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Freaky (2020)   There’s always a danger, with “something-meets-something” movies that all you take away is the high-concept formula, rather than getting lost in the resulting inventiveness (or lack thereof). Christopher Landon’s Happy Death Day – Groundhog Day meets Slasher – was a riot, consistently funny, surprising and well performed. Happy Death Day 2 U offered diminishing returns, but it still had its positives. Freaky, unfortunately, finds Landon rather run aground with an idea Michael Kennedy brought to him – body-swap meets serial killer –because only one half of the pitch has any legs. Which is, obviously, Vince Vaughn running

Watcher (2022)   Maybe I’m just weary of this kind of movie, however proficiently put together and performed. That would be my explanation for a very mild acknowledgement of Watcher’s merits. It generally seems to have garnered plaudits as a smart, intelligent entry in the horror genre. Chloe Okuno’s feature debut is well done for what it is, but immerses itself so heavily in genre tropes that it struggles to emerge with its own distinct identity. It’s also a problem that the clash of intents rather draws attention to itself. On the one hand, we’re presented with a spartan, lo-fi setting,

The First Power (1990)   One I had a hankering to see, largely due to the Don LaFontaine-narrated trailer – “Since the beginning of time, Satan has worked to create the perfect killer. One who kills many, without reason. One who cannot be stopped. Today, that man exists. Be warned” – but it somehow passed me by. Perhaps an inner sense told me it was worth skipping, and nothing Don LaFontaine could say would make it otherwise. Robert Renikoff’s supernatural serial killer thriller – see also the same year’s The Exorcist III – owed much to Jack Sholder’s 1987 body-swap SF horror The Hidden,

Stranger Things Season 4: Volume 1   I haven’t had cause, or the urge, to revisit earlier seasons of Stranger Things, but I’m fairly certain my (relatively) positive takes on the first two sequel seasons would adjust down somewhat if I did (a Soviet base under Hawkins? DUMB soft disclosure or not, it’s pretty dumb). In my Season 3 review, I called the show “Netflix’s best-packaged junk food. It knows not to outstay its welcome, doesn’t cause bloat and is disposable in mostly good ways” I’m fairly certain the Duffer’s weren’t reading, but it’s as if they decided, as a rebuke,

The Hard Way (1991)   It would probably be fair to suggest that Michael J Fox’s comic talents never quite earned the respect they deserved. Sure, he was the lead in two incredibly popular TV shows, but aside from one phenomenally successful movie franchise, he couldn’t quite make himself a home on the big screen. Part of that might have been down to late ’80s attempts to carve himself out a niche in more serious roles – Light of Day, Bright Lights, Big City, Casualties of War – roles none of his fanbase had any interest in seeing him essaying. Which makes the part

White of the Eye (1987)   It was with increasing irritation that I noted the extras for Arrow’s White of the Eye Blu-ray release continually returning to the idea that Nicolas Roeg somehow “stole” the career that was rightfully Donald Cammell’s through appropriating his stylistic innovations and taking all the credit for Performance. And that the arrival of White of the Eye, after Demon Seed was so compromised by meddlesome MGM, suddenly shone a light on Cammell as the true innovator behind Performance and indeed the inspiration for Roeg’s entire schtick. Neither assessment is at all fair. But then, I suspect those making these assertions are

The Woman in the Window (2021)   Disney clearly felt The Woman in the Window was so irrevocably dumpster-bound that they let Netflix snatch it up… where it doesn’t scrub up too badly compared to their standard fare. It seems Tony Gilroy – who must really be making himself unpopular in the filmmaking fraternity, as producers’ favourite fix-it guy – was brought in to write reshoots after Joe Wright’s initial cut went down like a bag of cold, or confused, sick in test screenings. It’s questionable how much he changed, unless Tracy Letts’ adaptation of AJ Finn’s 2018 novel diverged significantly from the source

The X-Files 1.1: Pilot   Where one of the most influential TV shows of the last thirty years began. The Pilot impresses on revisit for just how many pieces of the mythos and general tone are perfectly formed from the get-go. The X-Files is a show that hits the ground running, so much so, the storyline could be easily sequelised in Season 7. Crucially too, since I’m in part returning to the main conspiracy arc with a mind to consider what – if anything – is the mix beside the overt UFO lore that earned the show such a following, both cult and mainstream,

