Monthly Archives: February 2025

The Stepford Wives at 50: Suburbia’s Polished Nightmare

11 Tuesday Feb 2025

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When The Stepford Wives premiered in 1975, it cast a satirical and sinister gaze on the idealised vision of suburban life, blending feminist critique with psychological horror. Based on Ira Levin’s 1972 novel, the film holds a mirror to societal anxieties, much like Levin’s earlier masterpiece, Rosemary’s Baby. Directed by Bryan Forbes and starring Katharine Ross in one of her finest performances, The Stepford Wives remains a provocative yet imperfect exploration of gender roles, technology, and societal conformity.

The story follows Joanna Eberhart (Ross), a photographer and mother who relocates to the seemingly idyllic community of Stepford, Connecticut, with her husband and children. As Joanna tries to settle into her new surroundings, she becomes uneasy about the other women in town, whose personalities are unsettlingly uniform and whose behaviour borders on robotic servitude. The unsettling truth about Stepford is slowly unveiled, exposing a malevolent force lurking beneath the neighbourhood’s polished exterior.

Much like Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Stepford Wives trades on Levin’s ability to turn domestic spaces into suffocating prisons. Both stories centre on a woman whose autonomy is systematically stripped away by patriarchal forces disguised as loving partners or harmless neighbours. In Rosemary’s Baby, the terror lies in the spiritual exploitation of Rosemary, whereas Joanna’s nightmare is grounded in technological domination and societal expectations of perfection.

Levin’s sharp critiques of power dynamics, gender politics, and the veneer of progressiveness still resonate. However, The Stepford Wives lacks some of the timeless bite of Rosemary’s Baby. While the film is eerily prescient about the commodification of women and the pressures to conform to societal ideals, its dated portrayal of second-wave feminism and its white, upper-middle-class focus limits its broader cultural relevance today.

Ross’s portrayal of Joanna is the beating heart of the film. She imbues the character with a sense of independence and vulnerability, making her gradual realisation of the truth all the more harrowing. Her performance captures both the relatable frustrations of being a woman in a male-dominated world and the existential dread of losing oneself to that world.

Ross’s naturalistic acting helps ground the film’s more fantastical elements, making the Stepford women’s eerie perfection all the more jarring. Her chemistry with Paula Prentiss, who plays Joanna’s free-spirited friend Bobbie, adds a spark to the narrative, making Bobbie’s eventual “transformation” into an obedient housewife one of the film’s most haunting moments.

Viewed through a modern lens, The Stepford Wives is both progressive and outdated. Its critique of patriarchal control and the erasure of individuality remains potent, particularly in the era of social media perfection and AI technologies. However, its framing of gender politics feels rooted in a specific 1970s feminist context that doesn’t fully align with today’s intersectional conversations about gender, race, and class.

The film’s focus on affluent white women navigating the suburbs excludes broader discussions about marginalised groups, whose struggles with autonomy and societal expectations differ vastly. Additionally, the technological aspect of the Stepford wives feels charmingly anachronistic in a world where AI and robotics have advanced far beyond what the film envisioned.

Fifty years later, The Stepford Wives remains an important, if flawed, cultural artifact. It showcases Ira Levin’s talent for turning societal anxieties into gripping, horrifying stories while featuring a standout performance from Katharine Ross. Though its themes feel both ahead of their time and tied to a specific cultural moment, the film’s critique of conformity and gender dynamics continues to spark reflection.

In the end, The Stepford Wives is a chilling reminder that even the most idyllic façades often conceal darker truths. While not as timeless as Rosemary’s Baby, it endures as a cautionary tale about the dangers of idealised perfection and the cost of erasing individuality in pursuit of a false utopia.

  • Saul Muerte

Junji Ito on Screen: The Twisted Horror of Tomie: Replay and Uzumaki

10 Monday Feb 2025

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Few names in the horror world conjure the same visceral unease and fascination as Junji Ito. Revered as a master of manga horror, Ito’s works delve into the grotesque, the surreal, and the psychologically unnerving. In 2000, the world saw two cinematic interpretations of his creations: Tomie: Replay, an unsettling sequel in the Tomie franchise, and Uzumaki, a kaleidoscopic nightmare of spirals and obsession. These films, though vastly different in tone and execution, highlight both the brilliance and challenges of adapting Ito’s unique vision for the screen.

