Author: Jeremy Werner

Starring: Idris Elba, Rebecca Ferguson and Gabriel Basso
Directed by: Kathryn Bigelow
Rated: NR
Running Time: 112 minutes
Netflix

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

Anxiety is reaching a fever pitch. Economic instability, inflation, crime, war, political violence…seriously, take your pick. Meanwhile, social media fans all the flames, and in 2025, Kathryn Bigelow adds another spark to the blaze: nuclear dread. “A House of Dynamite” unfolds in near real-time over the course of about 30 minutes, as military officials, White House staff, and intelligence agencies scramble to respond to an ICBM launch from the Pacific. Who fired it? Why? Can it be stopped? Where is it headed? And, ultimately…does any of it even matter?

The genius of “A House of Dynamite” isn’t its story, which remains simple, but the slow, sinking pit it forms in your stomach. Bigelow has always enjoyed making you squirm in your seat. I watched her last film, “Detroit,” at home and it allowed me to pause the film so that I could take an emotional break. “A House of Dynamite” kept me trapped in a dark theater with its escalating discomfort as it became clear, alongside the characters, that answers may not prevent the inevitable: global nuclear war.

Told from three different perspectives, we watch key players and others react with human fragility: a trembling hand on a wedding ring, a silent phone call to a loved one, a stunned stare into nothing. Bigelow frames the film with such raw intensity that you feel trapped alongside them. And while the film runs only 112 minutes, its central premise, those first 30 minutes post-launch, does stretch thin by the final act. A tighter 90-minute runtime might have enhanced its claustrophobic urgency.

The film isn’t political; unless you’re pro-nuclear holocaust. “A House of Dynamite” offers no comfort in the face of crisis. We’re always told that adults are in charge and everything will be fine. With nukes on the line, even the adults in the room (fictional or otherwise) are powerless. They may know the protocols, have the plans, run the drills. But when it actually happens…does it make a difference? Does it even matter?

Bigelow doesn’t rely on post-apocalyptic horrors like “The Day After” or “Threads.” There’s no gallows humor à la “Dr. Strangelove,” and no morality play like “Oppenheimer.” Instead, she delivers a bleak, tension-drenched thriller that insists on one terrifying idea: tech fails, people lie, and when the moment comes, the response is tragically bureaucratic. “A House of Dynamite” doesn’t build toward a catharsis, it loops through dread.

It’s not the kind of film you’ll want to watch twice, unless you’re a glutton for punishment. There’s no reward in rewatching events you already know are futile. The outcome is clear from the first frame, and yet we, like the characters, continue trying to make sense of it. That’s Bigelow’s ultimate point. The danger isn’t just nuclear weapons, but how little time we’d have, how unprepared we’d still be, and how devastatingly human we remain when the clock starts ticking. In those 30ish minutes, “A House of Dynamite” explores military command, institutional reaction, and personal despair. Each is a different side of the same deadly die, one we may yet roll.

Starring: Panos Papadopoulos, Juli Katsis and Aris Balis
Directed by: Yannis Veslemes
Rated: NR
Running Time: 88 minutes
Dark Sky Films

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

Lovecraftian. Horny. Bizarre. Carnal. Those are probably the four most prominent words that popped up in my mind during “She Loved Blossoms More,” a time-travel fever dream filled with vaginal-looking creatures, Freudian brothers, drugs, and enough “what the hell am I watching?” moments to last the rest of the year. Writer-director Yannis Veslemes takes a deceptively simple premise and goes absolutely hog wild with it for 88 minutes. Throughout its runtime, Veslemes refuses to tell you what’s going on while daring you to look away.

The plot, if you can call it that, revolves around three oddly-named brothers: Hedgehog (Panos Papadopoulos), Dummy (Juli Katsis) and Paris (Aris Balis). They’re attempting to bring their mother back-to-life with a time machine. Of course, we pick up towards the tail end of their experimentations, which involve a lot of unfortunate livestock. They live together in what feels like a gothic mausoleum of maternal obsession. The time machine? Looks like they borrowed design tips from “The Fly.” 

But what actually happens in this movie? A lot of inexplicable imagery is treated as disturbingly normal. One brother chats with a vulva snake. Another has sex while his sibling fingers a chicken (and not in the way you think). I’m not spelling cherrypicking out of context scenes either, the whole movie feels like this. If I gave any more examples, I’d be accused of watching a serial killer’s wet dream laced with mommy issues.

