Tag Archives: horror

The Ugly Stepsister Finds Her Voice in the Shadows

10 Saturday May 2025

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This darkly feminist fairy tale slow-burns its way through vanity, envy, and the societal curse of beauty.

In Emilie Kristine Blichfeldt’s icy, melancholic The Ugly Stepsister, the velvet drapes and soft golden glows of the fairy tale kingdom mask something far more corrosive: the bitter ache of envy, inadequacy, and the impossible pressure to be seen. It’s a film that peers behind the glass slipper and turns the looking glass back on us—audiences raised on ideals of beauty, charm, and happy endings for the fairest of them all.

The titular “ugly” stepsister, Elvira (Lea Myren), is not the cackling caricature of pantomime lore. Played with aching restraint, she’s a quiet storm of desperation and longing—her plainness not exaggerated but perceptibly measured against the luminous perfection of her stepsister, who seems preordained to capture the prince’s attention. The film’s magic lies not in spells or transformations, but in its psychological excavation of a woman unraveling under the weight of expectation and invisibility.

Blichfeldt wisely avoids overt parody or satire. Instead, she leans into the fairy tale structure only to slowly erode it, exposing the emotional and societal cost of a world built on outward beauty. In Elvira’s quiet glances, her tightening posture, and her increasing willingness to bend morality in pursuit of admiration, we witness something tragic: not a villainess in the making, but a reflection of how warped self-worth becomes in a world that equates beauty with value.

The film’s pacing is deliberate, sometimes to a fault. It takes its time—almost too much—in building its portrait of simmering resentment and warped aspiration. But the stillness serves a purpose: The Ugly Stepsister is less concerned with plot propulsion than with emotional erosion. This is no Cinderella story, even if it steals her ballgown. It’s a study in marginalisation—of being the one never chosen, never seen, and never allowed to dream on her own terms.

Though the production design is gorgeously oppressive—regal and cold in equal measure—it’s the thematic spine that resonates: the film’s commentary on the female experience within patriarchal beauty myths. Elvira’s descent isn’t driven by malice, but by an internalised belief that to be loved, she must first be looked at. It’s a bitter irony that in pursuing visibility, she must become someone—something—unrecognisable.

The Prognosis:

The Ugly Stepsister doesn’t always land its punches with perfect clarity and might frustrate viewers expecting a more dramatic reversal or fantasy payoff. Blichfeldt isn’t rewriting a fairy tale—she’s exhuming it, pulling up what’s been buried beneath centuries of curated perfection.

In this world, beauty is not a blessing. It’s a prison. And for those left outside its gates, the fairy tale is a nightmare told in soft pastels and sharpened smiles.

  • Review by Saul Muerte

Until Dawn Falls into the Loop, but Misses the Fear

02 Friday May 2025

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This adaptation of the cult horror game spins a promising premise into a stylish but shallow spiral of déjà vu.

Translating a beloved video game into a feature-length film is no easy feat, and Until Dawn (2025) finds itself caught between reverence and reinvention—never fully satisfying either impulse. Directed by David F. Sandberg (Lights Out, Annabelle: Creation), the film adaptation of Supermassive Games’ acclaimed 2015 interactive horror experience arrives with expectations as high as the snowy mountain peaks that once haunted the original. Unfortunately, the result is a visually competent, sometimes eerie effort that ultimately loops on itself in more ways than its premise intends.

Gone are the sweeping tracking shots of icy cliff edges and gothic ski lodges that defined the game’s snowy isolation. In their place is a mist-shrouded valley and a rusting visitor centre—less operatic in tone, more grounded in survival horror clichés. The story follows Clover (Kaitlyn Bernard) and her group of friends who venture into the remote wilderness where her sister Melanie vanished a year earlier. But this isn’t a straightforward slasher. Soon, each grisly death resets the evening, plunging the characters into a surreal time loop. Every death becomes part of a macabre routine—a concept ripe for tension and innovation.

Yet despite this intriguing setup, Until Dawn struggles to replicate the game’s carefully balanced atmosphere of dread, character interplay, and escalating supernatural unease. While the film toys with repetition in the vein of Happy Death Day or Triangle, its execution feels flatter. The stakes should rise with each iteration, but instead, the sense of urgency dissipates into predictability.

One of the most glaring issues is tonal dissonance. The game deftly shifted between teen horror, creature feature, and psychological thriller—leaning into its interactive nature to let players explore moral ambiguity and consequence. The film, however, strips away much of that complexity. The characters are archetypal and underwritten, with little of the branching narrative depth that gave players a stake in their survival. Despite Bernard’s earnest turn and a committed supporting cast, we don’t get enough time or texture to care deeply when the inevitable deaths arrive—especially when the film keeps undoing them.

