ROB ZOMBIE’S FIREFLY TRILOGY

Available Now on 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray + Digital

This 8-disc Firefly Trilogy set is the ultimate collector’s gift for Rob Zombie fans, and includes House of 1000 Corpses on 4K for the first time, art cards and a collectible poster, a Zombie-curated photography book, artwork by Vance Kelly, and a host of legacy content. Also included are the documentaries 30 Days in Hell: The Making of The Devil’s Rejects and To Hell and Back: The Making of 3 From Hell.

House of 1000 Corpses introduces the cannibalistic Firefly family, who cross bloody paths with a group of teens touring America’s backroads. In The Devil’s Rejects, the Fireflys face off against the increasingly depraved Sheriff Wydell, while 3 From Hell sees the surviving Fireflys face justice for their crimes…but no prison can hold a Firefly for long…

Cast:

1000 Corpses: Sid Haig, Bill Moseley, Sheri Moon, and Karen Black

The Devil’s Rejects: Sid Haig, Bill Moseley, Sheri Moon Zombie, Ken Foree,
Matthew McGrory, and William Forsythe

3 From Hell: Sheri Moon Zombie, Bill Moseley, Richard Brake, Jeff Daniel Phillips, Dee Wallace, Emilio Rivera, with Danny Trejo, and Sid Haig

Synopsis:

Written and Directed by: Rob Zombie
Closed-Captioned: Yes
Feature Run Time: Approx. 312 minutes
Subtitles: English SDH, English, Spanish
Format: 16×9 (1.85:1) Presentation in Dolby Vision® (House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects)
Audio: English 5.1 Dolby TrueHD (House of 1000 Corpses), English 5.1 DTS-HD Master AudioTM (The Devil’s Rejects), English 7.1 Dolby TrueHD (3 From Hell)

COLLECTION INCLUDES

House of 1000 Corpses (2002)
The Devil’s Rejects (2005)
3 From Hell (2019)
Exclusive collectible poster
Zombie-curated photography book
Artwork by Rob Zombie
Two bonus discs featuring legacy special features and documentaries

BONUS FEATURES

House of 1000 Corpses
Audio Commentary by Writer-Director Rob Zombie (Feature Length)
Behind-the-Scenes Footage and More! (Blu-Ray™ only)

The Devil’s Rejects
30 Days in Hell: The Making of The Devil’s Rejects (Feature-Length Documentary ― Blu-Ray™ only)
Behind-the-Scenes Footage, Commentaries, and More!

3 From Hell
To Hell and Back: The Making of 3 From Hell (4-Part Documentary)
Audio Commentary with Writer-Director Rob Zombie

Fall 2: Deadpoint takes the suspense and survival elements that made the original film so gripping and brings them back for another intense experience. The digital release gives fans the opportunity to dive into a story filled with danger, tension, and life-or-death decisions. For viewers who enjoy thrillers that create a sense of isolation and vulnerability, this sequel offers an intriguing continuation of the franchise’s survival-focused formula.

One of the biggest appeals of Fall 2: Deadpoint is the potential for nerve-racking situations that keep audiences wondering what will happen next. The film taps into the fear of being trapped in a dangerous situation with limited options, creating the kind of suspense that makes survival thrillers so effective. The high-stakes premise also gives the story an opportunity to explore fear, determination, and the lengths people will go to when their lives are on the line.

While fans of the original may find some familiar elements in the sequel’s approach to suspense, that familiarity can also be part of the appeal. The film is aimed at viewers who appreciate tense scenarios, dangerous situations, and characters forced to make difficult decisions under pressure. Its digital release makes it easier for thriller fans to experience the next chapter from home, whether they are returning to the franchise or discovering it for the first time.

Overall, Fall 2: Deadpoint is worth considering for fans of survival thrillers who enjoy suspense-driven storytelling and intense, high-risk situations. It builds on the franchise’s central appeal of facing overwhelming odds and fighting to survive when everything seems stacked against you. If you enjoy movies that keep you on edge and make you think twice about heights and dangerous situations, this sequel may be a worthwhile addition to your watchlist.

Starring: Mikey Madison, Jeremy Allen White and Jeremy Strong
Directed by: Alan Sorkin
Rated: R
Running Time: 112 minutes
Sony Pictures Releasing

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

It’s hard not to think about how far things have come since “The Social Network,” especially after watching its sequel, “The Social Reckoning.” In David Fincher’s 2010 film, we watched the minds behind digital connections create their own spheres of loneliness as they betrayed friends, sued for ownership and demonstrated that success could come at almost any cost. 16 years later, the consequences of Mark Zuckerberg’s ambition are everybody else’s problem.

Of course, “The Social Network” now feels something like a villain origin story. Zuckerberg has become a household name synonymous with the kind of tech-bro arrogance that makes the average person recoil in disgust. Too bad those same people keep using his products, my disgusted self included. That’s why “The Social Reckoning” feels both relevant and strangely behind the times.

In 2019, Facebook data scientist Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison) has uncovered troubling information about the company’s algorithms, but nobody seems particularly interested in listening. When Wall Street Journal reporter Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White) reaches out while investigating Facebook’s political influence, Haugen sees an opportunity to expose how the platform amplifies misinformation, outrage and political extremism.

For audiences unfamiliar with the Wall Street Journal’s Facebook Files, much of this could be eye-opening. Facebook doesn’t need to explicitly program its algorithms to radicalize people. It only needs to reward engagement, even when outrage and misinformation are what keep people glued to their screens. As the film explores, those consequences extend far beyond angry comment sections, particularly in the information environment surrounding January 6. Unfortunately, the film rarely feels as urgent as its subject matter.

