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I Don't Like It In Here.

Backrooms appears to be one of a few films that have been responsible for breaking the internet recently, and punctuating a new state of affairs in which big production studios no longer seem to be necessary for artistic visions to see the light of day. The film is a psychological vision quest of a thriller that focuses on a disgruntled furniture store manager named Clark.

Kicked out of his own home for a drinking problem that remedies his frustration and resentment for not pursuing a career as a respected architect, Clark looks to battle his demons with the help of a successful psychologist named Mary. Here we are presented with the typical, self-assured shrink who adorns insufferable self-help books and lends her soothing voice to promotional materials that promise the unlocking of fresh new avenues for us sufferers of life.

Yet, Clark's dissatisfaction with the hand that he's been dealt is put on the back burner when he discovers a mysterious crack of light through a wall in the basement of his furniture store. He enters this newfound doorway, not like Lucy discovering Narnia, but rather like the kids of Hogwarts passing through Platform 9 and 3/4.

Alice, Meet Rabbit Hole

Clarks comes to find that this invisible doorway leads to a vast abandoned office space consisting of various rooms, endless hallways, corridors, stairwells, and storerooms. Each new room has the air of a modern art installation, providing always new entry points which present new pathways that both extend and yet also always connect to new and previously visited rooms. In exploring this vast labyrinth, Clark simultaneously, and metaphorically, explores the avenues of his mind, which is precisely what I believe the Backrooms serve to represent. In both exploring and attempting to explain this area, and by extension, his mind, Clark comes to demonstrate the parameters of the so-called impossible profession of psychoanalysis.

All of this is expressed very precisely in a key scene in which Clark kidnaps Mary in an attempt to explain the bizarre area they find themselves in. However, in his words, attempting to explain the Backrooms (one's mind) is like trying to explain what a dog is like to someone who has no experience of one, and then expecting them to explain it to someone else. What this leads to is a key omission from Mary: she cannot help/fix Clark, or anyone for that matter. This realisation speaks to the curious nature of the human mind, our unique lived experience, and the limitations of our language to express it. I wouldn't for one moment be surprised if one of the creators of this film happened to be well-versed in Lacanian psychoanalysis, the backrooms providing the known, and yet suggesting the unknown, thus presenting middle possibilities that hint at the Real.

Even the main actors in this drama serve as Jungian archetypes in a certain way, with each presenting their experiences and interpretations with domain-specific signifiers. Clark is the architect/merchant, capable of establishing an understanding of structures and layouts with his particular lens in a bid to find patterns and thus produce understanding. Mary, as the psychologist, enters at a different point through an analysis of language and behaviour. Whilst the scientist completes the trinity through empirical data, which hopes to synthesise everything. And while this presents a hierarchy, they are all equal in their ignorance and their inability to reconcile their respective set of signifiers to arrive at a common understanding. These, I claim, are the backrooms that are continuously created through our relational networks. Endless networks, indeed.

Get Me Out...

Keeping with the tone and general themes of this offering, Backrooms is a film that needs to be experienced rather than explained. It's a film that takes the more subtle approach to scaring the audience, letting the empty corridors and rooms do the heavy lifting, with ambient music that gradually builds tension and intrigue around every corner, matched only by deafening silences that tease with the possibility of terror. The 90's aesthetic also lends to the overall disturbing look and feel of the film, those unsightly, dull carpets, old-style furniture, and paint jobs amplifying the sense of decay, mystery, and madness. This is indeed a creepy offering that shows that less is more, and yet also that more is less. The audience may be right to feel confused, but through this film, we gain an interesting perspective on ourselves, or rather, the mysterious workings of the backrooms, which are our minds. I need a nap.

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Hello, Hive community. I hope you’re having a great day. First of all, I have to start this post with a huge apology. A long time ago, I promised I’d share my thoughts on this movie, and for one reason or another, I kept putting it off. But a promise is a promise, and I don’t like to let people down, so here I am, finally keeping my word! Today I want to talk about a movie that marked a turning point in pop culture for an entire generation: High School Musical 3: Senior Year. I know that for many, the first installment is the nostalgic one and the second is the summer icon, but I’m going to be completely honest with you: the third is, by far, my favorite of the entire trilogy.