Is that what the film is ultimately about? Mommy issues? Maybe. “She Loved Blossoms More” doesn’t hand over answers easily. It demands your sharpest attention and maybe multiple viewings, but ironically, the shock of the visuals is also what makes it hard to revisit. Once that novelty wears off, you’re left hoping the film had given you more narrative breadcrumbs the first time around.

That’s my biggest gripe: Veslemes keeps you at arm’s length, withholding just enough to frustrate. Maybe there are culturally specific metaphors or symbols I’m missing as an American viewer. At one point, a trollish goblin pops up that looks like something out of Epcot’s Norway Pavilion. Does it mean anything? Is it just another weird detour? Who knows.

If I had to gamble (which I wouldn’t because this movie’s too chaotic to bet on), I’d say the message is that life is a deliriously silly thing to be enjoyed before it overwhelms us with grief. These brothers are trapped in memory loops, maybe even false ones fed to them by their father, who might be the brains behind the time machine. The boys aren’t remembering their mother. They’re recreating someone else’s haunted idea of her. They make off hand remarks like, “She loved horror movies.” That’s about as deep as her characterization goes, yet the boys appear to be hungry for something more tangible.

Still, for viewers looking for a cinematic challenge that aren’t afraid of grotesque sexual imagery, “She Loved Blossoms More” is a delight. It’s proudly alienating, arguably clever, and defiantly uninterested in mainstream attitudes, even the horror conventions that it’s clearly marketing to. It doesn’t care whether you like it or understand it; and that’s kind of the point. It feels like Veslemes is trying to decode his own nonsensical dream while letting you watch, gape-jawed.

Directed by: Mike Figgis
Rated: NR
Running Time: 107 minutes
Utopia

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

I haven’t yet rewatched Francis Ford Coppola’s “Megalopolis,” which I really want to do—just to figure out whether it’s pure nonsense or a manic artistic vision. Right now, it’s unavailable for streaming and you can’t buy it online (at least legally). The closest I could get to watching 2024’s most ambitious disaster was “Megadoc,” a behind-the-scenes documentary about the making of Coppola’s passion project.

“Megadoc” follows the film’s multi-year production, plagued by walkouts, firings, clashing egos, and chaos at nearly every turn. For a lot of people, this will immediately call “Apocalypse Now” to mind. But while “Hearts of Darkness” deepened the mythos of that film, “Megadoc” feels more like an obituary for a movie that bombed so hard it cost Coppola over $100 million of his own money.

It starts off promising, showing Coppola rallying the cast and crew for what’s clearly going to be a strange ride. And I say strange because his directorial style seems deliberately murky. At times, it’s like he waits for someone to make a decision just so he can reject it. The most fascinating dynamic here is between Coppola and Shia LaBeouf. They come off like an old married couple who’ve given up on divorce and settled into bitter codependence.

Amid the madness, there is a real creative passion. Coppola is hell-bent on realizing a sprawling vision that might not even be fully formed in his own head. But as months turn into years, you start to wonder if the real world is evolving faster than Coppola can keep up. Watching him wrestle with something this big, something that may no longer even make sense to him, is compelling. But I couldn’t help wondering what the documentary left out.

Sometimes it feels like the camera kicks in after the storm has passed, or just before it breaks. At times, it mirrors the messiness of “Megalopollis” itself, jumping through time, glossing over tension, and ending right at the film’s premiere. It’s long, yet still feels like it had more to say.

Still, “Megadoc” is a compelling watch. Not perfect, but for people like me who are drawn to stories about cinematic trainwrecks, it hits the spot. It plays right into the narrative that “Megalopolis” is some kind of creative Frankenstein; confused, misunderstood, and borderline delusional. If you haven’t seen the film, “Megadoc” might seem like an exercise in self-inflicted wounds. If you have, it’s a chaotic but necessary companion piece.

Starring: Marlon Wayans, Tyriq Withers and Julia Fox
Directed by: Justin Tipping
Rated: R
Running Time: 96 minutes
Universal Pictures

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

Before walking into “HIM,” I had a simple question: has there ever been a football horror film? I couldn’t find one. Even the broader category of “sports horror” is practically empty. So right out of the gate, “HIM” earns points for originality.

