Fuente

https://youtube.com/shorts/siUd2DO8r6U?si=vxPwo-I3exAxZrch

They Will Kill You is exactly the kind of movie where whoever came up with the setup was having a lot of Tarantino and Kill Bill in their minds because turning a Manhattan high rise into a satanic playground for immortality obsessed cultists is the kind of idea you either fully commit to or completely waste, and this one commits, well the pig was hilarious and ridiculous at the same time with some mind blowing ideas like writting your name on its skin and then you are immortal. Asia Reaves is out of prison and hunting for her missing sister Maria, she lands a housekeeping gig at a building called The Virgil, and from the second the front doors lock behind her and superintendent Lilith Woodhouse is all over her ass, so you know this woman just walked into something she is absolutely not ready for. The building has been around since 1923 and what the residents have been running inside it since day one makes your average cult look like a book club, they even say that immortality gets boring so they got to live to the max no hold back, we are talking immortality through human sacrifice, names kept on a list, a community of people who have been giving up souls so they never have to die and the movie goes hard into all of it without any other idea in mind, you are watching a full on horror gory comedy where the blood budget was clearly not a concern for anybody, gallons from the start.

• IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt31728330/
• Platform: PRIME VIDEO

Zazie Beetz is the engine that keeps this whole machine from flying apart, because the movie throws an insane amount of chaos at Asia and Beetz just eats all of it without flinching, you buy her completely as someone who spent a decade in prison and came out knowing exactly how to hurt people, just look at how she is packing right from the start and the way she moves through the fight scenes feels less like movie choreography and more like someone who has spent years surviving environments where violence was just Tuesday. The supporting cast is having an absolute blast been just that a supporting cast because there is noone on this movie that can get a hold of Asia if its not through numbers. Heather Graham goes full unhinged that is going to make you laugh out loud at least more than twice and Patricia Arquette as Lilith Woodhouse is exactly the kind of villain energy this movie needed because she plays the whole thing with this calm sinister authority that makes her terrifying even when she is just standing in a hallway doing nothing. The practical effects are cool and hilarious just as I like them, there is this sequence where Asia wraps a rag around an axe to make a torch in the dark dining room that looked so good because they just keep coming at her and all you see is her face light up and then two seconds later someone is reattaching their own limbs and when they did that the first time I thought they were vampires. David Howard Thornton does not get enough credit here either because his presence adds a lot of lets call it theatrical insanity that fits the movie perfectly, and the scene where Asia deals with Kevin after decapitating him and the guy just keeps walking around holding his own head was a hold up moment, wait a minute, tf is going on, again this is just so Kill Bill but with that ridiculous touch instead of dramatic cinematic style.

Now, I have to be real because if I gave Hokum a 6.5 I have to do the same with this one because not everything is golden here, there is a moment where the joke gets old, the middle section drags and its frustrating, the movie spends too much time on the backstory of Ray Woodhouse and his history with Lilith going back a hundred years when it should have been using that time to show us more of the building, almost like they just gave us the text pages and no pictures, because they set up these different floors dedicated to different vices and then just completely abandon the idea like they forgot they mentioned it. The sex floor gets a passing reference and then nothing, no exploration, just this sugarcoted concept that disappears and for a movie this committed to chaos that felt like a real missed opportunity because I was expecting for other levels to be worst. Some of the kills start to feel repetitive once you realize none of these jerks stay dead and they can just put themselves back together indefinitely and what starts as a cool idea becomes a pacing problem because their is no way out and stop feeling real when every enemy you chop up just reassembles and comes right back at you. The moment where the cult signs names on a pig head contract to maintain their immortality crosses a line from dark comedy into something that almost feels like self parody, also there were not enough space and names on that pig head compare to the crew they were rolling with at the building, and there are scenes in the second half where the movie seems unsure if it wants to be Evil Dead or something more grounded and that indecision costs it some momentum right when it needs to keep pushing forward.

At the end I actually didnt took it as a horror movie but more like those movies where the protagonist had this infinite luck that made every situation survivable no matter how ridiculous and the issue with that is you stop feeling any real danger for Asia even when the situation is clearly insane because she is just too capable at all times and the movie never makes you actually worried she is going to lose, they never going to kill her, her sister die for a min and Asia was still kicking. There is a flashback with the sisters at a convenience store that is supposed to add some emotional weight and remind you why Asia fought her way through all of this and the moment hits good enough at first but then the movie pivots straight back into the pig head madness before it has time to stick so the emotional scenes feel thin because they do not get enough room to breathe between the gory sequences. The thing about movies like this is they work best when you are completely in the moment and the comedy and horror are hitting at the same rhythm, but there are parts of the movie where They Will Kill You loses that balance and you feel like they were seperate moments that do not belong to the same story, particularly in the second half when it becomes clear the script was more interested in escalating the spectacle than figuring out how to land the story with any kind of satisfaction of the hero making it out of there with her syster.

#theywillkillyou, #horrormovie, #actioncomedy, #zaziebeetz, #sataniccult, #highrisehorror, #gore, #practicaleffects, #killbillstyle, #newrelease, #cultclassic, #pigmask, #decapitation, #indiehorror, #stuntwork, #moviebuff, #scarymovies, #thriller, #supernatural, #cinematography, #horrorfan, #review, #immortality, #finalboss, #fightscenes

Posted Using INLEO

Twilight Zone: The Movie remains one of the most fascinating anthology films ever made. It successfully brought Rod Serling’s legendary television series to the big screen while giving four talented directors the opportunity to put their own stamp on classic Twilight Zone storytelling. Unfortunately, it is also forever remembered because of a tragedy during production that changed Hollywood safety standards forever.

