SCREAM VI
Scream 6 brings Ghostface out of Woodsboro and onto the bustling streets of New York City. When the film opens, Sam and Tara Carpenter (Melissa Barrera and Jenna Ortega) have seemingly left the trauma of the 2022 Scream reboot/sequel behind them. Tara is enrolled at the fictional Blackmore University, and Sam is getting the therapy she likely desperately needs to unpack her serial-killer linage (she’s the secret daughter of Billy Loomis, one of the baddies from the original 1996 film) But, since this is a Scream film, we know that it is only a matter of time until another psychopath adopts the Ghostface persona and comes after them.
2022’s reboot thrived by finding the perfect balance of new + nostalgia. While that film could be seen as a symbolic passing of the torch from Neve Campbell’s Sydney Prescott to Barrera’s Sam, it is still jarring to watch a Scream film without Sydney. Especially when Scream 6 is so clearly inspired by Scream 2 (talk about sentences you never think you will write), which similarly followed Sydney as she escaped Woodsboro for a fictional college setting. This time though, Courtney Cox is the only original star returning, and she struggles to provide a meaningful link to the weight of original films. Honestly, with so many of the other beloved characters missing in action, a clean break might have been the better approach.
Despite all of the changes, Ghostface remains as sharp as ever. There are even more kills, and they are bigger and gorier. This film makes the most out of its R- rating. There are also great homages to the past films (so much so that the film had me begging for one twist that never materializes – maybe next time!)
The much-promoted New York setting ultimately feels a bit underused – filming actually occurred in Montreal, and there are only a few scenes that truly attempt to capture the energy of the city. It’s a shame because those scenes are some of my favorites in the whole film. There’s a moment where Sam and Tara hide from Ghostface in a bodega, only to realize that this killer is willing to use weapons even more deadly than a knife. Another scene on the NYC subway captures the rising anxiety facing the city’s public transit today, where a rise in unprovoked attacks has left citizens suspicious of their fellow passengers. But that’s largely it – it feels like a waste of the setting (although to be fair, New York has posed a challenging setting for horror films in the past.) What about Ghostface popping up in a cab, a chase through central park, or a set piece on one of the iconic bridges?
Overall, the talent of the core cast and the film’s passion for the rich history of the franchise more than make up for its shortcomings. But the inevitable Scream 7 should make sure to stay on its toes, or else risk that the stabbings will start to get stale.
Michael Patrick Lane is Emily’s captor and psycho ex, Charlie. Scary and somehow kooky, he is like the Michael Myers of ex-boyfriends. Missi Pyle plays Carole, and she’s a real asshole. Her performance is both caricature and authentically terrifying. Pyle gives us rich, tacky, gun-toting Karen energy. I mean, had station is in Tallahassee. Her character work is unreal.
Midori Francis is an absolute badass as Emily. Minutes in, I was yelling at the screen, cheering her on. Her shockingly calm demeanor is all the motivation Sam needs to help. Jolene Purdy plays Sam with zero self-esteem and a heart of hold. Her emotional arc in the film will leave you with a smirk. She and Francis have electric chemistry, especially considering they are never in the same space as one another. They are both stars.
Areal shots are stunning. The addition of out-of-focus camerawork puts you in Emily’s chaotic mindset. The splashy neon colors of the Gator Galore station contrast beautifully with Emily’s overcast forest landscape. Directed by Yoko Okumura and written by Salvatore Cardoni and Brian Rawlins, UNSEEN balances comic, over-the-top characters with nuanced ones and the plausible scenario of a woman’s abduction by her ex. The script is a commentary on class and one hell of a story of gender-based violence. It is undeniably entertaining. Some audiences might initially make comparisons with Shudder’s 
Colm Meaney is the abusive Daddy Whelan, heading up the unsavory local family fixing the cottage. Proud and fiery, he is just as volatile as his children. Jaime-Lee O’Donnell and Chris Walley make the aggressive audience relentlessly uncomfortable with their behavior and nationalist words. Kristian Nairn plays Eoin, the quiet, clearly complicated, deemed “simple” son of the Whelan crew. Nairn gives a brilliant performance, more complex than at first glance. 
Douglas Booth wears his emotions on his sleeve as Jaime. He is charming and kind but channels his unresolved trauma into simmering anger and anxiety. Hannah John-Kamen is enchanting and vulnerable. She owns the screen in her self-assured presence. Her chemistry with Booth and the rest of the cast keeps you watching.
