Tag Archives: Kathryn Bigelow

Netflix, New Releases

Netflix Film Reviews including: A House of Dynamite (2025), Ballad of a Small Player (2025) Frankenstein (2025), Jay Kelly (2025) and Wake Up, Dead Man (2025)

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Netflix Film Reviews – Winter 2025

Netflix’s auteur-driven cinema push has seen the platform hand enormous creative freedom—and budgets—to filmmakers like Noah Baumbach, Rian Johnson, Kathryn Bigelow, Edward Berger, and Guillermo del Toro, pairing them with world-class casts and top-tier crews to produce works of unmistakably cinematic ambition.

The paradox is that many of these films—designed with theatrical scale, craft, and seriousness—ultimately premiere to mass audiences via Netflix’s online platform rather than traditional movie theatres, reflecting a fundamental shift in how prestige cinema is financed, distributed, and culturally consumed in the streaming era.

What can you do? Well, pay the Netflix subscription and watch them from the comfort of one’s living room. Here are my reviews with usual marks out of eleven. Happy 2026!

A House of Dynamite (2025)

Kathryn Bigelow’s A House of Dynamite (2025) is an expertly directed and intriguingly structured disaster movie, unfolding across three interlocking chapters that chart a nuclear attack on the United States by an unknown enemy. Each section reframes the same escalating crisis through a different lens—the White House intelligence apparatus, the military response, and the political sphere—culminating in the perspective of the President, played with sensitivity and gravitas by Idris Elba.

As events overlap and repeat, the script cleverly ratchets up tension, revealing new information through subtle shifts in context, while Bigelow’s command of pacing and scale, combined with sterling filmmaking and a who’s-who ensemble cast, keeps the film gripping on a moment-to-moment level. Yet for all its craft, the film ultimately plays like a fear-mongering piece of propaganda and an implicit recruitment advert for the U.S. government and military. Its refusal to name a perpetrator suggest the U.S. has many enemies thus justifying huge spending on defence and weapons. The abrupt ending could be interpreted as brave storytelling, but for me it undercut the suspense, leaving the experience feeling oddly hollow and non-plussed rather than provocatively unresolved.

Mark: 6 out of 11

Ballad of a Small Player (2025)

The Ballad of a Small Player (2025) follows Lord Doyle, played by a magnetic Colin Farrell, as he lies low in Macau, numbing himself on casino floors with deep debt, bad bets, and the stubborn hope that the next hand will fix everything. Farrell is phenomenal here, turning compulsive gambling into a form of slow self-harm, his performance layered with exhaustion, bravado, and quiet panic. When he’s offered a fragile lifeline by the enigmatic Dao Ming, played with poised restraint by Fala Chen, the film hints at redemption.

Director Edward Berger and his production team deliver a ravishingly beautiful film, capturing Macau’s neon glow and claustrophobic interiors as both seduction and trap. At its best, the film is a melancholy character study about addiction for a protagonist who is often deeply annoying and morally bankrupt. However, the final act falters, introducing fuzzy, unearned twists that soften the film’s harder truths and dilute its emotional impact. While the journey is engrossing and Farrell’s performance alone makes the film worth seeing, the conclusion ultimately cheats the audience out of a powerful Uncut Gems (2019)-style denouement.

Mark: 7 out of 11

Frankenstein (2025)

Is Guillermo Del Toro’s big budget adaptation of Mary Shelley’s classic gothic novel really necessary? There are much better versions out there, yet, Netflix and Del Toro certainly thought so. Oscar Isaac is a great actor but miscast or misdirected here for me. Then again, even in Shelley’s seminal novel Dr Frankenstein is a colossal whinger! Thankfully, Jacob Elordi gives a hearty and emotional rendition of the tragic creature, who again is the most interesting character. Safe to say the majestic production values provide a visual and aural feast, but, aside from a scintillating opening in the North Pole, Del Toro’s slog of a script ultimately fails to bring Shelley’s story to life in a sustained enjoyable fashion. Don’t get me wrong, the production and design is of the highest order but I just didn’t connect emotionally or philosophically or even as a horror fan.