Released in 1983, Twilight Zone: The Movie was produced by Steven Spielberg and John Landis. Like the original television series, the movie is divided into separate stories, each exploring strange situations, moral lessons, fantasy, horror, or science fiction themes. The anthology format worked perfectly because The Twilight Zone had always been about taking ordinary people and placing them into extraordinary circumstances.

The first segment was directed by John Landis and starred Vic Morrow as Bill Connor, a racist and deeply prejudiced man. After expressing his hateful views in a bar, Connor suddenly finds himself transported through various periods of history where he becomes the victim of the same hatred he once directed at others. He experiences persecution as a Jewish man in Nazi-occupied Europe, as a Black man facing the Ku Klux Klan, and as a Vietnamese civilian during the Vietnam War.

Landis’s segment is darker and more serious than the others. It attempts to use fantasy and irony to teach a moral lesson in classic Twilight Zone fashion. Vic Morrow gives a strong performance as a deeply flawed man who is forced to confront the consequences of his own prejudice. Sadly, this segment is forever linked to the fatal accident that claimed the lives of Morrow and child actors Myca Dinh Le and Renee Shin-Yi Chen during production.

The tragedy occurred during the Vietnam sequence. A helicopter filming the scene crashed after special effects explosions caused catastrophic damage to the aircraft. The deaths led to years of legal battles and public scrutiny. More importantly, the accident resulted in major changes involving stunt work, special effects safety, helicopter operations, and child labor regulations. Many of the safety practices used on film sets today can trace their origins back to lessons learned from this heartbreaking event.

The second segment, Kick the Can, was directed by Steven Spielberg. This story stars Scatman Crothers as Mr. Bloom, an elderly man living in a retirement home. Bloom introduces the residents to the idea that youth is a state of mind and encourages them to reconnect with the joy and imagination they once possessed as children.

Unlike the darker stories surrounding it, Spielberg’s segment is warm, sentimental, and optimistic. The cast includes Scatman Crothers, who brings tremendous charm and heart to the role, along with Helen Shaw, Bill Quinn, and several veteran character actors. Spielberg fills the segment with the same sense of wonder that appeared in films like E.T. While some viewers feel it runs a bit long, it captures the hopeful side of The Twilight Zone and provides a nice emotional break from the more intense stories.

The third segment, It’s a Good Life, was directed by Joe Dante. This story is a remake of one of the most famous episodes from the original television series. Kathleen Quinlan stars as Helen Foley, a schoolteacher who becomes trapped inside the bizarre household of a young boy named Anthony, played by Jeremy Licht.

Anthony possesses godlike powers and can alter reality however he chooses. Because everyone around him fears his abilities, they constantly pretend to be happy no matter how strange or terrifying his actions become. Nancy Cartwright, best known as the future voice of Bart Simpson, plays Anthony’s sister, while Kevin McCarthy appears as her father.

Joe Dante was the perfect choice for this material. Known for combining horror, fantasy, and dark comedy, Dante creates some of the movie’s most imaginative visuals. The segment feels like a live-action cartoon at times, featuring bizarre creatures, impossible transformations, and surreal imagery. It captures the unsettling feeling of the original episode while expanding it with bigger special effects and a more playful visual style.

The final segment, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet, was directed by George Miller. Miller had already impressed audiences with Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior, and he brought tremendous energy and visual skill to the film. The segment stars John Lithgow as John Valentine, a nervous airline passenger who believes he sees a monstrous creature on the wing of his airplane during a storm.

Lithgow absolutely carries the story. His performance is intense, paranoid, funny, and sympathetic all at once. The audience constantly questions whether he is actually seeing the creature or suffering a mental breakdown. The confined setting inside the aircraft creates enormous tension, and Miller’s direction keeps the suspense building throughout the segment.

Richard Matheson, who wrote the original television episode, adapted the screenplay himself. Fans often compare Lithgow’s performance to William Shatner’s famous portrayal in the television version. Rather than imitate Shatner, Lithgow creates his own interpretation, making the character even more frantic and emotionally unstable. The result is one of the strongest and most memorable portions of the entire movie.

The film concludes with a brief wraparound sequence featuring Dan Aykroyd and Albert Brooks. Their opening scene has become iconic among horror fans and delivers one of the movie’s most memorable surprises. Though short, the sequence effectively sets the tone for the strange and unpredictable stories that follow.

What makes Twilight Zone: The Movie so interesting is that it feels like four very different films sharing the same title. Landis delivers a morality tale, Spielberg offers sentimental fantasy, Dante embraces bizarre dark comedy, and Miller crafts a suspenseful horror thriller. Each director brings a unique style while remaining connected to the themes that Rod Serling made famous decades earlier.

As a film, Twilight Zone: The Movie isn’t perfect. Some segments work better than others, and viewers often disagree about which stories are strongest. Yet that variety is part of its appeal. There is something here for almost every fan of fantasy, science fiction, horror, or classic storytelling.

Today, the movie remains a fascinating tribute to one of television’s greatest series. It features excellent performances from Vic Morrow, Scatman Crothers, Kathleen Quinlan, Jeremy Licht, Kevin McCarthy, Dan Aykroyd, Albert Brooks, and especially John Lithgow. The contributions of John Landis, Steven Spielberg, Joe Dante, and George Miller give the film an impressive creative pedigree that few anthology movies can match.