Hola, comunidad de Hive. Espero que estén teniendo un gran día. ​Primero que todo, tengo que empezar este post con una disculpa gigante. Hace muchísimo tiempo les prometí que les traería mi opinión sobre esta película y, por una u otra razón, lo fui posponiendo. Pero como lo prometido es deuda y a mí no me gusta quedar mal, ¡aquí estoy finalmente cumpliendo mi palabra! Hoy quiero hablar de una película que marcó un antes y un después en la cultura pop de toda una generación: High School Musical 3: Senior Year. ​Sé que para muchos la primera entrega es la nostálgica y la segunda es el ícono del verano, pero les voy a ser completamente honesta: la tercera es, por mucho, mi favorita de toda la trilogía.

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The shift from television to the big screen is evident from the very first second. The production, the scale of the musical numbers, the cinematography, and the energy are on another level. But beyond the visual spectacle, what really draws me in about this movie is the character development. In High School Musical 3, it’s obvious from a mile away that the characters have grown up. We’re no longer dealing with the typical teenage hallway dramas or summer vacation jealousy; here, the kids at East High face real dilemmas that anyone can relate to: fear of the future, the pressure of choosing a college major, the inevitable distance from friends, and the transition into adulthood. Troy, Gabriella, Sharpay, Ryan, Chad, and Taylor show tremendous maturity in their decisions. Each one shines in their own right, and you can feel that their personalities have evolved organically since that first impromptu New Year’s audition. The conflicts feel more mature, and the melancholy of “the last time” permeates every scene, giving the songs a much more real and profound emotional weight.

​El cambio de haber pasado de la pantalla de televisión directamente al cine se nota desde el primer segundo. La producción, la escala de los números musicales, la fotografía y la energía son de otro nivel. Pero más allá del despliegue visual, lo que realmente me atrapa de esta película es el arco de los personajes. ​En High School Musical 3, se nota a leguas que los personajes han crecido. Ya no estamos ante los típicos dramas adolescentes de pasillo o los celos de las vacaciones de verano; aquí los chicos de East High se enfrentan a dilemas reales con los que cualquiera se puede identificar: el miedo al futuro, la presión de elegir una carrera universitaria, la inevitable distancia de los amigos y la transición hacia la vida adulta. ​Troy, Gabriella, Sharpay, Ryan, Chad y Taylor muestran una madurez enorme en sus decisiones. Cada uno brilla con luz propia y se siente que sus personalidades han evolucionado de forma orgánica desde aquella primera audición improvisada en año nuevo. Los conflictos se sienten más maduros, y la melancolía de "la última vez" inunda cada escena, haciendo que las canciones tengan un peso emocional mucho más real y profundo.

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If you're one of those who watched the first two and left the third one behind, or if you just want to relive a great era, I highly recommend giving it a chance. It's the perfect finale, full of energy, but also a lot of maturity. Now I want you to tell me in the comments: Which of the three High School Musical movies is your favorite and why? Did you also feel that the third one showed that leap in the characters’ maturity? I’ll sign off for now—thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you later in another post ❤️

​Si eres de los que vio las dos primeras y dejó la tercera en el olvido, o si simplemente quieres revivir una gran etapa, te recomiendo muchísimo darle una oportunidad. Es el cierre perfecto, lleno de energía, pero también de mucha madurez. Ahora quiero que me cuenten ustedes en los comentarios: ¿Cuál de las tres películas de High School Musical es su favorita y por qué? ¿También sintieron que la tercera tuvo ese salto de madurez en los personajes? Yo por ahora me despido, muchas gracias por leerme y nos vemos luego en otro post ❤️

Translated by DeepL

Traducido por DeepL

**

Hello friends, good vibes to all.

Hola amigos, buenas vibras para todos.

Source!

El terror es algo que últimamente está un poco de moda gracias a las grandes películas que estamos viendo estrenarse. Es por esto que hoy les traigo algo que me conseguí por pura casualidad mientras buscaba lo próximo que quería ver de DBZ. Resulta que estamos ante un cortometraje hecho por el Studio Wrong, un estudio independiente japonés que se especializa en animaciones de anime en 3D, cosa que si me preguntan no es muy común. The Bloody Mary se estrenó hace un par de meses siendo un episodio piloto para lo que se supone será algo mas grande, o por lo menos eso esperan los fanáticos quienes quedaron muy a gusto después de ver esta presentación de la historia. Y es que si, si quisieran y pudieran hacer algo más desarrollado seguramente sería un éxito.

