Tag Archives: horror

Netflix Film Review: Emilia Perez (2024) – A Trans-formative song of Risk and Redemption!

NETFLIX FILM REVIEW: EMILIA PEREZ (2024)

Directed by Jacques Audiard

Screenplay by Jacques Audiard

Based on Écoute by Boris Razon

Produced by Jacques Audiard, Pascal Caucheteux, Valérie Schermann, Anthony Vaccarello

Main Cast: Zoe Saldaña, Karla Sofía Gascón, Selena Gomez, Adriana Paz, Mark Ivanir, Édgar Ramírez etc.

Cinematography by Paul Guilhaume

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



There’s such a thing as having too much going on.” Howard Moon from The Mighty Boosh.

I am a big champion of the films of Jacques Audiard. When his eccentric Western, The Sisters Brothers (2018), was released I wrote a positive review and tribute to several other fine films he has directed here. Audiard likes to take risks representing human beings on the edge of society and perhaps struggling with life; people who often make left-field decisions to improve or escape their existential plight. With his latest film Emilia Perez (2024) the filmmaking master challenges the audience again with a multi-blended genre film that also contains powerful themes of transformation, redemption, violence, crime and family values. Oh and there are songs too.

The narrative begins strongly as Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldana), a fiercely talented yet overlooked lawyer in Mexico City, finds herself thrust into the spotlight when she defends the wife of a prominent media mogul in a controversial murder trial. Despite her misgivings, Rita crafts a chillingly persuasive argument that frames the death as a suicide, securing an unexpected victory in the case—one that leaves her both celebrated and haunted.

As the dust settles, Rita’s restless dissatisfaction with her life grows louder. Then comes an anonymous phone call: an enigmatic voice offers her a chance at something extraordinary—and extraordinarily dangerous. Intrigued and desperate for change, she agrees to a clandestine meeting. The mysterious client turns out to be none other than Juan “Manitas” Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón), a ruthless and feared cartel kingpin. But the request they make isn’t what Rita expects from a crime-lord. Manitas dreams of living authentically by undergoing gender-affirming surgery and becoming a woman. Rita must decide: will she help Manitas rewrite their story, or will she risk becoming the next chapter in a tale of betrayal and bloodshed?



This fascinating set-up draws you in and I believe if Audiard’s narrative had concentrated mostly on the relationship between Rita, the transitioned, Emilia, then the film would have retained much emotional and thematic power. Yet, after Emilia’s operation the screenplay introduces several other story strands and characters to take in, including Selena Gomez’ feisty Jessi Del Monte, Manitas’ ex-wife who thinks “he’s” dead. This development works initially but then Audiard hurls so many more ideas and genres at the audience wall, not all of them sticking.

Admittedly, the film’s audacious blend of melodrama, crime, thriller, musical, and comedy creates an unpredictable and frenetic narrative that keeps viewers on their toes. However, this constant genre-shifting can undermine the weight of its core themes—gender and identity—by overshadowing them with spectacle and tonal inconsistency. The story’s rapid turns and refusal to settle into a single emotional or narrative groove risk, arguably trivializing the profound struggles and triumphs of its trans-protagonist. Moments that could serve as deeply reflective or cathartic explorations of gender identity are sometimes undercut by abrupt pivots into slapstick humor or hyper-stylized action. While these shifts might aim to reflect the disarray and fluidity of identity in a chaotic world, they can also dilute the thematic resonance.

At the same time, it’s clear Audiard is deliberately embracing this chaos and analysis of human flaws. The fractured tone might symbolize a world where stability and clarity are illusions, mirroring the internal and external conflicts of someone navigating personal transformation in an unyielding environment. This approach, while conceptually intriguing, can feel alienating. Nonetheless, the cast’s stellar performances anchor the film, ensuring that the characters remain compelling even when the story spirals into excess. Lastly, Emilia Perez‘ (2024) relentless energy often leaves little room for introspection, and whether this genre-chaos enriches or undermines the narrative depends largely on the viewer’s tolerance for Audiard’s embrace of choral disorder in a world seemingly allergic to calm and pattern.

Mark: 7.5 out of 11


Cinema Review: Heretic (2024) – A Devilish Twist on Religious Horror

Heretic (2024)

Directed by Scott Beck & Bryan Woods

Written by Scott Beck & Bryan Woods

Produced by Stacey Sher, Scott Beck, Bryan Woods, Julia Glausi and Jeanette Volturno

Main cast: Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East and Topher Grace.

Cinematography by Chung Chung-hoon



Hugh Grant has been leaning into edgier, more complex roles in recent years, breaking away from the charming, rom-com archetype that first made him famous in films like Notting Hill (1999) and Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994). His performance as the scheming Fletcher in The Gentlemen (2019) showcased his versatility and willingness to play morally ambiguous, darker characters, a notable shift from his earlier, more likeable characters. Additionally, his involvement in projects like Heretic (2024) demonstrates a continued exploration of grittier, layered personas, signaling a reinvention of his career as he embraces unconventional, often villainous roles that display a new level of depth and unpredictability.