Junji Ito’s manga are renowned for their unsettling blend of cosmic horror and body horror, underpinned by his meticulous artwork and narrative unpredictability. Whether it’s the unrelenting reincarnation of the titular Tomie or the creeping madness of spirals in Uzumaki, Ito’s work probes the fragile boundaries of sanity and reality. His influence extends far beyond the printed page, inspiring filmmakers, artists, and writers to explore the darker corners of human experience.

The Eternal Allure of Tomie: Replay

Tomie: Replay, directed by Fujirō Mitsuishi, is the second installment in the Tomie film series and continues the tale of the titular femme fatale—a supernatural being who seduces and destroys everyone in her path. Like the manga, the film captures Tomie’s unnerving ability to return from the dead, her beauty masking her monstrous nature.

While Replay carries the eerie charm of Ito’s narrative, it doesn’t quite capture the full dread of the source material. The film leans heavily into its psychological horror roots but struggles to elevate itself above its predecessor, offering an uneven pace and a more subdued atmosphere. That said, the concept of Tomie herself—a perfect blend of beauty and horror—remains fascinating and serves as a testament to Ito’s knack for creating unforgettable characters.

The Surreal Horror of Uzumaki

If Tomie: Replay is unsettling, Uzumaki is outright hypnotic. Directed by Higuchinsky, this adaptation of Ito’s infamous manga is a surreal, visually arresting journey into a town cursed by spirals. From snail-like mutations to hair that twists and tangles into impossible shapes, the film embraces the bizarre and grotesque, embodying the manga’s descent into madness.

What makes Uzumaki stand out is its commitment to the surreal. The film translates Ito’s intricate, haunting artwork into a dreamlike atmosphere, creating a sense of unease. While budgetary constraints occasionally limit the impact of its visuals, Uzumaki successfully captures the spirit of Ito’s work, making it a standout among adaptations.

The 2000 releases of Tomie: Replay and Uzumaki highlight the enduring appeal of Junji Ito’s stories. While Tomie explores personal obsession and destruction, Uzumaki delves into a more abstract, cosmic terror, reflecting the breadth of Ito’s imagination.

Ito’s works have continued to inspire adaptations, from live-action films to anime series, but they remain notoriously difficult to translate perfectly to the screen. The detailed, otherworldly visuals of his manga often defy conventional filmmaking, and the oppressive atmosphere he creates is difficult to replicate outside the confines of his inked panels.

Twenty-five years on, Tomie: Replay and Uzumaki remain milestones in the cinematic exploration of Junji Ito’s horror. While Tomie: Replay offers a glimpse into the franchise’s continuing appeal, Uzumaki achieves something greater—an almost hallucinatory dive into the nightmarish. Together, these films serve as a testament to the power of Ito’s stories and their ability to disturb and captivate audiences across mediums.

For fans of Junji Ito, these adaptations are essential viewing, flawed yet fascinating pieces that showcase why his works continue to haunt the imagination of horror enthusiasts worldwide.

  • Saul Muerte

25 Years of Terror: Ju-on: The Curse and the Birth of a Franchise

10 Monday Feb 2025

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Takashi Shimizu’s Ju-on: The Curse (2000) is not just the beginning of one of Japan’s most iconic horror franchises—it’s the foundation of a modern cinematic legacy that continues to haunt audiences across the globe. Released 25 years ago, this low-budget, direct-to-video feature introduced the world to a terrifying curse, an unrelenting cycle of vengeance that spares no one. While it may not be the most polished entry in the series, Ju-on: The Curse remains a crucial moment in horror history, setting the stage for an enduring and influential franchise.

Ju-on: The Curse emerged as an expansion of two short films Shimizu created for a Japanese anthology series, Katasumi and 4444444444. These short vignettes hinted at the horrors of the Saeki house, but it was this feature-length debut that gave life—or more accurately, un-death—to the stories of Kayako, the vengeful spirit, and her son, Toshio. Shot on a modest budget, the film’s lo-fi aesthetic lends it a raw and unsettling realism, as if viewers are unwittingly peering into a cursed world themselves.

