SCURRY
Luke Sparke‘s apocalyptic sci-fi creature feature SCURRY opens in theaters and on VOD this Friday. The film follows two strangers trapped in a series of pitch black tunnels. They search for an escape route while being stalked by the lifeforms wreaking havoc above ground.
Few films have been able to pull off the one-shot feat. SCURRY owns it. Here is a team that has total trust, impeccable timing, and chemistry between the cast and crew, leading to cinematic magic. The element of enveloping darkness, a small, unpredictable light source, and the blurry infrared of a camcorder create relentless dread.
Jamie Costa and Emalia (The Dog) are spectacular, balancing caution, fear, desperation, audacity, and unrelenting determination. Screenwriter Tom Evans has Mark and Kate simultaneously butting heads while also needing to collaborate. Emalia’s physical performance encapsulates real-life panic attacks. Costa’s emotionally fraught turn has you rooting for him. If you’re like me, you may find yourself yelling at the screen.
Scurry has elements of CLOVERFIELD, THE DESCENT, and Stephen King‘s THE MIST. It is a tense and entertaining watch from beginning to end.
Scurry Trailer:
Luke Sparke’s One-Shot Horror Sci-Fi Scurry
Starring Jamie Costa & Emalia
Streaming on Digital HD October 3
When an unthinkable attack devastates their city, two strangers find themselves trapped beneath the chaos, wounded and disoriented. As they fight to survive in a narrowing underground tunnel, their injuries worsen, and their chances of escape dwindle. But the collapsing passageways aren’t their only threat—something else is lurking in the darkness, something relentless and hungry. Shot in real-time using a single continuous take, Scurry delivers a gripping, claustrophobic horror experience that will keep audiences on edge until the very last moment.
Best Picture: CAMP, directed by Avalon Fast
FANTASTIC PITCHES 
The Hairbrained Salon’s owner is a bawdy broad named Laverne. Martini Bear is one hell of a force, slinging f-bombs on top of the already kitschy, 60s-inspired dialogue. John Waters and Mario Bava are all over this film; think 
The costumes, hair, and makeup are spectacular. The vivacious colors and sparkles pop on the 35mm film. The hyper-augmented sound editing will make you cringe. The script cleverly weaves in menstruation shame, medical gaslighting, and consent, while also playing into the adage that a period is a monthly curse. The ending is perfection. THE CRAMPS: A Period Piece has midnight madness cult classic written all over it. 
Zahra asserts herself as a savior in Noor’s life, flattering her, consoling her, and even intimidating her school bullies. But quickly, Zahra pushes boundaries. Noor’s hobby is photography, specifically of dead animals. Zahra talks her into a picture no one should take. While Amani flails to piece the ensuing madness together, Noor falls back on Zahra’s sway. THE VILE comes to a head as a simple birthday celebration brings darkness to the entire family.
Bdoor Mohammad creates a tangible desperation as Amani. You will easily root for her, particularly when it comes to the emotional dynamics between her and her husband. His oppressive hand will likely infuriate the audience, but it is clear Al Ansari did his research. Mohammad captivates at every turn.
This heartwarming doc has some amazing personalities. Audrey is Sound. Her infectious wonder is the epitome of SILVER SCREAMERS. David is Special Effects. With his puppeteering skills, the film’s villain comes alive. Diane is in charge of Makeup. Her theatre background is key to her role. Sonny is the Camera Operator. He is reactivating the dreams of his youth.
The team takes on their jobs with a refreshing enthusiasm. Watching each one tackle their assignments is like a boot camp into the complexities of filmmaking. Editor Lee Walker delivers an incredibly engaging montage of their initial endeavors. The opening credits are integrated into the film’s storyboards. It’s a brilliant device.
SILVER SCREAMERS acts as an advocacy pitch for art therapy at every age. Wait until you hear the ADR session. It’s a riot. The horror homage final scene is the cherry on top. Fantastic Fest audiences are in for a real treat.