In the theologically-driven horror thriller, Heretic (2024), he portrays a certain Mr Reed, who is door-stepped by two Mormon missionary’s, Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Sister Paxton (Chloe East). After the opening scenes which establish empathy for the Mormons, despite some slightly risque dialogue, they knock on the door of Mr Reed and soon the tension begins to rise as he clearly has ulterior motives. But what could they be?



The excellent script by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods truly comes alive in the second act, diving into a sharp, intelligent critique on the nature of religion and faith. The narrative shifts into thought-provoking territory, dissecting the contradictions and complexities of belief systems with nuance and wit. Hugh Grant, delivers these lines with palpable relish, embodying a character that’s both captivating and unsettling. His performance amplifies the script’s incisive commentary, bringing a darkly charismatic edge to the film’s anti-treatise that leaves a lasting impression on the viewer. There’s some great humour in there too, even name-checking South Park and The Book of Mormon during a thrilling game of verbal cat-and-mouse as Mr Reed challenges the sweet missionaries’ whole doctrine. Which, let’s face it, as invented by Joseph Smith, is arguably founded on many ridiculous ideas.

Heretic loses some of its originality toward the end as it leans into familiar horror and “final girl” tropes, diluting the impact of its earlier, more mazy, twisted and thought-provoking narrative. After building a layered critique on religion and faith, the climax reverts to predictable genre conventions, somewhat undermining the complexity established in the second act. This shift might feel like a missed opportunity, as the nuanced themes give way to traditional horror cliches that prioritize shocks over substance. While still entertaining, the reliance on these tropes makes the conclusion feel less daring compared to the film’s more intellectually ambitious setup. Still, Hugh Grant’s devilish Mr Reed and a fantastic soundtrack, make it well worth the admission fee. Meanwhile Woods and Beck again prove themselves as genre filmmakers worth keeping faith with.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11


BFI Film Review: Scala (2023) – At the Altar of Nostalgia for the Scala Cinema!

BFI Film Review: Scala!!! (2023)

Directed by Ali Catterall & Jane Giles

Produced by Andrew Starke, Alan Marke & Jim Reid

Cinematography by Sarah Appleton

Edited by Andrew Starke and Edward Mills

Music by Barry Adamson


The Scala Cinema, nestled in the heart of London, was more than just a film theatre; it was a refuge, a haven for anyone with a passion for films that didn’t fit into the mainstream mold. I can still feel the sticky floors, the cats in the dark, hear the muffled sounds of the trains passing overhead, and see the hazy red glow that filled the theater. In the 1980s and 1990s, going to the Scala wasn’t just about watching a film; it was about being part of a community that celebrated the bizarre, the boundary-pushing, and the boldly artistic.

During those years, the Scala felt like my second home. It was where I could disappear into films that I couldn’t find anywhere else – obscure horror flicks, campy B-movies, gonzo-pornos, arthouse selections, and controversial classics from around the globe. It was my church. Films by David Lynch, John Waters, Yuen Woo-ping, Derek Jarman, Werner Herzog, Sam Raimi, Lucio Fulci, Russ Meyer, Kathryn Bigelow, Alex Cox, John Woo, Stanley Kubrick, Jane Campion, Orson Welles, Dario Argento, Alejandro Jodorowsky and many more – each screening felt like a small rebellion, a discovery that I’d carry with me. The Scala didn’t just show movies; it curated experiences. All-night marathons, double bills, and surprise screenings became a staple of my weekends, filling my mind with scenes that blurred the line between reality and the outrageous.



When I watched the Scala documentary on BFI Player, a flood of memories came rushing back. It was as though I’d been given a ticket back to those wild, late nights. I remembered how Scala regulars would shout lines at the screen or break into laughter at inopportune moments, making each viewing unique and unpredictable. The documentary captured not only the films but the spirit of the place – the staff who loved cinema as much as the patrons did, the strange but welcoming crowd, and the sense that Scala wasn’t just a venue but a movement. Watching it felt like reconnecting with a part of myself, an era when cinema was raw, thrilling, and unpolished.

The Scala in King’s Cross is a legend, and for those of us who were lucky enough to experience it, it’s a chapter we’ll always cherish. I was even there when they showed A Clockwork Orange (illegally), which led to the ill-fated court case which forced it to close. This documentary is both a valuable historical document and a joyous sharing of stories from those who worked there and attended the films shown, including: Mark Moore, Mary Harron, Isaac Julien, John Waters, Ben Wheatley; Barry Adamson, Matt Johnson, Adam Buxton, James O’Brien, Stewart Lee, Lisa Power and Graham Humphreys. Overall, the Scala Cinema wasn’t just about the films we watched; it was about finding a place where film became more than entertainment – they were a way of life.

