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.
Leigh Whannell’s Wolf Man arrives with the weight of expectation, following his 2020 critical and commercial hit The Invisible Man. Much like its predecessor, the film modernises a Universal Monsters classic, filtering it through Whannell’s sleek, grounded style. But whereas The Invisible Man thrived on paranoia, tension, and social relevance, Wolf Man struggles to find its footing, delivering a film that is as unsteady as its protagonist’s transformation.
The story follows Blake (played by Christopher Abbott), a man whose troubled marriage leads him and his wife Charlotte (Julia Garner) to his secluded childhood home in rural Oregon. What starts as an attempt at reconciliation quickly turns into a nightmarish ordeal when they’re attacked by an unseen creature. As Blake’s behaviour grows increasingly erratic, the lines between man and beast blur, forcing Charlotte to confront a horrific truth.
At its core, Wolf Man treads familiar ground—Whannell’s fascination with the human body in flux is evident, echoing Upgrade (2018) in its depiction of involuntary transformation. However, unlike Upgrade, which explored its themes with a sharp, kinetic energy, Wolf Man feels oddly inert. The family dynamic, which should be the film’s emotional anchor, is frustratingly underdeveloped. The tension between Blake and Charlotte lacks depth, reducing their relationship to a mere setup for the inevitable carnage. Without a strong emotional core, the horror feels weightless, and the film’s attempts at suspense suffer.
Where The Invisible Man thrived on paranoia and psychological tension, Wolf Man attempts to create a similar claustrophobic dread but fumbles in execution. The couple’s choices feel forced rather than organic, making their descent into terror feel more like a scripted inevitability rather than an authentic unraveling. The film teases interesting ideas—Whannell is clearly drawn to the horror of losing control, both physically and mentally—but they never quite coalesce into something meaningful.
The Prognosis:
Visually, Whannell maintains his knack for stylish, stripped-down horror, and there are fleeting moments of genuine unease. The practical effects and creature design are commendable, but they can’t compensate for the film’s lack of narrative momentum. Despite solid performances, Wolf Man ultimately feels like a missed opportunity—a film that howls at the moon but never quite sinks its teeth in.
The world of cinema has lost one of its most unforgettable stars with the passing of Olivia Hussey. Known for her captivating performances and ethereal presence, Hussey’s career spanned decades, but it was her work in the horror genre that cemented her place in cinematic history. Her portrayal of strong, complex characters across a variety of films has left an indelible mark on both the industry and audiences alike.
Hussey’s notable role in Black Christmas (1974), directed by Bob Clark, remains one of the defining contributions to the horror genre. As Jess Bradford, a college student who becomes the target of a terrifying phone stalker during Christmas break, Hussey delivered a performance of quiet strength and vulnerability. Black Christmas would go on to become a cult classic, influencing generations of slasher films that followed, with Hussey’s chilling turn as one of its earliest heroines still resonating with fans.
Her talents transcended the genre, yet it was her return to horror that brought more unforgettable moments. In Psycho IV: The Beginning (1990), she portrayed Norma Bates, a character that brought fresh depth to the story of Norman Bates, brilliantly counterbalancing the legacy of the original Psycho films. Hussey’s portrayal imbued the role with nuance, adding a layer of sympathy to a tragic and infamous character.
In addition to these films, Hussey’s role in Turkey Shoot (1982) stands out as another testament to her versatility. This action-packed horror film saw her in a more physical, confrontational role, showcasing her ability to navigate both suspenseful terror and high-stakes action with grace and poise.
Hussey also made a memorable contribution to IT: The Mini-Series (1990), where she portrayed Audra Denbrough, the wife of Billy Denbrough (played by Richard Thomas). In this role, Hussey brought a grounded, emotional presence to the adaptation of Stephen King’s beloved novel, adding depth to the narrative and anchoring the emotional stakes of the story, particularly in her scenes alongside Thomas.
While her career spanned a wide variety of genres and roles, it was her contributions to horror that continue to influence and inspire. Olivia Hussey’s legacy in the world of film will not soon be forgotten. Her ability to convey fear, resilience, and vulnerability on screen has left an enduring impression on both her fans and the filmmakers who followed in her wake.