Pero, de que trata? - pues tenemos a Betty, ella es una joven que se dedica a la investigación paranormal y a la caza de fantasmas, está un poco obsesionada con eso pero sabe que con esos trabajos es que puede pagar las cuentas. Con ella está Seeka, un demonio que se quedó atrapada en este plano después de unas de las investigaciones de Betty. Inevitablemente las dos tuvieron que llevarse bien al punto de que viven juntas. Un día la joven investigadora se consigue con un nuevo trabajo: ir a una mansión embrujada para ver que es lo que pasa con la famosa leyenda de Bloody Mary que no es otra cosa que pararse frente a un espejo y repetir estas palabras tres veces hasta que se te aparezca la famosa fantasma.

Source!

Source!

Cuando llegan a la mansión pues en efecto se consiguen con un lugar oscuro y tenebroso y deciden comenzar con la investigación. Ya de acá en adelante no les digo más para que vayan y vean lo que termina pasando. Creo que este material tiene dos grandes cosas o potencias que pueden hacer de este proyecto algo muy grande y cool. Lo primero es la historia. En el poco tiempo que dura este corto se nos muestra una trama que invita al espectador a hacerse preguntas y sobretodo por lo forma en como termina. Es más, durante el camino de la historia pasan cosas interesantes, hay hasta plot twist que le dan más "misterio" e intriga a todo. Decir que hay una gran carga de comedia en el aire, las interacciones y la forma en como animan ciertas cosas hace que ver esto, más allá de que esté el suspenso, sea gracioso.

La parte del suspenso está muy bien representada también y es acá en donde entramos a lo segundo: la animación. Personalmente no soy fanático de las cosas hechas en 3D, a menos que sea algo grande tipo Disney o Pixar, porque generalmente no quedan bien hechas y menos en el anime que es algo tan particular. Pero en este caso la animación es espectacular, hay momentos que son exageradamente realistas en donde de verdad te preguntas si estamos viendo un metraje real o no. El diseño de los personajes, todos los efectos visuales, es algo que está muy bien hecho, se nota que hay cariño y ganas de que sea algo más grande. No miento cuando les digo que no tiene nada que envidiar de cualquier cosa que hayan visto en 3D por ahí que sea de nombre.

Source!

Source!

Desconozco si al final esto va ser un anime o una película, habrá que ver que decide el estudio pero ojalá se materialice en algo que valga la pena porque creo que tiene potencial. Hacer una reseña de algo tan corto (poco más de 16 minutos) para muchos no tendrá sentido pero para mi es super interesante porque es la muestra de que se está haciendo anime en todos lados y de todas las formas posibles y eso siempre será algo bueno. No es la primera vez que traigo algo así y seguramente no será la última. The Bloody Mary es algo cool de ver, tiene una historia simple pero que cumple con el propósito: entretener y dar un abreboca de lo que puede venir. Les dejo por acá el cortometraje para que lo vean porque si, vale la pena.

***

Well folks, that's all for today. I hope you enjoyed it. ¡Hugs to everyone, see you next time!

Bueno mi gente por hoy es todo, espero que les haya gustado. ¡Un abrazo a todos, nos vemos en la próxima!

Goal, you bastard! Goal!

Home (S6x02)

Airdate: 1 May 2016

Written by: Dave Hill Directed by: Jeremy Podeswa

Running Time: 53 minutes

The sheer, sprawling epic scope of Game of Thrones has always been both its greatest boast and its most daunting narrative challenge. By its sixth season, the series had long accustomed its audience to the absence of key characters from entire episodes, a necessary evil of managing a cast of dozens across continents. Yet this practice reached its apotheosis of narrative neglect with Bran Stark. His quest for the Three-Eyed Raven, seemingly concluded with his arrival at the weirwood cave in Season 4, resulted in the character being unceremoniously benched for the entirety of Season 5—an omission that felt less like a scheduling necessity and more like a creative admission that his mystical, slow-burn storyline had become an inconvenient tangent. The second episode of Season 6, aptly titled “Home,” finally addresses this gap, but its function is emblematic of the show’s late-stage metamorphosis. Home is a brutal, sudden rearrangement of Westeros’s complex political web, executed with a sledgehammer rather than a scalpel, prioritising shocking tableaux and plot propulsion over the nuanced character work that once defined the series.

