Starring: Nicolas Cage, Julian McMahon and Nic Cassim
Directed by: Lorcan Finnegan
Rated: R
Running Time: 103 minutes
Roadside Attractions

Our Score: 2.5 out of 5 Stars

It’ll be a sad day when an entire year passes without a new Nicolas Cage movie—whether it’s a trashy B-movie, an unexpected indie gem, or whatever random script manages to land on his doorstep. Even the bad Cage movies manage to warm my heart… sometimes like an impending heart attack. Enter “The Surfer,” where Cage plays a broker returning to his childhood town with two goals: buy a house and surf with his son.

Standing in his way? What can only be described as the town’s bullies on crack—both literally and metaphorically. Julian McMahon, channeling an Australian Andrew Tate, leads a ragtag gang of meatheads steeped in toxic masculinity. That’s trouble enough, but things escalate when it becomes clear the local police are tangled up in the same surfer bro cult, making life even more difficult for Cage as things spiral into violence and psychological warfare.

“The Surfer” loves toying with our perceptions. Is Cage truly living through this bizarre mess, or is it all in his head? The film merges meditative Cage with rage Cage, and while the combination is compelling at first, the movie loses steam by failing to commit to either mode. Some scenes hit with shocking, offbeat delight. Others feel like they’re straining under the weight of their own metaphors.

Without Cage, a film like “The Surfer” would be ridiculed for its ridiculousness. But Cage gives it a strange buoyancy, even as the runtime sags and the central theme starts to bludgeon the audience long after we’ve already “gotten it.” While I mildly enjoyed the experience, I’m not sure I’d ever watch The Surfer again—and that’s saying something. Because even when Cage stars in a five-alarm dumpster fire, I usually find myself coming back just to smile at the absurdity. “The Surfer” is certainly absurd, but it takes itself too seriously to let Cage truly ham it up—or give us a character we want to endlessly root for.

Starring: Kai Lennox, Sarah Lind and Zachary Ray Sherman
Directed by: Joshua Erkman
Rated: NR
Running Time: 102 minutes
Dark Sky Films

Our Score: 2 out of 5 Stars

Alex (Kai Lennox) wanders through an abandoned theater, searching for the perfect shot. We watch as he lingers in every decrepit corner, looking for his visual muse among moldy wallpaper and darkened shadows. He finds it. Moves on. Now he’s driving through an equally desolate neighborhood, scouting for his next muse. That’s how “A Desert” begins—and as time goes on, the narrative seems to elude him just as much as it eludes us.

Alex is trying to revive his stalled career and reignite a lost creative spark by going off the grid—leaving his phone behind, detaching from the modern world. That means he has no GPS, no lifeline if something goes wrong. And something does go wrong when Renny (Zachary Ray Sherman) and Susie Q (Ashley B. Smith), a strange couple in the motel room next to his, decide they want to become more than just noisy neighbors.

The problem I kept running into with “A Desert” is that it often feels like nothing is really happening—and I couldn’t bring myself to care much about Alex’s plight. I kept waiting for that visual cue or “ah-ha” moment to illuminate the story, to reward the slow burn. But as the film inches toward its climax, it stretches patience to the breaking point.

To be fair, first-time director Joshua Erkman throws in just enough curveballs to keep me guessing. His eye for detail is strong—each scene feels meticulously composed, even if we’re never quite sure where we’re going. The actors are so fully immersed in their characters that the chaos feels tangible and lived-in. But like I said from the start, the narrative is the biggest mystery here.

I might have enjoyed or even recommended “A Desert” if it didn’t feel like I was piecing together a puzzle with several missing pieces. Visually and performance-wise, the film has a lot going for it. It hints at a deeper meaning, an overarching point to the madness. But by the time the credits rolled, I felt like both my patience—and that point—had vanished in the dust.