We remember Olivia Hussey not only for the characters she brought to life but for the profound impact she had on shaping the genre and the hearts of all who were fortunate enough to witness her performances.
Rest in peace, Olivia Hussey. You will be greatly missed.
In Heretic, theological debate takes centre stage, crafting a dense and dialogue-heavy narrative that explores themes of faith, gender, and control with a sharp eye. This cerebral approach eschews traditional horror or thriller beats for something far more introspective, building an almost claustrophobic sense of intellectual combat. While this bold stylistic choice is likely to alienate some viewers, it succeeds in setting the film apart as an ambitious and thought-provoking piece.
Hugh Grant delivers a strong performance, skillfully embodying a man both charming and unsettling in his convictions. However, at times, his characteristic mannerisms seep into the portrayal, unintentionally breaking the fourth wall and pulling the viewer out of the moment. It’s a flaw that mars an otherwise compelling performance, yet one that never completely derails the film.
Sophie Thatcher, in contrast, fully immerses herself in her role, bringing nuance and emotional weight to her character. Her scenes resonate deeply, anchoring the more abstract elements of the narrative with raw, relatable humanity. Meanwhile, Chloe East provides a spirited performance but finds herself hindered by a script that occasionally sacrifices her character’s integrity for plot convenience. Despite this, she still manages to shine in key moments, displaying the kind of talent that could thrive under better material.
The Prognosis:
While Heretic is far from perfect, its willingness to tackle complex issues through layered dialogue and thematic depth makes it a rewarding watch for those willing to engage with its intricacies. It’s a film that dares to challenge the audience, even if it stumbles along the way.
Mike Nichols’ Wolf offers a refreshingly mature and layered take on the werewolf mythos, eschewing the usual gore-laden spectacle for a story steeped in psychological tension, power dynamics, and human frailty. Released in 1994, this film remains a unique entry in the genre, owing much to its stellar cast and Nichols’ seasoned direction.
Jack Nicholson commands the screen as Will Randall, a middle-aged book editor whose life takes a supernatural turn after a wolf bite. Nicholson’s performance brims with subtle menace, capturing Will’s transformation with restraint and depth. It’s a testament to his range that he can imbue the character with both primal ferocity and wry charm, making this a werewolf we root for as much as we fear.
Michelle Pfeiffer is magnetic as Laura Alden, bringing a sharp wit and vulnerability to her role as the love interest caught in the storm of Will’s transformation. Her chemistry with Nicholson elevates the film, adding a touch of sensuality to the story. James Spader delivers a delightfully slimy performance as Stewart Swinton, Will’s duplicitous protégé whose ambition sets him on a collision course with his boss. Christopher Plummer’s turn as the calculating Raymond Alden rounds out the cast, his gravitas lending weight to the corporate intrigue that simmers beneath the surface.
Nichols approaches the age-old tale of lycanthropy with a refined touch, framing the werewolf curse as an allegory for midlife crises and primal urges buried beneath layers of societal decorum. The film’s central themes of power, betrayal, and rediscovery are enhanced by its corporate setting, where the hunt for dominance plays out not in forests but in boardrooms.
The cinematography by Giuseppe Rotunno is striking, particularly the way he uses shadow and light to emphasise Will’s growing connection to the animal within. Ennio Morricone’s score complements the mood perfectly, adding an eerie elegance to the proceedings.
However, Wolf is not without its shortcomings. The pacing falters at times, and the climactic showdown, while entertaining, leans into genre tropes that feel at odds with the film’s otherwise restrained tone. Additionally, the film’s blend of horror and drama doesn’t always coalesce seamlessly, leaving some moments feeling disjointed.
Despite these flaws, Wolf remains a compelling and underappreciated gem. It’s a film that dares to take a sophisticated approach to a well-trodden myth, exploring the beast within with intelligence and style. For fans of Nicholson, Pfeiffer, or anyone seeking a thoughtful twist on werewolf lore, Wolf still has plenty of bite.
Blumhouse Productions made its name with innovative horror films that struck a chord with audiences, often redefining the genre through clever storytelling and sharp commentary. Unfortunately, Afraid is a painful reminder of how far they’ve drifted from their golden years. Adding to the disappointment is the involvement of Chris Weitz, whose early career suggested he was destined for much greater things than this hollow misfire.
