The series was created by Tynion and artist Michael Walsh, who are both credited on every issue, but in a nod to the traditional style of the ‘exquisite corpse,’ they hand off each issue to a different writer and artist, including names like Adam Gorham, Becca Carey, Che Grayson, Claire Roe, Gavin Fullerton, Jordie Bellaire, Marianna Ignazzi, Pornsak Pichetshote, Tyler Boss, and Valentine De Landro.

At a high level, Exquisite Corpses is about a death game held every five years on Halloween, hosted by the Thirteen Families, the wealthiest families in the world that secretly run everything, to determine which family will have the seat of power for the next half decade. The twelve competing families; the previous winner does not compete; each selects a killer to represent them in a last-man-standing fight to the death that takes place in an isolated small town.

In keeping with tradition, each family draws a weapon that their killer will need to use throughout the night, and side bets are placed on everything from who dies first to who can rack up the most civilian kills.

Three Stories Collide in One Deadly Battle Royale

What’s really smart about this setup is that it allows for the story to be told on three different levels that are all happening simultaneously. There are the citizens of Oak Valley, the tiny Maine town that this year’s game takes place in, who are going about their Halloween without any clue of what horrors are about to lay siege to their town. Also on the ground are the twelve killers, each with their own flamboyant style and specialty to make them as dangerous as they are memorable.

Then you’ve got the families, with centuries of bitterness and rivalries between them, all watching the proceedings from a distance, cackling as their puppets dance on their strings for them. It seems like this may be an overwhelming amount of characters, but as the plot goes on and deaths pile up, the focus on a specific core set of people becomes clear, crafting strong arcs to bring it to its conclusion.

The heart of the story lies with the citizens of Oak Valley, because in a world of masked killers and obscenely wealthy sociopaths, they are easily the most relatable. While there is a large set of characters, including a conspiracy theorist who is constantly trying to make what’s going on fit with one of his theories, the two biggest characters in terms of narrative impact are Laura and Audrey. Laura is a former combat medic turned EMT who tries her best to play hero as the bodies start piling up, and Audrey is a desperate mother trying to race through the town to find her kid. Her son Jason is out trick-or-treating with Craig and Xavi, a couple that got stuck watching him after Audrey was pulled into work at the last minute.

Everyone’s desperate bids for survival feel so human when stacked up against overwhelming odds created by a system that’s playing with their lives for its sick enjoyment. It’s clear that not everyone is going to make it out of this one alive, so when they get a moment of victory, like taking out one of the killers, it feels all the sweeter.

Every Killer Feels Like the Star of Their Own Slasher Film

The families are the complete opposite. Despite having a lot riding on the game in terms of money and power, they are watching from their ivory tower, completely untouchable. While these characters can often blend together, the standouts are New York, who is the loudest and most arrogant of the bunch, South Carolina, who has more stake in the game since her sister is their family’s competitor, and Massachusetts, who is trying to avenge a long string of losses. What becomes interesting is how invested each of them is in the contest. For the three families I mentioned, it’s the only thing that matters, but for others it’s literally just a game.

They send their killer in there just to rack up kills for side bets without any desire to actually be named the winner. Even compared to the terrifying psychopaths that enter the game, the cold callousness of the Thirteen Families is the true horror of Exquisite Corpses.

The flashiest and most eye-catching bunch of characters in the comic are of course the killers competing in the game, each with their own gimmick and visual hook. Since many of them die fairly quickly in the battle royale, they don’t all get their time to shine, but they are given the exact right amount of personality both in art and writing to make them command the page when they show up.

Some of them, like the Lone Gunman, have a bit more of a sympathetic background (at least for a stone cold killer working for the worst people on Earth), but others are nearly completely inhuman, like the bunny-mascot-costume-wearing Rascal Randy. They each feel like they could be the villain in their own slasher movie, so it’s fun to see them clash in dynamic and interesting ways.

Brutal Action Meets Stylish Horror

When it gets down to the action, it highlights the raw brutality of the book. The comic doesn’t shy away from gore, with bloody battles that leave plenty of civilian collateral in their wake. It’s clear some of the characters are trained killers, and fights between people like Fox Mask Killer and Pretty Boy make for dynamic and exciting panels. Despite liking the gimmick of continually switching up writers and artists, the change in visual style, though subtle, does get a bit distracting from issue to issue, which makes me wish Michael Walsh had handled it all the way through, but maybe that’s just because I think he’s one of the best artists in horror comics today.

The thirteen-issue series takes you on quite a wild ride, with plenty of twists and turns that keep you on your toes. Even if you want to place your bets on a killer at the beginning, you’ll likely have a hard time guessing how this story reaches its conclusion as all three layers of the story converge in surprising ways. Not only are there some extremely disturbing moments; the scene where Jason interacts with one of the killers known as “Gamer Kid” is particularly upsetting, but the ending reminds us that even if normal people can eke out some sort of victory, it’s still only by playing by the unfair rules that are created to benefit those in power.

Exquisite Corpses is presented in three volumes, collecting all thirteen issues and telling a complete story, but there have been a few spinoff miniseries that have launched recently to flesh out the eclectic killers. Comics focused on Rascal Randy, Fox Mask Killer, and the Lone Gunman have been running for the past few months, adding additional context to the main book. Given how iconic many of these designs are, it’s perfectly natural that fans would want to see more of them, and there’s no doubt that a whole group of writers is available to continue building out this universe.

If you find yourself at the local comic shop looking for a Halloween read, Exquisite Corpses is one hundred percent the book for you. Its complex web of characters presents a bleak look at society, portraying the calculating way that those in power play with the lives of everyday folks for their benefit and amusement. Not only does it have astute social commentary, but it dresses it up with flamboyant serial killers and exciting action, with disturbing twists that will keep you guessing until the shocking end.