Starring: Crispin Glover, Sunnyi Mells and Fionnula Flanagan
Directed by: Tallulah Hazekamp Schwab
Rated: NR
Running Time: 94 minutes

Our Score: 2.5 out of 5 Stars

Even knowing this review might lean negative, I thought to myself, “I need to write about “Mr. K.”” For a peek behind the curtain, sometimes I skip reviewing bad films. Why? Because not every debut—or in this case, every film—needs to be the defining highlight of a director’s career. Just ask James Cameron. There’s often value in unpacking what didn’t work, even if you never quite reach an answer. Sometimes, trying to make sense of a creative misfire is rewarding in its own way.

“Mr. K” follows its titular character (Crispin Glover), a traveling magician whose best days are clearly behind him. After performing a show where no one in the audience seems remotely interested, he checks into a once-grand hotel that, much like him, has seen better days. The place feels like a retired athlete being honored at a ceremony moments before being wheeled into a nursing home. What “Mr. K” doesn’t realize—until waking up after what seems like a peaceful night’s rest—is that he might never leave.

The hotel is bizarre. A band plays endlessly in the halls. Veins, literally, pulse beneath the wallpaper. The kitchen staff live and work in an increasingly distraught state of pure squalor. Mr. K seems like the only person not on some sort of hallucinogenic, despite offering no insight or solution to the chaos he stumbles through. The film itself morphs constantly, dipping into themes of capitalism, democracy, social class, cosmic philosophy, and—probably—other things I missed.

So what’s the issue? It’s not that “Mr. K” is bad—it’s that I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re the kind of person who enjoys films that you might end up loathing. I know when I enjoy a “bad” movie, and I also know when I don’t enjoy something that’s probably meant for a niche audience. “Mr. K” isn’t remotely mainstream, and its message might not be meant for me. But what keeps me from disliking it outright is that I want to tune into the frequency of people who admire it.

Glover, for his part, is no stranger to weird. For every mainstream hit he’s been in—”Back to the Future,” “Charlie’s Angels”—he’s also taken swings in oddball projects like “Willard” or “Hot Tub Time Machine.” Watching him play a philosophical, socially detached weirdo just feels…right. So I found myself constantly wondering if there was more beneath the surface.

So what’s the verdict? If I had to answer honestly: hung jury. I could just as easily rate this 1.5 out of 5 or 3.5 out of 5. I swing back and forth between the parts I admired and the parts that deeply frustrated me. Writing about it helped me process it, which sometimes happens when you sit with a film. Sometimes I circle back and say, “Throw this all out.” Other times, “Nailed it.” This time, I’m standing by what I’ve written, even if it reads like an incomplete thought about an incomplete film.

“Mr. K” is frustrating. It asks for patience when it has little of its own. It asks for understanding without offering clarity. It lifts itself up only to contradict what it just said. It’s a journey, and in many ways, it constantly challenges you to reflect on your own. Your own viewpoints. Your own framework for what a story—even a strange one—should be. “Mr. K” is shouting something. The question is: do you want to listen?

Starring: Pedro Pascal, Ben Mendelsohn and Jay Ellis
Directed by: Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck
Rated: R
Running Time: 106 minutes
Lionsgate

Our Score: 4 out 5 Stars

It’s hard not to think about “Pulp Fiction” when watching “Freaky Tales,” a genre-hopping film set in Oakland, California, during the summer of 1987. Both films feature several interwoven stories, a jukebox of killer tracks, stellar performances, and a nostalgic-yet-modern vibe. While “Freaky Tales” isn’t trying to rewrite cinematic history like “Pulp Fiction” did, it’s the kind of wild, eclectic ride that will light up packed theaters and spark conversations as audiences try to figure out how an NBA star, a raspy debt collector, a rap duo, and a punk show that turns into a literal interpretation of “Nazi Punks Fuck Off” are all connected.

