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.
Horror fans rejoice! The holiday season isn’t just about cheerful carols and warm cocoa—it’s also a time for blood-curdling screams, sinister Santas, and festive frights. To celebrate the darker side of Christmas, here’s our countdown of 12 horrifying holiday films to make your season as chilling as it is merry.
🎄 On the First Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: A Mogwai in a gift box! Start your holiday horror binge with Gremlins (1984), a delightful cautionary tale about the perils of ignoring pet care instructions. Joe Dante’s classic perfectly balances humour and horror, as the adorable Gizmo spawns a mischievous army of creatures that turn Christmas into a chaotic nightmare. The snowy town backdrop and holiday decorations make it the quintessential dark Christmas treat.
🎄 On the Second Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Two sinister phone calls! Black Christmas (1974) is often credited as one of the earliest slasher films, and for good reason. Its chilling premise—sorority sisters stalked by an unknown killer during the holidays—still holds up, with terrifying phone calls and a tense atmosphere. A precursor to films like Halloween, it’s a must-watch for those who like their Christmas with a side of terror.
🎄 On the Third Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Three masked killers! Forget holiday cheer—Don’t Open Till Christmas (1984) delivers sleazy, grindhouse-style carnage as a masked killer targets anyone dressed as Santa Claus. Set in London, this cult favourite oozes low-budget grit and delivers some gruesome kills. It’s the perfect antidote for anyone who finds mall Santas a little too jolly.
🎄 On the Fourth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Four killer Santas! Few holiday horror films are as infamous as Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984). This controversial slasher caused outrage upon release with its tale of a traumatised young man who becomes a murderous Santa. Despite its campy premise, it delivers genuine chills and has earned its place as a cult classic that’s both terrifying and absurdly entertaining.
🎄 On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Five undead dance routines! Anna and the Apocalypse (2017) is a genre mashup like no other—a Christmas zombie musical filled with catchy songs, heartfelt moments, and buckets of blood. It’s the kind of film that shouldn’t work, but somehow does, offering a unique spin on holiday horror that will have you singing along while reaching for the popcorn.
🎄 On the Sixth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Six buckets of gore! Terrifier 3 continues Art the Clown’s reign of terror, this time with a Christmas twist. If you’re a fan of extreme gore and unrelenting scares, this sequel delivers in spades, taking holiday horror to new, grotesque heights. It’s not for the faint of heart but will delight those who thrive on boundary-pushing frights.
🎄 On the Seventh Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Seven blood-stained axes! Christmas Blood (2017) brings a Scandinavian flavor to the killer Santa trope. This Norwegian slasher follows a maniacal Santa spreading holiday carnage across snowy landscapes. With its moody atmosphere and brutal kills, it’s a grim reminder that not all Santas are bringing gifts.
🎄 On the Eighth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Eight clever traps! Better Watch Out (2016) is a home invasion thriller with a devilish twist that’s best experienced without spoilers. What starts as a typical holiday babysitting gig takes a sinister turn, with clever plotting and sharp performances that elevate it into one of the most entertaining Christmas horror films of recent years.
🎄 On the Ninth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Nine rampaging reindeer! Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale (2010) reimagines Santa as a terrifying, ancient figure unearthed from the ice. This Finnish gem mixes dark humour with genuine scares, creating a unique holiday horror that’s as magical as it is menacing. And those reindeer? Let’s just say Rudolph wouldn’t stand a chance.
🎄 On the Tenth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Ten deadly robots! Christmas Bloody Christmas (2022) answers the question: What if a robotic Santa went on a killing spree? This grindhouse-style horror revels in its absurd premise, delivering over-the-top gore, neon-soaked visuals, and a punk rock attitude that makes it a wild holiday ride.
🎄 On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Eleven festive frights! Krampus (2015) brings the European legend of the titular Christmas demon to life in a darkly comedic tale of family dysfunction and festive punishment. With stunning creature effects and a sly sense of humour, Michael Dougherty’s film is a modern holiday horror classic that reminds us to stay on Santa’s good side.
🎄 On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:A Ghostly Carnage for Christmas The premise of Carnage For Christmas is deeply intriguing. True crime podcaster Lola returns to her hometown for the first time since her gender transition, only to uncover a chilling mystery: has the ghost of a historic murderer risen again? This film offers a thoughtful blend of social themes and supernatural horror, making it a perfect capstone for our list.
Celebrate the Season of Screams From murderous Santas to zombie musicals, these 12 films prove that Christmas doesn’t have to be merry to be memorable. So dim the lights, grab some eggnog, and settle in for a holiday marathon that’s as horrifying as it is holly-jolly.
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.