Aaron Sorkin, who wrote “The Social Network” but takes over directing duties from Fincher, remains a talented screenwriter. His dialogue generally works. His characters have distinct motivations and he understands how to make complicated institutional conflicts entertaining. But Fincher made conversations about computer programming and corporate ownership feel like a psychological thriller. Sorkin shoots “The Social Reckoning” like an HBO television movie, with conventional staging, predictable dramatic beats and little visual imagination. Movies challenging billionaire ethics shouldn’t feel like a PG-rated version of “Veep.”

Thankfully, the cast does plenty to keep things entertaining. Madison and White have terrific chemistry as two people trying to reach the same conclusion from opposite directions. Haugen believes institutions can recognize their failures and improve, while Horwitz believes exposing those failures is how you force change. Their differing perspectives make for some of the film’s best exchanges, particularly when Haugen ridicules Horwitz for being technologically inept.

Then there’s Jeremy Strong, who, between “Succession,” “The Apprentice” and now “The Social Reckoning,” might be Hollywood’s go-to actor for entitled asshats with more money than self-awareness. And he’s damn good at it. Strong captures Zuckerberg’s peculiar combination of arrogance, social awkwardness and emotional detachment. Some of the film’s best humor comes from watching a man with extraordinary influence over human communication struggle to communicate like an ordinary human being.

But for a movie with “Reckoning” in its title, the whole thing feels strangely safe. Haugen and Horwitz’s work helped expose serious problems within Facebook and demonstrated that individuals can still challenge powerful institutions. Their accomplishments deserve recognition, and perhaps that’s Sorkin’s intended message: the levers of justice still work, and coming forward with the truth still matters. But exposing wrongdoing isn’t the same as correcting it.

Since the events depicted in “The Social Reckoning,” Zuckerberg has remained a powerful figure in Washington, and the conversation surrounding Meta has shifted toward AI. The same industry that struggled to control misinformation amplified by algorithms is now developing technology capable of manufacturing that misinformation at an unprecedented scale. Haugen and Horwitz won a battle. The war never ended. And maybe that’s why “The Social Reckoning” left me feeling strangely unsatisfied. I enjoyed the performances, appreciated the writing and was entertained for a couple of hours. But it’s also the kind of movie you stumble upon while mindlessly scrolling through a streaming service, watch, enjoy and promptly move on from. 

There’s something deeply ironic about a movie examining the dangers of passive consumption becoming such an easy piece of passive consumption itself. “The Social Reckoning” reminds us that the truth can still come out and the levers of justice can still move. I just wish it had been more interested in what happens when those levers move and the machinery keeps running.

Directed by: Flying Lotus, Renee Zhan and Zoe Cooper, David Moreau, Ernest Dickerson, Tobias Forge, and RZA and Matt Landsman
Rated: NR
Running Time: 98 minutes
Shudder

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

It’s here. The 10th film in the “V/H/S” franchise. At this point, I have to wonder if there’s a big whiteboard somewhere filled with ideas. Last year, the franchise tackled Halloween. Before that, it wrestled with aliens, and just a few years ago, it was invoking Y2K and Nickelodeon game shows. The latest pivot is toward music with “V/H/S Mixtape,” a film looking to replicate midnight MTV nostalgia, explore the horror/music Venn diagram known as GWAR, and unleash another batch of filmmakers to see what kind of bloody nonsense they can come up with.

GWAR serves as the wraparound, presenting a chaotic blend of phony behind-the-scenes outtakes, gruesome on-set antics, general screwing around and attempts at some kind of recorded television program. It’s messy, occasionally smirk worthy and appropriately grotesque. More importantly, GWAR seems to understand the assignment better than anyone else. Their improvisational energy makes the whole thing feel like something you might have recorded off television at 2 a.m. and discovered in a box 30 years later. The actual shorts, however, aren’t nearly as committed to the musical theme.

First up is Renee Zhan’s “Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance,” which feels like the Jim Henson Creature Shop indulging its wildest John Carpenter fantasies. The story follows the creators of a children’s program whose work is being scanned and digitized in an effort to replace the artistry behind their puppets with something considerably cheaper. Unfortunately for the people responsible, those old props and puppets have some thoughts about being discarded. Naturally, those thoughts involve torture, torment and murder.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with the short. The practical creativity is entertaining, and watching cheerful children’s entertainment turn into a bloodbath is always good for a few laughs. But the problem is “Buddy.” It’s still in theater and it’s another story about the darkness lurking beneath the bright, sunny disposition of children’s programming. I’d also argue a full length version of “Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance” still wouldn’t hold a candle to “Buddy.” Zhan’s contribution has its merits, particularly in its commentary on technology replacing artists, but it feels a little too familiar. It’s hard to get particularly excited about something when you feel like you just watched a variation of it.

Thankfully, David Moreau’s “Heartbeat” offers something different. The short follows two urban explorers investigating an abandoned Bulgarian bunker, which, if you’ve spent any time watching YouTube, already sounds like an excellent way to get yourself killed. Without revealing what horrors await them, “Heartbeat” is refreshing because it doesn’t rely entirely on supernatural creatures or some grotesque monstrosity waiting in the darkness. Instead, it finds horror in the ignorance and overconfidence of people who think wandering through abandoned structures is harmless fun.

There’s something particularly satisfying about watching people who make a living documenting dangerous places discover that they might not be nearly as prepared for danger as they believe. Their own minds become as much of a threat as anything lurking around them. It’s probably the strongest segment in “V/H/S Mixtape,” largely because it has a clear idea and knows exactly what to do with it. Audio is fun, until it’s your enemy.

Then the franchise heads back into the bizarre with Ernest Dickerson’s “The Music of Mr. Sze.” The short follows a college film student looking to shoot a documentary for a class project. He becomes fascinated with a reclusive elderly musician living above him, particularly the strange sounds coming from the man’s violin. But there’s something deeply unsettling about Mr. Sze, and the student’s curiosity eventually leads him toward something resembling cosmic horror.

