PRESENTS THE NEW VAMPIRE COMEDY
DON’T SUCK
SYNOPSIS
Pete (Jamie Kennedy) believes that he has seen it all in his years as a road comic, that is until he meets his new killer opening act, a struggling comic qua vampire named Ethan (Matt Rife). During their time on the road, Pete fulfills his dream of becoming a comic’s comic.
DON’T SUCK follows a washed-up headliner and the newbie he agrees to mentor, who just so happens to be a vampire.
The film takes a solid 25 minutes for a genuine laugh, then weaves in and out of funny. Elyssa Mai is the perky and badass radio producer Carrie. She is a refreshing addition, as her delicious dialogue contrasts most of the script. Honestly, other than the following scene in the booth itself, the moments between Kennedy and Rife are the only watchable parts of the film. The numerous stand-up bits, some by well-known comics, are downright awful. Most of the jokes feel dated, misogynistic, and unfunny. 
Jamie Kennedy plays Pete Brennan with a burnt-out, has-been energy, but there is an underlying reason for that. Listen closely for a perfect SCREAM reference. It’s probably the best joke in the script. Matt Rife is undeniably the best part of the film. Setting aside the controversy surrounding him as of late, DON’T SUCK would have been more enjoyable had they leaned more into Ethan’s history. Rife genuinely kills it in this role, even putting on a wonky affected accent. Somehow, it perfectly captures the oddly dour tone of the plot. You cannot take your eyes off him. His level of commitment deserves applause. The script needed vampire buddy comedy shenanigans in earnest. The possibilities were endless. As is, you might as well drive a stake through the heart of this film.
In Theaters & On Demand/Digital December 1, 2023
Distributor
VMI Worldwide
Starring
Jamie Kennedy, Matt Rife, Ellen Hollman, Russell Peters, Lauren Compton, Jimmie Walker, Jimmy Shubert, Scott ‘Carrot Top’ Thompson
Directed by
RJ Collins
Written by
Rick D’Elia
Run Time: 100 min | Genre: Comedy, Horror
Stress can do things to you. In THIN SKIN, Aham’s life is falling apart around him. Circumstances, some of his own doing and others out of left field, throw his days, health, and sanity into chaos.
Lila Schmitz brings audiences the magic of West Ireland through the melodies of the locals and the emotional pull of a tune. THE JOB OF SONGS is a toe-tapping, viscerally joyous film. 
The clever dialogue juxtaposes the fragility of animals in captivity as Matt assigns an animal to each human prisoner. The underlying theme of Matt’s bullying slyly mirrors the psychological torture of animals and the imprisonment of his captives.
Nicholas Michael McGovern delivers a mesmerizing performance through narration and chilling direct-to-camera fourth wall breaks. His steady voice soothes the audience. It is melodic and informative, making his intentions more frightening. He is magnificent. 
The unit set lends itself to a stage play. I would pay good money to witness this on Broadway. It’s immersive enough to captivate a live audience even more. LIBERTY could be a unique opportunity for Gravitas to enter the theatre world. If I were producing a screen-to-stage adaptation, I would edit live audience reactions during each performance, creating a curated, visceral experience for each ticket holder. 
Philippe De Witte‘s clever allegory about animal rights takes the audience on an unexpected moral journey. Akin to the strangling anxiety of Saw without the gore, LIBERTY is a one-of-a-kind entry into the psychological horror/ environmental thriller subgenre. LIBERTY is dark and daring. It is an emotional roller coaster that twists and turns, loops and lurches with a quiet, raw intensity. De Witte unlocks a primal fear surrounded by poetic madness. You are not ready for this film.
Filmmaker Henya Brodbeker turns the camera on her, her husband, and their young autistic son, Ari. Through years of filming, we witness the evolution of relationships in her Orthodox community, her marriage, and with herself. This is one family’s story about belonging. 
Anyone who follows my career as a film journalist knows I’m a Mom of a young autistic son. I talk about his diagnosis and navigating the complexities of existing in a primarily neurotypical environment. We are lucky in the grand scheme of ASD possibilities. Our son’s cognitive abilities are off the charts. He is loving, funny, friendly, and would not hurt a fly. Dealing with public meltdowns, particularly if those around you do not know or understand, can be a crushing, demoralizing, tear-filled experience. Nothing is easy. It’s undeniably isolating. It’s the outside world we fear most. THE THREE OF US is irrefutable proof of how equal opportunity changes the lives of families. 
