Monthly Archives: April 2025

New In Theaters

Unwelcome Back

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The Surfer

by George Wolf

Have you seen Wake in Fright, the 1971 Australian nightmare with Donald Pleasence? How about The Swimmer from ’68, where Burt Lancaster’s delusions of greatness are slowly punctured by the reality of his past?

The Surfer will hit harder if you can appreciate how it blends the two for its own deranged tale, as Nicolas Cage takes full advantage of another chance to come unglued before our eyes.

Cage stars as the titular surfer, who has come back to Australia’s Luna Bay in hopes of buying his childhood home. He brings his son along to surprise him with the news, but quickly finds the locals most unwelcoming.

“Don’t live here, don’t surf here!”

The “Bay Boys” rule the beach, and their guru Scally (Julian McMahon) takes the surfer and son aside to give them one polite warning: best move along.

They oblige, but the surfer won’t give up his dream so easily. He returns solo and things quickly escalate with the Bay Boys until the surfer is bloody and barefoot, without money, phone, car, or friends.

The font of the opening credits sets the perfect retro vibe, and director Lorcan Finnegan (Vivarium) leans into it from there. The minimalistic score, wide frames and dramatic punch-ins cast a spell of 70s Ozploitation that makes a fine launching pad for Cage’s slide into lunacy.

Australian accent? You think Cage needs one to sell this quest for survival? He doesn’t, and writer Thomas Martin weaves his lack of dialect into the thread of wry humor that runs throughout the film. Like Wake in Fright, circumstances hold a stranger prisoner in a foreboding Australian town, where – like The Swimmer – the past comes calling.

The Surfer is often smart but can be less than subtle, with some “hey don’t miss this” camerawork – which, to be fair, aligns with the throwback feel – and a lesson about toxic masculinity that’s well-meaning but repetitive.

But there’s much to like here, starting with Cage. The surfer is the kind of role that’s in perfect sync with his legendary eccentricities. He’s a man on the verge for ninety minutes, and nearly all of those are too much fun to look away.

Outtakes

Simply Resistible

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Another Simple Favor

by George Wolf

Five years ago, A Simple Favor delivered a pretty delicious slice of satire for the angsty modern woman/wife/mother. Buoyed by the chemistry of stars Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively, it mixed B-movie trappings with in-the-moment irony for a fun, twisty tale of gaslighting, betrayal, murder, and mommy vlogs.

Amazon Prime brings the two stars back together for Another Simple Favor, along with director Paul Feig and screenwriter Jessica Sharzer (sharing screenplay credit this time with Laeta Kalogridis). And while the mischievous spark is still there, it struggles for air under narrative excess.

Since putting the conniving Emily (Lively) away, Stephanie (Kendrick) has become a successful author still milking her role in the tabloid-ready murder mystery. So imagine everyone’s surprise when, who comes vamping in to Stephanie’s latest book reading but Emily herself, out on appeal with an appeal of her own.

She’s headed overseas to marry the dashing Dante Versano (Michele Morrone)! And Stephanie simply must come to Capri and be her Maid of Honor!

Why not? They’ll be gorgeous locales, incredible food, beautiful people, and there’s no way Emily could have cooked up some elaborate plan for revenge, right? Right?

It gets elaborate, all right, and not always in a fun way. Emily’s ex (Henry Golding) and Stephanie’s agent (Alex Newell) both come along for some arguably necessary reasons, and the introductions of Aunt Linda (Allison Janney) and Mom Margaret (Elizabeth Perkins) seem overly convoluted.

Much like Golding when his character is drunk, most everything about this sequel just screams “trying too hard.” If some secrets are good, more secrets must be better! And the mafia, yeah, throw some mafia family feuding in there, too! The longer we’re away from Steph and Emily, the more it drags.

But Lively and Kendrick always keep it watchable. They’ve got these roles down cold, and their snappy interplay remains frisky and fabulous. Together, they’re still simply irresistible. It’s the rest of Another Simple Favor that makes it easier to resist.