In a lot of ways, “The Music of Mr. Sze” feels like an incomplete idea or an elevator pitch that somebody forgot to develop into a finished story. The premise is intriguing, the atmosphere works and there’s something inherently creepy about an elderly musician harboring an unimaginable evil inside his apartment. But the short spends so much time teasing its horrors that it barely gives itself enough room to reveal them. I’m not asking Dickerson to explain every detail of the cosmic nightmare. Some things are better left to the imagination. But there’s a difference between preserving mystery and withholding the payoff. Another five minutes might have helped establish the evil our protagonist is confronting and given the conclusion a little more substance. Instead, it feels like the short ends just as its most interesting ideas are beginning to emerge.

Then comes RZA’s “Death Tone,” a short that has the look of something I’d probably love but never quite figures out what it wants to say. The story follows a young woman whose deceased father left her with some rather unusual advice about making music. She interprets that advice as incorporating the sounds of people dying into her work, which is certainly one way to find your artistic voice. It’s a wonderfully deranged premise. Unfortunately, the execution leaves a lot to be desired.

If “Death Tone” is trying to explore how much artists put into their music, there’s an interesting story buried somewhere beneath the blood and guts. But the musician’s victims often feel arbitrary, and the violence rarely tells us anything meaningful about her artistic obsession or the personal cost of pursuing it. Wouldn’t it be more interesting if her music somehow reflected the relationships she was destroying? Or if the people she killed revealed something about the sacrifices she was willing to make for her art? Instead, the story mostly seems interested in finding new excuses to kill people. 

Which, to be fair, is perfectly acceptable in a “V/H/S” movie. And some of those kills are pretty damn inventive. At one point, I found myself admiring the creativity of a stabbing filmed from inside someone’s body while simultaneously wondering why I was supposed to care about any of it. That’s the fundamental problem with “Death Tone.” It has interesting imagery, some nasty gore and a premise that could have gone somewhere fascinating. But the characters aren’t particularly compelling, the story doesn’t make much sense and the whole thing goes on longer than its ideas can support. It’s an unfortunate way to wrap up the anthology’s major segments.

There are also a couple of much briefer contributions, including a music video from Tobias Forge and a claymation short that feels like something you’d expect to see before the feature presentation. Both run only a few minutes, give or take, but their inclusion helps establish the film’s mixtape personality while keeping everything moving. And that’s something “V/H/S Mixtape” generally does well.

At 98 minutes, the film rarely gives you enough time to become bored. Even when a short isn’t particularly successful, there’s usually another bizarre idea, grotesque image or unexpected burst of creativity waiting just around the corner. The problem is that very little of it sticks. The music theme feels largely cosmetic outside of GWAR’s wonderfully chaotic wraparound. Having filmmakers with musical backgrounds doesn’t necessarily make their contributions feel like part of a larger musical experience. And while there’s a certain cohesiveness to the presentation, the individual shorts rarely build on one another or leave much of an impression.

Maybe that’s the point. A mixtape doesn’t necessarily need to be cohesive. It’s supposed to be a collection of different sounds, moods and personalities, some of which work better than others. But a great mixtape still needs a few unforgettable tracks. “V/H/S Mixtape” isn’t a bad addition to the franchise. It’s somewhere toward the lower end of the middle of the pack, with enough blood, guts and wonderfully stupid creativity to justify another trip into the series’ increasingly bizarre universe. There are some genuinely clever ideas here, and I never found myself particularly bored.

But ten installments into this franchise, I’d like at least one segment that stays with me after the credits roll. Instead, “V/H/S Mixtape” feels like a mixtape I enjoyed listening to from beginning to end, but one where I can’t think of a single track I’d go out of my way to play again. Sometimes that’s enough for a good time. It just isn’t enough to make a great mixtape.

Ken Burns’ America Collection brings together a selection of the acclaimed filmmaker’s documentaries examining the people, events, conflicts, and ideas that have shaped the United States. Known for his patient storytelling and distinctive use of photographs, paintings, archival documents, interviews, and narration, Burns approaches American history as a collection of interconnected human stories rather than simply a timeline of dates and events.

One of the collection’s greatest strengths is its attention to detail. Burns frequently moves beyond the familiar names and headlines to explore the experiences of ordinary Americans whose lives were influenced by larger historical forces. His documentaries often combine political, cultural, military, and social history, giving viewers a broader understanding of how major events affected communities and individuals.

The visual presentation is another defining feature. Historic photographs and artwork are given remarkable life through careful camera movements, while period documents, maps, newspaper accounts, and other archival materials help establish a strong sense of time and place. The combination creates an immersive viewing experience even when much of the source material is more than a century old.

The collection also demonstrates Burns’ talent for balancing large-scale historical subjects with personal stories. Letters, diaries, eyewitness accounts, and interviews provide an intimate perspective that makes complicated subjects easier to connect with. The result is often educational without feeling like a conventional classroom lecture, making these films accessible to both longtime history enthusiasts and viewers simply interested in learning more about the country’s past.

Burns’ narration and carefully selected commentary give the documentaries a consistent tone, while the music and sound design add emotional weight without overwhelming the historical material. Because the subjects span different periods and themes, the collection works particularly well as a long-term viewing experience, allowing viewers to explore individual documentaries while also seeing recurring themes in American history.

Ken Burns’ America Collection is an impressive showcase of documentary filmmaking and historical storytelling. It offers an expansive look at the people and events that have helped define the United States while encouraging viewers to consider history from multiple perspectives. For fans of Ken Burns, American history, or thoughtfully produced documentary films, this collection is a valuable addition to any home library and a set that rewards repeated viewing.

The American Revolution: A Film by Ken Burns, Sarah Botstein, and David Schmidt offers a sweeping examination of the conflict that transformed thirteen British colonies into the United States. Rather than presenting the Revolution simply as a series of famous battles and political milestones, the documentary explores the experiences, motivations, sacrifices, and disagreements of the people who lived through one of the most consequential periods in American history.

