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‘Shell’ Review – Max Minghella Revives ’90s Horror with Escapist Genre-Bending Comedy

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Shell

Much like Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance, director Max Minghella‘s Shell explores the hells of aging in Hollywood with vibrant style and biting wit. That both employ body horror, harken back to golden eras of the industry, and screened at TIFF will further draw inevitable comparisons. Yet they couldn’t be further removed in just about every way. While Shell centers around an aging actor who embarks on a risky beauty regimen in a desperate bid to retain relevancy, Minghella opts to use it as a vehicle to craft an escapist love letter to ’90s cinema.

Samantha Lake (Elisabeth Moss) never quite reached the career highs as her breakout lead role in a cloying family television during her youth. Even worse, she’s practically aged out of Hollywood. At the ripe age of forty (a joke), Sam finds that her past roles no longer impress the daying pool and that she’s being passed over for roles within her age group for younger models. In one instance, Sam discovers that she’s lost the role of a divorced single mom to ultra-young model Chloe Benson (Kaia Gerber), someone Sam used to babysit. The pressures to claw her way back into a place of job stability prompts Sam to seek out Shell, a luxurious health & wellness company. While Sam quickly takes to the new treatment, and Shell’s defactor spokeswoman Zoe Shannon (Kate Hudson), bodies start going missing. Toss in a few bizarre symptoms, and Sam realizes something may be seriously amiss with Shell.

Minghella, working from the screenplay by Jack Stanley (The Passenger), creates a vibrant, quirky tapestry of genres in paying tribute to his cinematic loves and influences. The opening sequence, a darkly funny and suspenseful burst of body horror featuring Elizabeth Berkley (Showgirls), establishes the offbeat, playful tone straightaway. It also signals the start of Minghella’s hat tip to Paul Verhoeven’s greatest hits. The opening nods to Showgirls, but expect the director to find inventive ways to incorporate beats throughout. The setting, for example, is uniquely timeless. Susie Mancini’s production design captures the vibrant, sun-soaked glamour of classic Hollywood but with a futuristic twist. It’s vintage Hollywood, with the unwavering dedication to vanity, in an indeterminate future where taxis drive themselves (like Total Recall), and smartwatches are getting even more ultramodern. 

Hudson channels Death Becomes Her‘s Isabella Rossellini and Basic Instinct‘s Sharon Stone for her vampy villainous role, having a blast playing puppeteer who feeds a dinner party her discarded skin or manipulating Sam through the guise of lust and friendship. It’s Hudson who threatens to steal the film from Moss, the colorful antagonist often far more interesting than the plucky, straight-edged heroine. In a film that puts female friendships first, an emotional throughline to guide Sam when things go catastrophically awry, it’s the ill-fated bond between Sam and Zoe that earns rooting interest. That becomes a slight issue in the back half, where we’re meant to cheer for the true blue best friends.

While Verhoeven’s oeuvre becomes the guiding star of Shell– I won’t spoil how Minghella pays tribute to the filmmaker’s ’90s sci-fi epic- it’s hardly the only hat tip to ’90s film. The director earns easy laughs in one scene, an unexpected reference to the comedy Look Who’s Talking. These references capture the zany, anything-goes tone that will either earn your admiration or polarize. More than just pulling from an endless array of unexpected cinematic references, the filmmaker also plays with form. A roughly 14-minute single-take scene impresses with the careful orchestration of chaos as Sam rushes across a soundstage to set and back, juggling needy colleagues while trying to tamp down illness. The commitment to practical effects is also winsome, not just for the body horror teases throughout but for the shift into horror by the third act.

Shell isn’t interested in messaging beyond a vague “corporations are evil” notion and a basic confirmation that, yet, Hollywood beauty standards are hellish. Instead, Minghella uses it as the base for a ’90s cinema revival. The Dark Castle Logo in the opening credits heralds a zany, entertaining salute to the ’90s, an era where films went big and swung wide. While Shell doesn’t achieve quite the same scale, its revolving door of genres and cheeky sense of humor makes for a welcome trip down memory lane.

Shell releases in select theaters and on Digital on October 3, 2025.

Editor’s Note: This TIFF review was originally published on September 13, 2024.