The X-Files 9.4: 4-D   I get the impression no one much liked Agent Monica Reyes (Annabeth Gish), but I felt, for all the sub-Counsellor Troi, empath twiddling that dogged her characterisation, she was a mostly positive addition to the series’ last two years (of its main run). Undoubtedly, pairing her with Doggett, in anticipation of Gillian Anderson exiting just as David Duchovny had – you rewatch these seasons and you wonder where her head was at in hanging on – made for aggressively facile gender-swapped conflict positions on any given assignment. And generally, I’d have been more interested in

Split Second (1992)   Greta Thunberg’s favourite movie. Probably. Well, her “people’s” anyway. Somehow, I managed to miss this one when it came out, although its lousy reviews probably had something to do with it. I was nudged into taking advantage of its current, Bezos-sanctioned availability by an Empire take calling it “glorious” and suggested “As a showcase for a mischievous Hauer behaving badly… it’s almost matchless”. The recently departed Rutger is on magnificently over-emphatic form, it’s true, and there’s frequent amusement to be had from the dialogue and chemistry between the star and sidekick cop Neil Duncan. However, Split Second lacks a crucial sense of

Shadow of a Doubt (1943)   I’m not sure you could really classify Shadow of a Doubt as underrated, as some have. Not when it’s widely reported as Hitchcock’s favourite of his films. Underseen might be a more apt sobriquet, since it rarely trips off the lips in the manner of his best-known pictures. Regardless of the best way to categorise it, it’s very easy to see why the director should have been so quick to recognise Shadow of a Doubt‘s qualities, even if some of those qualities are somewhat atypical. Peter Bogdanovich pinned it down best, I think, when he observed that

Under the Silver Lake (2018)   I was aware that David Robert Mitchell’s shaggy dog amateur detective stoned-out neo-noir conspiracy movie had received very mixed reviews, to say the least, so I embarked upon it with limited expectations. Turns out, I liked it a lot, with some reservations. In much the same way that I liked the oft-reviled Southland Tales, admiring Mitchell’s ambition but not always where it took him. I’m dubious that Under the Silver Lake is rich and rewarding enough to warrant a dedicated subreddit pouring over interpretations of its themes and subtexts, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the dedication. And

Natural Born Killers (1994)   In which Oliver Stone loses the plot. Casting about for something new to get incensed over, now he’s burnt himself out on Nam and dead presidents, Oli happens upon a Tarantino script (sold for $10k) and proceeds to take a wrecking ball to it. As a non sequitur of a cinematic experience, it’s almost as if he actively sought to piss away the good will the editing Oscar for JFK engendered (notably awarded to a different editor). As a media “satire”, Natural Born Killers reinforces criticisms that his only means of tackling a subject is napalming it. Suffice to

From Dusk till Dawn (1996)   Tarantino undertook a bout of script doctoring during the mid-90s, but From Dusk till Dawn represents his sole outright gun-for-hire job from inception. And apart from feeling through-and-through like a scrappy Robert Rodriguez production, with “That’ll do” writ large across it (complete with a plum part for mate Quentin), it’s also an unusually scrappy screenplay, lacking his usual inventiveness and memorable dialogue, leaving instead merely a pervading air of unpleasantness. Tarantino claimed “Not really” when asked if he wrote Richie Gecko for himself (“I wasn’t visualising anybody. I wrote an exploitation film. It’s a head-banging horror film

Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood (2019)   My initial reaction to Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood was mild disbelief that Tarantino managed to hoodwink studios into coming begging to make it, so wilfully perverse is it in disregarding any standard expectations of narrative or plotting. Then I remembered that studios, or studios that aren’t Disney, are desperate for product, and more especially, product that might guarantee them a hit. Quentin’s latest appears to be that, but whether it’s a sufficient one to justify the expense of his absurd vanity project remains to be seen. It’s additionally a sign of something,

The Exorcist III (1990)   The demand for reshoots on The Exorcist III, as seems to be the case more often than not, failed to bolster its box office. One might argue that alone made tampering with William Peter Blatty’s vision for the picture redundant. Ironically, however, it may have resulted in a superior film; while I haven’t seen the “Director’s Cut” version of the film assembled a few years back (glued together with sticky tape and Blu Tack might be more accurate, given the quality of the materials available), nothing I’ve read about it makes it sound markedly superior to