Mark: 9 out of 11


Must-See Horror Films on SHUDDER. . . Mostly!

SHUDDER HORROR FILM REVIEWS (2024)

Looking for something horrifying to watch during Halloween. Well you could do far worse than getting a Shudder subscription.

A few months a year I sign up and binge bloody disgusting and scary films as my previous reviews testify. Check them out here!

This year I have done the same and watched some really good, terribly bad and hideously ugly horror films via Shudder. Peruse my short reviews below. In alphabetical order with marks out of eleven.



Host (2020)

A terrific low-budget British indie film that explores the dangers of angering ghosts during a Zoom call. While the mildly irritating characters don’t realize they can simply end the online séance, it’s still a spooky, suspenseful, and fast-paced horror flick. I’m not usually a fan of the found footage genre, but this was very well made and highly creepy. Mark: 8 out of 11


In A Violent Nature (2024)

This director will probably have an amazing career. But this film was, despite some wonderful practical-effect driven gore, SO slow and boring. The film satirizes classic horror tropes, mocking their clichés with a heavy hand. The director’s pretentious style and inflated sense of artistic ego drain the audience of any real suspense or tension. The attempt at highbrow genre obfuscation creates a hollow spectacle. Shot from behind, the killer stalks twenty-somethings in the woods in the style of Son of Saul (2015) meets every slasher film ever. Ultimately, suffering from atrocious dialogue, bad plotting and weak characterization, the visual flair fails to save a film which feels more like an exercise in intellectual vanity than a gripping thriller. Mark: 5 out of 11


Late Night With The Devil (2023)

With echoes of the recent Inside No. 9 (3×3 quiz show episode) and BBC show Ghostwatch (1992), and of course The Exorcist (1973)Late Night With the Devil (2023) is one of the most enjoyable and imaginative horror films I have seen in sometime.  One of the best horror films of the decade. Check out my longer review here. Mark: 9 out of 11


Pyewacket (2017)

Nicole Munoz’ isolated teenager summons a witch via a ritual and unleashes something not particularly scary or even present. All set-up and no catharsis! A waste of everyone’s time. Mark: 4 out of 11


Revealer (2022)

One of the best pitches I have read in a while – “A stripper and religious protester are trapped together in a peep show booth and must come together to survive the apocalypse in 1980’s Chicago!” does not unfortunately live up to expectations. However, there’s a decent female buddy dynamic and some imaginative gore which channels early Raimi, Jackson and Carpenter. Mark: 6 out of 11


Room 237 (2012)

For Stanley Kubrick completists, this fascinating documentary is divided into nine sections, with each one exploring a different aspect of The Shining (1980). Hidden theories buried under the surface relate to faked moon landings, Native American genocide and the holocaust are some of the ideas chucked at the wall. While some may stick and some don’t, it’s lovingly made and always fascinating. Mark: 8 out of 11


Skinamarink (2022)

Skinamarink was a major letdown for me, especially given the high expectations after its impressive financial success. With a $15,000 budget, it garnered over $2.1 million at the box office, creating a buzz around its unconventional style and promise of fresh horror. But despite its atmospheric tension and experimental approach, I felt the film didn’t live up to the hype. The slow pacing, abstract narrative, and reliance on ambient sounds and shadows left me unmoved. It’s an original, art-house horror so surprised it crossed over. Filmmaker, Kyle Edward Ball, clearly has a distinctive voice though. Mark: 6 out of 11


Stop Motion (2023)

The animation in Stopmotion (2023) showcases Robert Morgan’s genius, with his signature blend of hauntingly detailed stop-motion work that creates an eerie, tactile atmosphere. His craftsmanship brings a nightmarish quality to life, adding unsettling textures and depth that pull the audience into a world of psychological horror. However, while the animation excels, the plot—reminiscent of Repulsion—struggles to connect on a human level. The surreal visuals overshadow the character’s psychological journey, making it hard for viewers to engage with the protagonist’s inner turmoil, leaving the story feeling more distant and abstract than compelling. Mark: 6.5 out of 11


Superdeep (2020)

The Russian horror film Superdeep feels like a patchwork of borrowed elements from better-known sci-fi and horror movies, but without their finesse or originality. It mimics the claustrophobic tension of The Thing, the body horror of Alien, and the descent into madness of Event Horizon, yet fails to capture the essence that made those films effective. Derivative and ineffective, it at least has some ridiculously bad monster effects at the end that had me laughing. Mark: 4 out of 11


The Coffee Table (2022)

The Coffee Table is a twisted and darkly humorous horror film that pushes the boundaries of discomfort while delivering a sharp, satirical take on the horrors of parenthood. The film’s sick sense of humor blends with its unsettling premise, as it uses a seemingly mundane object—a coffee table—as the catalyst for an absurd but terrifying chain of events. Its pitch-black comedy amplifies the tension, making the film both deeply disturbing and strangely cathartic for those who understand the pressures of raising children. It’s a fearless examination of the darker side of family life, where humor and horror collide to expose the anxieties and struggles that often go unspoken. Mark: 8 out of 11