While Ju-on: The Curse may lack the finesse of later entries, it introduced Shimizu’s now-signature fragmented storytelling. The non-linear structure, jumping across time and characters, emphasises the inescapable nature of the curse. Once you step into the Saeki house, your fate is sealed, no matter how far you run or how much time passes.

The film’s limited release might have meant a quiet debut, but word-of-mouth buzz about its chilling atmosphere quickly spread. Shimizu’s unsettling use of silence, eerie sound effects, and the unforgettable imagery of Kayako crawling in jerky movements became instant nightmare fuel. It wasn’t long before Ju-on: The Curse garnered a cult following, propelling Shimizu to rework the concept for a theatrical audience in 2002 with Ju-on: The Grudge.

From there, the franchise expanded rapidly, becoming a cornerstone of J-horror. The success of The Grudge series led to American remakes starring Sarah Michelle Gellar, television adaptations, and even crossover films (Sadako vs. Kayako), cementing the franchise’s place in popular culture.

What makes Ju-on: The Curse so enduring is its universality. The idea of a haunting that clings to its victims and passes from one to the next taps into primal fears about guilt, punishment, and inevitability. Shimizu’s original vision might have been modest in scope, but the franchise it birthed grew into a juggernaut that redefined how audiences perceive Japanese horror.

For all its flaws—like some uneven pacing and an understandably amateurish sheen—Ju-on: The Curse is the blueprint for what followed. It’s a stark reminder that great horror doesn’t require a Hollywood budget, just an idea that worms its way into your subconscious and refuses to let go.

Twenty-five years later, the echoes of the Saeki house continue to reverberate, proving that some curses truly are eternal.

  • Saul Muerte

The Dead Thing (2025) – A Haunting Descent into Obsession and the Unknown

09 Sunday Feb 2025

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Shudder’s latest original, The Dead Thing, is a slow-burning, atmospheric descent into grief, trauma, and something even more unearthly. Directed with a steady, unsettling hand, this supernatural thriller refuses to play by conventional horror rules, opting instead for a creeping dread..

At the heart of the film is Alex (Blu Hunt, The New Mutants), a young woman adrift in a sea of meaningless encounters, numbed by her own detachment from the world. When a seemingly random dating app match leads her to Kyle (Ben Smith-Petersen, Mad Max: Fury Road), their connection is instant, electric—yet fleeting. The morning after, Kyle vanishes without a trace, leaving behind an aching absence that sends Alex spiraling into a desperate search for answers. What she uncovers is a chilling revelation that warps the boundaries of reality, dragging her into an inescapable cycle of obsession, dependence, and something far darker than she could have imagined.

Blu Hunt delivers a powerhouse performance, embodying Alex’s hollowed-out existence with eerie precision. Her portrayal of emotional disconnection makes her eventual unraveling all the more compelling, as she clings to Kyle in a feverish attempt to grasp at something—anything—real. The film’s hypnotic pacing mirrors her descent, pulling the viewer into a suffocating atmosphere of existential dread.

What sets The Dead Thing apart is its layered exploration of trauma, not just in the psychological sense, but in the way it fractures time, memory, and even space. The film flirts with the astrophysical, hinting at horrors that exist beyond human perception, yet tethered to the deeply personal. It’s an unnerving blend of body horror and cosmic unease, where love and terror become indistinguishable.

Director Elric Kane crafts a film that rewards patience. Those expecting conventional horror beats may find themselves frustrated, but for those willing to embrace its methodical pacing and brooding atmosphere, The Dead Thing delivers a uniquely unsettling experience. With haunting imagery, a skin-crawling score, and a gut-punch of an ending, it cements itself as one of Shudder’s most memorable releases in recent years.

The Prognosis:

A terrifying meditation on trauma and the lengths we go to feel alive again, The Dead Thing lingers like a half-remembered nightmare—one you might not want to wake up from.

  • Saul Muerte

The Dead Thing will stream on Shudder from Fri 14th Feb.