Weitz, once celebrated for his deft handling of comedies like American Pie and heartfelt adaptations like About a Boy, and even the ambitious yet divisive The Golden Compass, seems to have lost his way entirely. His association with Afraid begs the question: what happened? The film bears none of the charm, depth, or even technical polish of his earlier work. Instead, it’s a lifeless slog that fails to inspire fear, intrigue, or any emotional response beyond exasperation.
The premise—centered on the growing unease around artificial intelligence—has potential but is squandered on cheap thrills and half-baked ideas. Rather than offering a meaningful exploration of our AI-driven anxieties, Afraid merely skims the surface. Its portrayal of a bleak, AI-dominated future feels both uninspired and needlessly nihilistic. The film provides no real solutions, no glimmers of hope, and, frankly, no compelling reason for its existence.
Blumhouse’s hallmark has always been its ability to make the most of modest budgets, yet Afraid looks and feels like a bargain-bin effort. The production design lacks creativity, the dialogue is wooden, and the pacing is agonisingly slow. In a world where AI-themed horror can spark fascinating debates, this film opts for cheap scares and empty platitudes, leaving viewers frustrated and disengaged.
If the goal was to provoke thought or generate terror, Afraid misses on both counts. It’s a film that feels as lifeless as the machines it warns against, offering nothing to its audience and even less to the horror genre.
The Prognosis:
Blumhouse once showed promise as a bastion of modern horror, but with Afraid, they seem to be running on fumes. Combined with Weitz’s fall from grace, this film is a tragic testament to squandered potential. Hope may not exist in the world of Afraid, and after watching it, you’ll be hard-pressed to find any for its creators, either.
Shudder Original Series Series Premiere Date: December 13, 2024
As The Creep Tapes bows out with its final episode, Mom (and Albert) delivers a potent blend of psychological unease and familial dysfunction. Taking the story back to Josef’s roots, this episode ventures into the unsettling realm of the family home, peeling back layers of his psyche while injecting a fresh dose of tension with the titular Albert—his mother’s new lover.
The shift in setting immediately distinguishes this episode. The familiar, impersonal backdrops of previous entries give way to the suffocating intimacy of a childhood home. It’s a place that should offer comfort but instead brims with latent tension. Josef’s arrival feels less like a homecoming and more like an invasion, with every exchanged glance and clipped remark between him and his mother steeped in unspoken history.
Enter Albert, a seemingly mild-mannered addition to the household, whose presence tips the power dynamics into dangerous territory. Played with an unsettling mix of charm and obliviousness, Albert becomes a lightning rod for Josef’s simmering rage and jealousy. Their interactions veer between awkward civility and veiled hostility, and as the cracks in Josef’s mask widen, it becomes clear that Albert is more than just an unwelcome guest in Josef’s eyes—he’s a symbol of everything Josef feels he’s lost.
The direction here is particularly sharp, leaning into uncomfortable silences and tight framing that captures the oppressive weight of these relationships. The episode’s tension builds methodically, leading to a climactic moment that is equal parts shocking and darkly comedic—a trademark of the series. The “titillating” conclusion, while provocative, feels earned in the context of the episode’s exploration of power, control, and Josef’s fractured psyche.
What makes Mom (and Albert) so effective is its ability to subvert expectations. Where previous episodes leaned heavily into Josef’s control over others, this installment strips him of his dominance, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. It’s a bold move for a finale, challenging the audience to reconsider their understanding of Josef while providing an unsettling endnote to his arc.
Final Thoughts: Mom (and Albert) is a fittingly twisted send-off for The Creep Tapes, doubling down on the series’ psychological and emotional complexity. By juxtaposing Josef’s past with his present and introducing a disruptive force in Albert, the episode underscores the fragility of Josef’s carefully constructed persona. As the series concludes, it leaves us with a lingering sense of dread—and a morbid curiosity about what lies ahead for Josef.
Saul Muerte
The Creep TapesSeries are currently streaming Exclusively on Shudder and AMC+
When Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter slashed its way into theaters in 1984, it was marketed as the definitive conclusion to Jason Voorhees’ reign of terror. Of course, hindsight reveals this “final” chapter was merely the midpoint of a sprawling franchise. Yet, even after 40 years, this fourth installment remains a fan favourite, celebrated for its heightened intensity, memorable characters, and pivotal role in shaping the series’ future.