Outtakes

Miracle Misfortune

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The Gullspang Miracle

by Brandon Thomas

For devoutly religious sisters Kari and May, miracles are as real as the air we breathe. Thirty years after the death of their older sister Lita, Kari and May believe they witness their own miracle while sitting in a real estate office in Sweden. Before them sits a woman that looks identical to their long-dead sister. This woman, Olaug, shares the same birthday as Lita, grew up in roughly the same area in Northern Norway as the sisters, and most importantly: shares DNA. As the story of Lita and Olaug’s separation unravels, so does the relationship between the initially ecstatic sisters and their newly found family member.

Maria Fredrikkson’s The Gullspang Miracle seemingly jumps out of a daytime soap storyline. At first, the story does seem too good to be true. How on Earth could two sisters randomly run into the twin of their long-dead sister all while trying to purchase an apartment nearly 1,000 miles from where they grew up? Oddly enough, the tale gets even more shocking and revelatory from there. 

As the story of Lita and Olaug’s birth unfolds – the two were separated during World War 2 due to the Nazi’s fascination with twins – the stark differences between Lita’s family and Olaug become more clear. While Kari, May and the rest of their family are deeply religious, Olaug does not share their views. In fact, she’s quite resentful of their faith and her belief that they are trying to convert her. As the film progresses, Olaug’s overall view of her new family becomes more and more negative. The change in feelings – on both sides – from joy to disappointment and resentment is quick and at times becomes cruel.

Fredrikkson crafts the film with an odd assortment of reenactments using the real sisters and their family, archival footage, and even outtakes. One of the best moments in the film involves Fredrikkson crying out from behind the camera about how she’s starting to question the believability of what the sisters are telling her. The nature of the truth and what that really is – and more importantly – what people want it to be is ultimately at the heart of The Gullspang Miracle. The truth of family is always complicated even when death and miraculous discovery isn’t a part of it. The harshness of the truth can be freeing for some and crippling for others.

Like the recent documentary Three Identical Strangers, The Gullspang Miracle is a riveting look at how being a family is about more than just blood and DNA.

Outtakes

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

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A Desert

by Adam Barney

The desert is a scary place and for good reason – it’s easy to get lost, there are poisonous reptiles underfoot, the conditions will kill you, and you might even run into the most dangerous thing – strangers who choose to live out there.

Alex (Kai Lennox, Green Room) is a landscape photographer traveling around the American Southwest trying to recapture a spark from his early career. He likes to shoot abandoned buildings, but he has a burgeoning attraction to shooting portraits of the desert’s denizens.

He takes an interest in Renny (Zachary Sherman) and Susie Q (Ashley Smith), a drifter couple staying next door at his cheap motel. After too many drinks, they promise to be his tour guides and show him some hidden sights in the desert, places that no photographer has ever seen. Bad decisions are made.

After his daily check-ins stop, Alex’s wife Samantha (Sarah Lind, A Wounded Fawn) hires a P.I. (David Yow, Dinner in America, Under the Silver Lake) to go looking for her husband and retrace his steps. What follows is a sun-drenched, neo-noir mystery that may be a little thin on narrative but delivers on atmosphere and vibe.

The film sprinkles in some supernatural elements on the fringes like a creepy old movie theater and an abandoned scientific facility. Is there something more going on here or is that just the desert playing tricks on your mind? Don’t expect it to be Lost Highway or Southbound, but these otherworldly touches add a welcome surreal layer.

Director Joshua Erkman and co-writer Bossi Baker clearly have an affection for noir. They enhance the basic “man gone missing” mystery through their setting, which creates a pervasive and nightmarish sense of dread.

If you enjoy a good slow burn mystery, A Desert is a trip worth taking.

Outtakes

Ballet of Bullets

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Havoc

by George Wolf

If you’ve seen The Raid or The Raid 2, you’re plenty familiar with the Gareth Evans brand of Gun Fu. With Havoc, he brings the same breakneck blood sport to Netflix. And by the time he’s done, you’ll be amazed none of that splatter got on your sofa.

Expect violence, turned up to eleven.