David F. Sandberg, known for his knack with shadowplay and minimalist dread, brings some eerie flourishes to the visuals—particularly in the initial sequences of isolation and the early deaths. But his more intimate, character-driven horror style doesn’t always sync with the sprawling, meta-narrative scope the story requires. There are moments of atmosphere, to be sure, but they’re rarely sustained.

Perhaps most disappointing to fans of the game is the near-total omission of the Wendigo mythology that underpinned its final act. In favour of streamlining the plot for a film-length runtime, the supernatural elements are toned down or erased entirely—leaving a more conventional masked killer in their place. It’s a simplification that robs the story of its distinctive edge and sense of mythic terror.

The Prognosis:

Until Dawn isn’t an outright failure—just a missed opportunity. It flirts with high-concept horror and offers a few moments of stylish unease, but never quite captures the pulpy grandeur or narrative inventiveness of its source material. As a standalone film, it’s serviceable. As an adaptation, it’s trapped in its own loop, chasing shadows of something far more chilling.

  • Movie review by Saul Muerte

Ash (2025): A Sensory Voyage from a Singular Artist

24 Thursday Apr 2025

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Flying Lotus has never been a filmmaker to colour inside the lines. With Kuso (2017), he exploded onto the scene with a hallucinogenic blend of body horror, surrealism, and sound design that dared viewers to stick with it—or run screaming. With Ash, he reins in the chaos just enough to create what is arguably his most accessible film to date, while still packing it with enough aural and visual flourishes to remain unmistakably his own.

Set on a remote planet and anchored by a creeping sense of cosmic dread, Ash follows a woman (Elza González) who wakes up to find her crew slaughtered and must unravel the mystery before a darker truth consumes her. It’s a premise steeped in sci-fi tradition, but Flying Lotus isn’t here to offer a straightforward space thriller. Instead, he weaves a waking dream of sound and vision—atmospheric, meditative, and disorienting in equal measure.

The real marvel is in the film’s sensory layering. The soundscape—unsurprisingly exquisite—is a collage of ambient dread, industrial echoes, and meditative melodies that feel like transmissions from another dimension. As a musician, Flying Lotus has always been a sound alchemist; here, he pushes that instinct into the very bones of the film.

Elza González gives a committed, emotional performance that grounds the film’s cerebral tendencies. It’s largely her show, and she rises to the occasion with a mix of vulnerability and resolve. Aaron Paul appears in a supporting role that brings both tension and quiet depth, acting as a counterpoint to González’s isolation and inner turmoil.

The film’s Achilles’ heel is its plot. Beneath the rich surface textures and hypnotic editing, Ash tells a story that is familiar, even predictable. But it’s cleverly concealed beneath the stylistic veneer, like a well-worn book with a mesmerising new cover. There’s craft in how Flying Lotus reshapes and recontextualises sci-fi horror tropes, but at times, it feels like style just barely holding up a sagging structure.

The Prognosis:

There’s no denying Ash is a step forward—a distillation of Flying Lotus’s eccentricities into something more narratively digestible while retaining his unique artistic stamp. For fans of bold sci-fi that dares to flirt with the abstract, Ash may not be the deepest story, but it’s one hell of a ride through an artist’s ever-evolving mind.

Ash is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.

  • Review by Saul Muerte

Sinners (2025) Burns Slow, Strikes Deep: A Southern Gothic Horror for the Soul

24 Thursday Apr 2025

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Ryan Coogler’s masterful period horror blends haunting performances, rich character work, and a chilling exploration of generational trauma in 1930s Mississippi.

Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is a searing slow-burn period horror that dances with dread and walks hand-in-hand with grief. Set in the Mississippi Delta in 1932, the film follows twin brothers Elijah “Smoke” Moore and Elias “Stack” Moore—both masterfully portrayed by Michael B. Jordan—as they return home to bury their past and sow new beginnings. What they unearth instead is a long-dormant evil that has been waiting, watching, and whispering ever since they left.

The true triumph of Sinners lies in its narrative depth and the emotional complexity that Coogler and his cast mine from every silence, glance, and haunted memory. This isn’t just a horror film—it’s a reckoning. Coogler, whose storytelling instincts have never been sharper, peels back layers of trauma, familial guilt, and the deep-rooted scars of racism, infusing the piece with a quiet fury and poetic sorrow. The horror grows from within, shaped by generations of silence and sorrow, before it ever manifests as something supernatural.

Michael B. Jordan’s dual performance as the Moore brothers is nothing short of riveting. As Smoke, the reformed bootlegger-turned-father haunted by regret, and as Stack, the charming yet damaged twin desperate for purpose, Jordan crafts two fully realised personas that often share the screen but never blur. It’s a feat of nuanced acting that few could carry off with such clarity and emotional intelligence.