Mark: 6 out of 11

Jay Kelly (2025)

Jay Kelly (2025) is a mild, reflective comedy drama that sees George Clooney doing what he’s long perfected: playing a famous film star grappling with past and present relationships while barely appearing to break a sweat. As Kelly travels to Tuscany to collect a lifetime achievement award, the film drifts between memories, regrets, and professional compromises, offering Clooney ample opportunity to deploy his trademark charm—stretching his range (not), but doing so with effortless ease. The more grounded emotional texture comes from Adam Sandler, who is quietly excellent as Kelly’s long-suffering manager, bringing a lived-in, humane quality that feels more emotionally honest.

Director Noah Baumbach has delivered far sharper and more incisive work and Jay Kelly (2025) never quite pushes its Hollywood satire of spoiled first-world creatives as far as it could. Still, there’s an undeniable pleasure in Baumbach’s dialogue and structure, with clear echoes of Wild Strawberries (1957) and 8½ (1963) filtering through in its introspective, memory-haunted moments. The film ultimately has its cake and eats it—content to indulge its characters rather than interrogate them—but it remains a very pleasant cake all the same: soft, well-made, and easy to enjoy.

Mark: 7 out of 11

Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery (2025)

Wake Up Dead Man (2025) stands as the clear high point of Netflix’s auteur-driven releases from November and December 2025, confirming Rian Johnson as a post-modern master of the classical whodunnit. Once again drawing from the elegant clockwork of Agatha Christie’s works, Johnson constructs a devilishly complicated mystery centred on the murder of the tyrannical Monsignor Wicks, played with thunderous menace by Josh Brolin. The suspect list is gloriously stacked—church staff and parishioners portrayed by Glenn Close, Jeremy Renner, Kerry Washington, Andrew Scott, Cailee Spaeny, Daryl McCormack, Thomas Haden Church, and a young visiting priest, Jud Duplenticy (Josh O’Connor)—each performance feeding into a puzzle that’s as playful as it is precise.

What elevates the film beyond genre excellence is its sharply observed character work, particularly in the portrayal of Wicks as a Trump-like authoritarian figure ruling his congregation through fear and humiliation. Johnson smartly frames the mystery as a moral clash between Old Testament wrath and New Testament compassion, allowing the film to interrogate power, faith, and hypocrisy without ever losing its entertainment value. The script crackles with brilliant one-liners and sly, witty exchanges, especially when Daniel Craig’s Poirot-style detective peels back layers of deceit with theatrical relish. Among the ensemble, Josh O’Connor delivers a superbly nuanced performance, injecting emotional specificity and intelligence that rise above what could have been more generic material. Clever, funny, thematically sharp, and immaculately engineered, Wake Up Dead Man isn’t just Netflix’s best auteur offering of the season—it’s one of Johnson’s most satisfying achievements to date.

Mark: 9 out of 11

Cinema, Cult Cinema, documentaries

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

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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

Articles, Cinema, My Cinematic Romance

MY CINEMATIC ROMANCE #20 – KATHRYN BIGELOW

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MY CINEMATIC ROMANCE #20 – KATHRYN BIGELOW

“If there’s specific resistance to women making movies, I just choose to ignore that as an obstacle for two reasons: I can’t change my gender, and I refuse to stop making movies. It’s irrelevant who or what directed a movie, the important thing is that you either respond to it or you don’t. There should be more women directing; I think there’s just not the awareness that it’s really possible. It is.“— Kathryn Bigelow in 1990

Having most recently directed the searing period drama, Detroit (2017), Bigelow has been making feature films, since her debut, The Loveless (1981), for over thirty-nine years. With a strong academic background, having studied at the San Francisco Art Institute and Columbia University, it’s fascinating to review a career which has eschewed arthouse cinema and essentially been spent working mainly on big-budget genre films. However, one can see in her directorial canon that Bigelow, while striving for commercial success, is constantly testing the boundaries of genre storytelling.