We All Went to the World’s Fair (2021)

We All Went to the World’s Fair (2021) falls short both as a horror film and as a rites of passage story. Its eerie, slow-burn approach creates an unsettling atmosphere, but the lack of a clear, escalating threat leaves it feeling aimless. Switching protagonists at the end does not work, and despite an excellent performance from Anna Cobb, the film spoils an intriguing premise. Mark: 5.5 out of 11


Where Evil Lurks (2023)

Where Evil Lurks (2023) skillfully employs well-known horror tropes—such as viral infection and monstrous transformations of humans—to deliver a fresh and intense experience. The film taps into the fear of contagion, using the idea of a mysterious, spreading evil that corrupts and distorts its victims. This viral-like menace is combined with disturbing body horror, as infected humans gradually turn into something grotesque and monstrous, making the familiar threat feel visceral and terrifying. The gradual, creeping transformation of people into monstrous figures is done with chilling precision, playing on the fear of losing control of one’s body and mind. By grounding these tropes in a strong narrative and unsettling atmosphere, the film elevates the horror elements, using them to amplify its emotional and psychological impact. Mark: 8.5 out of 11

Cinema Review – Exploring Music and Madness in Joker: Folie à Deux (2024)

Cinema Review: Joker: Folie à Deux (2024)

Directed by Todd Phillips

Written by Scott Silver and Todd Phillips (Based on Characters by DC Comics)

Produced byTodd Phillips, Emma Tillinger Koskoff & Joseph Garner


Main cast: Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga, Brendan Gleeson, Catherine Keener and Zazie Beetz etc.

Cinematography by Lawrence Sher

Music by Hildur Guðnadóttir

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



In 2019, Todd Phillips and Joaquin Phoenix, as director and lead actor, unleashed Joker (2019) on the cinema public. It became an enormous critical and commercial hit, with Phoenix winning the ‘Best Actor’ award at the Academy Awards. Unsurprisingly, a sequel now reaches us. While the original 1980’s set period drama worked superbly, echoing the structure and themes of Scorsese’s King of Comedy (1982) and Taxi Driver (1976), the follow-up Joker: Folie à Deux (2024) is altogether different. In fact, given it experiments with musical, romance, crime, court-room and psychological horror genres, it is an altogether riskier film, which while compelling and fascinating, doesn’t always connect to a satisfactory whole. But perhaps that is the point. It is intended to reflect an inconsistent mind and unreliable narrator, a fractured soul in Arthur Fleck.

For me, in Joker: Folie à Deux (2024), Todd Phillips masterfully employs cinematic techniques of fragmentation and ambiguity to deepen the exploration of mental illness, echoing the disorienting and fractured experience of his protagonists. The film, much like its predecessor, blurs the lines between reality and delusion, but this time the ambiguity is intensified through musical elements, dreamlike sequences, and multiple perspectives. Phillips’ use of disjointed timelines and unreliable narratives immerses the audience in the chaos of Arthur Fleck’s (Phoenix) and Harley Quinn’s (Lady Gaga) unraveling psyches.



The musical numbers, set against stark, gritty environments, feel both fantastical and unnerving, reinforcing the characters’ distorted perceptions of the world. Moments of quiet introspection are suddenly broken by violent outbursts or surreal interludes, mimicking the unpredictability of their mental states. The film’s visual style shifts between stark realism and surreal imagery, reflecting the internal fragmentation of Arthur and Harley’s minds, keeping viewers on edge and questioning what is real.

Phillips’ direction ensures that the story remains rooted in ambiguity—much like the first film—inviting viewers to interpret the characters’ mental states without offering clear answers. This cracked narrative style doesn’t just illustrate their mental illness; it pulls the audience into it, making Joker: Folie à Deux a bold and unsettling exploration of madness through form as much as story. As such there isn’t much plot to speak of as Arthur’s journey essentially follows him from Arkham Asylum to court, with episodic splashes of song and dance in between, before we get to the climactic court room scenes.

As aforementioned, in Joker (2019), Todd Phillips drew heavily from Martin Scorsese’s The King of Comedy (1982), particularly in its portrayal of a lonely, unstable man seeking fame and validation in a world that cruelly rejects him. Arthur Fleck’s obsession with talk show host Murray Franklin mirrors Rupert Pupkin’s fixation on becoming a comedy star, and both films explore the dangerous consequences of societal alienation and delusional aspirations. The gritty, urban backdrop and character-driven narrative made Joker a powerful homage to Scorsese’s psychological explorations of fame and madness.