Without giving too much away, the film presents four tales—each seemingly from different creative head spaces but all part of the same cinematic DNA. The opening story sets the tone: a group of straight-edge punk rockers decide that non-violence isn’t cutting it when it comes to Neo-Nazis. From there, we meet a rap duo trying to balance their day jobs slinging ice cream to racist cops with preparing for the battle rap of their lives, a debt collector who’s finally chosen family over dirty money, and an NBA star at a pivotal crossroads both on and off the court.

The soundtrack is key—it’s like a mixtape curated by someone with multiple personalities, shifting genres as effortlessly as the stories themselves. Does it all work together? I’d say yes, even if a rewatch would help catch some of the connective tissue I probably missed the first time. Do the stories work individually? Mostly. If there’s a weak link, it’s the rap duo segment—not because it’s bad, but because it lacks the bloody sting or gritty edge that gives the other stories their punch. The comedy is there, but the stakes feel lower.

While Pedro Pascal is the obvious standout—because of course he is—Jay Ellis and Ben Mendelsohn stand out from the background that they gnaw scenery from. Special shoutout to Ji-young Yoo and the late Angus Cloud, both of whom make the most of their limited screen time. The cast across the board taps into the film’s tone, embracing their characters’ quirks while pushing the stories forward. Even the cameos pop with a quirky, subversive energy.

“Freaky Tales” isn’t flawless, but it radiates radical confidence. It doesn’t just tell stories—it plays with them, shifting styles and tones in ways that might confuse some viewers but will absolutely thrill the ones who vibe with its energy. It’s messy, bold, and totally committed to the bit—and that’s what makes it worth watching.

Starring: Tim Connolly, William Hinson, and Emma Nossal
Directed by: Tim Connolly
Rated: NR
Running Time: 109 minutes

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

There’s an overused horror marketing line that always makes me roll my eyes: “Nothing can prepare you…” It’s usually attached to something so terrifying it promises you’ll need a change of pants by the end. But with “Black Theta,” I can confidently say that nothing can prepare you for how damn funny it is.

I say that because the trailer and poster had me expecting another paint-by-numbers slasher. Instead, “Black Theta” goes for the jugular—and the funny bone. Andy (played by director/writer Tim Connolly) attends a trauma support group, one of the few people there with some genuinely horrifying baggage. Years earlier, he narrowly survived an attack by a masked intruder who murdered one of his friends. Now, he and his fellow group members are about to find themselves in another nightmare: a murderous cult has them in its crosshairs.

Beyond its obvious homages, “Black Theta” feels like a queer send-up of horror tropes, packed with sharp one-liners that either made me laugh out loud or left a mile-wide grin on my face. Comedy is notoriously difficult to pull off, especially in indie horror, but the cast here nails it—balancing absurdity with legitimate horror critique in a way that’s effortlessly entertaining.

That said, the movie doesn’t just lean on laughs. The finale delivers the blood-soaked goods with a series of creative and satisfying kills. If I have one big critique, it’s the runtime. At nearly 110 minutes, there’s a noticeable lull between the setup—where characters are introduced and positioned like pawns on a chessboard—and the eventual slaughter. Tightening it up to a sub-90-minute runtime would’ve made the pacing sharper and the film even more effective.

Still, Tim Connolly deserves serious props. He acts, writes, directs, and (from the looks of it) probably ran craft services too. “Black Theta” is a riotous homage to slashers that somehow finds a fresh voice in a genre that’s constantly recycling itself. What’s even more impressive is that Connolly clearly has the chops to go darker, bloodier, or more serious in future projects. And who knows—maybe he already has. After all, “Black Theta” is his third film.

Starring: Kue Lawrence, Kai Cech, and Max Malas
Directed by: Daniel DelPurgatorio
Rated: NR
Running Time: 92 minutes

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

As someone pointed out during the Q&A following the world premiere of “Marshmallow” at Panic Fest 2025, director Daniel DelPurgatorio broke a few unspoken rules with his debut feature: making a horror movie that’s set almost entirely at night at a summer camp and a cast filled with actual kids and preteens. That would be a logistical nightmare for most filmmakers, but DelPurgatorio handles it all with a confidence that feels effortless. More importantly, he makes a clear statement: he’s a visionary horror director worth watching—and worth buying advance tickets for.

