SHE LOVED BLOSSOMS MORE
Yannis Veslemes‘ psychedelic rumination on death and time, SHE LOVED BLOSSOMS MORE, finally arrives beyond its wildly successful festival run. Three brothers, longing to bring their dead mother back to life, build a time machine. Hedgehog, Dummy, and Japan reside in their family estate, experimenting with household items and unresolved grief.
The boys flitter between trials, doing whatever drugs they can procure, speaking with utter nonchalance about their intentions. Hedgehog, clearly consumed by sadness, eagerly claws his way towards his ultimate goal. Obsession takes hold.
Cinematographer Christos Karamanis brings the viewer inside their drug trips, of which there are many, blurring the lines of reality. Fair warning: if you are sensitive to light or sound, the film can be overwhelming, but inarguably hypnotic. Performances, particularly Panos Papadopoulos, are fantastic.
Production designer Elena Vardava delivers a sumptuous and enveloping atmosphere of jewel-toned furnishings and eclectic wares. The FX team brings wide-eyed gazes with the brothers’ trials, which include a skinless pig and a headless chicken, to start. But the pièce de résistance is the transformation of Dummy’s girlfriend, Samantha.
Sci-fi extravagance aside, Veslemes takes audiences on a visceral and emotional ride into darkness. There is no denying SHE LOVED BLOSSOMS MORE is a WTF, jaw-dropping watch.
SHE LOVED BLOSSOMS MORE Trailer:
Director: Yannis Veslemes | 2025 | 88 mins | Thriller | Greek, French
SHE LOVED BLOSSOMS MORE IS NOW IN SELECT THEATERS AND ON DIGITAL
THE RULE OF JENNY PEN
After suffering a stroke, Stefan must convalesce in an assisted living facility that also houses a psychotic patient who tortures the residents with a creepy hand puppet. Based on Owen Marshall‘s short story, James Ashcroft brings THE RULE OF JENNY PEN to life in all its skin-crawling glory. 
GRAND THEFT HAMLET
Sam and Mark try to entice an audience while simultaneously playing the game. GRAND THEFT HAMLET is hands down one of the most entertaining documentaries ever. Guns blazing, blood spraying, and lines of Shakespeare flying willy-nilly, it’s brilliant madness.
Having only witnessed clips of Grand Theft Auto through the years, I was blown away by the ability to customize the experience. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. It is something akin to a virtual vision board. (Yes, my theatre nerd girl roots are showing.) Could this be a new way to rehearse actors? The director in me has all the thoughts currently rushing into my brain.
On the technical side of things, the editing and soundtrack are award-worthy. The film exemplifies the power of human connection when it was not possible in the physical world. It is a light in the ongoing darkness that often feels all-consuming. Sam’s plea from the film’s audition recruitment segment says it all. “You can’t stop art, motherfuckers!” GRAND THEFT HAMLET is the epitome of the creative community’s ability to bring hope.
RED ROOMS
Juliette Gariépy initially gives Kelly-Anne a quiet ferocity. Assume nothing about the character as she slowly reveals her sleuthing skills. Gariépy morphs into a startling presence, with each consecutive scene getting under your skin. Gariépy is disturbing. 
The juxtaposition of her photoshoot stills and those of security camera suspects is undeniably clever mirroring. Once the infamous video plays, the decision to focus on our protagonist and not the most gruesome acts almost makes the plot more invasive. The combination of the audio and your imagination causes you to turn away. Kelly-Anne’s skills keep her on a tightrope. One missed step, and the bottom drops out. 
The script is far more nuanced than at first glance. Plante delves into technology, the female fascination with true crime, and the repercussions of unresolved trauma. The more Kelly-Anne shares with Clementine, the more unsettled the audience. As a parent, RED ROOMS is a visceral viewing experience. It is simultaneously rage and despair-inducing. As a mother, putting that hat aside, as difficult as that may be, the film is indisputably brilliant storytelling. The hideous twists keep coming. RED ROOMS will hold you captive, whether you like it or not.
For all things Fantasia 2024, 
The narrative shifts into a visionary anthology of stories as Nathan moves through the levels of Hell. The progression feels like the dark films by Jim Henson in the 80s, but PANDEMONIUM takes it to an entirely new level of demented. It is the definition of French Extreme Cinema.
Hugo Dillon is Nathan. He is the only constant in PANDEMONIUM. We have pieces of his story, but only what he reveals. Dillon delivers a brilliant performance filled with fear, disdain, and bargaining. He’s phenomenal. 
An imaginative descent into the personal Hell we create, PANDEMONIUM is like nothing you’ve seen before. 
Twin brothers Tristan and Làzaro are aspiring astronauts. During a late-night swim, Tristan becomes infected with a mysterious physical and mental ailment when a bright green asteroid plummets into the water. Lazaro must understand his brother’s drastic changes as he tries to maintain an elite physical and psychological state.