While the tragic deaths of Vic Morrow, Myca Dinh Le, and Renee Shin-Yi Chen will always be part of the film’s legacy, Twilight Zone: The Movie also deserves recognition for its ambitious storytelling, talented cast, and creative filmmaking. It stands as both an entertaining anthology and an important piece of Hollywood history, remembered for its memorable stories and for the lasting changes it inspired throughout the film industry.

The Red Woman (S6x01)

Airdate: 24 April 2016

Written by: David Benioff & D.B. Weiss Directed by: Jeremy Podeswa

Running Time: 50 minutes

By the time the fifth season of Game of Thrones had concluded, it was evident that showrunners David Benioff and D. B. Weiss were sailing through uncharted and increasingly perilous waters. The series had begun to seriously run out of its literary source in George R. R. Martin’s notoriously unfinished series of novels. While some plot threads and characters from the published works remained to be addressed, the creative team was, by this juncture, left to mainly make it up as they went along. That newfound narrative freedom, at its best, produced moments of thrilling television; at its worst, it led to contrived plotting and character assassination of a different kind. The Red Woman, the premiere of Season Six, is a notable and deeply emblematic example of this precarious phase—an episode that manages to be structurally solid yet simultaneously highlights the alarming creative cracks beginning to fissure the grand edifice of the show.

The episode’s most immediate success, and the primary engine for its record-breaking ratings, was its exploitation of the neat, if all-too-obvious, cliffhanger that closed Season Five: the assassination and apparent death of Jon Snow. The consequences of that event meticulously frame the entire episode, from its chilling opening to its melancholic close. It begins with the grim, pragmatic horror of Ser Davos Seaworth discovering Jon’s bloodied corpse in the snow and, with the help of the loyal Eddison Tollett, transporting it to a storeroom. Edd and the handful of loyalists swear revenge, while Ser Alliser Thorne and his conspirators attempt to woo the rest of the Night’s Watch by justifying their treacherous act with rhetoric echoing Brutus and the murder of Julius Caesar. Barricaded inside, Davos—a political survivor, not a warrior—has no inclination to surrender to Thorne’s offered mercy, understanding its hollow nature. The most significant development in this strand, however, belongs to Melisandre. Her faith in her own prophetic abilities is visibly, devastatingly shaken by Jon’s death, which directly contradicted her vision of him fighting amidst the flames of Winterfell. This crisis of belief culminates in the episode’s final, haunting image: removing her enchanted choker, she reveals herself not as the imperious, youthful priestess, but as a grotesquely ancient woman, her body frail and withered.

Elsewhere, the episode briskly addresses another cliffhanger from the previous season’s finale. Theon and Sansa’s desperate leap from Winterfell’s walls is revealed to have been survived by a fortuitous landing in a deep snowdrift. Their respite is brief, as they are mercilessly hunted by Ramsay Bolton’s men and hounds. Ramsay’s motivation here is presented with a sliver of complexity: he is genuinely angered by the death of his favourite concubine, Myranda, yet is equally, if not more, concerned that his father Roose might disinherit him if he fails to recapture his politically vital wife, Sansa. The duo is eventually run to ground, only to be rescued in an opportune, albeit slightly convenient, moment by Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne. The ensuing action scene is visceral and realistically messy, with Podrick’s clumsy but determined efforts perfectly illustrating a less-skilled fighter alongside a knight of Brienne’s calibre. Her subsequent oath of fealty to Sansa Stark provides one of the episode’s few unambiguously satisfying beats, a long-awaited fulfilment of a narrative promise.

In King’s Landing, the mood is one of grim aftermath. Cersei Lannister’s anticipation of a reunion with her daughter Myrcella curdles into devastating heartbreak as Jaime returns with the girl’s corpse, revealing her poisoning at the hands of the Sand Snakes. The parallel storyline sees Queen Margaery still languishing in a cell within the Great Sept of Baelor, where the High Sparrow continues his soft-spoken but relentless campaign to break her spirit and extract a confession. These scenes are functional, serving to establish the season’s stakes in the capital, but they lack the political intricacy that once defined the show’s treatment of the Red Keep.

It is in Dorne, however, where The Red Woman commits what many viewers, particularly fans of the novels, would consider its most egregious sin. The potentially catastrophic political consequences of Myrcella’s murder are rendered moot in the most absurdly simplistic fashion. Ellaria Sand and Tyene simply assassinate Prince Doran Martell—one of the realm’s most cautious and formidable political players—along with his bodyguard Areo Hotah and the maester, seizing power in a bloody coup. The last loose end, Doran’s son Trystane, is disposed of with laughable ease by Obara and Nymeria Sand, who are revealed to have been conveniently hiding aboard his ship in King’s Landing’s harbour all along. This entire sequence reduces one of the Seven Kingdoms’ most fascinating and distinct regions to a mere garden palace, dispatches a deeply strategic character with bewildering abruptness, and introduces glaring continuity errors.

Across the Narrow Sea, the episode diligently sets up the season’s arcs in Essos. In Meereen, Varys and Tyrion confront a deteriorating situation in Daenerys’s absence, with support waning even among the freed slaves. The threat is made spectacularly clear when the Sons of the Harpy burn the vast fleet Daenerys had planned to use for the invasion of Westeros. Meanwhile, Daario Naharis and Jorah Mormont track Daenerys to the Dothraki Sea, only to discover she has been captured by a khalasar led by Khal Moro (Joe Naufahu). In a scene that emphasises the cyclical nature of her journey, Daenerys finds herself once again at the mercy of Dothraki tradition. Despite her status as the widow of the great Khal Drogo, Moro—while showing her a degree of respect—inviolably upholds the custom that all widowed khaleesis must spend their remaining days in the sacred city of Vaes Dothrak, effectively making her a prisoner once more.