Morgan (Kue Lawrence) isn’t thrilled about his first summer camp experience. He already struggles to make friends in his neighborhood, and he’s carrying trauma on two fronts. Before the events of the film, Morgan narrowly escaped death, while his grandfather—the one adult in his life who truly understood him—didn’t. Now, sent off to camp without his emotional anchor, Morgan faces bullies, shaky friendships, a maybe-summer-girlfriend, and a potential killer lurking in the dead of night. But it’s just Morgan’s trauma feeding off an old campfire tale told every year, right?

With a pulsating score, expertly timed jump scares, and a mystery that unravels in clever, unexpected ways, “Marshmallow” quickly reveals itself to be more than just another camp slasher. It’s also a sharp, funny coming-of-age story. Morgan is instantly likeable—you root for him the moment he’s introduced—and when the bullies show up, you want to jump into the screen and defend him yourself. His friend Dirk (Max Malas) nearly steals every scene he’s in. In fact, it’s impressive that in a movie featuring Broken Lizard alum Paul Soter as the camp leader, it’s Malas who ends up with the biggest comedic moments. Malas is like an impressive opening band that suddenly has the headliner re-examining themselves.

Even though most of the cast is made up of kids, the film doesn’t shy away from violence—but it never crosses a line into exploitation. The pain feels real, but not manipulative. The balance is impressive: the scares and stakes hit hard, but so do the emotional beats. As the story builds toward its climax, “Marshmallow” doesn’t lose steam. Instead, it smacks the audience with a series of satisfying, genuinely surprising revelations that deepen the story and make us root even harder for these characters. For that, credit goes to screenwriter Andy Greskoviak.

Honestly, credit goes all around. There are so many horror films where child actors sink the production or where the filmmakers don’t quite know what to do with them. But “Marshmallow” threads that needle with textbook precision. In some ways, “Marshmallow” is a lot like last year’s “In a Violent Nature,” both offer up a fresh take on slasher tropes we know and love, while helping modernize a genre that sometimes feels like it has nothing better to do than live in the 80s.

Starring: Betsy Sligh, Amna Vegha and Erin O’Meara
Directed by: Ehrland Hollingsworth
Rated: NR
Running Time: 77 minutes

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

Why does anyone even babysit anymore? Babysitters have been horror film targets for over five decades, and in 2025, they’re still ripe for terror and mischief. “Dooba Dooba” peels back a new, modern layer of that age-old trope with a found-footage babysitter horror twist that creeps its way under your skin.

As far as I can tell, “Dooba Dooba” might be the first babysitter horror told entirely through found footage. The film captures Amna’s (Amna Vegha) horrific night of babysitting Monroe (Betsy Sligh) via a series of strategically placed cameras throughout the house. Why so many cameras? Because Monroe’s brother was murdered in his bed—just feet away from her—by an unknown intruder when she was younger. The trauma runs deep, and now the family uses the phrase “”Dooba Dooba”” as a safe word. Anyone walking around the house has to say it so Monroe knows they’re a friend, not a threat.

But once the parents leave and the babysitting begins, it’s clear that something is off. Monroe’s mood swings veer from endearing to unsettling. She acts strangely when Amna isn’t in the room, and the sheer number of cameras—some of which feel unnecessarily voyeuristic—adds to the growing sense of unease. The film leans into that discomfort, using the surveillance footage not just as a storytelling tool, but as part of the horror itself.

At a brisk 77 minutes, the movie builds tension smartly, blending glimpses into Amna and Monroe’s psyches with eerie VHS-style visuals. You’ll get clunky middle school PowerPoint presentations on serial killers, jittery archival footage of American politicians, and grainy imagery that recalls the last gasps of a dying tape deck. It evokes the same feeling “Paranormal Activity” did when it first hit—the sense that even though you know it’s fiction, it still feels real. Much of that realism is thanks to Betsy Sligh’s unnerving and excellent performance.