The filmmakers bring together archival artwork, documents, maps, letters, and expert commentary like essay writing service to create a detailed portrait of the era. As with other Ken Burns productions, the visual material is presented with careful attention to historical context, while the narration and interviews help connect individual experiences to the larger events unfolding across the colonies and the wider Atlantic world.

One of the documentary’s strengths is its broad perspective. The Revolution affected far more people than the political leaders and military commanders whose names are most familiar. The film examines the experiences of soldiers and civilians, Loyalists and Patriots, enslaved people and Native Americans, and others whose lives were profoundly changed by the conflict. This wider focus gives the story additional complexity and helps illustrate that the Revolution was not a simple or uniform experience for everyone living in North America.

The presentation also benefits from the filmmakers’ ability to make a long and complicated historical narrative accessible. Major events are placed within a chronological framework, while personal accounts and period documents provide a human connection to the larger story. The result is a documentary that can appeal both to viewers familiar with Revolutionary history and to those looking for a substantial introduction to the subject.

The Blu-ray presentation is well suited to this type of production. Artwork, historical documents, maps, and photographs are reproduced with clarity, while the audio presentation keeps the narration, interviews, and musical elements clean and balanced. The high-definition format also makes the extensive visual material particularly enjoyable to examine.

The American Revolution is ultimately a detailed and ambitious historical documentary that emphasizes the complexity of the people and events behind the creation of the United States. Its combination of scholarship, storytelling, archival material, and personal perspectives makes it an absorbing viewing experience. For anyone interested in American history, the Revolutionary era, or Ken Burns’ documentary work, this Blu-ray provides a substantial and thoughtfully produced addition to the collection.

Masterpiece: All Creatures Great and Small Season 2 continues the charming adventures of James Herriot and the residents of Skeldale House, delivering another wonderfully warm blend of humor, romance, veterinary drama, and beautiful period storytelling. Set against the stunning Yorkshire Dales, the second season expands on the characters and relationships established in the first while maintaining the gentle, inviting atmosphere that made the series so appealing.

Nicholas Ralph continues to bring sincerity and enthusiasm to James, who is becoming more confident in his veterinary work while navigating the complications of his personal life. His relationship with Helen Alderson remains an important part of the season, adding a romantic thread that develops naturally alongside the veterinary stories. Samuel West is once again terrific as the unpredictable Siegfried Farnon, while Callum Woodhouse provides plenty of comic relief as Tristan. Anna Madley’s Mrs. Hall remains the steady presence at Skeldale House, bringing warmth and emotional depth to the ensemble.

The veterinary cases continue to provide some of the season’s most entertaining and touching moments. The show succeeds because it treats the animals and their owners with genuine affection, allowing even the smaller stories to carry emotional weight. At the same time, the series gives its human characters plenty of room to grow, making the relationships and personal challenges just as engaging as the veterinary work.

Visually, Season 2 is another highlight. The Yorkshire landscapes are beautifully photographed, while the period costumes, vehicles, homes, and veterinary settings create a convincing sense of 1930s rural England. The Blu-ray presentation showcases these details nicely, with a clean high-definition image and clear audio that keeps the dialogue and performances front and center.

The biggest strength of Season 2 is its balance. It can be funny and lighthearted one moment and surprisingly poignant the next without losing its comforting tone. The ensemble has become more familiar, and that familiarity makes the quieter interactions especially enjoyable. Rather than relying on dramatic twists, the series finds its appeal in its characters, relationships, animals, and beautifully realized setting.

Masterpiece: All Creatures Great and Small Season 2 is a satisfying continuation of the series, offering more of the humor, heart, romance, and countryside charm that viewers came to enjoy in the first season. With strong performances, gorgeous scenery, engaging veterinary stories, and a polished Blu-ray presentation, it makes an excellent addition to the collection and leaves plenty of reason to look forward to the seasons that follow.

Masterpiece: All Creatures Great and Small Season 1 is a warm, beautifully crafted adaptation of James Herriot’s beloved stories about life as a young veterinarian in the Yorkshire Dales. Set in the 1930s, the series follows James Herriot as he begins working at a small veterinary practice alongside the eccentric Siegfried Farnon, Siegfried’s mischievous younger brother Tristan, and the practical and compassionate housekeeper Mrs. Hall. The result is an inviting period drama that balances humor, romance, animal stories, and heartfelt human relationships.

One of the series’ greatest strengths is its sense of place. The Yorkshire countryside is photographed beautifully, providing a picturesque backdrop for James’s adventures and giving the show a relaxed, comforting atmosphere. The veterinary cases provide plenty of entertaining moments, but the series never treats the animals simply as plot devices. The affection the characters have for their patients helps give the stories their emotional weight, while the relationships among the members of the household gradually become just as important as the veterinary work.

The performances are consistently engaging. Nicholas Ralph brings an appealing sincerity to James, while Samuel West gives Siegfried an entertaining combination of confidence, eccentricity, and vulnerability. Callum Woodhouse adds plenty of comic energy as Tristan, and Anna Madley brings warmth and understated strength to Mrs. Hall. Rachel Shenton is equally effective as Helen Alderson, whose relationship with James develops naturally over the course of the season.

The Blu-ray presentation complements the show’s visual style particularly well. The Yorkshire landscapes, period costumes, interiors, and detailed production design benefit from a clean high-definition presentation, while the dialogue remains clear and prominent. The result is a polished transfer that preserves both the cozy atmosphere and the expansive beauty of the setting.

What makes the first season especially enjoyable is its ability to be gentle without becoming dull. There is plenty of comedy, but the show also allows room for sadness, uncertainty, and genuine emotional moments. The stories frequently revolve around compassion and the responsibilities that come with caring for animals and other people, giving the series a reassuring sincerity.