Football, as the film’s opening reminds us, is already horrifying. The violence, the obsession, the broken bodies; it’s all there. The movie starts with a gruesome on-field injury, echoing Joe Theismann’s infamous leg break. The victim? Football legend Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), who somehow recovers to lead the San Antonio Saviors to eight championships. Witnessing that trauma is a young Cam Cade (Tyriq Withers), who goes on to become a rising star and, eventually, White’s successor. But first Cam has to prove his worth as he’s invited to train at White’s mysterious desert compound. That’s when the real nightmare begins.

“HIM” takes big swings at the intersection of religion, fame, and athleticism. Sometimes the metaphors overlap. Sometimes you wonder if the movie is talking about sports, God, trauma, or all of the above. The confusion is intentional. Football’s fanatical culture and Sunday rituals mirror organized religion. When Cam arrives at White’s compound, he finds unhinged White fans tailgating outside the gates. They also don’t appear to ever leave, as if these paint covered loons are living in a kind of sports-themed purgatory.

The film chooses absurdism over realism, and that choice mostly works. The criticism isn’t directed squarely at football. European soccer fans can be just as rabid. The criticism seems to be more directed at our broader cultural obsession with sports and spectacle. And visually, “HIM” gets a lot right: the soundtrack hits, the aesthetics pop, and the editing leans into the madness. It sometimes leans heavy into the style over substance, much like “American Horror Story” has.

At the heart of it all is Cam, caught between the powers of the football machine and the pleas of his family to simply be careful. Withers is a decent lead, but Wayans is absolutely electric as Isaiah White, delivering unhinged lines with just enough restraint to make you lean in. There’s a mania behind his eyes that sells the idea of a man completely consumed by sports, by fans, by power.

“HIM” doesn’t always know how to weave its themes cleanly, but it’s still a hell of a ride. It’s smart, surreal, and timely. With football season in full swing and America’s appetite for violence still unshaken, this is a horror story tailor-made for our times. It could’ve dug deeper, sure. But what’s here is bold and unforgettable. It’s a first-of-its-kind football hellscape that makes the gridiron seem toothless.

Starring: Jennifer Seward, Nicole Hall and Matt Leisy
Directed by: Patrick Rea
Rated: No Rating
Running Time: 87 minutes

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

In a world where Art the Clown is known for brutality, Pennywise for childhood trauma, and Frendo for generational dread, what exactly do we get from Jenn-O? In “Super Happy Fun Clown,” director Patrick Rea and writer Eric Winkler introduce us to a very different kind of killer clown. Jenn-O (played with unnerving charm by Jennifer Seward) isn’t supernatural or fueled by rage; she’s a wide-eyed dreamer whose love for clowning masks a much darker undercurrent.

From the jump, we see that Jen’s childhood was marked by trauma and abuse. Clowning starts as innocent escapism, but that coping mechanism calcifies over time. As an adult, she uses that same cheery persona to endure a deadbeat husband, a judgmental mother, and a bleak reality. But behind the smiles, pantomiming and pastel makeup is darkness. Her room is a shrine to serial killers like Ted Bundy and Aileen Wuornos. And soon, her fascination with them turns into something much more hands-on.

Jen is oddly relatable, but there’s a lingering sense of evil that slowly builds throughout the film. As “Super Happy Fun Clown” shifts from psychological character study to full-blown slasher, the tonal change feels slightly off. It’s not clear whether it would’ve worked better as a straight-up descent into madness or a traditional bloodbath. But the unease in Seward’s eyes and Rea’s direction helps build a tension that is undeniable.

Seward is the glue holding this bloody mess together. She embodies both Jen and Jenn-O with a startling range. In one moment, she’s childlike and hopeful, and in the next, she’s disturbingly gleeful in her kills. Her performance makes you question whether you’re supposed to root for her, even as the body count rises. That ambiguity is what elevates “Super Happy Fun Clown” above most B-movie slashers.

Starring: Chloe Levine, Will Peltz and Peter Vack
Directed by: Rachael Cain
Rated: NR
Running Time: 92 minutes
Yellow Veil Pictures

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

Humans spend a lot of time trying to decode our dreams. We may hesitate to admit why something as surreal as an ex’s head on a goat’s body matters, but we still wonder why our brains conjured it up. That’s why when we meet Gemma (Chloe Levine), we’re immediately drawn in. She’s a small-town girl who’s come to LA to become a star. Until that happens, she’s pulling graveyard shifts at a sleep clinic called Somnium, where her job is to monitor and record the dreams of strangers.

But Gemma starts seeing something in those dreams. At first it’s just a shadow. Then it appears more frequently. Sometimes it creeps from one patient’s nightmare to another, until it begins to seep into her waking life. Or maybe she’s still dreaming. Imagine if Adult Swim’s Dream Corp LLC turned into an evolving psychological horror and you’ve got “Somnium.”