Welcome (2025) – A Tense, Thought-Provoking Thriller That Finds Strength in Shades of Grey

08 Saturday Feb 2025

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Jevon Boreland’s Welcome arrives as a psychological thriller that thrives on ambiguity, moral complexity, and unsettling tension. While its modest budget is apparent at times, strong performances, well-crafted cinematography, and an antagonist with unexpected depth elevate the experience beyond the usual home-invasion fare.

The film follows expectant parents Darren (Emidio Lopes) and Sasha (Shailene Garnett), who set out for a romantic getaway in the countryside, only to find their retreat disrupted by their overly attentive landlord Eric (Emmanuel Kabongo) and his unsettling wife Millie (Brianna Goldie). What begins as an awkward intrusion soon spirals into something far more sinister, as paranoia and hidden motives turn their weekend into a nightmare.

Rather than presenting a clear-cut hero-villain dynamic, Welcome plays in murky waters, forcing viewers to question not just Eric’s unsettling presence but also the past decisions of Darren and Sasha. The film leans into psychological horror more than outright terror, making its tension feel more cerebral than visceral.

Boreland and his team craft a tightly wound narrative that benefits from strong character work, a script that keeps you guessing, and moments of quiet, creeping dread. The cinematography enhances the sense of isolation, giving the film an eerie beauty that contrasts with its darker themes. Kabongo, in particular, delivers a performance that straddles menace and sympathy, making Eric one of the more compelling antagonists in recent genre fare.

However, Welcome doesn’t fully capitalise on its tension. The slow build is effective, but some stretches of the film feel drawn out, and when things finally escalate, the payoff is more unsettling than shocking. Additionally, while the script is solid, certain character decisions feel forced, occasionally stretching plausibility.

The Prognosis:

Welcome is a solid psychological thriller that asks unsettling questions about morality, past choices, and the blurred lines between villainy and victimhood. While its pacing and budget limitations hold it back from greatness, the film’s strong performances and commitment to ambiguity make it a worthy entry in the genre. If you enjoy thrillers that leave you pondering. Welcome is worth a visit.

  • Saul Muerte

Welcome is available to stream on demand from Feb 11 through Breaking Glass Pictures.

The Devil Rides Out: Hammer’s Chilling Dance with the Occult

08 Saturday Feb 2025

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The Power of Good Against the Forces of Evil

When Hammer Films turned their attention to Dennis Wheatley’s supernatural thrillers, few could have anticipated the enduring legacy of The Devil Rides Out (1968). Directed by the prolific Terence Fisher, it stands as a masterclass in atmosphere, storytelling, and occult intrigue, all while showcasing Christopher Lee in one of his finest and most distinctive performances.

At the suggestion of Christopher Lee, Hammer secured the rights to three of Wheatley’s novels: The Devil Rides Out, The Satanist, and To the Devil a Daughter. Wheatley’s works, steeped in the dark arts and tales of moral confrontation, presented the studio with fertile ground for their horror sensibilities. Lee, a longtime admirer of Wheatley’s writing, saw The Devil Rides Out as an opportunity to expand his range. Cast against type, he portrayed the heroic Duc de Richleau, an intellectual and commanding figure who battles Satanic forces with poise and conviction.

Hammer entrusted screenwriting duties to Richard Matheson, celebrated for his work on The Twilight Zone and various genre-defining projects. Matheson brought a deft touch to the script, balancing faithfulness to the source material with a streamlined cinematic narrative. His adaptation maintained the novel’s core themes while amplifying the visual potential of its occult sequences.

The Devil Rides Out marked the final collaboration between Terence Fisher and Christopher Lee. The legendary duo had worked together on a string of iconic Hammer films, including The Curse of Frankenstein and Dracula. Fisher’s steady hand brought gravitas and tension to the film, crafting a foreboding atmosphere that elevated its more fantastical elements.

Christopher Lee, stepping away from his usual roles as villains or monsters, relished the chance to play the righteous Duc de Richleau. His commanding performance is a standout, projecting authority and intelligence while conveying the stakes of the battle against evil. Lee’s passion for the project shines through, and it’s evident that this role was deeply personal to him.