In Braavos, Arya Stark’s punishing apprenticeship with the Faceless Men continues. Now blind as a consequence of her disobedience, she is forced to beg on the streets, periodically beaten by the Waif in a cruel regimen designed to break down her identity. It is a bleak, punishing thread, its purpose clear but its execution feeling somewhat like narrative marking time.

Directed by Jeremy Podeswa, The Red Woman is, on a technical level, a solid piece of television. It is competently paced, looks superb, and features several strong performances, particularly from Liam Cunningham and Carice van Houten. Yet, solidity is not what the fandom craved at this precipice. The episode does little to allay the growing fears regarding the series’ declining quality in its post-source-material era. It continues storylines, provides new cliffhangers, and contains individual elements of excellence, but it is also riddled with abysmal missteps. In their attempt to steer the saga without Martin’s detailed charts, Benioff and Weiss make serious errors of judgement that, in some cases, paint them into narrative corners from which they would struggle to escape.

The episode’s good elements, as noted, are worth commending. The rescue of Sansa and Theon is a standout action sequence, notable for its grounded chaos. The continued shading of Ramsay Bolton, showing him capable of a flicker of genuine sorrow for Myranda before callously ordering her body fed to the dogs as “good meat,” adds a sliver of disturbing complexity to the show’s primary monster. Most memorable, of course, is the revelation of Melisandre’s true form. It is a masterful piece of visual storytelling and a brave subversion. After years of the show arguably providing fan service by featuring van Houten in a state of undress at every opportunity, the showrunners seemingly offered a stark atonement: replacing that image with one designed to haunt the viewer—a grotesquely ancient, naked crone. The combination of heavy makeup on van Houten’s face and a digitally imposed senior body is unsettlingly effective. The scene’s conclusion, with this ancient woman covering herself with a blanket as she retreats to bed, injects a sudden, surprising pang of humanity and sympathy into her character.

Furthermore, the episode should be commended for its narrative restraint regarding Jon Snow. It resists the easiest route of revealing his wounds to be superficial or resurrecting him immediately. For the entire hour, he remains unequivocally dead, forcing the narrative to briefly grapple with the tangible consequences of his loss, a gravity that is often missing from later revivals in popular culture.

Yet, for these merits, the episode’s failures are more notable and far more damaging to the long-term integrity of the story. The first, and perhaps most fundamental, is the lack of a coherent justification for Jon Snow’s assassination itself. Ser Alliser Thorne’s passionate speech to the Night’s Watch, though well-delivered by Owen Teale, cannot mask the staggering illogic of the act. Beyond an irrational, longstanding hatred of the Wildlings, the conspiracy makes no strategic sense. Jon Snow was the Lord Commander, a proven fighter, and the primary figure holding the Wall against the existential threat of the White Walkers. Murdering him on the eve of that war is not merely treacherous; it is suicidally stupid. The show asks us to believe that seasoned men like Thorne would prioritise petty prejudice over the survival of the realm, a characterisation that feels shallow and plot-driven.

However, the Dorne subplot represents an even greater creative failure, one that arguably infuriated the novel-reading contingent more than any other. The coup is not just simplistic; it is narratively bankrupt. Prince Doran Martell, a character of immense patience, hidden strength, and complex political machinations in the books, is reduced to a feeble, passive figure who is dispatched in seconds. His entire house is wiped out with barely a whimper, reducing Dorne’s rich history and political independence to a footnote. The logistical nonsense of the Sand Snakes’ travel—simultaneously in Dorne to murder Doran and on Trystane’s ship in King’s Landing—is a glaring continuity error that speaks to a shocking carelessness. It suggests that the writers viewed Dorne not as an integral part of the world, but as a messy plot thread to be severed as quickly and as bloodily as possible, regardless of sense or source fidelity.

The Red Woman serves as a perfect microcosm of Game of Thrones in its sixth season: handsomely produced, occasionally brilliant, but fundamentally unstable. It showcases the show’s enduring ability to deliver powerful character moments and stunning visuals, while simultaneously exposing the hollowness that can creep in when intricate, character-driven plotting is replaced by the necessity to simply "move the pieces" towards a predetermined end. It is the work of capable filmmakers pushing through without their primary navigator, and the strain, even in this ostensibly solid premiere, is already visibly showing.

RATING: 5/10 (++)

==

Blog in Croatian https://draxblog.com Blog in English https://draxreview.wordpress.com/ InLeo blog https://inleo.io/@drax.leo Substack https://draxster.substack.com

LeoDex: https://leodex.io/?ref=drax InLeo: https://inleo.io/signup?referral=drax.leo Hiveonboard: https://hiveonboard.com?ref=drax Rising Star game: https://www.risingstargame.com?referrer=drax 1Inch: https://1inch.exchange/#/r/0x83823d8CCB74F828148258BB4457642124b1328e

BTC donations: 1EWxiMiP6iiG9rger3NuUSd6HByaxQWafG ETH donations: 0xB305F144323b99e6f8b1d66f5D7DE78B498C32A7 BCH donations: qpvxw0jax79lhmvlgcldkzpqanf03r9cjv8y6gtmk9

Here is the movie trailer:

All the best.

By: Nattosheru.