Tom Hardy takes the lead as Walker, a hardened detective in a seedy, unnamed metropolis. It’s clear Walker has taken part in his share of dirty dealings, and he’s looking for a way to finally get clear of owing local politician Lawrence Beaumont (Forest Whitaker) anything at all.

Walker gets his chance when Beaumont’s estranged son Charlie (Justin Cornwell) is part of a drug deal gone way wrong, and quickly earns a death sentence from a vengeful crime lord.

If Walker can get Charlie out of the city alive, all debts to Daddy Beaumont will be settled.

His forthright partner Ellie (Jessie Mei Li) brings the integrity Walker gave up long ago, and together they sort through increasing levels of goons, guns and corruption to complete the mission.

Yes, levels. Yes, like a video game. Writer/director Evans is careful to craft the setting as a familiar but ambiguous cesspool where escape will only be possible via wave upon wave of martial arts homages, frenetic camerawork and relentless bloodletting.

When it doubt, keep shooting.

Does it get ridiculous? Damn right it does, but Hardy keeps it grounded in anti-hero righteousness, a game supporting cast (including the always welcome Timothy Olyphant and Obstacle Corpse standout Gareth Tidball) fleshes out all the edges, and Evans brings the visual calling cards that anchor a savage ballet of bullets.

Is Havoc deep? Not at all. But does it hit the target? Yes it does, and anything else that might be in the vicinity.

New In Theaters

Rock in the Ruins

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Pink Floyd at Pompeii

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

The gorgeous new restoration of 1972’s Pink Floyd at Pompeii delivers a beautifully discordant glimpse of a transitional period for one of music’s most important rock bands. Gorgeously restored image and sound immerse you in Floyd’s music. 

Adrian Maben’s doc focuses primarily on Floyd’s 1971 trip to Italy, with performances recorded live in the ruins of the Pompeii Amphitheatre to an audience of only crew . The setlist (including selections recorded later in Paris) consists of some of Floyd’s more loosely constructed symphonic jams—Careful with that Axe Eugene, Echoes, Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun, One of These Days—which frees Maben visually from the need to capture a singer. Rather, he lets Floyd’s trippier melodic concoctions provide a soundscape for various images. Sometimes eerily beautiful landscapes and vistas populate the screen, while elsewhere the filmmaker turns the camera to period artwork.

Maben punctuates the live cuts with bits of interviews and fly-on-the-wall footage as the band shares a meal. David Gilmour seems forever in need of a glass of milk, while drummer Nick Mason’s request for apple pie goes unanswered. These brief snippets, though borderline Spinal Tap, balance the live performance’s grandiosity with a sweet bit of banality.

Yes, both Gilmour and Roger Waters get their screen time, but late keyboardist Richard Wright also finds his time in the spotlight while Mason often draws most of Maben’s interest. His manic drumming and respectful requests for “no crust” are a delight, and the interplay between all the band members is a bittersweet counter to the rancor that erupted in years to come.

Wisely, the restoration includes material that had made its way into an earlier director’s cut. We spend time in Abby Road studios with the band as they work through tracks for their as-yet-unreleased masterwork Dark Side of the Moon album.

It’s the perfect balance. The live, undiluted imagination and experimentation that marked Pink Floyd’s early career gives way to the masterful, controlled artistry of the album that would redefine the band (and music history).  

Even for Floyd fans who have seen much of this before, the new restoration – especially the IMAX version hitting select theaters – is a must. It not only gives some classic early jams due respect, it provides a fascinating glimpse at the days just before a legendary rock band stepped into its future.

New In Theaters

The Old Familiar Sting

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Until Dawn

by Hope Madden

Watching the 2011 genre classic Cabin in the Woods when it came out, you couldn’t help but think it would make a great video game. Each new level could bring on a different one of those beasties from the elevator, and you’d have to try to survive them all to win. Fun!

Until Dawn, the new horror flick from David F. Sandberg (Lights Out, Annabelle: Creation), follows exactly this logic. It’s as if someone did make that video game, then turned that game into a movie. Which is kind of what happened.