The supporting cast bolsters the film’s gravitas. Charles Gray’s turn as the malevolent Mocata is mesmerising, blending charm and menace in equal measure. Mocata’s scenes of hypnotic manipulation and occult rituals rank among the film’s most chilling moments. Nike Arrighi delivers a quietly effective performance as the vulnerable Tanith, while Leon Greene, Patrick Mower, Sarah Lawson, and Paul Eddington round out a solid ensemble.

What truly sets The Devil Rides Out apart is its commitment to the supernatural. Fisher and Matheson crafted unforgettable set pieces, from the tense ritual to protect a sacred circle to the summoning of the Angel of Death. Bernard Robinson’s production design and James Bernard’s eerie sound design create an immersive world where the line between good and evil feels palpably thin.

Kudos must also go to Hammer’s visual effects team, who worked wonders within the constraints of the studio’s modest budget. Though some effects now feel dated, their inventiveness and ambition remain admirable. The film’s climactic moments still resonate, particularly the shocking confrontation with demonic forces.

Critically, The Devil Rides Out has been lauded as one of Hammer’s crowning achievements. Fans and scholars alike praise it as a rare foray into the supernatural that combines intellectual weight with Gothic spectacle. However, its commercial performance, particularly in the United States, fell short of expectations. Hammer’s distinct brand of horror faced stiff competition in a market shifting toward grittier, more visceral fare.

Despite this, the film’s reputation has only grown over the decades. Its themes of morality, faith, and resistance against darkness remain timeless. And for Christopher Lee, it was a career highlight that showcased his depth as an actor beyond the iconic monsters he so often portrayed.

The Devil Rides Out is a haunting, sophisticated entry in Hammer’s catalog, blending Wheatley’s literary prowess, Matheson’s screenwriting expertise, and Fisher’s directorial vision. It’s a testament to the power of storytelling and the enduring appeal of Gothic horror.

For fans of Hammer Films or anyone fascinated by the battle between light and darkness, The Devil Rides Out is a must-watch.

  • Saul Muerte

Corruption (1968): Peter Cushing’s Descent into Madness and Mayhem in a Grotesque 1960s Thriller

07 Friday Feb 2025

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Peter Cushing, known for his commanding presence in countless Hammer Horror films, took a sharp turn with Corruption (1968), a grim and morally depraved tale of obsession, vanity, and murder. In this stark and sordid thriller, Cushing plays Sir John Rowan, a respected surgeon whose descent into madness highlights his versatility as an actor while leaving the audience grappling with the film’s graphic nature and troubling themes. Though it has garnered a reputation as an exploitative oddity, Corruption remains an intriguing, if flawed, artifact of 1960s horror cinema.

Cushing’s portrayal of Rowan is a revelation for fans more accustomed to his roles as noble heroes or cunning villains in Hammer’s Gothic settings. Here, he plays a man driven by love and guilt to commit horrifying acts. When Rowan’s fiancée, Lynn (Sue Lloyd), suffers facial disfigurement after a freak accident, he becomes consumed by the desire to restore her beauty. This desire leads him to a gruesome discovery: the glandular fluids of murdered women can temporarily heal her scars. Cushing imbues Rowan with a tragic intensity, showing his slow unraveling as he succumbs to his monstrous impulses. It is one of his most unsettling performances, proving his ability to shine even in less-than-ideal material.

Corruption is as much an exploitation film as it is a psychological horror. Director Robert Hartford-Davis pulls no punches, delivering scenes of shocking violence that push the boundaries of what audiences might have expected from a film starring Cushing. The camera lingers on the grisly aftermath of Rowan’s murders, which gives the film an almost voyeuristic quality. This rawness, combined with its lurid themes, has divided critics and audiences alike. For some, it is a bold exploration of vanity and the destructive lengths to which one might go for love. For others, it is an uncomfortable and gratuitous experience.

One of the film’s most striking elements is its embrace of its time period. Unlike the Gothic castles and period settings of many other Cushing films, Corruption is firmly rooted in the Swinging ’60s, with its mod fashion, psychedelic lighting, and jazz-infused score. This contemporary backdrop heightens the film’s sense of moral decay, as Rowan’s sterile, clinical world collides with the vibrant, hedonistic culture of the era. The juxtaposition makes Rowan’s actions feel all the more jarring and alien.