Hailee Steinfeld is quietly devastating as Mary, Stack’s ex-lover who embodies both the warmth of a past life and the cold reality of its collapse. Miles Caton delivers a breakout performance as Sammie “Preacher Boy” Moore, a cousin torn between faith and family, while Wunmi Mosaku brings aching humanity to the role of Annie, Smoke’s wife, whose inner strength glows amid the encroaching darkness.

Visually, Sinners is a stunning amalgamation of Southern Gothic decay and modern horror stylings. Coogler references films like The Thing and From Dusk Till Dawn not through mimicry, but through spiritual succession—mood, tension, and a willingness to go where many fear. He weaves these references into the very fabric of 1930s America, evoking a time where the devil wore not just horns, but hoods. The racist undercurrent of the era isn’t just backdrop—it’s part of the horror itself, as oppressive and insidious as any demonic force.

Ludwig Göransson’s score is another masterstroke—an eerie, pulsating blend of Delta blues, spirituals, and ambient dread. It doesn’t just accompany the film; it guides it. The music conjures the Devil at the crossroads, the sorrow of the land, and the weight of sin—historical, personal, and inherited.

The Prognosis:

Sinners isn’t a film that offers easy scares or tidy conclusions. It’s a powerful, slow-burning descent into a uniquely American hell—one born of blood, legacy, and the terrible things we choose to bury. Coogler has delivered something rare: a horror film with heart, history, and heat. A Southern ghost story for our times—and for all time.

  • Saul Muerte

“The devil don’t wait in the shadows. He walks the road with you.”

The Woman in the Yard: Rooted in Atmosphere, But Lacking in Fear

19 Saturday Apr 2025

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Danielle Deadwyler shines in this moody supernatural tale, but Jaume Collet-Serra struggles to fully unearth the horror at its heart.

Twenty years after House of Wax melted into mediocrity, director Jaume Collet-Serra returns to the horror genre with The Woman in the Yard, a moody, slow-burn supernatural tale that teases tension but never quite takes root. There’s a welcome sense of restraint this time around — a desire to craft something more grounded, more psychological — but the final product ends up feeling more undercooked than unnerving.

Danielle Deadwyler is the anchor of the film, delivering a committed and emotionally charged performance as Ramona, a grieving widow attempting to hold her family together after her husband’s sudden death. Deadwyler brings texture and soul to every scene she’s in — her presence commands attention and breathes life into an otherwise uneven script. Whether she’s shielding her children from the unknown or confronting her own internal anguish, she elevates the material with quiet fury and vulnerability.

The premise has potential: a mysterious woman appears on the property — expressionless, enigmatic, and perhaps not entirely human. The creeping dread builds in the first act with genuine intrigue. But instead of snowballing into something harrowing, the film meanders, content to rely on vague symbolism and atmospheric shots without connecting the emotional stakes to the horror elements. The titular woman remains more concept than character — a spectral threat with no real grip on the narrative beyond metaphor.

Collet-Serra shows flickers of maturity here, eschewing the slick gore of his early career for something more intimate and slow-burning. There are shades of The Others and even Relic in the DNA, and a few sequences — particularly a late-night confrontation hint at the film this could have been. But despite these improvements, The Woman in the Yard never fully comes into focus. The tension dissipates rather than crescendoes, and by the final act, the film seems content to whisper instead of scream.

The Prognosis:

It’s not a disaster — far from it. But with such rich performances and a potent setup, it’s frustrating to watch it all drift into the mist. Ultimately, Collet-Serra has taken a step forward in his genre evolution, but this yard still needs some serious tending.

  • Saul Muerte

From Hell House to Ashland Falls: Cognetti’s Eerie Evolution

06 Sunday Apr 2025

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The Hell House LLC director slows things down for a moody, multi-perspective mystery.

A slow-burning mystery from the creator of Hell House LLC, soaked in dread and small-town secrets.

After a family tragedy, Chuck Wilson (Joe Falcone) moves to the quiet town of Ashland Falls with his wife Maria (Elizabeth Vermilyea) and younger sister Isabelle (Kathryn Miller), hoping for a fresh start. But peace proves elusive as the trio becomes entangled in the unsettling lore of their new home—specifically the ominous mystery surrounding a woman named Helen Foster. As the story unfolds from the perspectives of each family member, the true nature of Ashland Falls begins to take shape—and it’s far from comforting.

Stephen Cognetti, best known for his Hell House LLC trilogy, steps away from the chaos of found-footage terror to deliver a more measured, psychological horror in 825 Forest Road. The scares are subtle, the pacing deliberate, and the dread seeps in slowly as the audience is invited to peel back the layers of each character’s experience. By splitting the narrative into three viewpoints, Cognetti crafts an eerie puzzle box of grief, guilt, and unresolved trauma, all tethered to a town that harbors something rotten at its core.

