film blends high-octane combat with a dark, morally ambiguous narrative, creating a layered world filled with shadowy organizations, unrelenting assassins, and a protagonist caught between vengeance and redemption.
The well-worn plot shows a young trainee assassin called, Thirteen (Aurora Ribero), trying to find her own identity, at the same time of rescuing a young orphan from nefarious drug dealers and corrupt politicians. The narrative explores themes of identity, loyalty, and betrayal, grounding the hyper-stylized violence in a story of personal stakes and transformation. Her journey resonates with a sense of tragedy, as she grapples with the toll her violent profession takes on her psyche and relationships. While The Shadow Strays pays homage to its influences, it remains distinctly Tjahjanto, weaving his trademark brutality with Ribero confirming herself as bona fide film action star. The overall result is a gripping, unrelenting, if overlong journey, into a violent underworld where every choice comes with a cost.
The Cinema Fix presents 