By the time the film ends, you’ll likely be left with questions—and maybe a few holes you’ll want to poke in the plot. But ultimately, there’s something admirable here: a film that proves you don’t need a massive budget, complex effects, or elaborate scares to build dread. With a basic setup, basic equipment, and a deceptively simple idea, “Dooba Dooba” manages to deliver a CCTV-fueled nightmare.

Starring: Fred Hechinger, Abby Quinn and D’Pharoah Woon-A-Tai
Directed By: Finn Wolfhard and Billy Byrk
Rated: R
Running Time: 88 minutes
Neon

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

First-time writer/directors Finn Wolfhard and Billy Bryk (who also star in the film) have a tough task on their hands. In the midst of a slasher renaissance, it’s easy to get lost in the shuffle of much better horror-comedies. While “Hell of a Summer” boasts a fun cast, decent laughs, and all-around good vibes, it doesn’t stand out—especially compared to something like February’s “The Monkey” or the longer list of fantastic horror films screening at Panic Fest 2025.

The story centers on a group of teenage counselors at Camp Pinewa. Jason (Fred Hechinger) isn’t a teen, though—he’s a socially awkward 24-year-old who insists on returning as a counselor, despite the obvious weirdness of wanting to hang around teenagers while making minimum wage. When Jason and the other counselors arrive, the actual adult leaders are nowhere to be found. Rather than question it too much, Jason awkwardly steps into the leadership role while the rest of the cast cracks jokes and rolls their eyes—until a masked killer starts picking them off one by one.

Unfortunately, “Hell of a Summer” doesn’t give its characters much depth beyond standard slasher and teenager stereotypes. Jason has a love interest, but he’s too innocent and lacking in self-confidence to notice. The rest of the counselors deliver just enough personality to keep things moving, but not enough to make us care who lives or dies. Ironically, Wolfhard and Bryk may have written themselves as the film’s most interesting characters. Their Gen Z take on the Simon Pegg/Nick Frost or  Seth Rogen/Evan Goldberg dynamics have some potential—it’s just not given enough to do.

Unlike those classic comedic duos, though, Wolfhard and Bryk don’t quite find any time or any way to elevate the material. There’s a missed opportunity here to deliver a compelling coming-of-age story wrapped in a summer camp massacre. The film is light on gore, plays it safe with its kills, and leans more into comedy than horror. Despite all my nitpicking, the frenetic pace at which the film moves kept me from thinking about all of this until the credits rolled. In that regard, I think Wolfhard and Byrk have highlighted a unique craft that combines a love of slasher with ability to create a comedic ensemble. I’d definitely sign up to watch their next venture.

I can see general audiences enjoying this kind of breezy, horror-lite romp. It might not stick with you, but it could be a gateway for someone to dive into the deeper end of the horror pool. And if “Hell of a Summer” can do that—if it convinces just one viewer to give the genre a real shot—then maybe it’s worth more than the sum of its body count.

Directed by: James P. Gannon and Matt Ferrin
Rated: NR
Running Time: 95 minutes

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

I’ve spent nearly a third of my life living in a small town—about 10,000 people. That’s roughly 4,000 fewer than the population of St. Helens, Oregon, the filming location for the 1998 Disney Channel Original Movie “Halloweentown.” While some small towns, like the one I’m from, quietly move on after the credits roll, St. Helens has fully embraced its connection to the Kimberly J. Brown-led cult classic.

“The Spirit of Halloweentown” explores this local obsession by talking with St. Helens residents who count down the days to September, when they can don new costumes, run haunted houses, or dive headfirst into spooky festivities. The film focuses on several town personalities: a new restaurant owner grappling with outsider status in more ways than one, the self-proclaimed Queen of Halloweentown, a cheerleading squad rehearsing a zombie dance, a hometown ghost-hunting crew, and a woman who believes the month-long celebration is basically an open invitation for Satan himself.