With Joker: Folie à Deux (2024), Phillips shifts toward a different Scorsese film for inspiration: New York, New York (1977). Much like Scorsese’s semi-musical about a turbulent romance between two performers, Folie à Deux integrates musical elements and centres on the chaotic relationship between Arthur and Harley Quinn (Lady Gaga). The film’s blending of harsh realism with the stylized, dreamlike sequences of musical numbers echoes New York, New York’s mix of glitzy performance and dark personal struggle. Thematically, both films explore how dreams of stardom can clash with mental instability, but Folie à Deux takes it a step further by embedding this conflict within its characters’ delusions, making the musical sequences feel like an escape from—or reflection of—their psychotic minds. This potential homage to New York, New York allows Phillips to expand Joker‘s cinematic language, fusing psychological drama with surreal musical spectacle.

Joker: Folie à Deux (2024), at time of writing, has polarized critics and cinema-goers. As someone who watches a lot of “art-house” and European cinema, I can see why this film is dividing opinion. This is what happens if Jacques Demy, by way of Bergman, were given $200 million to make a DC comic-book film. Todd Phillips takes many risks in form and structure, most notably denying the audience catharsis at the bleak finale. It is truly downbeat and it felt like Phillips and Phoenix were finally done with this clownish killer and anti-hero.

As a cinematic experience the musical score is striking. Moreover, the production is grey and oppressive and claustrophobic, set in enclosed cells and shadowed court rooms. There is little light in this film nor even a shadow at the end of the tunnel for Arthur and Harley. Phoenix is fantastic again, while Gaga’s romantic partner-in-crime is under-cooked as a character. Nonetheless, Gaga still sparkles amidst this gloomy, musical, existential journey into the mouth and down the throat of madness.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11


Cinema Review: The Substance (2024) – A Dark Exploration of Identity

THE SUBSTANCE (2024)

Directed by Coralie Fargeat

Written by Coralie Fargeat

Produced by: Coralie Fargeat, Tim Bevan and Eric Fellner

Main Cast: Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley and Dennis Quaid

Cinematography by Benjamin Kracun

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



The Substance (2024), directed by Coralie Fargeat, is a visually striking and visceral film that pushes the boundaries of body horror and psychological terror. Fargeat, known for her raw and relentless style in Revenge (2017), once again delivers an unforgettable experience by weaving references to classic literature and horror cinema into a narrative that is at once familiar and entirely original.

Demi Moore portrays a former Hollywood star, Elizabeth Sparkle, now relegated to doing a mildy successful cable TV aerobics show. However, Dennis Quaid’s oily production executive is on the lookout for younger talent. Elizabeth soon finds herself on the media scrapheap. Desperate to regain her youth and career, Elizabeth is drawn to the hypnotic promise of a new product called ‘The Substance.’

Before you can say, “Dorian Gray”, Elizabeth is lured to a strange white room full of lockers and has committed to the process. Similar to Gremlins (1984), there are rules to follow. As she follows the steps and injects the potions, Elizabeth goes through a painful and incredibly impactful transformation process. She literally gives birth to a young and beautiful alter ego called, Sue (Margaret Qualley). Elizabeth and Sue then get seven days each to live their life before they have to swap back. What could go wrong?



The film’s core themes draw heavily from Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, exploring duality, identity, and the monstrous potential hidden within human nature. Like Stevenson’s tale of inner conflict, The Substance delves into the consequences of scientific ambition. It investigates moral transgression but with a modern, feminist twist. Fargeat’s use of body horror, particularly in the transformation sequences, echoes the grotesque, unsettling work of David Cronenberg. The nightmarish atmosphere and surreal visuals are reminiscent of David Lynch’s unsettling dream logic. This is notably seen in Eraserhead (1977) and Mulholland Drive (2001).

The film also pays homage to John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982), with its transmogrifying frights, sense of creeping paranoia and rising conflict. But rather than a group of men fighting each other Elizabeth and Sue turn on each other over ownership of their physical existence and Hollywood status. The final act descends into hellish and bloody satire echoing Peter Jackson’s Braindead (1992), with gore galore. Moreover, Stanley Kubrick’s influence is palpable in the film’s meticulous framing, production design and tension-building. The climactic body-morphing scenes, however, most clearly nod to Brian Yuzna’s Society (1989), with its grotesque depictions of class and conformity, fused with Fargeat’s unique vision of female empowerment, revenge and resistance.

The Substance (2024) feels like a bigger budget film in look and style, but you soon realise the minimal number of sets used and a lack of crowd scenes, finds the narrative effectively becoming a two-hander in the middle act by focusing on Sue and Elizabeth’s internal retaliatory vindictiveness. There are some amazing framing, colour design and cinematographic choices as showers become tombs to trap the protagonists. The book-ended Hollywood star montage and returning final shots are imaginative and unforgettable. Got to say that Demi Moore, as an actress taking on a role of an aging and neurotic former star is genius casting. While Qualley delivers a sexually charged and energetic performance, it is Moore who carries the weight of the complex themes as Elizabeth’s journey dives deeper into the stuff of nightmares.