Parts Two & Three: now wandering the land, the animals in tow, Gaspar’s existential crisis continues as he meets spirits, resides in a manor, converses with religious icons, all while Ogre and his minion pursue him. The film is A LOT. Green continues his signature style with static cameras capturing 4th wall-breaking deadpan delivery. Honestly, it will either be a winner for audiences or a total miss. The complexity of satire is laugh-out-loud funny, but outside intellectual circles, it might be a tough pill to swallow.
LONDON CALLING
Rick Hoffman is a master at searing delivery. His performance as Benson is unforgettable. Jeremy Ray Taylor gives Julian a spitfire energy. He is an undeniable star. His performance from the 2017 IT remake still haunts me. In this role, Taylor has a Michael Cera innocence and comic timing. Josh Duhamel plays a Tommy with comfort that few leading men genuinely possess. His swagger is only matched by his vulnerability and sardonic wit. Taylor and Duhamel’s chemistry is something I would watch over and over.
Upon first glance, Julian seems like a lost cause, but his love of video games makes him a crack shot. Tommy continues to fumble as his eyesight fails him. The two oddly balance one another out in talent and emotional needs as they delve deeper into crime shenanigans and plenty of character-driven redemption. Omer Levin Menekse, Quinn Wolfe, and Ungar’s script is laugh-out-loud funny. The only true cringeworthy moment is the repeated use of the “R” word, which felt lazy and offensive in 2025. 
The action sequences are incredibly entertaining. The final fight scene is nothing short of celebratory. LONDON CALLING has the same energy as The Other Guys or 21 Jump Street. Taylor and Duhamel’s father-son energy is an unexpected bonus, making for an entirely unexpected buddy comedy that earns your attention and melts your heart.
NIGHT OF THE REAPER
Opening credits are fantastic. The production design team covers homes with classic ’80s Halloween decorations, and the repeated VHS static filter is chef’s kiss. Every single slasher trope we’ve come to love is utilized to build that creeping sense of dread. The synth score is fantastic. Homages to franchise favorites are endless. Everything from Poltergeist to Halloween, Max’s outfit looks like it’s straight out of Pet Sematery or a nod to Chucky, and the “Kimble, R” buzzer might just be a reference to Australian director Kimble Rendall. 
Casting is delicious. Ben Cockell is outstanding as Chad. Summer H. Howell (
Brandon Christensen, alongside his co-writer brother Ryan, understands how to build suspense while giving horror fans the kills they seek. As a fan of SUPERHOST, I am impressed by this narrative shift again and again. Christensen nails the element of surprise, flipping the script on their head when you least expect it. NIGHT OF THE REAPER is another solid addition to Shudder’s stacked catalog.
HAPPYEND
This predominantly young cast is incredible. Yukito Hidaka is captivating as Kou. His brooding aura and genuine wonder are the perfect foil for Hayato Kurihara‘s intense Yuta. Each actor wears their heart on their sleeve.
Based in part on her 2017 film BIRTH OF A FAMILY, Tasha Hubbard brings her scripted narrative debut to TIFF 50. MEADOWLARKS stars Michael Greyeyes, Carmen Moore, Alex Rice, and Michelle Thrush as four Cree siblings who were separated by the Sixties Scoop, who are meeting for the first time as adults.
Performances are fantastic. Each character is incredibly nuanced. Four siblings with varying goals for the trip and vastly different personalities. But what links them is far deeper than the ways in which they were raised by white families.
For more TIFF coverage, 
![Lilith Fair_ Building a Mystery - [tiff.net]](https://i0.wp.com/reelnewsdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/Lilith-Fair_-Building-a-Mystery-tiff.net_.png?resize=678%2C344&ssl=1)
As he prepares to self-fund his hefty two-act drama with his theatre “besties,” Griffin’s theatrical passion is further fueled by a tumultuous homelife. Colia delivers a truly tangible script. Griffin’s mom seems overwhelmed with her go-getter and rather demanding son, but under the surface, something else is simmering. She hires a neighbor’s son to help with yard cleanup. What begins as an annoyance to Griffin transforms into a sexual awakening, a test of relationships, and a piece of art that mirrors his unresolved trauma.