The film would work better with fewer characters outside of Gemma. Many side characters feel introduced without clear purpose or payoff. An aging actor offers her a shortcut into the industry—whether sincerely or as part of some mass dream manipulation is never made clear. Noah (Will Peltz), Somnium’s leader, is treated like a pivotal figure, but we never get close enough to him to understand who he is or what he wants. The film keeps pulling us back to Gemma’s perspective, which is a smart anchor, but giving these supporting characters more shape might’ve enriched her internal conflict without needing so much exposition.

That’s the film’s biggest flaw and unfortunately it’s not a minor one. “Somnium” sometimes feels unsure of its own narrative focus. These detours dilute the tension and stretch a lean story longer than it needs to feel. Still, Cain delivers a solid, at times chilling thriller. Levine carries the film with quiet intensity, which feels fitting for a character unsure of her own abilities. And Cain, in her directorial debut, crafts genuine unease from familiar genre elements. The shadowy antagonist may not be wholly original, but the way it’s framed and escalated within dreams gives it a fresh edge.

“Somnium” ends on a note that’s mildly satisfying, though still loaded with unanswered questions. Whether that’s intentional ambiguity or not, it leaves the story feeling just short of fully realized. But as a debut feature, Cain’s control over tone and visuals suggests a promising future, but with a more focused script next time, something great might follow.

Starring: Austin Butler, Regina King and Zoe Kravitz
Directed by: Darren Aronofsky
Rated: R
Running Time: 107 minutes
Sony Pictures

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

It’s always hard to know what you’re going to get from Darren Aronofsky. Three years ago, he gave us a rough, intimate drama that won Brendan Fraser an Oscar in “The Whale.” Eight years ago, he gave us one of Jennifer Lawrence’s lowest career points in “mother!” 11 years ago, he managed to get Fox News riled up over “Noah.” So, what should audiences expect from his latest film, “Caught Stealing?” It’s a violent, offbeat misadventure through 1990s New York City; a genre mashup of crime, thriller, comedy, and an oddly specific love for the San Francisco Giants.

Hank (Austin Butler) tends bar at a grimy, hole-in-the-wall dive. He drinks with customers, stumbles home to his dingy apartment, keeps drinking, and sleeps with Yvonne (Zoe Kravitz), who genuinely loves him despite his downward spiral. Once, Hank was a rising baseball star with legitimate MLB dreams, but alcohol wrecked those plans, quite literally. His dear friend booze continues to derail his life, pulling him deeper into trouble when he crosses paths with both the Russian and Jewish mob.

Everything kicks off when Hank agrees to watch his neighbor Russ’ (Matt Smith) cat while Russ heads back to England to care for his ailing father. Unfortunately, Russ leaves behind dangerous unfinished business, and a string of furious mobsters want something badly enough to beat Hank within an inch of his life and start killing anyone around him. What exactly they want becomes Hank’s mystery to solve, and Aronofsky uses that hook to drive a steadily escalating spiral of violence, paranoia, and absurdity.

Most of “Caught Stealing” thrives on tension and intrigue: what’s hidden in Hank’s past, what’s driving the chaos, and how far he’ll go to survive. Aronofsky stages the violence with care by grounding the stakes when it matters but leaning into absurdity when the tone allows it. The film moves between gritty realism and pitch-black comedy, creating a sense of unpredictability even when the plot itself edges toward the familiar.

The ensemble helps hold it all together. Character actors like Vincent D’Onofrio, Carol Kane, and even Bad Bunny bring bursts of personality to every chaotic encounter. Butler’s brooding performance anchors the chaos, though the tonal mismatch between his straight-edged intensity and the stranger supporting turns occasionally clashes. Still, the off-balance approach mostly works, creating a sense of danger that feels earned rather than manufactured.

Ultimately, “Caught Stealing” is a pleasant surprise because it’s part “North by Northwest” paranoia and part “Big Lebowski” absurdism. It doesn’t quite reach the brilliance of either, but it refuses to play by genre rules, and there’s an admirability in that. It’s bloody, darkly funny, and weirdly endearing. Considering Aronofsky adapted this from a series of books, Sony might greenlit a sequel or two if the box office dictates it. If they do, I’m in for more breezy, violent fun.