3 skulls out of 5

Horror journalist, RT Top Critic, and Critics Choice Association member. Has appeared on PBS series' Monstrum, served on the SXSW Midnighter shorts jury, and moderated horror panels for WonderCon, SeriesFest, and Popcorn Frights Film Fest.

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Books

‘Scary Movie Night’ Review: A Hitchcock-Themed Thriller Full of Juicy Twists But Not Much Else

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A secluded mansion. A group of friends each harboring secrets. A party built around one woman’s love of Alfred Hitchcock. These are the ingredients laid out to begin Scary Movie Night, the sophomore novel from Miranda Smith and follow-up to her breakout debut, Smile for the Cameras.

They’re all, standing alone and taken together, very promising ingredients, and when Smith starts to bounce all those secrets and all that seclusion around with a little murder in the mix, they make for some juicy plotting. But fun twists and macabre themed party nights do not a thriller make. There is fun to be had here, but for all its reliance on classic horror tropes and the films of a master of cinematic suspense, Scary Movie Night never quite finds a way to become something more. 

Movie blogger and influencer Tippi (yes, she’s named for Tippi Hedren from The Birds) is going through a rough patch. Her upcoming marriage was just called off, and she’s planning to hit the Cannes Film Festival then travel the world as a newly single woman, even shifting her career focus from movies to travel in the process. Her friends Ava, Marlowe, and Constance are supportive, but they also know it might be the last time they see Tippi for a while, so master party planner Ava comes up with the perfect sendoff: A themed scary movie night party, complete with costumes, hosted at the elegant estate of Tippi’s grandmother, Marmee.

Marmee, you see, has her own history with the glamour of Hollywood, and even has a private cinema set up in her mansion. It’s the perfect venue for the perfect night, at least until Tippi starts receiving vaguely threatening notes from her ex, and the first body turns up. 

See what I mean about all the ingredients being there? This book starts with so much promise, particularly when guests turn up for the party and reveal their various movie costumes. There’s so much to chew on, and Smith wastes no time diving directly into the drama of it all. The book moves primarily through Tippi’s first-person perspective, so we get the lowdown on her friends, their various relationships, the quarrels that have defined previous social interactions, and much more. It’s a series of rich veins all tapped at once, and it feels like the book is genuinely going somewhere quite fun. 

Here’s the thing: The book does go somewhere quite fun; it just gets there in a way that I found both frustrating and often unfulfilling. The characters aren’t defined by their choices in the book so much as they’re defined by what Tippi tells us about each of them, and while the notion of Tippi as an unreliable narrator is key to the plot, her supporting cast never really gets a chance to sit up and exist as anything other than archetypes in her head. The dialogue doesn’t help matters in this regard, and I kept finding myself wishing one of Tippi’s friends would just seize the narrative, just for a moment, so I’d get some sense of these people beyond the broad brushstrokes of the protagonist. 

Which brings us to the issue of Tippi as the narrator in the first place. Like the Hitchcock blondes on which she’s clearly modeled, we’re meant to learn about her through her choices, and constantly question whether or not she’s made the right ones. Why did she leave her ex with a wedding looming? Why is she changing career paths? Why does she have to be talked into her own going-away party? How she reacts to these things, and what she’s really after, will be what defines her, but here’s the thing: Tippi, for all her Hitchcockian layers of plotting, never steps forward as a fully formed character. Like the Hitch films playing in the background during the party, she’s more like a suggestion of a character than a person.

Writing first-person present-tense is tricky under the best of circumstances, but doing it when your protagonist is meant to be harboring secrets of her own is especially challenging, and it just…never quite entirely works here, and drawing very direct parallels between her and Hitchcock’s various leading ladies doesn’t really help matters.

But here’s the really interesting part: I wouldn’t be invested in any of these issues were it not for a story that genuinely kept me reading. For all of this book’s shortcomings, and I found a few, it ultimately holds together because Smith has a genuine gift for plot twists, and secrets, and the kind of juicy drama that makes a thriller keep barreling forward on the page. There’s good stuff in here, even if it’s sometimes overshadowed by missteps, and that means that while Scary Movie Night might not obsess you or give you nightmares or stick in your head for weeks on end, it will entertain you. I wanted more from this book, but I also want to see what Miranda Smith writes next, and that’s an achievement in itself. 

Scary Movie Night is available July 14 wherever books are sold. 

2.5 out of 5 skulls

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