Owen Teague plays Brad with an initial aloofness that perfectly contrasts Griffin’s overzealous nature. As Teague taps into Brad’s motivation, *no pun intended,* the performance captivates in an entirely unexpected way. Everett Blunck is a star. His portrayal of Griffin feels like a documentary rather than a performance. It is one well beyond his years. He exudes fierce confidence that is infectious. Teague and Blunck have magnetic chemistry. Colia skillfully creates a subtle doppleganger effect between the two. It is an incredibly nuanced balance of characterization and performance.
Colia cleverly speaks to art as catharsis, the plight of a tortured artist, and the meaning of authentic friendship. Existing between childhood and adulthood is wrought with emotional chaos, impossible questions, self-loathing, fear, and awkwardness. GRIFFIN IN SUMMER playfully touches on each of these with unfiltered heart and humor.
The doc features sit-down interviews with the world’s most successful competitive eaters as well as James’ family members. The latter informs his motivation, from his love of soccer to bodybuilding. Yudin sets the audience up to root for James as we lead up to the 2023 Hot Dog Eating contest. 10 weeks out, and something diabolical occurs in middle America. We learn about the physical barriers, including his brutal two-year hospital stay after his 
Doo Soo Kim‘s tight close-ups in the opening credits alongside the rather ominous score might make you think you’re about to watch a slasher film. If you can’t stand to witness grown men stuffing food into their mouths, then you might be right. Yudin subconsciously taps into the horror of it all. 
Scream Queen of my heart and Timelord Barbara Crampton plays Clara’s foster mom. She elevates every cast she’s part of, and this is no exception. Clayton Royal Johnson gives Zach a solid, good-guy vibe. He’s a great addition. 
For all things Fantasia, 
A father wishes to compliment the chef for his signature dish, only to discover that an actual shrimp is responsible for the deliciousness. In this mockumentary-style short, The Shrimp insinuates that his entire schtick was stolen by the Disney rat. The two then compete on a food competition reality show. The producers secretly chat with the man under The Shrimp, Chef Dave. Shrimp is a foul-mouthed asshole, for lack of a better word. Shenanigans ensue, confessions reveal themselves, and insults fly.
There are multiple Shrimp puppet creations. The smaller version sits on Yung’s head, and a larger-scale handheld puppet fills the screen for the sit-down interviews. The detail is award-worthy. Puppeteers Benjamin Fieschi-Rose, Kirsten Brass, and Amelia Blaine are spectacular.
Evy sits in front of a blurred open doorway as she listens. This trope alone keeps your heart in your throat. Graham Beasley‘s overall framing is jarring as hell. Darkness plays an important role. Beasley rarely places Evy in the center of the frame and uses odd angles and stationary camera pans to keep you off balance in every way. It almost suggests the camera is haunted.
Don’t get ahead of yourself in viewing. ANYTHING THAT MOVES is far more than a high-concept soft porn. I mean, it is also that. The cast fearlessly embraces full frontal nudity, which is incredibly rare for male actors, but more importantly, it honors kink. Audiences will not expect the hidden trauma. Phillips also addresses the demoralization of sex workers.
Shot in Super 16mm, its gritty look completes the homage to 1970s adult films. The Joshua Rains‘s artwork is diabolically genius. The bright spotlight device that denotes an orgasm is brilliant. Casting Nina Hartley and Ginger Lynn Allen was a superior move, as the two essentially served as the film’s intimacy coordinators. By the way, can we acknowledge the importance of that role on a set? I am thrilled we’re adding a Stunt category to next year’s awards season, but Intimacy Coordination is also an art.
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