The episode opens in the frostbitten depths beyond the Wall, immediately re-establishing Bran’s narrative. Guided by the Three-Eyed Raven—now recast from Struan Rodger to the legendary Max von Sydow—Bran experiences a vision of Winterfell’s past. It is a poignant, if somewhat saccharine, sequence. Bran witnesses his father, Ned, as a boy sparring with his brother Benjen, and sees the fleeting image of his aunt Lyanna, a figure he knows only as a stone effigy in the crypts. The inclusion of a young Old Nan (Anne Tierney) and, most significantly, a young, articulate Wylis (Sam Coleman)—the stable boy who would become the simple-minded Hodor—offers a tantalising breadcrumb for future tragedy. Von Sydow, with his sonorous gravitas, lends the scene a weighty, mythic quality, yet his warning that dwelling there is dangerous feels less like profound wisdom and more like the show nervously signposting its own forthcoming, and often clumsy, reliance on time-bending narrative mechanics. This vision serves a dual purpose: it re-acclimatises the audience to Bran’s powers and provides a fleeting moment of warmth before the episode descends into its characteristic cold brutality. It is a competent scene, but one that already highlights the show’s new preference for iconic imagery over substantive exploration of Bran’s psychological state after years of isolation.

From this mystical detour, Home lunges headlong into resolving the cliffhangers left simmering since Season 5’s brutal finale. At Castle Black, the mutiny led by Alliser Thorne reaches its predictably swift conclusion. Edd’s escape, his rallying of Tormund Giantsbane and the wildlings—including the giant Wun Wun—and the subsequent surrender of the Night’s Watch conspirators is executed with workmanlike pacing. The mutineers are deposited in the ice cells, and the stage is cleared for the episode’s central, much-hyped event: the resurrection of Jon Snow. Ser Davos Seaworth, a man of pragmatism not piety, turns in desperation to the disgraced Melisandre. The ensuing ritual, conducted in a gloomy storeroom with Jon’s corpse laid out like a sacrificial offering, delivers manufactured suspense. The red priestess chants, washes the body, and cuts his hair—all to no immediate effect. One by one, the hopeful onlookers depart, leaving only Ghost and the corpse. Then, in a final gasp of air, Jon’s eyes snap open. It is the dramatic beat the entire world was waiting for, yet its execution renders it curiously hollow. The resurrection feels less like a miraculous, world-altering event born of divine magic or profound sacrifice, and more like a cynical narrative reset button, dressed up in the trappings of a medical drama’s last-second CPR success. The audience’s widespread prediction of this outcome robbed it of surprise, and the show’s decision to frame it with such clichéd “is it, isn’t it?” melodrama did little to reinvest it with genuine wonder.

Elsewhere in the North, the episode continues its theme of brutal, simplified realpolitik. Sansa Stark, having escaped Winterfell with Theon Greyjoy, is now under the protection of Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne. Theon, crippled by guilt and fear—both of Ramsay’s hounds and, as he admits, of Jon Snow’s likely vengeance for his betrayal of the Starks—chooses to part ways. He requests a horse to make for the Iron Islands, a decision that makes stark dramatic sense. It removes a dramatically spent character from a plotline needing momentum and pragmatically acknowledges that Brienne’s chances of delivering Sansa to Castle Black are higher without a broken, hunted man in tow. It is a clean, unsentimental severance, typical of the episode’s ethos.