In Theatre of Death (1967), the world of the stage becomes a sinister arena where art and life collide, with the ever-reliable Christopher Lee taking centre stage. Directed by Samuel Gallu, this British horror-thriller delves into the macabre possibilities of theatrical performance, questioning where the boundary lies between scripted terror and real-life horror. While not one of Lee’s most celebrated features, it nonetheless showcases his enduring gravitas as a cornerstone of the horror genre.
The film follows a series of grisly murders in Paris that seem to be connected to the Theatre of Death, a dark and experimental troupe led by the imperious Philippe Darvas (Christopher Lee). As the no-nonsense director, Darvas is both feared and revered, commanding absolute loyalty from his performers. Yet when suspicions arise that he might be more than just a manipulative taskmaster, the line between performance and reality begins to blur, drawing the audience into a spiraling mystery.
As usual, Christopher Lee elevates the material with his magnetic presence. His portrayal of Darvas is sharp and domineering, filled with the sort of brooding intensity that makes him both menacing and captivating. Lee’s ability to imbue even the simplest lines with menace gives the film its strongest moments, ensuring that Darvas remains a figure of fascination—even when the plot begins to falter.
The film’s concept is intriguing, leaning heavily into the theatrical setting as a means of exploring horror. The imagery of actors rehearsing scenes of death and torture within the confines of the stage serves as a clever metaphor for the duality of performance and authenticity. Yet, despite its ambitious premise, Theatre of Death struggles to fully capitalise on its potential.
Samuel Gallu’s direction is serviceable but lacks the flair needed to make the film truly memorable. The pacing feels uneven, and while the murder mystery element offers some intrigue, it never reaches the level of nail-biting suspense the story demands. Similarly, the supporting characters, while adequately acted, fail to leave much of an impression, overshadowed by Lee’s towering performance.
That said, the film does have its strengths. The atmospheric use of the theatre itself is a standout feature, with its shadowy corridors and moody lighting adding an air of Gothic unease. The murders are suitably macabre, even if they don’t push the boundaries of what the genre had to offer in the late 1960s.
The Prognosis:
Theatre of Death is not the strongest entry in Christopher Lee’s illustrious career, but it’s an enjoyable curiosity for fans of his work and the era’s horror films. Its exploration of the theatrical world as a backdrop for terror adds a unique flavor, even if the execution doesn’t quite match the ambition. With Lee’s commanding performance at its heart, the film is worth a watch—just don’t expect it to leave a lasting impression.
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.
Berserk! (1967) is a campy murder-mystery-slash-horror hybrid that stands as a curious artifact from the later career of Joan Crawford. Known for her commanding performances and status as a titan of Hollywood’s golden age, Crawford’s presence elevates what might have otherwise been a forgettable schlockfest into something undeniably watchable. While it’s not a masterpiece, Berserk! offers enough intrigue and melodrama to keep audiences entertained, even if its thrills are more tame than terrifying.
Set in the colourful yet sinister world of a traveling circus, the film wastes no time diving into its macabre premise. A series of gruesome murders rocks the troupe, leaving circus manager Monica Rivers (Crawford) to navigate the chaos while safeguarding her business—and her secrets. Crawford, in her early sixties at the time, commands the screen with her trademark mix of icy authority and simmering vulnerability. Her Monica is as ruthless as she is enigmatic, and Crawford’s sheer charisma ensures she remains the centre of attention in every scene.
That’s not to say the rest of the cast doesn’t try. Ty Hardin brings a certain swagger as the hunky new high-wire act, and Diana Dors oozes campy charm as a jealous rival performer. Yet, their characters often feel like mere pawns in a game that Crawford is orchestrating. Her ability to dominate the narrative, even in a low-budget thriller like this, is a testament to her enduring star power.
The film itself is a mixed bag. Director Jim O’Connolly crafts an entertaining but uneven narrative, often veering into melodramatic territory. The murder sequences, though strikingly staged for their time, lack the visceral edge to fully capitalise on the horror elements. Similarly, the “whodunit” aspect doesn’t quite deliver the nail-biting suspense it promises, culminating in a finale that feels more absurd than shocking.
However, Berserk! does succeed in delivering a gaudy, vibrant aesthetic that captures the circus milieu. From the bright costumes to the dramatic performances under the big top, the film revels in its setting, creating an atmosphere that is as unsettling as it is ostentatious. It’s a shame the plot can’t fully match the energy of its lead and setting, often succumbing to formulaic beats.
The Prognosis:
Berserk! is not a great film, but it’s an oddly fascinating one. Its appeal lies less in its plot and more in the chance to witness Joan Crawford embracing the genre with gusto, proving she could still mesmerise audiences even in her later years. For fans of campy horror and classic Hollywood, it’s worth a watch—if only to see the legendary Crawford working her magic under the circus tent.
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!
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 