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)   I was pleased for The Silence of the Lambs’ Oscar glory, a rare genre entry to be bestowed such garlands, even though I didn’t think it was the most deserving of that year’s nominees (that would be JFK, Oliver Stone’s crowning achievement, after which he would never quite be the same again). Indeed, while it’s generally regarded, with hindsight, as one the Academy definitely got right, I don’t think it’s even the best Thomas Harris adaptation. Maybe it’s simply that I read the novel first, and so I was spoiled for its content, but even

It Couldn’t Happen Here (1987)   “I think our film is arguably better than Spiceworld” said Neil Tennant of his and Chris Lowe’s much-maligned It Couldn’t Happen Here, a quasi-musical, quasi-surrealist journey through the English landscape via the Pet shop Boys’ “own” history as envisaged by co-writer-director Jack Bond. Of course, Spiceworld could boast the presence of the illustrious Richard E Grant, while It Couldn’t Happen Here had to settle for Gareth Hunt. Is its reputation deserved? It’s arguably not very successful at being a coherent film (even thematically), but I have to admit that I rather like it, ramshackle and studiously aloof though it is. Lowe: Where are

The Snowman (2017)   Maybe Morton Tyldum made Jo Nesbø adaptations look deceptively easy with Headhunters. Although, Tyldum hasn’t show such facility with material since, so maybe Nesbø simply suits someone with hackier sensibilities than Tomas Alfredson. It’s a long way down from the classy intrigue of John Le Carré to the serial killer clichés of The Snowman, and I’m inclined to think that, even if Alfredson had managed to film the fifteen percent of the screenplay he says went awry, this wouldn’t have been all that great. Because that’s Alfredson’s excuse, and as they go, it’s a fairly good one. Working Title’s involvement in the

Criminal Law (1988)   Martin Campbell directed a trio of bawdy big-screen British sex comedies more than a decade before he made Criminal Law. Obviously, they weren’t his ticket to Hollywood. Rather, it was his work on the Beeb’s extraordinary Edge of Darkness, still unequalled in his filmography (including his own, pared-down movie version). Criminal Law, then, represents something of a reintroduction to the cinematic arena, but it would be another half decade before he really found his footing in the medium. This isn’t especially anyone’s finest hour. Mark Kasdan was previously credited on brother Lawrence’s Silverado, but Criminal Law remains his only other (produced) screenplay

Predators (2010)   By the time this belated Predator 3 arrived, anything that treated either of Fox’s monster franchises with a modicum of decorum was to be embraced, so Predators, overly indebted to John McTiernan’s original as it is, is not exactly a breath of fresh air but nevertheless agreeably serviceable. You might have hoped for something more innovative after 23 years in the standalone wilderness, but at least you didn’t get Alien vs. Predator: Reheated. Of course, this is essentially Robert Rodriguez’ 1994 screenplay spruced up slightly. As such, it displays the kind of slipshod approach to narrative that has served the writer-director-producer-auteur-in-his-own-bedroom’s

Sea of Love (1989)   It’s difficult to imagine Sea of Love starring Dustin Hoffman, for whom Richard Price wrote the screenplay but who bowed out over requests for multiple rewrites. Perhaps Hoffman secretly recognised what most of us don’t need telling; there’s no way he fits into an erotic thriller (I’m not sure I’d even buy him as a cop). Although, he would doubtless have had fun essaying the investigative side, involving a succession of dates on the New York singles scene as a means to ensnare a killer. Al Pacino, on the other hand, has just the necessary seedy, threadbare,

The X-Files 10.3: Mulder and Scully Meet the Were-Monster   I’m a sucker for anything written by Darin Morgan. Well, provided it’s of-a-piece with the sensibility he brought to his previous X-Files and Millennium scripts; his contribution to Intruders was invisible, although that was likely down to fitting his brother’s template for the moribund show. Mulder and Scully Meet the Were-Monster exhibits his greatest strengths – although those not so enamoured of his style might cite them as worst indulgences – from unreliable narrators, to the hopeless/ hopefulness of it all, to swathes of self-referentiality.  I’m not sure he’ll ever equal Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space’ (which, mystifyingly, Rob Shearman