That ethos finds its purest, most horrifying expression in Winterfell itself. The political manoeuvring of the Boltons, once a subtle game of legitimisation through marriage and fear, is here resolved with astonishing, brutal swiftness. Roose Bolton is told that Lady Walda Frey has given birth to a trueborn son, irrevocably undermining Ramsay’s tenuous position. Ramsay’s response is a primal act: he embraces his father and stabs him. The shock on Roose’s face is palpable, but more telling is the immediate, silent acquiescence of the surrounding lords. Power, the scene asserts, resides not in bloodlines or legal decrees, but in who holds the knife and has the stomach to use it. Ramsay then completes his consolidation by luring Walda and her newborn to the kennels, where they are fed to his hounds. The act is not shown directly—a rare moment of restraint—but the sound design and Ramsay’s chillingly casual demeanour make it one of the most disturbing moments in the series to that point.

This tendency to simplify and sensationalise is equally evident in the episode’s revival of the dormant Ironborn plotline. At Pyke, Balon Greyjoy stubbornly clings to a failed conquest, refusing his daughter Yara’s pragmatic counsel to make peace. His stubbornness is rendered moot in a scene of pure, gothic melodrama. On a rope bridge during a storm, Balon is confronted by his long-exiled brother, Euron (Polou Asbæk). A brief, exposition-heavy exchange establishes Euron’s madness and ambition before he casually tosses Balon to his death. It is a spectacular, visually striking murder, but it is pure narrative convenience. Euron returns at the exact moment required to inject chaos into the storyline, and his character is defined not through demonstrated action but through grandiose pronouncements. The subsequent introduction of the kingsmoot—a quasi-democratic elective assembly that adds a sliver of unique cultural worldbuilding to the Iron Islands—is a welcome detail, but it feels like a bone thrown to book readers after the blunt force of Balon’s dismissal.

In King’s Landing, the tension between the Crown and the Faith Militant continues to simmer. The High Sparrow’s calculated cruelty in barring Cersei from her daughter Myrcella’s funeral is a potent stroke, provoking a furious Jaime to threaten the sparrow’s life. The High Sparrow’s calm retort—that he and his followers would welcome martyrdom—is a sharp reminder of the unique threat posed by fanaticism. More interesting is Tommen’s scene with Cersei, where the boy-king expresses his shame and impotent rage, wishing he had torn down the Great Sept. It is a rare moment of psychological insight in the episode, hinting at the weakness that will soon be catastrophically exploited.

Across the Narrow Sea, the narrative continues to streamline Daenerys’s absent empire. In Meereen, Tyrion Lannister, now de facto ruler, is confronted with the crumbling of the queen’s legacy, as Yunkai and Astapor revert to slavers. His solution is a characteristically bold, foolhardy gamble: to unchain Dany’s two remaining dragons, Rhaegal and Viserion, in the catacombs. The scene is a highlight, combining genuine tension with Tyrion’s wit and vulnerability. That he survives is perhaps a stretch, but the act serves as a symbolic assertion of control and a promise of future firepower, even as Tyrion himself doubts the risk’s worth.

In Braavos, Arya Stark’s storyline remains in a holding pattern. Still blind and begging, she endures beatings from the Waif until Jaqen H’ghar reappears to continue her training. It is a perfunctory check-in, ensuring the audience remembers her arc exists, but contributes little to the episode’s momentum.

Behind the scenes, Home is notable for significant production shifts that reflect the series’ elevated status and budget. The recasting of the Three-Eyed Raven with Max von Sydow is the most prominent. Replacing the capable but lesser-known Struan Rodger with an icon of von Sydow’s stature, arguably the greatest film star ever to appear in the series, was a clear prestige play. Having just appeared in Star Wars: The Force Awakens, von Sydow’s presence cemented Game of Thrones as the pre-eminent fantasy franchise of its day, a move that undoubtedly aimed to awe critics into overlooking the narrative simplifications becoming ever more apparent. Similarly, the recasting of Leaf, a Child of the Forest, from child actress Octavia Alexandru to adult actress Kae Alexander, accompanied by a far more elaborate, alien-like CGI design, showcases the increased budget. Yet this too feels symptomatic of a shift towards spectacle over substance; the character becomes a more visually impressive mystical prop, but her role in the narrative remains opaque and minimally explored.