Tommy Jarvis: A Hero is Born
A key reason The Final Chapter resonates so deeply with fans is the introduction of Tommy Jarvis, played by a young Corey Feldman. Tommy, a precocious horror enthusiast with a knack for special effects makeup, is a rare protagonist who feels as intriguing as Jason himself. Feldman brings an authentic mix of vulnerability and resourcefulness to the role, making Tommy an instantly iconic character.
Tommy’s climactic confrontation with Jason—a battle of wits and willpower—is one of the franchise’s most intense moments. His shocking decision to shave his head and impersonate a younger version of Jason to disorient the killer was both unsettling and ingenious, adding a psychological edge rarely seen in slasher films of the era. This pivotal moment not only cemented Tommy as a standout character but also set the stage for his return in later entries, making him a central figure in the saga.
The Turning Point
By the time The Final Chapter arrived, the Friday the 13th formula was well established: a group of teenagers ventures to Crystal Lake, where they meet gruesome ends at Jason’s hands. However, this installment elevated the franchise in several key ways.
Director Joseph Zito (The Prowler) brought a more polished aesthetic to the film, combining tense, atmospheric build-ups with visceral kill sequences. Tom Savini, returning to provide the special effects after his groundbreaking work on the original film, delivered some of the franchise’s most memorable gore. From Jason’s harpoon impalement to his shocking demise via machete to the face, the kills were as creative as they were brutal, solidifying Jason as an unstoppable force of nature.
The film also marked a tonal shift, balancing the campy thrills of earlier installments with a darker, more serious approach. This wasn’t just another Jason romp—it felt like the franchise was reckoning with its own legacy. The inclusion of Tommy Jarvis and his family introduced a level of emotional investment often absent from slasher films, giving audiences someone to root for beyond mere survival.
Jason’s (Temporary) Swan Song
Perhaps most notably, The Final Chapter marked the (temporary) end of Jason Voorhees as fans knew him. The film’s bold decision to actually kill off Jason in a conclusive and gruesome manner was a major gamble. For many fans, this death felt definitive, a fitting end to a character who had become synonymous with the genre. Of course, Jason would rise again, but this film gave him a sense of finality that added weight to his demise.
Fan Favorite Legacy
Decades later, The Final Chapter continues to stand out as one of the franchise’s most beloved entries. Its blend of suspense, gore, and character-driven storytelling has made it a benchmark for slasher sequels. For many fans, this installment represents the franchise at its peak—a perfect storm of horror elements that capture everything audiences love about Friday the 13th.
Final Thoughts
Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter may not have been the end of Jason Voorhees, but it was undeniably a turning point for the franchise. With the introduction of Tommy Jarvis, the escalation of gore and tension, and a climactic showdown that still leaves audiences breathless, this installment remains a testament to why Friday the 13th endures as a cornerstone of horror. Forty years later, it’s clear that The Final Chapter is anything but the end—it’s the moment Jason and his machete became immortal.
What’s your favourite memory or moment from this fan-favorite slasher? Let’s celebrate four decades of terror at Crystal Lake!
When it comes to the annals of horror cinema, few figures loom as large—or as unapologetically blood-soaked—as Herschell Gordon Lewis. Dubbed “The Godfather of Gore,” Lewis carved out a niche in the 1960s for his gleeful embrace of low-budget, high-shock filmmaking, pioneering the splatter subgenre that would influence horror for decades to come. While films like Blood Feast (1963) and Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964) are often cited as his most infamous works, his career is also punctuated by strange and memorable entries like Something Weird (1967), A Taste of Blood (1967), and The Gruesome Twosome (1967).
Something Weird (1967)
Among Lewis’s catalogue, Something Weird stands out for its sheer oddity. Mixing supernatural elements, psychedelic visuals, and a bizarre romantic subplot, the film defies easy categorisation. The story revolves around a disfigured man who gains psychic powers after a brush with death, only to become entangled with a witch who demands his love in exchange for restoring his looks.