There’s plenty to enjoy here, but the film has a scattershot rhythm. These people rarely interact with one another—at least not on screen—and it’s a bit disjointed considering they all live in the same tight-knit town. And for fans of “Halloweentown,” a heads-up: while the movie gets a lot of love at the beginning, it quickly fades into the background. This isn’t a deep dive into the film’s legacy as much as it is a portrait of a town that’s used its connection to the movie as a launchpad for something much bigger.

I mention my own small-town experience because I recognize the elements that made that part of my life feel unique—even if I’m more of a city person these days. There’s a kind of unspoken kinship among the folks in St. Helens, and a shared belief that the celebration, and even the town’s future, are bigger than any one person.cIt’s not Halloween that binds them—it’s the town itself, and the people who make it what it is.

Starring: Jenna Kenall, Hannah Alline and Natasha Halevi
Directed by: Zeshaan Younus
Rated: NR
Running Time: 71 minutes
Ethos Releasing

Our Score: 1.5 out of 5 Stars

It took me a while to figure out why “The Buildout” wasn’t clicking with me. On paper, it has a lot going for it: two strong lead performances, a mysterious cult with bonus UFO potential, and a vast desert setting filled with existential emptiness—a playground for a horror fan’s imagination. But it’s not that I dislike character studies. It’s that for me to enjoy one, the characters need to actually be interesting.

This low-budget indie follows Dylan (Hannah Alline) and Cameron (Jenna Kenall) on a sort of re-bonding trip into the Southern California desert. Dylan is set on joining a cult, while Cameron tags along as emotional support for the motorcycle-bound pilgrimage into the unknown. The extra bizarre caveat? Despite embarking on this trip together, the two haven’t spoken in years—ever since the death of Cameron’s sister. With a setup like that, “The Buildout” has plenty of backstory to sink its teeth into. But it never really does.

From a setting perspective, we should feel a creeping sense of isolation, of impending doom. Instead, the desert ends up as little more than a silent backdrop, lacking presence or atmosphere. The cult, which may or may not have some otherworldly connection, never feels as ominous as the word “cult” would imply. In fact, when we finally meet them, they’re about as forgettable as the latest conspiracy theory making rounds on social media. And while Dylan and Cameron’s personal revelations feel genuine, they’re overshadowed by the film’s disjointed execution. The result is two stories—one about fractured friendships, one about a shadowy belief system—that feel fundamentally incompatible.

As much as I wanted to enjoy it—especially since it touches on universal anxieties about friendship and how it evolves over time—I just never felt invested. Not because the themes weren’t compelling, but because the film itself didn’t seem invested in telling a fully realized story. The subject matter is fascinating, but “The Buildout” only engages with it on a surface level. And while complex questions don’t always require answers, it’s frustrating when a film doesn’t seem to answer any of the ones it presents. Which makes me wonder if we’ve been handed a sandwich with nothing between the bread.

Starring: Krsy Fox, Jon Sklaroff, and Elizabeth Caro
Directed by: Spider One
Rated: NR
Running Time: 105 minutes
Shudder

Our Score: 2 out of 5 Stars

I’ve been following Spider One’s directorial career since he debuted “Allegoria” at Panic Fest. It’s been an interesting journey, marked by a slow yet confident evolution—not necessarily for Spider One, but for Krsy Fox, who has appeared in every one of his films so far. While she’s been integral to his prior work, “Little Bites” is a tour de force simply for her performance alone. Unfortunately, everything else seems stuck in a rut.

“Little Bites” follows single mom Mindy (Fox), who allows a demon-vampire creature (Jon Sklaroff) to bite, nibble, and drain her of her blood and flesh in an effort to distract him from the fresh meat that is her 10-year-old daughter. The daughter is safely at grandma’s, so most of the film’s runtime is spent with Mindy and an indie-looking Nosferatu. Their interactions aren’t just a series of repeated feastings; the creature mentally and emotionally abuses Mindy on top of the physical harm. The film is a blunt metaphor for parenthood—how parents keep their own personal demons at bay while raising children. But despite all the visual meat being devoured on screen, there isn’t much meat on the script.