The script is a dark adult version of a Grimm’s fairytale. Costumes are as colorful as the scenery is lush. Gorgeous drone shots down windy roads are breathtaking. The score creeps up on you. The first appearance of the elusive creatures is reminiscent of 80s Jim Henson; think Hoggle and the goblins from Labyrinth. They are awesome in the truest sense of the word. As a person who has been pregnant twice, the violence in the film is visceral. The commitment from the cast is applause-worthy. As the impressive practical effects get more intense, so do their performances. You will find yourself wincing and giggling simultaneously. Yes, it is over the top. And yes, the ending is a real WTF. Just go with it and have fun because in UNWELCOME, keeping the tradition alive keeps you alive.
The plot and narrative are an awkward fit for such an intriguing setting. Troubled young Finn (Hart Denton, toned down from his manic turn on Riverdale) drifts through the town. He’s obviously troubled. His relationship with his parents is strained, and we can tell there’s anger (or worse) bubbling under his quiet exterior. He connects with Eliza, a girl at his school. Eliza is troubled too, in her own quieter way: she lives with her alcoholic mother, the two of them living through a trial separation from her step-father and step-sister. As Finn and Eliza deepen their bond, it quickly becomes clear that he will bring great love or great danger into her life (perhaps both.)
I found much to love about American Cherry, but left confused surrounding its tone and intention. From a genre perspective, it somehow sits right at the intersection of romance and psychological thriller, but that ambiguity was confusing in ways that felt unintentional. Is this trying to be Fear for the zoomer generation? Good Will Hunting with more bite? I felt it needed to commit a little bit more firmly. By seeking such balance, it risks underdelivering on both counts.
Wuthering Heights fans will recognize the inspiration in Frances O’Connor‘s screenplay. Sibling and familial dynamics loom large, as does jealousy. A myriad of topics appears in the script; grief, individualism, and life in the arts. Emily shirks gender norms and yet yearns for the approval of her Father. Betrayal, morality, lust, defiance, sibling rivalry, adoration, and spite play keen roles in EMILY. A particularly sharp monologue serves as a Freudian confessional. It is brilliant and heartbreaking.
Fionn Whitehead plays Branwell Brontë with the vibrancy of a firecracker. He is a delightful foil for Mackey. Their connection is undeniable. Oliver Jackson-Cohen is Mr. Weightman. Battling societal morality and love, Jackson-Cohen gives a stunning performance. His intuition and chemistry with Mackey are explosive.
Swallowed is a genre-obliterating film with fantastic performances. Jena Malone adds gritty believability. To no one’s surprise, she manages to bring charm and intensity. Koch and Colon have spectacular chemistry, and you 100 percent buy their relationship. Koch possesses an accessible vulnerability. Colon’s honesty feels grounded. Bravo for their openness to go full frontal nude. We all know how rare that is, and it makes complete sense given the plot. The film also features a solid villainous turn from Mark Patton, a genre legend from A Nightmare on Elm Street 2. One line, in particular, is slyly redemptive given his status in the horror canon.
The camera work has visceral intimacy. Writer-director Carter Smith (The Ruins) gives audiences a unique genre entry, with the leads being LGBTQ male characters in scenarios we usually see female characters tackle. Swallowed is part crime thriller, part coming-of-age, and body horror. This film is an LGBTQ scenario of nightmares. Get ready to squirm.
It stars Jena Malone (The Hunger Games Film Series, Cold Mountain, Stepmom), Mark Patton (A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge, Freddy vs. Jason), Cooper Koch (Fracture) and Jose Colon (Feature Acting Debut)
Ashleigh Murray is Alex’s best friend, Grace. She gives us the perfect balance of sweet, supportive, and firey. She’s a foil for Beauchamp. Sherri Sheperd is outstanding as Alex’s AA sponsor Ronnie. This is a fantastic turn filled with grounded concern, loving energy, and wise words. Her calm demeanor balances the chaos beautifully. She is a thoughtfully curated character.
Jonny Beauchamp plays Alex. Writet-director Barry Jay‘s screenplay allows him to show his vast range as he assumes some of Shane’s personality traits as the story progresses. Beginning as a meek and mild, lost young man, Alex slowly becomes increasingly more aggressive. Mike C. Manning (Slapface) throws you off balance from the moment he appears onscreen. He oozes toxic masculinity, helped by his intense workout obsession and the score. Shane goes from subtle to overt manipulation quicker than I expected. He is downright scary. While Manning portrays the ultimate gaslighter, his character is more nuanced than at first glance.
Overall, the lighting is a bit dark for my taste, but the score is carefully crafted and smartly used. The script morphs into a sick and twisted revenge story I did not see coming. There is a complex moral ambiguity that is endlessly intriguing. The Way Out is an unexpected journey of self-discovery and one credible psychological thriller.