Something Weird is less a traditional horror film and more a kaleidoscopic fever dream, complete with eerie electronic soundscapes and disjointed narrative turns. While the gore is comparatively restrained, the film’s weirdness compensates, making it one of Lewis’s most intriguing offerings. It’s a testament to his willingness to experiment, even if the result is more bewildering than terrifying.
A Taste of Blood (1967)
Often referred to as Lewis’s attempt at a “classy” horror movie, A Taste of Blood is a sprawling vampire tale with surprising ambitions. Clocking in at over two hours, the film tells the story of John Stone, a businessman who inherits two bottles of brandy from his ancestor, none other than Count Dracula. After drinking the brandy, Stone becomes a vampire, seeking revenge on the descendants of those who killed Dracula.
While it lacks the frenzied gore of Lewis’s other works, A Taste of Blood compensates with its melodramatic tone and surprisingly involved storyline. The pacing drags in places, and its length feels at odds with Lewis’s usual snappy, exploitative style. Still, the film offers a fascinating glimpse of what might have been had Lewis pursued more traditional storytelling in his career.
The Gruesome Twosome (1967)
Returning to his roots with this lurid tale of scalp-harvesting, The Gruesome Twosome epitomises the gleefully grotesque aesthetic that earned Lewis his nickname. The plot revolves around a mother-and-son duo running a wig shop that sources its hair from murdered young women.
The film’s low-budget charm is evident from the opening scene—a bizarre monologue delivered by two talking mannequin heads—and its over-the-top violence is pure Lewis. While the effects are crude by today’s standards, they have a handmade quality that captures the spirit of exploitation cinema. The Gruesome Twosome is quintessential Lewis: shocking, campy, and unrelentingly bizarre.
Legacy of the Godfather of Gore
Herschell Gordon Lewis didn’t just create films; he created a movement. With his unapologetic approach to gore and exploitation, he pushed boundaries in ways that were both shocking and innovative. Films like Something Weird, A Taste of Blood, and The Gruesome Twosome showcase his range—from the surreal to the ambitious to the outright grotesque—cementing his place as a true pioneer in horror.
Though his work remains divisive, there’s no denying the impact of his vision. Lewis’s films opened doors for countless filmmakers who sought to blend shock and subversion into their storytelling. To this day, his bloody fingerprints can be seen across the horror landscape, reminding audiences that sometimes, it’s not about how polished a film is—but how unforgettable.
Shudder Original Series Series Premiere Date: December 6, 2024
Every great series has that pivotal episode, the one that redefines its boundaries and deepens its intrigue. For The Creep Tapes, Brandt is that turning point. Stripping back the usual framework of Josef manipulating his unwitting subjects, this episode flips the script by having the titular Brandt fail to show up. What unfolds is less an external game of cat-and-mouse and more an internal confrontation between Josef and his own monstrous psyche.
Without the usual dynamic to lean on, Josef is left alone in his hotel room, his performance faltering in the absence of an audience. Here, the episode takes an ambitious leap, inviting the audience into Josef’s fragmented mind. It’s a bold move, delving into the character’s warped psyche while still keeping us tethered to the unnerving energy the series thrives on. This shift could have easily derailed the show’s momentum, but it lands confidently on the right side of quality, balancing psychological horror with dark, surreal humor.
And then there’s Peachfuzz. The haunting specter of the wolf mask, once an external emblem of Josef’s menacing persona, now turns inward. As Josef stares into the mask, it’s no longer a tool of intimidation but a mirror reflecting the depths of his madness. These sequences are harrowing and hypnotic, offering the audience an uncomfortably intimate look at Josef’s inner demons.
But Brandt isn’t content with just brooding introspection. It delivers a killer blow in the final moments—one of pitch-perfect comic timing. The tonal shift is jarring in the best way, reminding us of the show’s ability to keep its audience off balance, laughing nervously even as the tension tightens.
With Brandt, The Creep Tapes continues to push boundaries, proving that it’s not afraid to take risks or challenge its own formula. This episode reframes Josef not just as a predator but as a deeply broken man wrestling with his own creation—a narrative pivot that keeps the series fresh and unsettling.
Saul Muerte
The Creep TapesSeries are currently streaming Exclusively on Shudder and AMC+
Surgeons of Horror 