Overall, The Substance (2024) is a postmodern classic and a film that honors its influences while forging its own path. Fargeat uses these references to enrich the narrative, creating a damned ugly and beautiful satire on those seeking narcissistic perfection through unnatural means, ultimately paying the price of those seeking eternal youth and fame.

Mark: 9 out of 11


HORROR REVIEWS: SPEAK NO EVIL (2022) / SPEAK NO EVIL (2024)

SPEAK NO EVIL (2022)

Directed by Christian Tafdrup

Written by Christian Tafdrup and Mads Tafdrup

Main Cast: Morten Burian, Sidsel Siem Koch, Fedja van Huêt, Karina Smulders, Liva Forsberg and Marius Damslev.

Speak No Evil (2022), directed by Christian Tafdrup, is a chilling psychological horror that explores the perils of politeness within middle-class sensibilities, turning everyday discomfort into a waking nightmare. The film follows a Danish family with a young daughter, visiting a Dutch family unit, only to find themselves trapped in a horrifying and twisted game of cat and mouse. All smiles and charisma at first, the ‘Alpha’ Patrick, dominates his wife and young son, who unfortunately has no tongue. Tafdrup deftly dissects how the fear of offending others—deeply ingrained in bourgeois values—leads the protagonists to ignore increasingly unsettling behaviour.

Losing or not using one’s voice is inherent within the text. Further, what begins as awkward social tension escalates into something far more sinister, as the family is manipulated through their desire to maintain decorum. This dynamic plays on the anxieties of modern, polite society, where confrontation is often avoided at all costs. The film’s climax delivers a shocking, almost biblical punishment for their inability to break free from these conventions, suggesting a moral reckoning for those who allow fear of impoliteness to override survival instincts.

Subtle, creeping dread makes Speak No Evil (2022) a disturbing meditation on the dangers of middle-class complacency, and the terrifying consequences of choosing politeness over personal safety. Lastly, the film also explores the theme of toxic masculinity as the muscular ‘Alpha’ threatens the ineffective ‘Beta’ male, proving one should always stand up to bullies or face the consequences.

(Note: for those seeking out the film in the UK, it is currently screening on Shudder.)

Mark: 8.5 out of 11



SPEAK NO EVIL (2024)

Directed by James Watkins

Screenplay adaptation by James Watkins


Main cast: James McAvoy , Mackenzie Davis, Scoot McNairy, Alix West Lefler, Dan Hough, and Aisling Franciosi

The English remake of Speak No Evil (2024) delivers a faithful and unnerving adaptation of Christian Tafdrup’s original, with James McAvoy’s chilling performance at its heart. McAvoy, playing the charming yet menacing antagonist, brings a sinister edge to the character that heightens the tension and discomfort throughout the film. His portrayal effortlessly captures the unsettling power dynamics, making each of his polite gestures and subtle manipulations all the more terrifying. McEvoy relishes every moment of this characterful performance.

What truly stands out in this remake is how it retains the meticulous craftsmanship of the original. The film carefully balances tension, awkwardness, and psychological dread, maintaining the slow-burn atmosphere that made the Danish version so unsettling. Director James Watkins ensures the pacing and visual style honour Tafdrup’s vision, with each shot and interaction loaded with unease. Watkin’s adaptation also provides further exposition and fleshes out the character dynamics and motivations, notably with the children, whose actions are integral to propelling the narrative thrills.

The Cape Fear (1991)-style climax veers away from the original’s more subtle, thought-provoking and bleak ending. However, it further amplifies the anxiety, offering a nerve-shredding confrontation that feels both inevitable and brutal. The remake pays homage to the original’s themes of social etiquette, hidden danger and finding one’s voices against bullies, while delivering a climactic showdown that mirrors the power struggles found in classic thrillers. Overall, like the original Speak No Evil (2024) successfully inverts the home invasion dynamic, making it a worthy, terrifying and almost necessary remake.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11


CINEMA REVIEW: BLINK TWICE (2024)

Directed by Zoë Kravitz

Written by Zoë Kravitz & E.T. Feigenbaum

Produced by Bruce Cohen, Tiffany Persons, Garret Levitz, Zoë Kravitz and Channing Tatum

Cast: Naomi Ackie, Channing Tatum, Christian Slater, Simon Rex, Adria Arjona, Kyle MacLachlan, Haley Joel Osment, Geena Davis and Alia Shawkat etc.

Cinematography by Adam Newport-Berra

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



The theme of toxic masculinity is almost becoming a sub-genre of itself in the wake of the #MeToo movement. Films such as The Royal Hotel (2023), How to Have Sex (2023) and Men (2022) are powerful genre films which take the manipulative, malevolent and violent aspect of men, utilizing it as both nemesis and a destructive force the main protagonists must contend with. While She Said (2022) dealt specifically with the Harvey Weinstein legal case, Zoe Kravitz’ energetic blend of genres in Blink Twice (2024), takes a more fictional and heightened route while exposing the horrors surrounding the potential happenings at the notorious Epstein Island.