Child 44 (2015)   I’m unable to attest to the quality of Tom Rob Smith’s best-selling airport novel of the same name, but Child 44 carries with it the sort of sterling cast that screams “prestige adaptation”. Certainly, that’s what I hoped for, despite the resoundingly scathing reviews. Unfortunately, they aren’t wrong. Maybe the actors were somehow hoodwinked into signing up, as this movie is a woeful piece of unmitigated pulp, its potential drowned in an unwieldy plot (one that seems to forget what it’s supposed to be about half the time) and directed with the same indiscriminatingly flashy eye that actually

The Voices (2014)   Persepolis director Marjane Satrapi’s first US film is a horror comedy just distinct enough to overcome the familiarity of its serial killing subject matter.  Much of this is down to Satrapi’s playful, vibrant style, but credit is also due to never-a-box-office-star-no matter-how-hard-he-tries Ryan Reynolds. His placid schizophrenic Jerry isn’t a showstopper in and off himself but, in combination with his handful of supporting vocal performances, most notably those of Jerry’s pets, dog Bosco and cat Mr Whiskers, Reynolds infuses The Voices with an offbeat energy that perfectly complements his director’s offbeat tone and visuals. Screenwriter Michael R Perry’s form is

Twin Peaks 2.13: Checkmate   A solo script credit to Harley Peyton and Todd Holland’s last of two directorial stints, Checkmate features several significant developments tipping the wink that the show will soon begin to struggle out of its season two morass. Special Agent Cooper: Is my death so important to you? As ever, the main Coop plotline is the most diverting, even if the execution (literally) of the Jean Renault revenge storyline’s finale is slightly rickety. Sweaty Ernie blows his wire at their Renault drugs meet, endangering him and a duded-up Denise (“You can call me Dennis”). Deputised Coop offers barters

Hannibal (2001)   Thomas Harris resoundingly trashed his greatest creation, and pretty much any critical respect, with Hannibal. His novels were pretty big deals even before Jonathan Demme adapted The Silence of the Lambs was, but anticipation for his next reached fever pitch in its aftermath. And he couldn’t not deal with what happened next to his cultured cannibal, now could he? The overriding impression that comes across from the novel is contempt; for Clarice Starling, for reader expectations, for the millstone that Hannibal Lecter had become. So Harris makes his audience suffer with him. The best thing Dino De Laurentis and his scriptwriters could

Haunter (2013)   Haunter is nothing if not derivative, but frequently not of other horror movies. Which means it isn’t a hugely scary movie, so it’s unlikely to be clutched to the bosoms of aficionados of the genre. It’s also unlikely to be sought out by those who aren’t that partial to horror movies, as it sells itself as another teen horror flick. A medley of Groundhog Day, The Sixth Sense, A Nightmare on Elm Street and Ghost, Vincenzo Natali’s picture has enough inventiveness to escape becoming just another formulaic frightener. The most refreshing part of Haunter is that it doesn’t make a meal of its twist premise.

Under the Skin (2013)   Jonathan Glazer films don’t come along every day; three in fourteen years isn’t prolific. Such limited does, however, serve to make his pictures all the more anticipated. Glazer hasn’t yet achieved a work of the unvarnished classic status his idol Kubrick regularly delivered, but that can only be so far off. So long as he steps up his work rate a little… Stanley wasn’t taking a decade between pictures until right at the end. Under the Skin doesn’t so much conjure the precision engineering of Kubrick as the strange interior landscapes and untamed environments of Nicolas Roeg,

Insidious: Chapter 2 (2013)   James Wan was quite busy last year, what with having two fright flicks released and crossing over to the action genre to begin shooting Fast & Furious 7 (only recently completed due to Paul Walker’s untimely demise). That he made two horror pictures in a fairly short space of time (this and The Conjuring) speaks volumes about his precise, methodical approach. Insidious: Chapter 2 is a well-made but cookie-cutter affair, so formulaic and calculated it’s difficult to get remotely worked up by its made-to-order shock tactics. Everyone’s back, pretty much, including at least one dead person (Lin Shaye as paranormal