Smalltown divorcee and farmgirl Jane is in the midst of planning the final events of her BFF/ex-husband Mark’s upcoming wedding. When he and his fiancee Heather get stranded by snow, Jane steps in with the wedding planner, triggering chaos. A HOLIDAY I DO is a charming cup of cheer for these festive months ahead.
The ensemble cast is delightful. Kayden Bryce, Marsha Warfield, Colette Hahn, Mandy Logsdon, Cameron Judd, and Dale Dobbs make you laugh and smile the entire film.
India Chappell gives Heather the precise amount of jealousy and meltable iciness, countering Mark’s (Joe Piazza) boy next-door aura. Jill Larson is Jane’s mother, Mary Ellen. Unbeknownst to the family, the farm is on the verge of bankruptcy. Larson is like a warm hug. She is an uplifting presence and an ideal mother figure.
Rivkah Reyes plays Sue with approachable sophistication. Her warm smile invites you in. Lindsay Hicks plays Jane with a brightness that mirrors the film itself. Her charming awkwardness is spot on. Hicks masters the art of romcom slapstick. The relationship between Jane and Sue develops naturally. Reyes and Hicks’ chemistry is endearing.
The score by Phil Tipping and Kanoa Wolfe-Doblin perfectly matches the light-hearted, breezy premise. Its sweet simplicity lulls the viewer into a calm state. The dialogue is cute and accessible, especially for families with younger LBGTQ members. A HOLIDAY I DO is an excellent addition to the Hallmark-esque holiday films on Tello.
The score possesses a moving, almost visceral effect on the viewer. The information Rolnick discovers through her years of research will shock you. Their stories remain ever-evolving living entities. The film reinforces the tried and true Churchill adage, “Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” 
Bradley Whitford is a veteran “participant” craving interaction. Each man gains knowledge from the other’s vastly different strategies for survival. Gregg discovers rewards flow when he either embarrasses or hurts himself. As one coaches the other, a mutually beneficial relationship develops. Alice Braga enters the scene as a woman on a mission, determined to find a way out. Her fiery passion counters Whitford’s stubbornness and Gregg’s growing popularity. When best intentions backfire, and another very influential participant butt heads with her, the consequences prove unthinkable. 
The performances are magnificent. Whitford’s energy is manic. It is like hypnotic live theatre. Alice Braga brings her usual fierceness, rattling the day-to-day flow of events. Melvin Gregg is a one-man show that gets better and better by the minute. His flawed vulnerability pulls you into this mesmerizing plot. He is magnificent. 
The first feature film to be shot entirely from one fixed camera angle, 
Emile Hirsh is a manic misogynist and one catalyst in the chaos. Matilda Lutz plays the titular Helen. She is a star. Her presence is magnetic, and you cannot take your eyes off of her. Dylan Gelula, whom I adored in Cooper Raiff‘s 
The performances swing widely. The score, while fine on its own, doesn’t match the over-the-top portrayals of everyone beyond Penny and Albie. Even Timothy Haug and Christine Griffin give us lackluster chemistry.
The plot is glaringly apparent to everyone but Albie and Penny. Once revealed an hour and ten minutes into the runtime, the fact that our invaders have to explain and then begin to bicker while the score ramps up its intensity, things get increasingly eye-roll-inducing. I think there is supposed to be some overarching social commentary, but the film lost me, somehow flipping from thriller to comedy, and I wasn’t sure if that was the film’s intent.
The look of the film is dreamy. Moody indoor shots juxtaposed with lush Swiss landscapes create a visually sumptuous experience. 
Emilia Jones plays Margot, a college student and movie theatre concession girl who goes on a date with an older patron who may or may not be a murderer. Based on Kristen Roupenian‘s 2017 viral short story in The New Yorker, director Susanna Fogel skillfully weaves a dark tale that every woman has lived.