Posted Using INLEO

Source

Source

Source

Prime Video

Source

I remember reading a post about Hokum last year and people were going wild for this one with Damian McCarthy directing after hits like Caveat and Oddity, love those too. I was already paying attention to it specially when they trow Adam Scoot into it, but not everything is pink and rainbows on this story, its not bad but its not an 8/10, it drags a lot and the witch didnt generate enough chaos, it was more like a executioner instead of the one harrasing characters. McCarthy has been quietly building this reputation as one of the most interesting directors in Irish horror and Hokum feels like the moment where everything he has been practicing with his smaller work finally clicks into something really sharp and confident. You are immediately dropped into the life of Ohm Bauman, this American novelist played by Scott, who is just about the most unpleasant man you could imagine sharing a hotel lobby with, I hated the guy the moment he start opening his mouth and I mean that as a real compliment to both the writing and the performance. He shows up at this small hotel tucked away somewhere in Ireland, to scatter the ashes of his dead parents near a massive redwood tree in the surrounding woods and from the literal second he steps through the front door he treats every single person around him like they are furniture and like everyone owes him. He will not sign a book for the guy checking him in, he looks over the shoulder at the staff, he drinks heavily and the guy is cold AF when a bellboy named Alby excitedly asks him to look at his manuscript, Ohm heats up a spoon over a candle and burns the poor guy on the hand just to get him to leave. That tells you everything you need to know about who this person is in about 15 minutes flat into the story and the movie earns enormous credit for making you sit with someone this toxic without ever walking away from it, honestly even during the moments it drag I never felt like fast forward or looking at something else, reason why I think its not so bad.

• IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt35672862/
• Platform: PRIME VIDEO

McCarthy is great at is building dread through very specific physical details and practical problem solving and Hokum is probably the cleanest version of that skill he has shown so far. The whole story at the Bilberry Woods Hotel is so well constructed, you have got the wheelchair bound owner Cob who casually mentions he once trapped a witch inside the locked honeymoon suite upstairs, you have got Fergal who is weird and suspicious, and then there is Mal, the front desk clerk who also happens to be Cob son in law so from the start the entire hotel is fishy, also Mal carries this nervous energy. There is also this guy Jerry, living out of a van in the woods and drinking goat milk mix with mushrooms that gets him high as kite wanting to look at his own reflection, but still seems like the only person Ohm treats with a little bit of respect, he is just totally different with this guy than the rest of the guys at the hotel and then the bartender Fiona, who ends up being the moral center of the whole thing because she is the one who actually saves Ohm when things get really dark. When Fiona goes missing around a Halloween party, Ohm feels responsible in a way that clearly cuts through all of this armor he is suppose to wear as protection against the world because thats how I see him, he is hurting and he just push people away to sink into his guilt and watching Adam Scott carry that guilt while also staying completely in character as this prick difficult man is some of the best work he has done. He never softens Ohm into someone easier to root for and yet somehow you are rooting for him anyway, which is not easy to pull off and I think people are going to underrate how good he is in this thing. The honeymoon suite itself is pretty good for a horror location although once he hits te bed everything changes it just becomes another room, rotting and untouched and absolutely disgusting in every corner, the sequence involving a small elevator hidden in the wall, a clock with a mechanical boy swinging a golf club and a very dark basement below is the kind of stuff that makes you lean forward because the movie creates a lot of tension by trying to manage time, the time it took the golf club boy to hit the button.

Now we come to the more realisc part of this blog post because the movie is not perfect and the section right in the middle where Ohm is recovering in the hospital after his lowest point drags hard and takes a lot from how this story started, this moment came out of no where, he decides to take his own life without much explanation, yes the movie shows he is hurting for his mother but at this point the movie has not reveal he was the one who accidentally shot his mom. The subplot involving Jerry and his backstory also gets a little confusing when the movie is trying to juggle it alongside everything else happening at the hotel, because there are a few situations where I lost the thread of what the movie wanted me to feel about him versus what I was actually feeling. The pacing in that part of the movie feels all over the place, like McCarthy knew exactly where he needed the story to go but was not quite sure how long to let certain scenes breathe before getting there, and for a movie that is this tight and controlled, those moments stand out more than they probably would in a messier movie, I mean this movie was very messy in that sense, where we dont know why Ohm hang himself, then was his mother trying to torment him or help him? its like all this questions are getting answer towards the end but at the same time during this moments turn the movie very confusing. The dream sequences involving Ohm traumatic childhood are doing a lot of heavy lifting in terms of explaining who he is and why he is so damaged, and while they are unsettling, especially the part involving this nightmare childrens television character named Jack the Jackass who looks like a very bizzar version of Bugs Bunny, I think one or two of those sequences could have been trimmed and the movie would still stand the same, I really though they were going to give more screen time to Jack considering it was shown through the trailers. The entire time felt like the movie was clearly holding something back for reasons that feel more structural than dramatic, like you can sense the chess pieces being moved rather than just watching things happen, but these are complaints I am making about a movie I enjoy, so take them for what they are worth, if you have gotten to this point you might be asking if I like the movie at all? the answer is yes.