Sandberg and writers Blair Butler (The Invitation, Hell Fest) and Gary Dauberman (the Annabelle, Nun, and It franchises, among others) retool the popular Until Dawn survival game to give it more of a cinematic structure. Five friends, out on a road trip to remember a pal who’s been missing for a year, stumble upon a long-abandoned welcome center.

They spy their missing friend’s name in the register. It’s in there 13 times.

Next thing you know, time loop horror overtakes the friends as one malevolent force after another descends upon the welcome center. As soon as all five friends are dead, an hourglass resets, they revive, and the next wave of horror hits.

Peter Stormare lends his effortless creepiness to the proceedings, which benefit from his performance as well as work from an ensemble that’s better than the script demands. Belmont Cameli and Hellraiser’s Odessa A’zion are particularly effective, but all five friends break free of the tropiness of their roles to find familiar, human centers.

It had to have been hard, as their characters continually make the dumbest decisions possible.

The film feels terribly confined by its premise. Rather than the gleeful celebration of all things monstrous that made Cabin in the Woods such a joy, Until Dawn lacks inspiration. The set design never rises above a seasonal haunt aesthetic, the creature design lacks imagination, and the repetitive nature of the time loop grows tedious.

It shouldn’t come as a great surprise, given the filmmakers. Dauberman’s hit big a couple of times, but his fare is mainly middling. Sandberg’s genre films are exclusively mediocre, and Butler’s work rarely reaches that height.

But Until Dawnis not a complete waste of time. Sandberg doesn’t skimp on bloodshed, and the cast really elevates the material. It’s no classic, but it offers a bit of bloody fun.

Outtakes

Please Won’t You Be?

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Neighborhood Watch

by Hope Madden

Director Duncan Skiles’s latest, Neighborhood Watch, delivers a tense and unpretentious thriller about a young man debilitated by childhood trauma who witnesses a kidnapping. When the police don’t believe him, he teams up with a disgraced campus security guard to find the victim.

Jack Quaid (Novocaine, Companion) is Simon, so crippled by his childhood that he hallucinates, his every thought accompanied by a running commentary in the voice of his abusive father. He can’t convince the police of what he’s seen, and in his desperation, drags his unpleasant and reluctant neighbor Ed (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) into the mystery.

Neighborhood Watch is a buddy comedy without the comedy, and it is funny how stripping away the humor allows the relationship between these two lonely men to breathe in very human ways.   

Morgan’s a spitfire, but one you recognize—your dad, your uncle, your neighbor, somebody who’s fighting the feeling of uselessness with condescension and inappropriate action. It would have been very easy to overplay Ed. Instead, Morgan nails a good-humored bitterness that gives way, little by little, to compassion and genuine usefulness.

Quaid works fiercely against easy, tropey characterization. There’s nothing cloying or patronizing in the performance. Rather, Simon is a frustrated, intelligent, decent person trying to do what’s right. The unselfconscious humility in both performances allows even the most overwritten moments of bonding to feel earned.

Sean Farley’s script includes a few too many plot conveniences, to the point that sometimes Neighborhood Watch feels like a network drama. Except that our focal points are not the police investigators, but two damaged nobodies with nothing better to do. Something about that helps the film transcend cliché.

Neighborhood Watch is an example of direction and performance elevating a script. The plot itself is far from unique. Indeed, its central mystery has become Hollywood shorthand for feel good heroism.

But Skiles looks past knee jerk, self-congratulatory action in favor of context, his camera lingering on the blight of old suburbia. In this unglamorous world of perms and coupons, polyester and bus passes, two losers that life passed by just try to do one good thing. The humble simplicity is surprisingly moving.

New In Theaters

Death, Decomposition and the Maiden

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The Shrouds

by Hope Madden

Cronenberg’s gonna Cronenberg. Isn’t that why we love him? Whether it’s 1983’s Videodrome or 2022’sCrimes of the Future, Dead Ringers (1988) or A Dangerous Method (2011), 1996’s Crash, 1986’s The Fly,  or his first feature, Shivers (1976), David Cronenberg is fascinated by the human body, sex, technology, and conspiracies in a way distinctly his own.