Despite its fascinating premise and Cushing’s committed performance, Corruption falters in several areas. The script lacks nuance, often relying on shock value rather than exploring the deeper psychological or ethical implications of Rowan’s actions. The pacing can be uneven, with moments of genuine tension interspersed with scenes that drag. The supporting cast, while serviceable, struggles to match Cushing’s gravitas, and some of the dialogue feels stilted.

Additionally, the film’s depiction of women as victims of Rowan’s experiments has drawn criticism for its exploitative nature. While this can be seen as a reflection of the film’s themes—the objectification of women and society’s obsession with beauty—it can also feel gratuitous and uncomfortable to modern audiences.

Corruption was met with mixed reviews upon its release, and its graphic content ensured it was not for the faint of heart. However, over time, it has gained a cult following, particularly among fans of Cushing and aficionados of obscure 1960s horror. Its willingness to push boundaries and explore darker, more contemporary themes sets it apart from many of its peers, even if it doesn’t always succeed in its execution.

For those willing to overlook its flaws, Corruption offers a fascinating glimpse into the darker corners of 1960s horror. It’s a film that dares to be different, and while it may not achieve the same level of artistry as some of Cushing’s other work, it remains a memorable entry in his illustrious career.

At its core, Corruption is a film about obsession, guilt, and the price of vanity. It’s a story that feels both timeless and firmly rooted in its era, with Peter Cushing delivering a performance that elevates the material beyond its exploitative roots. While not a masterpiece, it’s a fascinating curiosity for fans of vintage horror and a testament to Cushing’s ability to bring depth and humanity to even the most grotesque characters.

  • Saul Muerte

Between Heaven and Hell: Revisiting Constantine 20 Years Later

06 Thursday Feb 2025

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Hell wants him. Heaven won’t take him. Earth needs him.

Adapted from DC’s Hellblazer comics, Constantine offered a brooding, visually intense dive into the occult underworld of Los Angeles. Francis Lawrence’s directorial debut took on the daunting task of translating the rich, multi-layered narrative crafted by Alan Moore, Steve Bissette, and John Totleben into a two-hour feature. The result? A mixed bag of ambitious storytelling, uneven execution, and moments of genuine brilliance.

At the heart of the film is Keanu Reeves, playing a reimagined John Constantine. Gone is the chain-smoking blonde Liverpudlian from the comics, replaced by a darker, grittier, and distinctly American take on the character. While this choice alienated fans of the source material, Reeves brought a weary charisma to Constantine, capturing his fatalistic attitude and reluctant heroism. The supporting cast added much-needed gravitas: Tilda Swinton as the androgynous, duplicitous angel Gabriel; Rachel Weisz as the determined yet vulnerable Angela Dodson; Djimon Hounsou as the enigmatic witch doctor Papa Midnite; and Peter Stormare, who stole the show in a brief but unforgettable turn as a languid, menacing Lucifer.

Visually, Constantine embraced the early 2000s aesthetic of slick, CGI-heavy imagery. While its hellscapes and demonic designs were ambitious, the digital effects haven’t aged gracefully, often leaving the film with a dated look. Despite this, there are moments where the cinematography and production design shine, particularly in the portrayal of Los Angeles as a liminal space teetering between the celestial and the infernal.

Thematically, the film grappled with heavy ideas—redemption, free will, and the eternal tug-of-war between good and evil. However, it struggled to match the depth and nuance of the comics. The screenplay pared down the philosophical underpinnings of Hellblazer, focusing instead on action and spectacle. For fans of the comic, this felt like a missed opportunity to fully explore Constantine’s morally ambiguous world.

Still, Constantine has its merits. The interplay between Reeves and Swinton crackles with tension, and Stormare’s brief screen time is a masterclass in scene-stealing villainy. The film’s ambition to blend noir sensibilities with supernatural horror is commendable, even if it doesn’t always succeed.

Twenty years later, Constantine remains a polarising entry in the comic-to-film canon. While it never quite captures the anarchic spirit of its source material, it endures as an intriguing—if flawed—experiment. With talk of a long-awaited sequel on the horizon, one can only hope that John Constantine gets another shot to fully embrace his dark, twisted legacy.