Hokum really remind me of previous movies I have seen from McCarthy, for example Caveat which was an extremely contained physical space and he use it to generate almost unbearable tension through mechanical logic rather than cheap audio tricks. McCarthy is not interested in making you jump by throwing a loud noise at you, I think on Hokum this is very clear during the honeymoon room shots with Ohm, he is interested in making you sweat because you understand exactly how the trap works and you can see every possible way it could go wrong and the elevator sequence is the clearest expression of that. The clock trick, the chalk circle, the sound design as the witch moves through the dark clanking those shackles, all of it is constructed with this almost puzzle like precision that makes the horror feel earned building the atmosphere, its the classic saying of "painting the picture". Compared to Oddity, which I thought had tremendous atmosphere but sometimes let its interesting ideas run a little longer than they needed to not knowing when it was just enough and even felt like going in circles. Hokum is more disciplined and more satisfying as a complete experience if you put the dots together from start to finish, it feels like he learned the right lessons from that movie and applied them here. My biggest complain about the movie is the witch backstory where there is close to none, very little context to the witch story, but I wonder if there is a deeper meaning to it like on other movies, a clear example is Smile where the demon is menthal illness specifically the way Ohm relationship with his own guilt and the ghost of what happened with his parents keeps comming up with those disturbing visions, gives the movie a weight that feels satisfying but you have to think a bit much about it for it to work. That combination of craft and actual feeling is rare and I do not think enough people are going to give this one the credit it deserves.

#hokum, #adamscott, #horror, #movie, #review, #irish, #folklore, #witch, #basement, #mystery, #thriller, #dumbwaiter, #creepy, #inn, #hotel, #haunted, #ghost, #hallucination, #trauma, #grief, #scary, #suspense, #dark, #cinematography, #atmosphere

Posted Using INLEO

In the horror cinema, the problem of resurrecting a seemingly deceased franchise icon is a familiar one. In 1931, Universal’s classic Frankenstein concluded with the Monster apparently perishing in a burning windmill, only for the studio to devise an ingenious—if contrived—escape for his return in 1935’s The Bride of Frankenstein. Two and a half decades later, Britain’s Hammer Film Productions faced a remarkably similar narrative quandary. Their 1957 smash hit, The Curse of Frankenstein had concluded with its ruthlessly ambitious protagonist, Baron Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing), awaiting execution for murder, his fantastical tale of creation dismissed as the ravings of a madman. For Hammer, the commercial imperative for a sequel was clear, but the creative challenge was how to plausibly spring the Baron from the guillotine. The resulting film, 1958’s The Revenge of Frankenstein, reuniting Cushing with screenwriter Jimmy Sangster and director Terence Fisher, provides a convenient if not entirely convincing solution, launching a second chapter that is both a testament to Hammer’s burgeoning house style and a film hampered by the rushed circumstances of its production.

The Revenge of Frankenstein opens with titles placing the action in 1860, immediately establishing a curious retcon. Where the first film’s epilogue suggested Frankenstein’s story was disbelieved, here we are told his exploits and the existence of his Monster have become a source of Europe-wide infamy. The Baron’s execution is a public event met with a sigh of relief. Yet, as the blade falls, it is not Frankenstein who is decapitated but a complicit priest (Alex Gallier), in a plan orchestrated by the Baron’s hunchbacked servant, Karl (Oscar Quitak). The escape is executed with a swift, almost perfunctory efficiency that prioritises getting the plot moving over narrative elegance. It is a functional, rather than inspired, piece of screenwriting—a necessary evil to return Cushing’s magnetic villain to the centre of the action.

Having cheated death, Frankenstein resurfaces in the city of Karlsbrück under the alias “Dr. Victor Stein”. He establishes a hugely successful medical practice, cynically catering to the wealthy while operating a free clinic for the poor to cultivate a benevolent reputation. His methods baffle and irritate the local medical council, whose delegation to his hospital includes the young, ambitious Dr. Hans Kleve (Francis Matthews). Kleve alone recognises Stein as the infamous Frankenstein and, in a pivotal scene, reveals himself as a fanatical admirer, begging to become the Baron’s pupil. This dynamic injects a fresh energy into the formula; where Frankenstein previously worked in isolated obsession, he now has a devotee. Together, they embark on a new project: creating a perfect body for Karl, who willingly donates his brain in hopes of a new life. The experiment initially seems a triumph, though an ominous precursor—a chimpanzee subject that, upon revival, cannibalised its mate—hints at latent savagery. The new creature (Michael Gwynn) is a tragic, articulate figure, a far cry from Christopher Lee’s mute, shambling Monster in the first film. However, when a well-meaning but foolish patient, Margaret Conrad (Eunice Gayson), releases him from his restraints, Karl’s idyllic new existence shatters. Confused, rejected, and increasingly violent, he escapes, unleashing a series of incidents that inevitably expose “Dr. Stein’s” true identity.

This plot hinges on a notable, and rather cavalier, disregard for continuity between the two films. As noted, Frankenstein’s tale shifts from being dismissed as lunacy to being accepted as widespread fact. This inconsistency can be directly attributed to the film’s rushed genesis. Producer Michael Carreras allowed Sangster a mere six weeks to deliver the script, a pressure that inevitably forced corners to be cut and logical through-lines to be simplified in favour of expedient set-up.

Despite this foundational wobble, The Revenge of Frankenstein mostly works, thanks largely to the assured hands of its core creative team. Terence Fisher, operating again on a limited budget, directs with a lean, confident efficiency that distinguishes the sequel from its predecessor. He moves the action from a gothic castle to a more urban, clinical environment, reflecting the Baron’s new, more socially integrated guise. The film’s greatest success is Michael Gwynn’s performance as the creature. An experienced stage actor, Gwynn brings a profound pathos and intelligence to the role, making Karl’s tragic fate—his consciousness trapped in a body that becomes a prison of its own—arguably more nuanced and memorable than Lee’s more iconic but less psychologically explored Monster. Fisher also maintains the series’ brief flashes of levity, notably through Lionel Jeffries’ scene-stealing turn as a garrulous, morally flexible gravedigger.