Along with a powerful visual style that attains symbiosis with the core material, she intelligently explores themes relating to violence, individual freedom versus the system, masculinity in crisis, gender representations and socio-political corruption. Lastly, her characters are often outsiders, morally complex and dealing with deep personal trauma. In short: Bigelow’s worldview is one of both healthy scepticism and cynicism, but also an element of hope within the longing for control. So, here are five of Kathryn Bigelow’s most impactful cinematic releases.

***ARTICLE CONTAINS FILM SPOILERS***

NEAR DARK (1987)

While The Lost Boys (1987) is rightly regarded as a very entertaining 80’s vampire film, Near Dark (1987) is way, way superior. Despite not catching fire at the box office, this neo-horror-western contains a fantastic cast of James Cameron alumni, including: Lance Henriksen, Bill Paxton and Jenette Goldstein. These great character actors inhabit this snarling gang of vampires perfectly as the film contains shockingly brutal violence and hard-bitten dialogue amidst a tender love story.

BLUE STEEL (1990)

While Jamie Lee Curtis is generally better known for her horror and comedy film performances, Kathryn Bigelow made excellent use of her dramatic acting ability as a rookie police officer caught up with Ron Silver’s psychotic commodities trader. Blue Steel (1990) is a variegated genre film which takes a standard police procedural narrative and twists it into something far more psychologically compelling. Lee Curtis excels, as does vicious bad-guy Silver, aptly named Eugene Hunt!

POINT BREAK (1991)

This classic heist meets surfing movie meets gay subtext bromance is jam-packed with classic action scenes and faux-deep philosophical musings. Keanu Reeves is the daftly named cop, Johnny Utah, who goes undercover, amidst the beach brigade to find a bunch of bank robbers. His suspicions fall on Patrick Swayze’s elemental surfer-dude-god and a dangerous “bromantic” game of cat-and-mouse ensues. Bigelow scored her first major hit with Point Break (1991), infusing it with some incredibly visceral stunt, surfing, robbery and chase sequences in an exhilarating film experience.

THE HURT LOCKER (2008)

After the box office failures of her previous three films, the under-rated sci-fi thriller, Strange Days (1995), enigmatic mystery, The Weight of Water (2000), and stodgy cold war film, K-19: The Widowmaker (2002), Bigelow’s seemingly took a career break. She would, however, come back with her most critically acclaimed and Oscar-winning film, The Hurt Locker (2008). From a brilliant script by Mark Boal and led by Jeremy Renner’s standout lead performance, The Hurt Locker (2008), put the audience right at the heart of a bomb disposal unit in Iraq. Putting aside the politics for a moment, the film is full of incredibly tense and superbly edited scenes which have your heart in your mouth. Simultaneously too, the film also shows the devastating emotional, physical and mental effect war has on the people of Iraq and the soldiers sent to fight this horrifically unjust conflict.

ZERO DARK THIRTY (2012)

Whereas The Hurt Locker (2008) had highly emotional and empathetic protagonists, Bigelow and Boal’s next film Zero Dark Thirty (2012), is a much more clinical and technically efficient cinematic experience. In parts, both a war drama and espionage thriller, the story also has a feel of an old-fashioned Western as American military and CIA operatives, led by the excellent Jessica Chastain and Jason Clarke, hunt down Osama Bin Laden. Politically speaking this is a film which makes me feel very uncomfortable for a number of reasons. It plays out like a revenge story. It also seems to both criticize and vindicate torture in the early scenes. This makes me uneasy as I understand the 9/11 attacks were just horrific, yet they seemed to get used as a motive for many more atrocities by the United States government. I guess that was what Bigelow and Boal were going for. They attempted to create a morally and emotionally complex war thriller that lets you interpret the events yourself and conclude one’s own judgements.