Even as you can kind of expect the expected in his latest, The Shrouds, the film is simultaneously more personal and less like a David Cronenberg movie than anything he’s made.

Vincent Cassel is Cronenberg’s stand in, Karsh Relikh, a man who, like Cronenberg, once made industrial videos but now creates opportunities for those who are interested to watch bodies rot. Karsh owns GraveTech, cemeteries with tech built into shrouds that wrap bodies. The shrouds contain micro xray cameras that allow mourners to see their loved ones—on a screen placed in the headstone, or conveniently on their phone.

It was Karsh’s overpowering grief after losing his wife Becca (Diane Kruger) that inspired the technology. But this being a Cronenberg film, the tech can’t be trusted.

Because Cassel is so clearly, right down to his hair style, playing Cronenberg’s avatar, it’s only fitting that Cronenberg plays with that idea. Hunny, an AI personal assistant programmed by Karsh’s former brother-in-law, Maury (Guy Pearce) even looks like Karsh’s late wife (also voiced by Kruger).

But is Hunny friend or foe? And does Maury have anything to do with the recent vandalism of the graves? Or is Becca’s sister (Kruger again) right in thinking it’s all a medical conspiracy?

The intrigue feels vaguely like Scanners or Videodrome, while the chilly sexuality pulls from the same preoccupations that fueled Crash. But Cronenberg leans more on dialogue and Douglas Koch’s precise cinematography to tell this story than any outright horror.

The Shrouds is not the kind of body horror usually associated with Cronenberg, but his corporeal obsession is more pronounced here than maybe any other film. Karsh is fixated on his wife’s body—the pieces lost during her struggle with cancer, its fate under the ground. It all feels like the filmmaker is asking us to accompany him on his own journey, not just through grief but through his reflection on his own preoccupations as a filmmaker.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t make for an especially compelling or exciting movie. The pace is slow, the performances stilted to match the dialog, and the resolution is nonexistent. The Shrouds has a grotesquely beautiful dreamlike quality, and it teems with notions both weird and fascinating. It just can’t pull that pull it all together into an entertaining whole.

Shudder Premiere

Your Roots Are Showing

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Frewaka

by Hope Madden

It’s 1973. Men in black suits with wicker cages on their heads lead a goat up a path to a wedding.

“Who invited them?” asks the bride.

“Nobody invites them. That’s the whole point.”

OK. I am in. Writer/director Aislin Clarke’s Frewaka—Irish folk horror told in the ancient tongue—grabs you early and clings to you like a melancholic Irish ballad.

After the wedding prologue, the film jumps to present day with a limp, a song, a lot of rosaries and a bang. Then Shoo (Clare Monnelly) takes a homecare nursing gig out in the countryside, caring for Peig (Bríd Ní Neachtain), who might be a little mad. She talks gibberish of listeners, a house below her house, and of being abducted on her wedding day by mysterious folk.

Clare has her own problems, but the longer she’s with Peig, the weirder the world becomes.

I dig a good Irish horror show and Frewaka (Irish for “roots”) delivers a trippy experience rooted in the fears, history and earth of Ireland. Clarke links generational trauma to Ireland’s traumatic history in a story about the upside-down world of mental illness and the fear of becoming your mother.

Wicker Man moments inject something insidious and sinister into the fable. Monnelly and Neachtain share a natural chemistry. Their performances are never showy, and that low key authenticity grounds the uncanniness of the story.

Clarke’s 2018 feature directorial debut The Devil’s Doorway tread some similar ground, upending the exorcism genre to expose Ireland’s caustic relationship with Catholicism. Her second feature is far more assured, far less predictable, and it boasts a richer and more layered composition.

There’s something obvious and unsatisfying in the climax that limits the film’s impact. Clarke opens strong and her cast keeps you guessing and engaged for as long as they can, but in the end, it feels as if she clung too closely to tales we already know. That can’t erase the mounting dread and nightmare imagery, though.