True Detective 1.8: Form and Void   I registered some concern over the reappearance of Errol the Mower Man at the end of After You’ve Gone, and the early sections of Form and Void did nothing to dispel that. There’s something borderline perverse about the decision to devote so much time to the Spaghetti Monster’s domestic situation at such a late stage, particularly as it adds little of consequence to the overall picture. Indeed, the insertion of this scenario is somewhat awkward and wholly derivative. But, if the actual horrors encountered by Marty and Rust during the finale prove to be up

The Iceman  (2012)   It says something that Michael Shannon’s most sympathetic role in ages finds him playing a notorious hit man. Both in terms of typecasting and the favourable view director/co-writer Ariel Vromen takes of his subject. Those familiar with the case have found much to fault in this account of Richard Kuklinski’s activities, both factually and with regard to characterisation. But, leaving aside concerns over authenticity for a moment, this is a well-crafted, well-performed and engrossing piece of work. Having just witnessed the OTT glorification of all things ‘70s in American Hustle, The Iceman is refreshingly low key in its milieu.

True Detective 1.1: The Long Bright Dark   Another HBO winner arrives fully formed, it seems. Furnished with a script by Nic Pizzolatto (he has only a couple of episodes of the US version of The Killing to his name) and incarnated in stylish gloom by director Cary Fukunaga (the Mia Wasikowska Jane Eyre), it’s easy to see why big screen types Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson climbed aboard. This is the kind of perfectly judged, brooding, atmospheric, portentous and almost supernaturally menacing material that, used to excess, over stoked Hannibal’s boiler. In fact, this succeeds (so far) in nearly all the areas the

The Frozen Ground (2013)   Does John Cusack have troubles with the taxman, on the scale of Nicolas Cage and Val Kilmer? An actor who used to appear in a couple of movies a year showed up in seven during 2013, and has another eight pencilled for 2014. What gives, John? Nicolas Cage meanwhile, whose wigmaker also appears to have fallen on hard times, seems to be curtailing the quantity if not the dubious quality. So the two of them together, realising the vision of first-time director Scott Walker, didn’t bode well. The results bear this out, which is especially

In Dreams (1999)   Interviewed for the book Smoking in Bed – Conversations with Bruce Robinson, the director/writer/actor observes that the first thing Neil Jordan did in the film of In Dreams was to have a child killed. Robinson’s original script had studiously avoided showing kids in peril, and he understandably felt that Jordan had completely missed the point. I’m not all together sure the film would have worked if it had followed Robinson’s vision, but it surely couldn’t have been any worse than beautifully shot mess that ends up on screen. Robinson the writer had answered the call of none of other than Steven

10 Rillington Place (1971)   This adaptation of Ludovic Kennedy’s book (yes, the Did You See…? presenter) about notorious serial killer John Christie is a gripping, low-key affair. It retains an air of authenticity by firmly rooting itself in the mundanity of everyday life, and thanks to a transformative performance from Richard Attenborough. Attenborough makes Christie outwardly normal and at once sinister. There is little to single him out as sociopath; he is soft-spoken (like a creepy Alan Bennett) and only slightly off in demeanour. He’s just a small, balding man with a bad back and a devoted wife. Christie gassed and

Red Dragon (2002)   So you have a strong script from Ted Tally, Oscar winner for adapting the follow-up novel ten years previously. And you’re working from a novel that is arguably even better than the one that resulted in awards glory. You have Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins, reprising his most iconic role for the second time. You have a dream supporting cast of well-respected actors, from Edward Norton and Ralph Fiennes to Philip Seymour Hoffman and Emily Watson. What could go possibly go wrong? I guess, employ Brett Ratner. Dino De Laurentis was nothing if not opportunistic. His 1986

Striking Distance (1993)   For a star who became very quickly identified with action heroics on the big screen, it took Bruce Willis a few years to succumb to formula vehicles. Partly, this was no doubt down to his desire to stretch himself (the variety of parts, lead and supporting, in a variety of genres between ’88 and ’95 is testament to this, the consequent number of turkeys not withstanding). Partly I like to think it was because he had an eye for a script with a bit more to it. Of late, I’ve realised that was most likely wishful