Masterpiece: All Creatures Great and Small Season 1 is an excellent choice for viewers who enjoy character-driven period dramas with humor and heart. Its beautiful setting, appealing ensemble, memorable animal patients, and relaxed storytelling make it an easy series to settle into. This Blu-ray is a particularly appealing addition for fans of the series who want to revisit the beginning of James Herriot’s journey in the Yorkshire Dales.

A Bronx Tale: One Man Show captures Chazz Palminteri’s acclaimed one-man performance in a way that puts the storytelling front and center. Based on the material that inspired the 1993 film, the stage production is essentially Palminteri alone onstage, portraying a wide range of characters while recounting a coming-of-age story set in the Bronx. The result is an intimate and theatrical experience that depends heavily on the performer’s timing, voice, and ability to shift between characters.

Palminteri remains the production’s biggest strength. His delivery gives each character a distinct personality, from the neighborhood toughs and streetwise figures to the younger characters caught between competing ideas about family, loyalty, and success. Because there is no traditional ensemble cast, the transitions between characters become part of the appeal. Fans of the movie will recognize the story and many of its memorable elements, while newcomers can appreciate it as a character-driven piece of live storytelling in its own right.

The Blu-ray presentation does a good job of preserving the feel of a stage performance. The picture is clean and detailed, with the lighting and colors reflecting the theatrical setting rather than attempting to make the production look like a conventional feature film. The audio presentation is similarly focused on Palminteri’s voice, which is essential given the dialogue-heavy nature of the show. Clear vocal reproduction allows the nuances of his performance to come through effectively.

What makes this release particularly interesting is the opportunity to experience A Bronx Tale in its original one-man-show form. Those familiar with the later movie adaptation may find it fascinating to see how much of the story can be carried by a single performer. The stripped-down presentation also gives the material a different rhythm and atmosphere than the film version.

A Bronx Tale: One Man Show is a worthwhile Blu-ray for fans of Chazz Palminteri, the original A Bronx Tale, and filmed theater. It is not a conventional movie experience, but that is precisely the point. The release preserves a performance built around storytelling, character work, and Palminteri’s commanding stage presence. For viewers interested in seeing the roots of A Bronx Tale beyond the familiar film adaptation, this Blu-ray offers an engaging look at the story in its most direct and intimate form.

Described as “Four Women. Four stories. One love of wrestling.” Women of the Indies is the debut documentary from content creators Briesbe and Eh Jeh Keez. Together the duo take you behind the curtain of independent wrestling providing a fresh look through the eyes and stories of four up and coming female wrestlers. The films balance of candid interviews and all access footage makes this a fun watch for fans of wrestling both new and old.

We had a chance recently to talk with the films creators about the creation of the project,  

Watch “Women of the Indies” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LULK2UiNwjI

Find out more about Briesbe  @briesbe   and Eh Jeh @eh_jeh_keez

NEW YORK COMIC CON INTERVIEWS AVAILABLE WITH R.L. STINE, JIMBO, AND DIRECTOR JEM GARRARD ON BEHALF OF THE “R.L. STINE ON TUBI” PANEL

CATCH THE “R.L. STINE ON TUBI” NEW YORK COMIC CON PANEL!

When: Sunday, October, 11
Time: 12:15pm ET
Location: Javits Center, Room 409
Panelists: R.L. Stine, Jem Garrard (writer-director R.L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead 2), Jimbo (RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars), and Adam Lewinson (Tubi Chief Content Officer)

🎃 “R.L. STINE’S PUMPKINHEAD 2” PREMIERS OCTOBER 9, 2026 AS PART OF TERROR ON TUBI 🎃

TRAILER HERE

ABOUT “R.L. STINE’S PUMPKINHEAD 2”

Inspired by R.L. Stine’s beloved The Haunting Hour, R.L. STINE’S PUMPKINHEAD 2 follows Sam (Bean Reid) and Becka (Adeline Lo) as they race to stop a new Pumpkinhead curse from claiming the entire town of Redhaven.

CAST/CREW QUOTES:

“R.L. Stine and I have been in the business of scaring kids for a long time, so joining PUMPKINHEAD 2 was such a treat. Playing Cassandra was the perfect ‘witchy’ role for me.” — Cassandra Peterson

“Elvira and R.L. Stine each gave me a completely different way to experience horror growing up – Elvira through her unforgettable late-night movie presentations, and Stine through twisty, page-turning novels. Bringing them together in one film feels both nostalgic and completely fresh, which is exactly the kind of surprising combination we love creating for Tubi audiences.” — Josh Van Houdt, Vice President of Original Scripted Content

ABOUT TUBI

Boldly built for fandom, Tubi is a free on-demand streaming service that entertains 110 million monthly active users. Tubi offers the world’s largest collection of Hollywood movies and TV shows, thousands of creator-led stories, and hundreds of Tubi Originals made for the most passionate fans. Headquartered in San Francisco and founded in 2014, Tubi is part of Tubi Media Group, a division of Fox Corporation.

Follow along for news about R.L. STINE’S PUMPKINHEAD 2 and more:
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Starring: Austin Abrams, Zach Cherry and Kali Reis

Directed by: Zach Cregger

Rated: R

Running Time: 95 minutes

Sony Pictures

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

I think the biggest reason a video game franchise like “Resident Evil” hasn’t translated particularly well to the big screen is because it’s way too much like an anime franchise. The games have a wide, sprawling cast of characters with complicated backgrounds and side drama, bombastic villains, bizarre detours and a continuity that eventually requires homework. So, when you pitch all of that as a movie, I assume most people eventually throw their hands up and ask, “It still has zombies and guns, right?”

Enter Zach Cregger, the new darling of Hollywood, who strips away most of those pretenses and gives longtime fans, and audiences who may not know a damn thing about the franchise, something much simpler. A guy trapped in a nightmare who desperately wants to get the hell out.