However, not all elements land effectively. The film dabbles in proto-slasher tropes when the disturbed Karl stumbles upon a young couple on a secluded street, resulting in the death of the girl (Avril Leslie). The scene feels tonally jarring, a crude intrusion of sudden violence that clashes with the film’s more measured gothic and tragic tones. Furthermore, the female lead is conspicuously wasted. Eunice Gayson, who would later find fame as James Bond’s first girlfriend, Sylvia Trench, is given the inconsequential role of Margaret Conrad. She serves neither as a romantic interest nor a meaningful damsel in distress; her function is purely plot-catalytic, a device to unleash the monster before receding into the background—a disappointing treatment for a capable actress.

In terms of content, the film’s reputation for causing contemporary critics to call for stricter censorship seems hyperbolic by modern standards. Even for the 1950s, The Revenge of Frankenstein is relatively tame. True to Hammer’s early approach, much of the violence occurs off-screen, and there is very little of the explicit gore that would later define the genre. The horror is more suggested through implication and the chilling amorality of Cushing’s Frankenstein.

Sangster and Fisher salvage a potentially routine monster-on-the-loose narrative with a clever double-twist near the climax. After his patients, enraged by his deception, nearly beat him to death, Frankenstein appears to meet his end. Yet, in a final act of arrogant triumph, it is revealed that Dr. Kleve has saved the Baron’s brain, transplanting it into a new body. The epilogue, set in a London surgery where Kleve assists a “Dr. Frank”, is brilliant. It not only provides a deliciously cynical punchline but also seamlessly bridges the film to future sequels, ensuring the Baron’s—and Hammer’s—line of unholy research could continue indefinitely.

The Revenge of Frankenstein is a sequel of pragmatic ingenuity rather than groundbreaking inspiration. Hamstrung by a rushed script that papers over continuity gaps, it nonetheless succeeds through Fisher’s solid direction, Cushing’s eternally compelling central performance, and a genuinely tragic turn from Michael Gwynn. It consolidates the Hammer formula established in The Curse of Frankenstein: colour, cynicism, and a focus on human evil over supernatural monstrosity. While it stumbles in its handling of female characters and occasional tonal missteps, its effective final twist ensures it remains a compelling and important link in the chain of one of British cinema’s most enduring horror series.

RATING: 5/10 (++)

==

Blog in Croatian https://draxblog.com Blog in English https://draxreview.wordpress.com/ InLeo blog https://inleo.io/@drax.leo Substack https://draxster.substack.com/

InLeo: https://inleo.io/signup?referral=drax.leo Leodex: https://leodex.io/?ref=drax Hiveonboard: https://hiveonboard.com?ref=drax Rising Star game: https://www.risingstargame.com?referrer=drax 1Inch: https://1inch.exchange/#/r/0x83823d8CCB74F828148258BB4457642124b1328e

BTC donations: 1EWxiMiP6iiG9rger3NuUSd6HByaxQWafG ETH donations: 0xB305F144323b99e6f8b1d66f5D7DE78B498C32A7 BCH donations: qpvxw0jax79lhmvlgcldkzpqanf03r9cjv8y6gtmk9

Source
After 4 years, following the release of the first season of Blood Sister in 2022, they finally released the second season in 2026. It was pretty interesting with an extension into the life of the two friends turned sisters, Sarah and Kemi. Season 2 focuses on their life in jail following the crime they committed in the first season and the false accusation they have to fight in court from the hands of the Ademolas family. They do not have to face only the consequences of their crime, but they have to struggle with their newfound life in jail with other inmates.

I have to say, if you are probably new to blood sisters, you would get to enjoy it more when you watch both seasons at a stretch, and you do not have to worry much about wondering what happened and who is who? For example, I totally forgot Daniel Effiong was in the first season when I watched the second season. Also, the relevance of some characters in the season left me with some unanswered questions. Was the lawyer also in the first season, or did she come in the second season? I think the lack of a quick recap before the start of season 2 would have been really helpful. Something like what was done with the fourth season of The Witcher when they brought in a new Geralt. Aside from this, the movie was on fire.

I got hooked on the second season right from the first episode because the movie's direction to explore and depict the inner workings of the Nigerian prison. Also, I have to add that they did not hold back in this aspect. They did so much to depict the prison system while doing their best not to invite trouble in their direction. The biggest shock for me was the portrayal of the bathing conditions for the women since it was a women's prison. Nothing will prepare you for what you will see or what will happen next. A good addition to the cast was Blessing and Warripikin because they killed the role they were given. Playing the gang leader in the prison brought a new kind of story to the movie, which made it more interesting and, at the same time, funny to watch. Nobody had an idea these actors were going to be so evil to Sarah and Kemi, the lead characters, hence the blood sisters. Imagine fighting for your life in prison and fighting for your innocence in court. That was the case for Kemi and Sarah.

Acting from Gabriel Afolayan, Kehinde Bankole, and Kate Henshaw gave me a spark, reminding me that the Ademolas are still a dysfunctional family with so many issues to resolve, but at this point in time, it is too late for them. Kate Henshaw remained the matriarch of the Ademola household, calling the shots and making her children's lives a living hell, while keeping Daniel Effiong as her boy toy. With this, you should get a glimpse of how messed up it was for such a family. Lastly, Uche Jumbo gave us a premium acting of what it means to be a mother, with how she went above and beyond for her daughter in this season. Coming from a place of negligence to the issue at hand in the first season, when her daughter complained to her about the kind of family she had gotten into, she became determined to protect her at all costs and make up for her past mistakes. It was a season packed with drama until I did not know it was over.