Marta Nieto plays the twin’s mother, Mayra. Her performance is like a gut punch. Writers nail the invisible labor and isolation in motherhood and its inevitable breaking point. Nieto lives in the skin of Mayra and earns a standing ovation. Pablo Cobo and Loius Peres are magnificent. Cobo’s brooding anger equally matches his deep adoration for his twin. His performance as Làzaro is an emotional roller coaster, riddled with survivor’s guilt. Peres leans into palpable fear and trauma, giving audiences a complete 180 in physicality. TROPIC’s costume and makeup departments lend a hand here as they switch gears for Tristan from tailored clothes to ill-fitting outfits, as well as his elaborate facial fx. He is spectacular.
As a special needs parent, this is a brutal but honest watch. Feeling “othered” as an individual and a family is viscerally devastating. The cinematography, particularly the underwater footage, is mesmerizing. The sci-fi elements combined with a perfect synth score create a timeless feel. TROPIC defies a single genre category. The volatility of this unique story is riveting, but its gravity lies within its intimacy.
Family tension grows after the unexpected suicide of the family matriarch. Manuel begrudgingly moves in with his son, granddaughter, and bitter daughter-in-law. As the temperatures outside rise, so does the mind-boggling behavior of Manuel and the rest of the octogenarian population.
A shockingly violent moment halfway through jolts an audience now accustomed to the eerie din of quietly disturbing imagery. The Elderly shines in the power of visual suggestion, shadow play, reflections, and long lingering takes.
LAST STRAW
The number of King’s books that jumped from page to screen is astounding. As a kid in the 80s, like many of the filmmakers in the doc, I grew up seeing King’s books on my family’s shelf but immersed myself in the films first. The kids in Stand By Me and IT became my peers. I rented The Shining, Creepshow, and Pet Sementary ad nauseum. By the time 1996 rolled around, I remembered the glee I experienced when I discovered The Green Mile in the grocery store checkout aisle. 
While we don’t hear from King directly, we see stills and videos of Stephen on the sets of his adaptations. Filmmakers like Greg Nicotero, Mike Flanagan, David Carson, Taylor Hackford, Tom Holland, John Harrison, Mick Garris, and Frank Darabont share how King’s books inspired their work. They speak to the overwhelming readability of small-town horror. King singlehandedly made Maine an unlikely horror destination. I love that everyone addresses The Shining controversy. Behind-the-scenes footage and anecdotes explain the breakdown between the book and the film. Kubrick obliterates Jack Torrance’s humanity that fans of the book (King, most of all) hate. 
King’s deep dive into the political landscape has always existed. The film explores his ability to explore universal truths, whether religion, race, or greed, and make characters lovable or loathsome based on their moral compass. In the same way, we joke about The Simpsons‘ writers predicting the future, Stephen King uses the global landscape to create villains and heroes that shake us to our core. Translating that from page to screen sometimes takes a slight adjustment. The best filmmakers always ask Steve first. 
For horror fans, KING ON SCREEN is like a kid coming home with a Halloween candy haul that would put you in a coma. For fans of his books, it’s like changing costumes and going out for round two. It’s delicious fun, no matter how cliche you might find the Easter egg-filled bookend scenes. They play like a Where’s Waldo for readers and genre fans alike. (I loved it.) So, turn the lights down and make popcorn. KING ON SCREEN scares up our nostalgia and celebrates a storytelling master.
Fantastic Fest 2022 feature from Luis Tinoco, 
Leading lady Andrea Trepat captures your attention from the very beginning. She has the task of carrying this film on her shoulders, as other actors appear only via video call or voice. She nails it. Anyone with a loved one who works unconventional hours understands the emotional complexity of ambition. It often comes at a great sacrifice of relationships. It is the risk we take in search of an unknown reward. In The Antares Paradox, Alex dreams of proving there is life beyond our universe. Her father understood this, even if no one else ever did.
Writer-director Luis Tinoco worked extensively with José Luis Crespo (Quantum Fracture), a YouTuber and science communicator with millions of followers. The script, while technical, is laid out concisely and understandably for all audiences. The entire film takes place in one location. The film’s sumptuous score from Arnau Bataller is perfect.
The film’s final scene is so abrupt it’s actually irritating. This is clearly a massive plot point that is given but a moment, and that moment is the end of the film? That’s a ballsy way to, perhaps, set up a sequel. You must already have the audience on your side for that to succeed. The film is like taking every season of Ryan Murphy‘s American Horror Story and mashing them together with zero explanation. There is no consistency in the screenplay other than Marianne’s “take no shit”, anti-slut-shaming, mom-boss attitude, and Linus’ vile weakness. When you finally get to the supposed outcome with daughter Adelaide, it screams The Haunting of Bly Manor. The overall look of the film is undeniably gorgeous. Some scenes contain viscerally jarring imagery. Ultimately, Shudder subscribers can decide for themselves whether it’s overstuffed or if we’re more in a 13 Ghosts territory. You could give it a pass being that it’s based on the true story of the most haunted house in England. In my opinion, The Banishing deserves to be fleshed out as a series. Show up for the performances, the set, and the cinematography, and let me know what you think once the screen goes black for good.