When we meet Bryan (Austin Abrams), he’s going back and forth with his pregnant partner on the phone while delivering an organ because he’s essentially a discount medical courier. You might need the organs that bad if you’re paying the guy $15 an hour. Bryan’s conversation isn’t going particularly well with his partner, and it’s obvious he needs to get home to hammer out their issues. Unfortunately, he gets one more transport job. Sure, it’s snowing. Sure, it’s to Raccoon City in the mountains. Sure, his girlfriend sounds like she’s about to end their relationship. But a job’s a job.

Bryan, ignoring his personal responsibilities, takes the organ and heads toward Raccoon City General Hospital, completely unaware that this will be the last normal occurrence in his life.

The first thing that struck me about Cregger’s vision of “Resident Evil” is how closely it replicates the rhythm of survival horror. Bryan doesn’t necessarily behave like someone playing a survival-horror game. He screws up way too much for that. Instead, Cregger shoots his journey in a way that recreates the anxiety of being the player.

There’s uncertainty as Bryan peers through his windshield, snowflakes obscuring whatever might be waiting in the darkness. There’s dread when he encounters a woman who isn’t quite all there. Jump scares eventually give way to claustrophobia as he finds himself navigating small farmhouses, a Winnebago, dark tunnels and other places where every doorway feels like it could be hiding something horrible.

Cregger understands that pit in your stomach when you’re navigating the unknown. The difference is that we know damn good and well what kind of unknown Bryan has stumbled into.

And it’s filled with zombies, body horror and all sorts of revolting imagery that’ll require decades of therapy.

The creatures aren’t merely shambling corpses waiting for Bryan to shoot them, either. Bodies morph grotesquely. The infected are ravenous and bloodthirsty, and some evolve into things that feel considerably more horrific than the word “zombie” can adequately describe. Nothing here necessarily scared the hell out of me, but Cregger knows how to deploy an effective jump scare and, more importantly, how to make you dread whatever might be waiting around the next corner.

Boosting those scares are the laughs provided by Bryan, who might as well be the pizza delivery boy version of Bruce Campbell. What he lacks in charisma and strength, he makes up for with unintentional humor, relatability and an almost impressive inability to properly use the firearms he comes across. Abrams makes Bryan incredibly easy to root for because he never suddenly transforms into the badass protagonist this kind of movie usually demands. He screws up. He panics. He makes decisions you wouldn’t make in a million years.

But you still desperately want to see the guy survive. The film’s breakneck pace is another benefit because the actual plot is remarkably simple. Bryan goes to Raccoon City. Things go horribly wrong. He tries to survive. That’s basically it.

You aren’t going to learn much about Raccoon City, the Umbrella Corporation or even what exactly has happened to everyone. There are hints and conversations about the larger mythology, but Cregger doesn’t seem particularly interested in stopping the movie to explain it. That’s because Bryan doesn’t need those answers. When something disgusting is chasing you through a dark tunnel, you probably don’t need a detailed explanation of the T-virus. You need to know what the hell that thing is and whether you can kill it.

That simplicity makes “Resident Evil” feel less like an attempt to launch another sprawling cinematic universe and more like a side campaign taking place somewhere within one. The enormous mythology is still out there. Major events are presumably happening somewhere else. Bryan just had the profound misfortune of wandering into Raccoon City while everything went to hell. For longtime “Resident Evil” fans, that approach works exceptionally well. For the uninitiated, I’m a little less certain.

It’s difficult for me to completely put myself in the shoes of someone who doesn’t know “Resident Evil” because it was one of the first games I played on PlayStation ages ago. I already know what Umbrella is. I know there’s more happening in Raccoon City than Bryan understands. I can fill in blanks the movie deliberately leaves empty. Someone without that history may leave with substantially more questions.

Then again, so does Bryan. Maybe that’s the point.

If there’s one thing keeping “Resident Evil” from reaching the same heights as Cregger’s “Barbarian” or “Weapons,” it’s that I’m not sure the experience will be nearly as potent a second time. Those films reveal more of their construction on subsequent watches. “Resident Evil” derives so much of its power from uncertainty that knowing what’s waiting around the next corner could inevitably diminish some of the fun.

But for that first trip through? Cregger has crafted one hell of a funhouse. There’s a reason “Resident Evil” is being presented in IMAX. The format allows the movie to smother you in Bryan’s predicament. You’re trapped alongside him, trying to make sense of increasingly grotesque things while simply hoping he can find his way to the other side.

Sometimes the simplest premises, like being in the wrong place at the worst possible time, make for the best stories. “Resident Evil” is incredibly light on mythology and exposition, but heavy on mood, thrills, laughs and suspense. For decades, Hollywood has tried to figure out how to turn “Resident Evil” into a movie. Cregger seems to have asked a different question: What does it feel like to play “Resident Evil”?

You don’t know where you’re going. You don’t know what’s waiting around the corner. You don’t entirely understand what happened to this place. You have a weapon you’re barely qualified to use, and something absolutely fucking disgusting wants to eat you. For 95 minutes, that’s enough.

Backrooms is an unsettling, recursive, liminal world. It’s so horrifying at times and atmospheric permanently, it felt like the blair witch project meets the sunken place from Get Out meets the Severance hallways if they were a chartreusey yellow.

The headline is that Kane Parsons is a revelation. He’s 20, and he’s A24’s youngest director ever. Four years ago at 16 he was a kid in his bedroom playing with free VFX software, uploaded a 9-minute clip called the Backrooms to YouTube, and 77 million views and a full web series later, it’s a feature film starring Chiwetel Ejiofor, Renate Reinsve, and Mark Duplass. If you have not seen the original clip on his YouTube channel yet, stop what you are doing and go watch it! Essential viewing before you see this film.

The technical feat for the film alone is staggering. The original web series was entirely digital. For the film they built the backrooms in real life. 30,000 square feet of it across four soundstages. I read that every cast member got lost on set. The crew was given daily printed maps just to navigate it. There was a vertigo room that stretches 40 stories high with mc Escher staircases. They spent a month on the wallpaper alone, 50 prints and 50 camera tests just to nail the exact shade of yellow. Kane reverse-engineered the original 4chan image down to the exact camera, geography, and shadows.