  • Saul Muerte

Monster Summer (2025) – A Nostalgic but Uneven Family Horror Adventure

06 Thursday Feb 2025

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Somewhere between Goosebumps and The Goonies, Monster Summer tries to capture that elusive blend of childhood adventure, light horror, and 80s-style camaraderie. Directed by David Henrie, the film delivers a charming, if slightly uneven, ride through the thrills of a summer setting gone awry, boosted by a cast that lends it more weight than expected.

The story follows Noah (Mason Thames) and his friends as they uncover a supernatural force disrupting their island’s summer festivities. With the help of a retired detective (Mel Gibson, in a gruff but entertaining role), they set off on a quest filled with eerie encounters and mild scares. Lorraine Bracco adds a welcome presence to the ensemble, grounding the film’s more fantastical elements with her no-nonsense delivery.

The biggest strength of Monster Summer lies in its cast. Thames continues to impress as a young lead, while Gibson and Bracco bring a sense of old-school gravitas. The film also leans into nostalgia, evoking the spirit of classic kids-on-a-mission films, and it largely succeeds in crafting an adventure that feels accessible for younger audiences while still engaging for older viewers.

However, Monster Summer struggles with pacing. The first half builds up well, but the stakes never quite reach the intensity needed to make the adventure feel truly urgent. The mystery surrounding the “monster” is intriguing but ultimately plays it too safe, leaving the film feeling more like a fun diversion than a truly memorable entry in the genre.

The Prognosis:

Monster Summer is a light, enjoyable ride that taps into the nostalgic formula of kid-led horror adventures. It doesn’t break new ground, and some of its tension feels undercooked, but strong performances and a charming atmosphere make it worth a watch—especially for families looking for an entry-level horror experience.

  • Saul Muerte

Cinderella’s Revenge (2025) – A Pumpkin-Sized Misfire

05 Wednesday Feb 2025

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Riding the dubious wave of horror-fied childhood classics, Cinderella’s Revenge arrives with the promise of twisted fairy tale carnage. With Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey and its ilk paving the way, director Andy Edwards attempts to bring a slasher spin to the beloved tale of glass slippers and midnight transformations. Unfortunately, this grim retelling is more of a rotten pumpkin than a blood-soaked ball, failing to capitalise on its premise in any meaningful way.

The film follows Cinderella, who, after years of torment at the hands of her wicked stepmother, is granted freedom and power through her Fairy Godmother (played by Species star Natasha Henstridge). But instead of attending a magical ball, Cinderella embarks on a quest for vengeance, carving a path of bloodshed through her stepfamily and anyone else unfortunate enough to cross her.

It’s a fun idea on paper—turning the rags-to-riches fairy tale into a horror-tinged revenge flick—but Cinderella’s Revenge fumbles its execution at every turn. Rather than fully embracing the absurdity of its concept or delivering the kind of gleeful grindhouse thrills it desperately needs, the film lands in a no-man’s-land of weak gore, limp action, and half-hearted humour. Even the kills, which should be the film’s main draw, feel uninspired and rushed, as if the filmmakers ran out of ideas before they even got started.

The presence of Natasha Henstridge as the Fairy Godmother initially seems like a potential saving grace. Given the right material, she could have delivered a delightfully wicked performance, perhaps something akin to Maleficent by way of Evil Dead. But the script gives her little to work with, reducing her to a glorified exposition machine with occasional flashes of menace. Likewise, Cinderella herself lacks the charisma or depth to make her transformation into a bloodthirsty avenger compelling.

Perhaps the biggest problem is that the film never figures out what it wants to be. Is it a straight horror movie? A tongue-in-cheek slasher? A dark fantasy revenge tale? Instead of committing to any one tone, Cinderella’s Revenge awkwardly lurches between them, resulting in a film that feels both tedious and lifeless.

While the trend of turning public domain fairy tales into horror movies isn’t inherently a bad idea, Cinderella’s Revenge serves as a cautionary tale of how not to do it. Lacking style, wit, or even the basic competence to deliver enjoyable schlock, this is one fairy tale that should have stayed on the shelf.

  • Saul Muerte