For a film that pushes close to two hours, it’s hard to justify some of the vignettes that pop up throughout. A child protective services worker (played by the magnificent Barbara Crampton) makes a visit for no apparent reason, as does horror icon Heather Langenkamp, in a scene that feels equally unnecessary. The only encounter that really works is when Mindy brings a man (Chaz Bono) back to her home to appease the ever-thirsty vampire. But even that scene doesn’t land as well as it could, because the film’s themes are so blunt and obvious that they invite scrutiny. It led me to wonder whether the narrative and direction were akin to a dog chasing a car—running full speed toward something without really knowing what to do once it catches it.

While “Bury the Bride” was a tight thrill ride, “Little Bites” feels more like a bloated episode of “Tales from the Crypt”—without the satisfying twist or payoff. Because the film is so personal to Spider and Fox (it’s literally about raising their daughter), I wondered if it was harder for them to be as self-critical in the editing process as they were with their previous films. Like his prior work, there’s a lot to admire and enjoy, but “Little Bites” is disappointing because it feels like a strong, powerful film is buried within its meandering narrative. It could have been another progressive step forward for Spider, but it never finds its footing.

That said, as I mentioned at the start, Fox delivers a performance that deserves serious attention. Her horror acting chops are on full display, and without her, the film might have been a complete disaster.

Starring: Phillip Cordell, Ravi Patel and Quinnlan Ashe
Directed by: Danny Dones
Rated: NR
Running Time: 96 minutes
Freestyle Digital Media

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

I couldn’t pass up “Clone Cops.” The title and image at the top of the press release alone sold me. I didn’t need to read the synopsis or any of the other information in the press release. I just knew I had to watch something that looked like an incredibly low budget version of “Smoking Causes Coughing” that would worm its way into the brains of select audiences at 3 a.m. on Adult Swim. So, does it live up to the hype that I’m currently pumping it full of? Kind of, but I also think what it does is perfectly fine and fun.

With a backdrop that looks like whatever abandoned buildings were in the director’s neighborhood, “Clone Cops” introduces us to a world run by NefariCorp, a company that operates like a spite baby made by Amazon, Meta, and Pfizer. If you’re running the world, you need your own law enforcement, right? Enter the clone cops, who are all played by comedically self-deprecating and scenery chewing Phillip Cordell. The clones are made in a lab out of continuously recycled pink slime because they’re about as useful at stopping criminals as Stormtroopers are at stopping the Rebel Resistance. They’re deployed en masse, over and over again, to bust some criminals participating in a heist. Sounds like a great excuse to watch slapstick gore, but just when you think you’re about to watch a film on a 21st century version of the Keystone Cops, the movie flips on its head.

The silly bad acting action does unfold like an episode of “Power Rangers,” but the film manages to twist the story consistently while wedging in commentary on the social media age and the cruelty that inhabits it, the cutting corners ineptitude of corporate run public services, the idea of endless content to feed humanity, and how Earth may just now be where poor people inhabit it to provide for the rich on the Moon. However, all of that may be the film’s biggest problem because it really does way too much on top of the inherent comedy. I’m not saying it didn’t tackle these topics in fun ways, but it seems to overinflate the runtime and break up too much of the comedy and moments where we learn more about these absurd characters. It is a fun giggle-filled ride, but it could have been a low budget “The Other Guys” with some more fine tuning.

The film appears to pay homage to sci-fi genre amongst the laughs while developing a low-budget Troma charm (although not as gross out). Sometimes it leans into those low budget charms while other times it just does look and feel like a low budget film. I haven’t really talked about the plot, but that’s because so much relies on the twists which evolve over time. “Clone Cops” is just fun, and honestly, that’s all you can really expect, want and need out of a film that barely passes the hour-and-a-half mark.