The music is pitch perfect and note perfect. Kane co-composed the score himself with Canadian musician Edo van Breeman, sampling vintage synths and old versions of absynth and reaktor. Edo is self-taught, by the way, he scored his entire 22-volume web series alone in his bedroom. There is a new track in there I think that hasn’t been officially released yet and it has not left my head since I walked out of the theater. And he didn’t just build a world, he built a language for it. No clipping nor still lifes. An entire vocabulary of the internet now speaks fluently. That is not a viral video. That is a mythology. It is so wild, and he’s just 20 years old!

The film is set in 1990 Silicon Valley. There is a deep-cut callback to 90s furniture commercials. The architecture, the drop ceilings, the buzzing fluorescents are not memories you can’t quite place. They are memories you can place exactly, if you grew up in the 90s. There is something psychological and deeply eerie about liminal spaces that this film weaponizes beautifully. What is it about an empty room that scares us this much? A place stripped of purpose, devoid of people, that should feel safe but instead feels haunted. Backrooms understands that the absence of meaning is more terrifying than any monster.

Now to what it’s actually about. The central question of this film is: how do you break out of victimhood? The movie does not quietly insist on its answer. It terrifyingly insists that no one can help you but yourself. People in victimhood often do not even want out. That is a culturally enormous idea for a 20-year-old to channel and I couldn’t help but wonder…did it land because this message has to land right now? The conscious collective is asking this exact question, so many people are doing the hard work of waking up to it and Kane just made a horror movie of it. Backrooms is anxiety chic, heart pounding, wonder, awe, horror and somehow very funny. The world itself is addicting. You are always wondering what is next. And it is a little terrifying how addictive it is, because that is exactly how we are with our own thoughts. The scariest, most horrific place in the world is actually our own minds. My theory on why the rooms keep changing is this: we build boundaries and walls in our own heads and then live behind them in real life, and they shift constantly with what we are thinking. Things in there get misremembered as improvements on the originals. That might be the most haunting concept in the whole film. This is the kind of psychological smart horror I have been hungry for since Heretic and I think A24 has another big franchise on their hands if they want to continue this mythology on the big screen.

Kane is sharp, self-aware, and meticulous. He knows his world the way Scorsese knows New York. You can tell exactly why every department head trusted him at 20 years old.

Chiwetel was blown away working with him. As a director himself, he loves working with directors who know exactly where they are going, and Kane absolutely does. Renate gives one of the most quietly devastating performances of the year, and this is her first horror film ever. The parallel between sentimental value, and her character’s relationship to home in this one is doing something nobody is talking about yet.

Aesthetics, theme, performance, world-building. it is all there. But think it could have gone a half-step deeper into the philosophical undertow. Nevertheless, still a masterful production. A24 has a franchise on their hands. and I cannot wait to see what comes out of Kane Parsons brain next.

Video – New films today are pitch perfect with very little film grain present. Colors are strikingly rich especially the predominant “yellow” color of the walls.

Sound – With Edo’s mystical score and the haunting sound effects, this soundtrack is very interesting. The sound field is very active especially the surrounds. Plenty of LFE low level activity as the bass will shake your room.

VIDEO ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️(out of five)

SOUND ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

MOVIE ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

OVERALL ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Starring: Will Forte, Lana Condor and John Cena
Directed by: Dave Green
Rated: PG
Running Time: 103 minutes
Ketchup Entertainment

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

It’s kind of wild that there have been fewer than half a dozen original Looney Tunes feature films. Even stranger is that one of them almost became a movie nobody was allowed to see. Warner Bros. famously shelved “Coyote vs. Acme” (and other films I want to see) as part of a tax write-off before backlash eventually helped the film find a new home with Ketchup Entertainment. That’s an especially ironic fate for a movie about a beloved cartoon character taking on the giant corporation that has spent decades selling him defective products. So, after everything it took to get here, should “Coyote vs. Acme” have been given life?

“Coyote vs. Acme” is simple enough. After decades of failed attempts to catch the Road Runner with equally failed Acme products, Wile E. Coyote hatches his first live-action plan to catch his edible nemesis: hire a lawyer. Coyote heads to Albuquerque (I guess the Road Runner/Coyote hijinks have been happening in New Mexico all this time?) to hire TV and billboard lawyer Kevin Avery (Will Forte), known for securing chump-change settlements for cartoons harmed or maimed by Acme products. Coyote is dreaming bigger. As possibly the single greatest victim of Acme’s questionable quality control, he wants a high-profile lawsuit against the company responsible for decades of rockets, dynamite, giant magnets, spring-loaded contraptions and countless other catastrophes. It’s the Looney Tunes equivalent of David vs. Goliath.

We quickly learn that Acme is like any contemporary conglomerate. It produces smartphones, energy, toiletries, makeup, food and, of course, rocket skates. Everyone, from Coyote to Avery to the average person walking around this “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”-esque world, seems to know the company is terrible. It’s obviously involved in illegal activities, has politicians in its pocket and doesn’t appear to have anyone’s best interests at heart. That’s why, despite all the cartoon hijinks, the ideas behind “Coyote vs. Acme” feel surprisingly pertinent. A massive corporation can screw over the little guy repeatedly, and eventually that little guy may wonder if getting flattened by an anvil was actually his fault.

Avery understands that frustration. He aspires to be a great lawyer, but believes the system has never given him much of a chance to prove it. Coyote has spent his life believing the Acme system is similarly rigged against him. Their mutual frustration gradually turns them from attorney and client into two lovable losers who recognize something of themselves in each other. It’s also why Forte is such perfect casting. He can play off absurdity like a classically trained clown while somehow eliciting genuine sympathy for a loser. That’s an essential skill when your primary scene partner is an animated coyote who doesn’t talk.