Untraceable (2008)   What a bunch of crap. Diane Lane’s FBI agent must hunt a serial killer with a yen for posting his victims’ torture and murder on the Internet in real time. She is aided by several colleagues including Tom Hanks’ son and the psychopathic dad from Day 2 of 24 (the one who chases Kim, remember; then he shows up in Twilight as a nice dad – it’s all so confusing!). Cue multitudinous scenes of frantic tapping at keyboards, and dialogue/sequences that make it painfully clear the writers haven’t the faintest clue about plot logic, let alone FBI procedure. And, who would have guessed,

The X-Files 7.11: Closure   It’s very good citizen-ly of Amber to direct our agents to a site that had nothing to do with her. Indeed, presumably Kathy’s son wasn’t there either, so these walk-ins must have quite a long-standing (albeit, evidently unsuccessful for decades) agenda to get the truth out. Are they doing this with child abductions everywhere? By the Elite, underground? Or just on behalf of the CIA-engineered serial-killer racket? It bears repeating that they only appeared to see fit to rescue (if you want to call it that) Samantha from the clutches of evil, and presumably left

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022)   In which Sam Raimi proves that he can stand proudly with the best – or worst – of them as a good little foot soldier of the woke apocalypse. You’d expect the wilfully anarchic – and Republican – Raimi to choke on the woke, but instead, he sucked it up, grinned and bore it. Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is so slavishly a production-line Marvel movie, both in plotting and character, and in nu-Feige progressive sensibilities, there was no chance of Sam staggering out from beneath its suffocating demands with anything

Frenzy (1972)   Hitchcock’s penultimate film isn’t quite a return to form – it can’t quite get past an unengaging protagonist and shifting perspectives that, in contrast to stablemate Psycho, fail to coalesce into more than the sum of its parts – but after two decidedly broke-backed pictures, Frenzy is demonstrable evidence he still had what it took. If Torn Curtain, aside from that scene, saw Hitch struggling to remain relevant in the 1960s, Frenzy feels like a film of the 1970s, as much as it owes its homeland flavour to the 1930s works that established the director as a force to be reckoned with. It’s

The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)   John Carpenter’s first serial-killer screenplay to get made, The Eyes of Laura Mars came out nearly three months before Halloween. You know, the movie that made the director’s name. And then some. He wasn’t best pleased with the results of The Eyes of Laura Mars, which ended up co-credited to David Zelag Goodman (Straw Dogs, Logan’s Run) as part of an attempt by producer Jon Peters to manufacture a star vehicle for then-belle Barbra Streisand: “The original script was very good, I thought. But it got shat upon”. Which isn’t sour grapes on Carpenter’s part. The finished movie

Beast (2017)   I’m a little surprised by the BAFTA attention Michael Pearce’s debut feature is receiving, although that may reflect a need to scrape around to find sufficient homegrown films remotely worthy of awards. Beast is fine, as far as it goes; it’s well-acted and nicely directed, but it’s also quite unremarkable as a piece of writing, striving but failing to find something new amongst its serial-killer trappings. The best you can say of its genre status is that Pearce, who also wrote the screenplay, adopts a low-key, is he-isn’t he for much of the running time, which adopts the

Solace (2015)   Afonso Poyart’s US-language debut was essentially dumped stillborn, having languished in the Warner Bros vault for two years, and it isn’t difficult to see why. A serial-killer movie of the most generic order, Solace would have seemed antique two decades ago. It does at least carry a reasonable variation in terms of the motivation of its antagonist, but even that was explored better, and more briefly, in The X-Files episode Leonard Betts (also about two decades ago). The motivation being that Charles Ambrose (Colin Farrell, phoning it in with great alacrity) is a mercy killer, finishing off those in terminal decline in order

Twin Peaks 1.1: Northwest Passage (Pilot)   It’s unlikely that the first thing one thinks of, when one thinks of Twin Peaks, is intricate plotting. This, despite the “Who killed Laura Palmer?” hook that heralded its first (truncated) season and just short of the first half of the second. No, it’s a safe bet that the David Lynch trademarks of mood, atmosphere, surrealism and eccentricity will be front and centre of one’s thoughts. And what the hell befell Agent Cooper after his encounter in the Black Lodge, of course. Those aspects have not diminished in the 25 years since, despite the