This gets to the core critique of Home, and indeed of much of Season 6. Showrunners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss were now operating almost entirely beyond George R.R. Martin’s published source material. Their approach, however, was not to emulate the dense, interwoven complexity of the books, but to simplify drastically. Plotlines were boiled down to their most basic components; characters who offered no immediate dramatic payoff were eliminated (or, like Bran, ignored for a season); and political dilemmas were resolved with sudden, shocking violence. This was partly a commercial necessity—as the show conquered the global mainstream, it had to appeal to the lowest common denominator, favouring clear heroes, obvious villains, and immediate gratification over moral ambiguity and slow-burn intrigue.

Sometimes this simplicity works, as with Ramsay Bolton. His solution is brutally efficient and psychologically consistent for a character who understands only violence and dominance. The murder of Walda Frey, while horrifying, is coldly logical from his perspective. Yet elsewhere, the simplification feels crude. The Greyjoy resurrection is rushed, with Euron’s menace told, not shown. A more egregious example is a brief, grisly vignette in King’s Landing: a commoner (Dylan Edwards) entertains peers with the tale of flashing his large penis at Cersei during her Walk of Atonement. Later, while urinating in the cellars, the Mountain—now a hulking, silent zombie—appears and crushes his skull against a wall. While it efficiently demonstrates the Mountain’s lethality and Cersei’s newfound, vengeful protection, the scene is pure punitive spectacle. It serves no lasting dramatic purpose, targeting a single, random heckler instead of the systemic threat of the Faith Militant. It is shock for shock’s sake, a visceral jolt that substitutes for narrative progression.

Home is a solid, often gripping hour of television that nonetheless lays bare the creative compromises defining late-period Game of Thrones. It moves the pieces across the board with undeniable efficiency and delivers several unforgettable, if brutal, moments. The acting, particularly from Iwan Rheon as Ramsay and Peter Dinklage as Tyrion, remains superb, and the production values are cinematic. Yet, beneath the surface gloss, a hollowing-out is evident. The resurrection of Jon Snow, the narrative centrepiece, feels like a foregone conclusion dressed in cheap melodramatic garb. The complex political tapestry of Westeros is repeatedly cut with the sharp, simple knife of murder rather than unravelled with patience. The episode is a confident stride forward, but one that leaves much of the story’s soul behind in the snows of earlier, more ambitious seasons.

RATING: 5/10 (++)

==

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source: imdb

The Babysitter: Killer Queen is the sequel to the 2017 horror comedy The Babysitter, I reviewed two weeks ago. The film continues the story of Cole Johnson, a teenager who survived a deadly cult led by his beautiful babysitter, Bee. The sequel tries to outshine the original with its blend of horror, comedy and over the top violence. The original cast returns in this movie joined by new stars, Jenna Ortega (Scream/Wednesday).

source: imdb

The story takes place two years after the first movie. Cole is struggling because nobody believes him about the cult and he is constantly mocked by classmates and even questioned by his own family. He joins his friend Melanie (Cole's friend in part 1) on a weekend trip to a lake party. He finds out that the horror is far from over. Members of the cult somehow return from the dead like Emperor Palpatine. They once again target Cole in their quest to complete their ritual. Cole was once again forced to fight for his survival. He fights both old old enemies and surprising betrayal by his childhood friend Melanie. She turned out to have joined the cult along with her friends and now wants to make Cole their sacrifice.

source: imdb

Like the first movie, the film never slows down. It has a non stop action, gory kills and absurd comedy. The returning cult members are still entertaining. They each bring their own exaggerated personalities and comedic moments. Robbie Amell, Bella Thorne, Andrew Bachelor and Hana Mae Lee have great chemistry that helped keep the movie entertaining.

In my opinion, The Babysitter: Killer Queen is a fun sequel. Nitpickers may find the plot chaotic and leaned too much on absurd comedy. However, fans of the original who know what to expect will likely love this sequel as it kept to its horror comedy roots anchored on absurd over the top violence. It's a wild, entertaining horror comedy filled with creative kills. Fans of the first movie who enjoy horror with plenty of comedy will likely have a good time. Those looking for a more serious or really scary horror film may find it less satisfying. The Babysitter: Killer Queen remains an enjoyable movie that is ridiculous and delivers plenty of entertainment.

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

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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 (++)

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Here is the movie trailer:

All the best.

By: Nattosheru.

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