Emilia Jones (
The script also comedically highlights how far women go to remain appealing, how we placate for acceptance, the self-deprecating behavior, and the blatant shunning of red flags. There is a sex scene that is truly something to behold. It is the most cringeworthy, amusing, icky, relatable thing any woman can watch. It accurately captures the constant fear of existing as a woman. The relentless anxiety, the people pleasing, and the patriarchal pressure from every direction, CAT PERSON nails each aspect with humor and truth in fiction.
Various animation styles change from scene to scene, from hand-drawn to greenscreen, live-action to stop motion layer and mesmerize, forcing the audience to sit up and pay attention. QUANTUM COWBOYS‘ narrative timeline loops and shifts to give our protagonists a chance at redemption. Butterfly effects cling to each of them as “Memory” plays the storyteller and provides second chances disguised as a mysterious stone arc. This clever device keeps the audience enthralled, wondering how this might end. 
The cast boasts faces familiar and iconic. Kiowa Gordon and John Way shine alongside David Arquette and Lily Gladstone ( a near-future Oscar winner IMHO). This one-of-a-kind film will undoubtedly delight with its wacky and meta climax. QUANTUM COWBOYS is an ambitious film that, while currently planned as a trilogy, could easily transition to a series at a major studio. Marslett gives audiences a choose-your-own-adventure-style story whose possibilities are endless.
The families are eclectic. All shapes, sizes, races, ages, and socioeconomic backgrounds face the challenges of reuniting parents and children. Allegations range from neglect to sexual abuse. Each case is unique, and the system does not exist to react to those nuances. 
The editing is masterful. The narrative flow is deliciously punctuated with L’Orange’s (Austin’s artist name) uniquely produced and created beats. His music is hypnotic, sampling blues and standards to assemble something fresh, almost binaural in its rhythms. While THE MAD WRITER follows Austin’s musical and surgical journey, it speaks universally to those suffering from depression and unsure of their place in the world. Austin says it best in the film. Everyone wants to feel “satisfied, clever, and useful.” He’s not wrong.
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.
Director John McPhail and screenwriter Mike Van Waes had the tricky job of taking Adam Ellis‘ real-life viral Twitter feed and translating it for the big screen. If you don’t know the “Dear David” story, let me sum it up. Cartoonist Adam Ellis starts to document the haunting of his apartment. Things get weirder each night, culminating in photographs of this little boy with a caved-in skull dropping onto Adam’s bed. It was truly terrifying reading the thread. I remember sweating as the incidents became creepier and more intense. It was an honest-to-goodness viral moment. This week, DEAR DAVID moves from small screens to movie screens, and the results are mostly comparable.
The film boasts amazingly timed jump scares. Let’s give a brilliant slow clap for editors David Arthur and Glenn Garland. The script is especially relevant in our ongoing age of vitriolic online engagement. It is also a mystery wrapped in a horror movie, using a personal connection about self-worth. If you know the Dear David canon, it might be better to separate the two. Did I shout with glee when the original “David” drawing appeared? Yup. If I’m being entirely honest, the climax feels a touch hokey, but the final scene brings some redemption. DEAR DAVID is inarguably intriguing. I needed to know how McPhail would expand upon the genuinely disturbing origin material, so there’s no denying I was along for the ride. Genre fans will eat this up.
LAST STRAW
Following the death of her mother and in her father’s footsteps, Lou dreams of becoming a firefighter EMT. On her first night on the job, things go haywire when she and her colleagues become the targets of a killer.
Jeremy Piven plays Lou’s super supportive father, Patrick. But his past puts his daughter in direct sight of the killer. Piven is fantastic. He is a master at his craft, no doubt. Elena Kampouris plays Lou with a solid balance of unresolved trauma and tenacity. She does her best within the convoluted premise to keep us emotionally invested. She deserved to show off more of her physical badassery. I could see her owning a post-apocalyptic role with ease. The film’s best scenes are the climatic mano-a-mano battles.
It is not an exaggeration to say I yelled, “Oh Shit,” following the first kill. I must hand it to McNamara here, as each is different and brutal. However, the film has an overreaching Saw (in its superfluous middle sequels) vibe, both in its performances and overly complicated premise. The killer wears a David mask and scrawls Latin phrases on the walls, placing sporadic traps and puzzles, which culminates in a need to, quite literally, explain the motive. VINDICTA is sort of an amalgamation of past films. Watch it for Kampouris, but a sequel should not be entertained.
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