Like in The Blair Witch Project, each character goes by their real-life name. Banfitch is the sole cinematographer. The shaky handheld camerawork gives the film solid legitimacy. The sound editing varies based on the speaker’s proximity to the camera, lending to the validity of the experience. With the film opening with a horrifying 911 call, memory card number one contains relatively mundane introductions to the characters. Background information reveals itself in what is essentially Robbie’s private vacation footage. But, you’re so entranced by the opening audio, you become obsessed with discovering the cause of those screams. That, my friends, is compelling editing.
Card two introduces the mystery in earnest. Card three is chaos. 99.9% of the film occurs through Robbie’s lens’ perspective. Much of the explosive final hour is lit by nothing but a flashlight. Therefore, a great deal of what we can’t see paralyzes us. Don’t for a second think that the daylight is any safer. What we do get a glimpse of is gag-inducing and chaotic fear. Ultimately, the ear-piercing manipulation of sound grabs you by the throat. I forgot to breathe. Fair warning: Everything is so dizzying you may get queasy. The script evolves in such a clever and unique way I just resigned myself to yelling. “WTF?!” at each new reveal. It simply keeps going and going. I stopped trying to figure out which way was up. THE OUTWATERS‘ final few minutes made me gasp. If that’s not an endorsement, I don’t know what is. Robbie Banfitch is the next great horror auteur. No one can take that away from him.
The film utilizes classic devices. Mirrors and reflection play a dual role. Reds and fuchsias feature prominently in the form of nail polish, shoes, a toothbrush, Kyoko’s blouse, a robe, and phone case, and most importantly, the scar. I can see why this was such a hit on the festival circuit. WOMAN OF THE PHOTOGRAPHS begs a larger conversation about image and self-worth as dictated by the internet and society.
The writing is perfectly genius, as it disguises the mystery within the secretive nature of the religion. I watch a lot of horror. ATTACHMENT had me on the ropes. I had no idea where this script would land. The language barrier raises the stakes, as important revelations become lost in translation, literally. Performances are spectacular and nuanced. The emotional journeys are lush. Their pasts slowly revealed creating a genuine and curious bond. I could not take my eyes off the screen while watching Attachment, fearing I’d miss the smallest detail. Audiences will be hypnotized.
An hour in, we briefly meet a round of new characters. One, in particular, provides a cringeworthy moment that is a complete waste of time. On the other hand, actress April Lang provides a tangible grounding for Vince as a character, but the glaring lack of a thick Boston accent matching her son made me roll my eyes. That’s not on Lang. Her performance is the most natural in the film, and I wanted to see her storyline more than anyone. Kenny Johnson also impressed me as Vince’s pilot Carter. That’s another story I’d like to explore.
Although the zombie makeup is not great, costumes and general makeup are thoughtfully aged and disheveled. Something that is usually a sticking point in low-budget apocalyptic films. I was equally impressed with the locations. It appears the filmmakers had a lot of options, and they used them to their advantage. Performances are strong all around. A large ancillary and featured extra cast makes for a more impressive final product.
While the drama is a touch overplayed, perhaps akin to a Lifetime drama hokeyness, that does not lessen the intriguing arc in a genre that is tricky to conquer with new ideas. So while we’ve seen the sentimental attachment aspect in the past, the surprising plot point surrounding the very badass Ellen Hillman was phenomenal. Alive‘s final reveal garnered an honest, approving nod from me. I applaud the passion and commitment of writer-director David Marantz. It undoubtedly has an audience.
On the surface, the film is an intimate character study of the growing tensions in a family and community in close quarters and the disruption of everyday life. Slyly mirroring the Israel-Palestine tensions in a darkly comedic way, LET IT BE MORNING tackles the status quo, the want for power, and the need for change in a superbly brilliant way. 
The film begins with intriguing flashbacks of a cult murder, newspaper clippings, and a hauntingly saccharine song. The setup immediately captured my attention. A sudden shift in style and time reveals Karma and Sunny living in fear and relying on the kindness of former cult members for protection. Small crumbs of cult life are just enough to keep you invested in Karma’s fate.
Michael Madsen is vile. His iconic voice serves him well as Paul, giving him an effortless presence. He could have been made more menacing with a few tighter shots overall. Kimberly Alexander plays Sunny with extraordinary nuance. This roller coaster ride of a role spans every emotion; adoration, cruelty, and unadulterated honesty. Alexander goes for it.
It takes a solid 25 mins to get to any action, but then it is pretty much maniacal from there on out. The plot gets more sick and twisted as we roll along, both physically and psychologically. WAKING KARMA shines brightest in the scenes between mother and daughter. The shockingly devastating dialogue by director Liz Fania Werner with co-director Carlos Montaner‘s DP work almost demands an in-depth 
Simon’s psychological manipulation appears in many forms. The constant beratement, the gaslighting, the incessant need to control Alice’s appearance, her whereabouts, what she eats, and when she communicates with him. 