I first heard about Honeydew after its virtual premiere at Nightstream Film Festival. It is a miracle that I was able to avoid spoilers. I am delighted to report the intense buzz was spot on. Honeydew is that good. The sound editing and score consumed me. Combined with some split-screen deliciousness, Honeydew was dizzying madness. Writer-director Devereaux Milburn has taken the most successful aspects of classic and modern horror to create something insanely scary. It gets under your skin in a truly chilling way. The film also boasted one of the weirdest cameos ever. I did a literal double-take.
Malin Barr as Riley is amazing. Sawyer Spielberg as Sam is fantastic. The chemistry between the two actors is electric. Milburn’s dialogue allows them to convey the small cracks that exist in every relationship. These are keenly exacerbated by their bizarre circumstances. Barr and Spielberg are a hell of a pair but are also allowed to shine on their own. You’re constantly worried about them all while fascinated by their individual needs. Jaime Bradley knocks it out of the park as Gunni. What amounts to almost an entirely physical performance, he will disturb you to no end. Bradley owns every frame. Barbara Kingsley is a genius. As Karen, she walks an extremely fine line between sweet and horrifying, leaning heavily towards the latter. The way these characters are written and the care with which they are performed culminates in one of the most uneasy watches in 2021.
Back in 2016, I saw a disturbing and memorable short called The Stylist. Some of those images are still burnt into my brain. It’s not often I say that about a short. Now, writer/director/ producer Jill Sixx Gevargizian has developed that very short into a feature. That’s the funny thing about hairstylists. We totally end up telling them all about ourselves. It’s this unspoken, universal rule. We trust them with our hair and our secrets. Returning in the titular role is Najarra Townsend. She has this timeless look, with her gorgeous red hair and her vintage wardrobe. Signature colors people. Bravo to the costume department here. She has incredibly low self-esteem and social anxiety. Also, she’s a serial killer. This woman hates herself and craves connection. Gevargizian’s expertise as a real-life hairstylist shines through the opening scenes. She clearly guided Townsend’s hands to perfect the realism.
Brea Grant, who can do no wrong in my book, shines as Olivia, magazine exec, bride-to-be, and the unique object of Claire’s affection. She’s a firecracker. Her energy is the perfect foil for Najarra’s (mostly) quiet demeanor. Townsend has an amazing presence. Even when the focus is supposed to be on Olivia, her silhouette looms like a ghost in the background. She lives in the complexity of Gevargizian ‘s screenplay. She is both unsettling and mesmerizing.
We have to talk about the audio. The sound editing will make you cringe. The original score will throw your brain off-kilter and feels like an ode to 70’s horror classics. The editing is smart with side by side frames showing us Claire and Olivia as they navigate what seems mundane. The more we see them together, the more we realize how different these two women are. This script is built on the need for acceptance. There was a bit of a Single White Female (1992) meets May (2002) thing happening and I was all in. The Stylist is visually striking. You are enveloped in the lighting and overall color choices. The cinematic elements combined with stellar performances and an intense script creates a wildly successful atmospheric film dripping in nuance. Your heart is in your throat, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s a very uncomfortable and bone-chilling watch. That. Final. Shot. And Cut.
Unsettling, oftentimes ear-piercing sound editing mixed with a 1984-esque storyline makes The Antenna an eerie watch. Set in an unnamed city in Turkey, this film is clearly an allegory for the current (yet timeless) right-wing propaganda spreading like a disease throughout today’s politics. Oppression is the name of the game. The government is installing new tv antennas so that hourly bulletins can more easily be broadcast to citizens. Accompanied by an evil black sludge coming from the new installation that seeps into the pores of high-rise tenants. Once they come in contact with it, their indoctrination is viscerally permanent. The Antenna represents the death of free speech.
The attention to detail in editing (both audio and visual), close-up shots, are all carefully crafted to induce madness in the residents and the viewer. The inspiration writer/director Orçun Behram has taken from Cronenberg and Ben Wheatley is unmistakable. I don’t know how this film was made on a $200, 000 budget. I am genuinely impressed. The Antenna is a highly stylized dystopian horror that will excite genre fans. Its smart script and dark as hell visuals are a real meal unto themselves. I will be waiting with bated breath for whatever comes next from Orçun Behram. You can watch the film in Virtual Cinemas this Friday, October 2nd, and On-Demand/VOD October 20th. Check out the trailer for some more insight.
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