Frida (Naomie Ackie) and her friend Jess (Alia Shawkat) work at an exclusive event where Frida meets Slater King (Channing Tatum), a billionaire tech mogul who recently resigned as CEO after a public scandal. Despite the scandal Frida and Jess gladly accept an invitation to his private island, where his assistant Stacy (Geena Davis) confiscates their phones. The island hosts Slater’s friends and business partners along with three glamorous guests including Sarah (Adria Arjona). The men and women are treated to lavish rooms, gift bags, gourmet meals, cocktails, and party like hedonistic rock stars drinking champagne and taking hallucinogens.



If you’ve seen the similar island-based, The Menu (2022), which I loved, plus the less than riveting 1950’s perfect suburb-set, Don’t Worry Darling (2022), one soon realises that not all is well in paradise. Amidst the sun, sea and partying the narrative slowly builds the tension until Frida and Jess begin to suspect all may not be as it seems. Kravitz carefully ratchets up the tension, with several strange discoveries heightening the paranoia and anxiety. Latterly the suspense gives way to all-out gory horror and black comedy in the thrilling final act. Naomi Ackie and Adria Arjona are impressive “final girls”, however, the script arguably throws in too many twisty reveals at the end, testing narrative credibility.

Zoe Kravitz is clearly a talented filmmaker and Blink Twice (2024), while unsubtle, is highly entertaining. But does the diversion to the horror genre dilute the power of the themes of toxic masculinity? Kravitz aims to critique the evils of men by showcasing male characters who embody arrogance, dominance, and emotional suppression. But while Kravitz may intend to address toxic masculinity, the reliance on traditional horror tropes potentially undermines this message by exaggerating characters, victimizing women, and prioritizing sensationalism over substance. Still, as a revenge fantasy, Blink Twice (2024), is both stylishly and dynamically rendered.

Mark: 7.5 out of 11


CINEMA REVIEW- ALIEN: ROMULUS (2024)

CINEMA REVIEW – ALIEN: ROMULUS (2024)

Directed by Fede Álvarez

Written by Fede Álvarez & Rodo Sayagues

Based on Characters by Dan O’Bannon & Ronald Shusett

Produced by Ridley Scott, Michael Pruss, Walter Hill etc.

Main Cast: Cailee Spaeny, David Jonsson, Archie Renaux, Isabela Merced, Spike Fearn and Aileen Wu etc.

Cinematography by Galo Olivares

*** CONTAINS SPOILERS ***



Did we need another Alien film? Prometheus (2012) was a box office success while the entertaining, if bland, Covenant seemed to have killed off any possibility of more bleeding chest-bursting. As original director, Ridley Scott, concentrates on the unnecessary sequel Gladiator 2 (2024), Fede Alvarez helms unnecessary prequel, Romulus (2024), set some time between the classic original and one-of-the-best-sequels-ever, Aliens (1986).

The franchise is renowned for its blend of horror, science fiction, and action, with iconic elements that have become staples of the series. To create a successful prequel within this franchise, it’s essential to incorporate certain tropes and thematic elements that resonate with fans while expanding the lore in a meaningful way. So, while it is very entertaining and directed with fine energy, Romulus (2024), is essentially one of the biggest budget fan films ever.



As the script for this film seemed to be written by ChatGPT, I ask you to enjoy a game of Alien: Bingo with me. So, when you watch Romulus (2024), take this list with you and check them off.

  1. Ancient Alien Ruins: Introduce ancient, mysterious structures or artifacts related to the Engineers or other ancient civilizations, which hint at the origins of the Xenomorphs.

  2. Uncovering the Unknown: The protagonists should gradually discover the horror of their situation, with an escalating sense of dread as they uncover the truth about the Xenomorphs.

  3. Weyland-Yutani Corporation: The presence of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, or its precursor, should be central, with their unethical practices and obsession with the Xenomorphs for profit and weaponization playing a key role.

  4. Corporate Deception: Characters may be manipulated or deceived by corporate agendas, often leading to their doom.

  5. Body Horror: Incorporate the visceral, gruesome body horror elements that are a signature of the franchise, such as chest-bursters, acid-for-blood, or other horrific ways the Xenomorphs reproduce and evolve.

  6. Mutations and Experiments: Show early experiments with the Xenomorphs or other creatures, emphasizing the grotesque consequences of tampering with alien biology.

  7. The Alien Xenomorph: Introduce early forms or ancestors of the Xenomorph, exploring how they evolved into the perfect killing machines.

  8. Bioweapon Origins: Delve into the origins of the Xenomorphs as potential bio-weapons, being exploited by the Weyland-Yutani Corporation.

  9. The Engineers: Expand on the lore of the Engineers, their culture, technology, and their role in the creation of the Xenomorphs.

  10. Claustrophobic Settings: Use isolated, claustrophobic environments like derelict ships, alien worlds, or underground facilities to enhance the feeling of dread and helplessness.