Simultaneously frightening and punchable, Charlie Carrick plays Simon with loathsome energy. Kaniehttio Horn, as Tess, brings tough cookie energy. It’s a wonderful balance for Wunmi Mosaku playing Sophie. She arrives with a genuine mother-hen vibe. As tensions rise, Mosaku serves as a mediator and mender. These three women complement each other perfectly. It was a joy to watch such grounded performances.
Anna Kendrick is captivating as Alice. Writer Alanna Francis hands Kendrick a gift by giving the character the hair-pulling disorder, Trichotillomania. She is the physical embodiment of anxiety. Her naturally petite frame and stature lend themselves to heightened physical frailty. But it is Kendrick’s idiosyncracies that place you inside the mind of a woman consumed by terror.
The script’s structure occurs in three distinct acts. The subplot of a local missing woman presents the viewer with a myriad of emotional and narrative possibilities. The gravity of female friendship and the innate protective instincts we carry loom large. The fear women face on a day-to-day basis feels weighty in the narrative. ALICE, DARLING is a keen reclamation of power through the love and support of their fellow sisters.
First-time director Ric Maddox, alongside writers Sean Crampton and Jordan Wisely, brings the story of an elite ex-Navy seal with PTSD placed in a top-secret government rehabilitation program. Using criminal civilians as bait, can our soldier in question be saved? A twist on The Most Dangerous Game (1931) meets Universal Soldier (1992), THE STALKING FIELDS is an action-packed entry into a potential new franchise.
The dialogue has a uniquely poetic perspective at times but quickly becomes contrasted by innumerable F-bombs. I say this as a person who has a sailor’s mouth, and this felt excessive. The quick-take editing has all the horror genre elements. From the lighting to the angles, it is visually intriguing. I must applaud the creativity in location design. Besides the woods, the military behind the scenes could easily take place in a cleverly lit warehouse walled off entirely with plastic sheeting. That budget must have been astronomical. I have to hand it to the CG team for some legit graphics on each monitor. They had my eyes darting from screen to screen. Bravo for the detail.
As a self-professed Gleek, the series contains so much information I didn’t know. Safety issues, money, and around-the-clock nonstop work, from the mouths of friends, crew members, and entertainment reporters, The Price of Glee pulls the curtain back on all the behind-the-scenes drama and addresses the all too familiar internet rumor that the show may be cursed. Episode one concludes with Cory Monteith’s death and ends on a cliffhanger. Episode two picks right back up where we left off, focusing mainly on the aftermath of Monteith’s passing. Delving into Mark Salling’s child pornography conviction and subsequent suicide, this episode melds into the third with Naya Rivera‘s father speaking about her tragic death.
Transitions between conversations feature video clips and cast photos. My main gripe with episodes two and three is the repetition of said images. A show that spanned six seasons deserved fresh photos. It was a glaring amateur mistake. Is THE PRICE OF GLEE a touch like an E! True Hollywood Story? Very much so, but as a fan, I was endlessly intrigued, hoping for any new information. While the cast has come forward to say they were not involved, hearing crew members that genuinely cared for them and with (mostly) kind words, their insight is vital to understanding the immense pressure this phenomenon created.
Steve Balderson‘s films are rather distinctive. Their lush visual impact sticks in your brain. His newest film, Alchemy of the Spirit, is no exception. Possessing a dreamy, even otherworldly look, Balderson makes the mundane glow. The quiet becomes claustrophobic. As the film begins, the sound editing alongside the score creates an unsettling feeling. The audience resides inside the manic mind of a grieving man. At 23 mins and 10 seconds into the film, we get a shot that elicits every emotion tied to this film. The symmetry, artistic and of two souls as one, is breathtaking. You will not miss it. There is a Picasso-esque madness to it. Balderson thought about its impact as it is the current key art for the film. Very smart. That sense of panic eases once introduced to a languid score of Debussy, Bach, and other classical beauty. While the darkness lies just under the surface, the screenplay’s nuances extend beyond what I expected from the first third of the film.
Sarah Clarke, as Evelyn, is chilling and beautiful. Her voice, combined with soul-piercing imagery, is haunting. The grounded chemistry between Clarke and Xander Berkeley plays with a familiarity of real-life lovers, which makes sense as the two actors have been married since 2002. Berkeley, who I recently lauded in 
The idea of “the proper way to grieve” is front and center. How do we honor the dead? How do we mark the life we have? Oliver creates a literal death mask both as a means to stop time and keep Evelyn’s spirit alive. We get to explore the meaning of life through memory. The film easily could have been a stage play. It is dripping with theatricality. Alchemy of the Spirit is a genre-bending ode to art and romance. It’s a visual love poem.
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