My Rating: 8/10

♟♟♟♟♟♟♟♟♟

Nordic noir was always destined to be imitated beyond Scandinavia's borders, and Poland—blessed with a sizeable population and thus a substantial domestic market for crime fiction—has emerged as one of the more prolific adopters of the genre. In recent years, the country best known to fantasy enthusiasts as the birthplace of The Witcher has witnessed something of a boom in crime fiction, first in literature and subsequently on screen. Among the televisual offerings is Signs (Znaki), a series that aired on the international AXN network from 2018 and was, until very recently, available on Netflix in its two-season entirety.

The drama unfolds in Sowie Doly, a fictional town nestled in the Owl Mountains—a wooded, remote region of southwestern Poland hard against the Czech frontier. The settlement is sufficiently minuscule that the protagonist, newly appointed police commander Michał Trela (Andrzej Konopka), is forced to lodge as a tenant on the property of Adriana Nieradka (Helena Sujecka), one of his own subordinates. Trela, whose transfer from Kraków was accompanied by whispers of a drink-sodden past, soon discovers that this ostensibly charming, sleepy hamlet conceals a wealth of dark secrets—including an unsolved murder of a young woman committed several years prior.

Trela must contend with a fresh killing in which one of the initial suspects is none other than Błażej Nieradki (Michał Czernecki), Adriana's husband, whom Trela had previously caught in flagrante in an affair with the murder victim. When a second death occurs, Trela realises he may be hunting a serial killer. Complicating matters further is Nina (Magdalena Żak), his adolescent daughter, who befriends Agata (Helena Englert), the "troubled" daughter of Antoni Paszke (Mirosław Kropielnicki), the town mayor. Paszke, meanwhile, is up to his neck in decidedly murky dealings surrounding the construction of a mine financed by shadowy foreign investors.

Signs in its first season gives the distinct impression that its creators prized style over substance, and were not unduly concerned with originality. The fundamental premise owes a conspicuous debt to better-known Anglo-American series such as Twin Peaks and Broadchurch—a debt the writers attempt to obscure with a plethora of subplots that function rather awkwardly, and not always successfully, as some sort of coherent whole. What draws the viewer in far more than the narrative is the skilful deployment of the striking mountain locations, which create a genuinely distinctive atmosphere.

A measure of differentiation from standard police procedurals is provided by the incorporation of Catholic motifs—specifically, religious bigotry—which allows for the construction of several intriguing characters: the leader of a local cult and self-proclaimed healer Jonasz (Andrzej Mastalerz); the young, fanatical policeman Sobczyk (Piotr Trojan); and the newly appointed parish priest Śmigielski (Rafał Cieszyński), who clearly harbours a dark secret from his own past. Though the series is rendered rather convoluted by its numerous subplots and risks baffling its audience, it nevertheless functions—and the lion's share of credit belongs to the cast. Andrzej Konopka proves highly effective as a policeman who, despite manifold flaws, ultimately endeavours to do the right thing. Even more impressive is Helena Sujecka, who may well be the sole normal character in this dysfunctional milieu; she brings considerable realism to the role, deftly balancing feminine vulnerability with a hardy, salt-of-the-earth resilience. The first season might thus scrape a passing grade, despite a predictably irritating cliffhanger.

The second season, however, reveals its authors attempting something "new" and "original"—and, as is so often the case, overreaching considerably. Signs abruptly detaches itself from the "pure" crime genre and ventures into the realm of fantasy, with the screenwriters—having apparently exhausted their exploitation of rural Poland in the late 2010s—plunging deep into the past. Consequently, the series now encompasses Soviets, Nazis, flying saucers, and hints of time travel. All this suggests that fresh inspiration was sought in the German series Dark, yet the result is chaos of an even greater magnitude. The problem extends beyond content to form: a new subplot involves the hunt for lost treasure conducted by the young historian Eliza Konieczna (Ewa Jakubowicz), presented through flashbacks and non-linear narration that grows increasingly irksome, and ultimately utterly bewildering. The anticipated multiple cliffhanger at the season's end represents the very embodiment of melodramatic cliché, as well as the creators' inability to offer viewers anything coherent.

The second season thus comprehensively spoils the impression of the series; should the makers wish to salvage its reputation, they shall need to produce something of quite extraordinary quality in a third season—should such a season ever be commissioned.

RATING: 3/10 (+)

(Note: The text in the original Croatian version is available here.)

Blog in Croatian https://draxblog.com Blog in English https://draxreview.wordpress.com/ InLeo blog https://inleo.io/@drax.leo Substack https://draxster.substack.com/

LeoDex: https://leodex.io/?ref=drax Hiveonboard: https://hiveonboard.com?ref=drax InLeo: https://inleo.io/signup?referral=drax.leo 1Inch: https://1inch.exchange/#/r/0x83823d8CCB74F828148258BB4457642124b1328e

BTC donations: 1EWxiMiP6iiG9rger3NuUSd6HByaxQWafG ETH donations: 0xB305F144323b99e6f8b1d66f5D7DE78B498C32A7 BCH donations: qpvxw0jax79lhmvlgcldkzpqanf03r9cjv8y6gtmk9