  11. Slow-Burn Suspense: Build tension gradually, with a focus on atmosphere, sound design, and visual storytelling, allowing the horror to unfold slowly.

  12. Synthetics (Androids): Include synthetic characters (like Ash, Bishop, or David), exploring their complex relationships with humans and their potential hidden agendas.

  13. Small, Vulnerable Crew: Focus on a small group of characters who are outmatched by the alien threat, emphasizing their vulnerability and the high stakes of survival.

  14. Foreshadowing: Include subtle nods or direct connections to the events or characters of the original “Alien” films, creating a sense of continuity.

  15. Iconic Imagery: Use familiar visual motifs like the Xenomorph egg, facehugger, and the bio-mechanical aesthetic associated with H.R. Giger’s designs.

As well as a superb dirty industrial look and striking cinematography, all of the above tropes and more are present in Romulus (2024). The cast are mostly bland, notably the young Ripley clone portrayed by Cailee Spaeny. Having said that, David Jonsson as Andy, brings tremendous depth and humanity to the character of Andy. Once again, ironically the android character is the most interesting aspect of a recent Alien offering. Jonsson is destined for a great acting career and rises above this often thrilling, if highly generic, horror film.

Mark: 7 out of 11

CINEMA REVIEW: TRAP (2024)

CINEMA REVIEW: TRAP (2024)

Directed by M. Night Shyamalan

Written by M. Night Shyamalan

Produced by Ashwin Rajan, Marc Bienstock, M. Night Shyamalan

Main cast: Josh Hartnett, Ariel Donoghue, Saleka Night Shyamalan, Hayley Mills, Alison Pill, Jonathan Langdon, etc.

Cinematography by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom



*** CONTAINS SPOILERS ***


If you’re into mysterious and suspenseful genre films, M. Night Shyamalan’s most recent works Old (2021) and Knock at the Cabin (2023) left a lasting impression on me. Both movies dive deep into the human psyche, exploring themes of time, fear, and the unknown, and I really enjoyed them. Old (2021) combined Shyamalan’s signature twisty narrative with a meditation on the passage of time. Sure, the ending was over-cooked but I thought it was a brilliant Twilight Zone infused ensemble suspense twister. Meanwhile, Knock at the Cabin (2023) was a compelling claustrophobic apocalyptic thriller finding a family faced with making a horrendous sacrifice. While he is not everyone’s cinematic cup of tea, I for one have enjoyed Shyamalan’s recent output.

His latest high concept B-movie thriller is called Trap (2024). It stars Josh Hartnett as a loving and attentive father, Cooper Adams, who takes his teenage daughter, Riley, to see Lady Raven (Saleka Night Shyamalan) in a huge concert venue. Obviously, musical-based films such as A Star is Born (2018), Purple Rain (1984), and Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) feature gigs as part of their genre conventions. Here in Trap (2024) the concert becomes much more than that. Because Cooper is in fact a serial killer, and acting on a tip-off, the authorities and FBI profiler, Dr Josephine Grant (Hayley Mills), mobilize to turn the location into a means to ensare him. Thus, the whole concert becomes a living, breathing trap, a maze with which Cooper must avoid capture while ensuring his daughter, and the law, do NOT discover his evil dark side.



What follows is a dynamic series of situations where Shyamalan asks the audience to identify with Hartnett’s ‘Butcher’ and see if he can escape the law as they close in. As the music blares and the lights flash, you’re drawn into the tension of a manhunt. The ‘R and B’ pop music, while not my thing, is actually pretty decent as performed by Shyamalan’s daughter, Saleka Night Shyamalan. Can ‘the Butcher’ outsmart the law and vanish into the night, or will he be caught in this electrifying game of cat and mouse? The script certainly answers that in a thrilling set of scenes and confident twists. Of course, it’s all highly improbable and preposterous, but I found all the contrivances incredibly entertaining.

Trap (2024) has some dark and crafty humour in there too, notably in Hartnett’s committed performance. At times I almost thought he was going to speak to the audience directly. I love it when you can see an actor reveling in their performance and Hartnett has so much fun playing this OCD-controlling-complex-double-life-leading family man and serial killer. Thematically, the film is strong too as Cooper is locked in a psychological and emotional struggle against powerful matriarchal figures who inhabit his world. These are represented by his deceased mother who haunts his thoughts and the very-much-alive, Doctor Grant, the psychologist charged with stopping him.

While Trap (2024) requires the audience to swallow a huge piece of “suspend disbelief” pie, Shyamalan infuses Hitchcock levels of suspense – think Rope (1948) on steroids – that had me gripped all the way. It isn’t meant to be taken too seriously and does contain some massive plot-holes you can drive a tour bus through. But I didn’t care as Trap represents another chunk of thoroughly enjoyable genre cinema from M. Night Shyamalan.

Mark: 8 out of 11