Starring: Katie Douglas, Aaron Abrams and Carson MacCormac
Directed by: Eli Craig
Rated: R
Running Time: 96 minutes
Shudder

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

“Clown in a Cornfield” finds itself in a peculiar spot. It stands in the long shadow of director Eli Craig’s debut, “Tucker and Dale vs. Evil,” even though that film came out 15 years ago. Expectations are immediately high for subversive laughs, heartfelt slaughter, and buckets of gore. While it doesn’t fully step out from behind that legacy, Craig channels the energy of his title character, Frendo, slicing through a brisk 96-minute runtime to deliver a clear message: Boomers would rather kill us than admit they’re wrong.

Quinn (Katie Douglas) is pulled from her East Coast life to the rural town of Kettle Springs, Missouri, a place that romanticizes the past with its annual Founders Day Festival. Locals still pine for the glory days of Baypen Corn Syrup, which once provided the town with jobs, prosperity, and purpose. For Midwesterners like me, the imagery is all too familiar. The background and town are littered with empty factory remnants, a dying downtown square, judgmental stares, and teens getting drunk in cornfields. It’s not long before Quinn learns about Frendo the Clown, Baypen’s old mascot. And soon after, meets him face to face.

Based on the 2020 young adult novel, the film embraces its source material’s corny tone. It never takes itself too seriously, never fully leans into scares, and doesn’t do much to subvert the slasher genre. In many ways, “Clown in a Cornfield” functions as a slasher intro course for younger or less horror-inclined audiences, while still offering enough blood and bite to entertain veterans like me who’ve seen one too many murderous clowns, horny teens, and small-town massacres.

The teen cast doesn’t get much depth to work with. Their scenes often serve the plot more than character development, especially compared to the more grounded and textured adult roles. Performances from Kevin Durand (as the town’s mayor), Will Sasso (the sheriff), and Aaron Abrams (Quinn’s dad) bring a lived-in feel that the younger cast can’t quite match. Still, Katie Douglas injects enough heart and grit into Quinn to make her easy to root for.

Because the film feels like it’s aimed at a younger or more casual horror audience, I found myself wishing it pushed harder in terms of kills and commentary. Frendo doesn’t have the screen presence of Pennywise, Art the Clown, or even the gonzo weirdness of “Killer Klowns from Outer Space.” But that’s not really the point. “Clown in a Cornfield” isn’t trying to redefine horror, it’s trying to say something about how clinging to the past can curdle into something violent and unrecognizable. And on that front, it mostly succeeds.

Starring: Liam Neeson, Pamela Anderson and Danny Huston
Directed by: Akiva Schaffer
Running Time: 85 minutes
Rated: PG-13
Paramount Pictures

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

The “Naked Gun” is back as a legacy sequel, reboot, and remake rolled into one. And it has some absurdly big clown shoes to fill. The original 1988 film helped define an entire era of spoof comedies, arguably doing more for the genre than even “Airplane!” It remains a cult favorite, beloved for its relentless gags, offbeat charm, and layers of absurdity that reward every rewatch. While the original’s director has publicly said he won’t see this new version, he probably should because it’s a worthy and laugh-filled new chapter in the police squad files.

Liam Neeson plays Frank Drebin Jr., son of the iconic original character, now leading a modern-day police squad. When a dead man turns up in a submerged vehicle and a high-tech gadget with world-ending potential is uncovered, Drebin springs into action. But let’s be honest: the plot is barely the point. Supporting him is Paul Walter Hauser as his loyal partner, and Danny Huston delivers a hilariously unflinching performance as the villain. The real surprise, though, is Pamela Anderson. As the film’s love interest, she plays her role completely straight despite the absurdity of the role.

What makes this revival shine is its commitment to the classic Naked Gun formula: Deadpan delivery, slapstick chaos, sight gags, layered wordplay, and absurd satire. It’s all here, and it all lands. The cast handles the material with just the right mix of sincerity and silliness. But the credit doesn’t stop there. Writers Dan Gregor and Doug Mand, alongside director Akiva Schaffer, deserve major praise for crafting a comedy that not only honors the ZAZ legacy but also stands tall on its own. This is their second winning collaboration following 2022’s unexpectedly delightful “Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers.”

Their script is razor-sharp, balancing clever and juvenile humor with an ease rarely seen in modern comedies. “The Naked Gun” isn’t just funny, it’s consistently funny, and possibly the most laugh-out-loud movie of the year. With gags layered in nearly every frame, it demands a second viewing just like the originals.