John Cena similarly understands the assignment as Acme’s attorney. He has terrific comedic timing and plays the increasingly ridiculous proceedings with almost complete sincerity. At times, it feels like Forte, Cena and the other human actors were handed a serious courtroom drama script and nobody bothered to tell them their clients were Saturday morning cartoons. Lana Condor is unfortunately given less to work with as Avery’s legal assistant, functioning too often as the character responsible for pushing everyone toward whatever the plot needs to do next.

Thankfully, not everything is serious. God no. Coyote continues finding increasingly terrible ways to use Acme products. The writers pepper the movie with clever one-liners, wordplay and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sight gags. Anyone who grew up watching Looney Tunes is also rewarded with appearances and twists involving Tweety Bird, Sylvester, Taz, Foghorn Leghorn and others.

That nostalgia generally works because “Coyote vs. Acme” understands the characters rather than simply parading them across the screen for recognition. The cartoon physics remain intact even when the characters enter the human world. Coyote can still endure physical trauma that would reduce Will Forte to a fine red mist, shake it off and move on to his next terrible idea. But that creates one of the film’s biggest problems.

Looney Tunes cartoons never really needed consequences. Wile E. Coyote can fall off a cliff because his failure is the punchline. A 103-minute feature needs character arcs, escalating stakes, emotional investment and some reason to care about what happens when the credits roll. “Coyote vs. Acme” mostly succeeds at stretching that formula to feature length, but you can occasionally feel it stretching. The movie runs a little too long, sometimes treats its central conflict more seriously than necessary and struggles to convince us there are genuinely dire consequences awaiting characters who have spent generations surviving explosions, falls and industrial accidents.

Some of its humor also assumes familiarity with characters whose cultural ubiquity isn’t what it was 33 years ago when I was plopped in front of a TV. Younger viewers can certainly enjoy the cartoon mayhem, but longtime Looney Tunes fans are going to get substantially more out of the references, cameos and twists on familiar characters.

Still, the nostalgia and social satire make “Coyote vs. Acme” refreshing. It doesn’t merely ask us to remember loving these characters as children. It takes the ridiculous logic we accepted as kids and filters it through adult frustrations involving corporations, lawyers, bureaucracy and the uncomfortable realization that maybe the company selling you defective rocket skates bears some responsibility for the resulting crater. And then reality made the joke even better.

Wile E. Coyote spends “Coyote vs. Acme” fighting a giant corporation that decided he was disposable. Then “Coyote vs. Acme” had to survive a giant corporation that decided it was disposable. After everything Warner Bros., Acme and the laws of physics have thrown at him over the past 75 years, somehow the Coyote survived again.

Starring: Paul Walker, Vin Diesel and Michelle Rodriguez
Directed by: Rob Cohen
Rated: PG-13
Running Time: 107 minutes
Universal Pictures

Film Score: 4 out of 5 Stars
4K Score: 5 out of 5 Stars

I still remember where I was when I first watched 2001’s “The Fast and the Furious.” It’s not necessarily because the movie is iconic. It’s because when you’re on a four-hour class trip to St. Louis in an era before smartphones or even portable DVD players, you watch whatever movie they put on the bus. One for the girls, “Legally Blonde,” and one for the boys, the aforementioned film. For an impressionable teenager who couldn’t even drive yet, it left an impression. 25 years later, it still does.

If you’ve only watched the franchise films released over the past decade, you might be surprised by just how different the original “The Fast and the Furious” is. LAPD Officer Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker) goes undercover to investigate a heist crew using modified Honda Civics to hijack trucks. It’s there he meets Dom (Vin Diesel), Letty (Michelle Rodriguez), Mia (Jordana Brewster) and others who would eventually become staples of the franchise.

The evolution of the series is bizarre. Watching the original today almost feels like watching an entirely different franchise. It’s a gritty action film that owes more to “Point Break” than the globe-trotting blockbusters that followed, but instead of breaking waves, speed limits are obliterated and cars are nearly demolished in some breathtaking stunts that still hold up in 2026. The modern films are bloated with CGI, speeches about family and increasingly absurd action sequences, almost becoming parodies of their former selves. That being said, I still highly enjoy the franchise for what it has become.

What makes “The Fast and the Furious” special 25 years later is how increasingly rare this kind of car movie feels. Films like 2003’s “The Italian Job” and Edgar Wright’s “Baby Driver” have captured some of that same thrill, where the cars aren’t simply transportation between action scenes—they’re integral to the action itself. There’s something tangible about watching these machines speed through streets, scrape against pavement and occasionally get completely destroyed.

That’s what elevates “The Fast and the Furious” to near-classic status for me. Studios don’t seem nearly as willing to take chances on relatively grounded car-action movies like this anymore. Maybe someday the genre will come roaring back. Until then, “The Fast and the Furious” remains a fascinating reminder of what this franchise used to be.

4K Review

EW 4K Master of the Film

Dolby Vision/HDR Presentation of the Film

Dolby Atmos Audio Track

Riding a Legacy: 25 Years of Fast: Cast and crew reflect on the past two and a half decades.

Deleted Scenes: There are about nine deleted and extended scenes in this feature.

The Making of “The Fast and the Furious”: Cast and crew discuss the making of this film.

More Than Furious: An alternate ending.

Hot Off the Street: Extra scenes.

Dom’s Charger: A look at Dom’s Charger featured in the film.

Quarter Mile at a Time: A historic look at street racing.

Tricking Out a Hot Import Car: A technical advisor on the film discusses cars.

Multiple Camera Angle – Stunt Sequence

Movie Magic Interactive – Special Effects

Featurette on Editing for the MPAA

Visual Effects Montage

Storyboard-to-Final Feature Comparison

Ja Rule “Furious” Music Video

Speed News Wrap

Feature Audio Commentary with Director Rob Cohen