While some may find the pacing too slow or miss the jolting immediacy of Hell House LLC, there’s a quiet confidence in Cognetti’s restraint. He’s developing his voice beyond found footage, proving that he can unsettle audiences without relying on the genre’s usual tricks. The performances—especially Vermilyea as the emotionally fraying Maria—ground the film and help build a creeping sense of paranoia.

The Prognosis:

825 Forest Road may not fully capitalise on its premise, and its ambiguity might frustrate some, but it marks another intriguing step in Cognetti’s horror journey. It’s a film that whispers rather than screams—but it leaves behind a chill all the same.

  • Saul Muerte

825 Forest Road is now streaming on Shudder.

The Monkey (2025) – A Misfire That Claps to Its Own Beat

01 Saturday Mar 2025

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Osgood Perkins has built a reputation for moody, atmospheric horror (The Blackcoat’s Daughter, I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House), crafting eerie slow burns that settle under your skin. So it’s baffling that his adaptation of Stephen King’s The Monkey swings so wildly in the opposite direction, embracing an oddly comedic tone that is both its saving grace and its Achilles’ heel.

The film follows twin brothers who, after discovering a cursed wind-up monkey, become entangled in a series of grotesque and improbable deaths. Decades later, the sinister toy resurfaces, forcing the now-estranged siblings to confront their past—and the murderous primate—before its deadly rhythm consumes them completely.

As someone who was deeply impacted by King’s short story during my formative years, this adaptation feels like a tonal misstep. While Perkins injects moments of dry, almost absurd humour that occasionally land (I’ll admit, I chuckled more than once), the film never fully commits to either horror or comedy, leaving it feeling strangely weightless. The sense of dread that should accompany a tale about an unrelenting, supernatural force is missing, replaced with an offbeat energy that doesn’t quite fit.

Visually, The Monkey does retain some of Perkins’ signature flair. There are pockets of eerie imagery, particularly when the toy is in motion, its drum banging in ominous slow motion as its glassy eyes seem to bore into the characters’ souls. However, the film’s pacing stumbles between moody horror and slapstick absurdity, undercutting its tension just as it starts to build. Instead of letting the horror breathe, it often pivots to a joke or exaggerated reaction, as if second-guessing its own scares.

The performances do their best to sell the concept, with the lead actors committing to the madness, but there’s a disjointedness to the storytelling that prevents any real emotional weight from forming. Without a stronger anchor—whether it be a grounded sense of familial trauma or a truly nightmarish atmosphere—the film lacks the staying power of both Perkins’ previous work and King’s original story.

With The Monkey, Perkins seems to be playing against type, but instead of reinventing the demonic toy subgenre, he fumbles it. The film claps along to its own beat, but much like the monkey itself, the rhythm grows tiresome—thumping away long after the terror has worn off.

  • Saul Muerte

Heart Eyes (2025) – A Charming Yet Predictable Slasher

21 Friday Feb 2025

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Josh Ruben’s Heart Eyes (2025) continues the director’s increasing track record of blending horror with sharp comedic sensibilities. With a strong cast featuring Olivia Hoult, Mason Gooding, Jordana Brewster, and Devon Sawa, the film injects energy into a genre that thrives on familiar tropes but struggles to fully subvert them.

The film follows two co-workers working late on Valentine’s Day who find themselves mistaken for a couple by the elusive “Heart Eyes Killer.” What should have been a routine night of overtime turns into a desperate struggle for survival as they attempt to outwit a murderer with a romantic vendetta. Ruben, alongside the influence of Christopher Landon, crafts a thrilling yet darkly comedic atmosphere, elevating the film above standard slasher fare.

One of Heart Eyes’ strongest assets is its cast. Olivia Hoult and Mason Gooding deliver an engaging dynamic, their chemistry adding an element of screwball charm reminiscent of classic comedies like His Girl Friday, which fittingly plays at the local drive-in. Jordana Brewster and Devon Sawa add gravitas, balancing the film’s mix of humour and suspense. Each actor brings a spark that keeps the film’s momentum going, even when the script leans into predictability.

When it comes to slasher sequences, Heart Eyes delivers with some truly creative and intense set pieces. Ruben ensures that the kills are visually engaging and suspensefully executed, but the film often treads a fine line between homage and predictability. While it never loses its charm, seasoned horror fans may find the plot’s trajectory a little too easy to anticipate.

The Prognosis:

Heart Eyes is a fun, well-acted, and stylish slasher that balances humour and horror with flair. The chemistry of its leads and its nods to classic cinema add a refreshing touch, but it ultimately doesn’t push the boundaries of the genre enough to be truly groundbreaking. Nevertheless, it’s a solid entry in Josh Ruben’s growing filmography and a Valentine’s Day horror treat worth watching.

  • 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.