James Tynion IV is a huge name in horror comics, and Exquisite Corpses might be his best book yet.

Exquisite Corpses is available through Image Comics. You can read the first issue here.

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The fact that Henry is played by Heated Rivalry’s Hudson Williams is one reason that Yaga will undoubtedly attract a great deal of attention, but there are two rejoinders to this: 1) even though Williams plays two characters on the series (he’s also Logan, Henry’s best friend and doppelgänger), the rising star is barely a supporting character and 2) there are plenty of other reasons to watch Yaga.

Chief among them is genre icon Carrie-Anne Moss as anthropology instructor and overall MILF, Katherine Hargrove. With her shock of sexily unkempt hair, her bohemian vibe, and her tendency to flirt aggressively with Rapp, while verbally sparring with his partner, Clark Backo’s Carson, Moss is a legitimate sight to behold whenever she’s on screen.

It doesn’t hurt that Whittock is a town filled with all kinds of notable personalities and mysteries. Surrounded by water and woods, its primarily female citizens – ranging from Angel, the tattooed motel clerk (Emilija Baranac) to restaurateur Gina (Canadian royalty Megan Follows) to underage coffee barista Lily (Georgia Acken) to Henry’s bitter ex, Pam (Ezra Franky) – are all unrelentingly horny and prone to keeping secrets.

Sex and seduction are a huge part of the eight-episode series, which has been adapted by showrunner Kat Sandler from her play of the same name. The search for Henry, the debonair playboy heir to a small fortune, is the jumping-off point, but the series quickly contracts to include plenty of other revelations. Chief among them is the suggestion that there is a witch, or a cult of witches, who are practising sabbaths in the woods outside of town and encouraging locals to manifest their dreams via sacrifices. Potent hallucinogenics and trippy hallucinations, three-pronged symbols hidden under beds and carved into trees, and lots of poultry imagery pervade the series.

Anchoring the proceedings is Reid, who plays Rapp as a cavalier, carefree outsider. He’s as prone to yelling at a witness as he is at bedding down with them (he gets laid in nearly every episode), much to the chagrin of his reluctant partner, Carson. Their dynamic is the bedrock of most of the 30-minute episodes, which uniformly open with sultry voice-over from Baba Yaga and end on a revelatory cliffhanger. This is most notable in episode two when a nude, castrated body washes up on the rocky shore.

Between this attack, Rapp’s propensity to fuck every female character of age, and Yaga’s musings, there’s an undercurrent of female rage underpinning the whole series. In this capacity, Yaga echoes contemporary interpretations of the witch as a female healer who is misunderstood, feared, and targeted by men. As the series barrels towards its conclusion, later episodes blatantly interrogate the intersection of class, gender, and sex. It ain’t subtle, but the show negotiates its tone well enough that it works.

Audiences also have to accept some fairly distinct tonal shifts because the series is often surprisingly funny and, at times, irreverent. Yaga negotiates this reasonably well and, importantly, maintains its own independent identity from another notably oddball murder mystery series: Twin Peaks.

Considering its ties to traditional Baba Yaga folklore (not like in the John Wick movies, though the series is self-aware enough that this becomes a recurring joke among several characters), the fact that each episode opens with a Russian rendition of a familiar pop song (“California Dreaming“, “I Will Survive“, “These Boots Were Made For Walking“, etc.) feels like an inspired touch.

Aiding the proceedings is the inclusion of top-tier Canadian talent. In addition to Reid and Moss, there are meaty supporting roles by the aforementioned Fellows, as well as Sheila McCarthy as Olena Yaha, an elderly woman with dementia who provides plenty of Baba Yaga exposition. There’s another notable Canuck actress whose appearance in the penultimate episode will undoubtedly elicit plenty of excitement from genre fans.

Yaga is compulsively watchable and, with such short episodes, highly bingeable. Loaded with enough bizarre cult-like imagery and captivating performances, there’s plenty to recommend. If there is one significant drawback, it would be that Rapp and Carson’s temperaments tend to shift too quickly to be believable. This becomes more apparent in the back half of the series, and tends to feel like a narrative construct to induce needless character friction.

So yes, come to Yaga for a double dose of Williams, who acquits himself nicely in a mostly distinct dual performance. Just know that you’ll be staying for the hot, sexy antics and Moss’ “Boner Beast” professor. 

Yaga premieres on Crave in Canada and AMC+ in the US with the first two episodes on October 23.

The post ‘Yaga’ Review: Carrie-Anne Moss Steals This Seductive Folkloric Horror Mystery Series appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Clayface doesn’t waste time getting straight to the gruesome stuff, either. Rising talent Matt Hagen (Tom Rhys Harries) is already at the top of his game when we meet him, earning Oscar nominations while zipping around the country in a private jet. So much so that he feels untouchable, which leads to his meteoric downfall when he sleeps with Mia Torres (Joana Ribeiro), the manipulative girlfriend of mob boss Markos Szabo (David Dencik).

With Hagen’s life in complete ruin, he turns to Dr. Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie) for her experimental nano-technology work that not only miraculously repairs his disfigurement, but also comes with a whole host of bizarre bodily effects that further erode his sense of identity and morality.

Watkins frontloads Clayface with grisly, graphic imagery of Hagen’s brutalized face and subsequent attempts at cosmetic correction, ensuring audiences are immediately on board with the injustice of Hagen’s plight. It’s here where the excellent prosthetic work and horror shine, as Harries navigates the freaky side effects of his character’s new medical predicament that seems deeply attuned to his emotional state. Watkins coils the tension unbearably taut as Hagen’s emotional distress and resentment lead to bizarre freakouts, including a standout sequence that dangles extreme ocular trauma on a very bumpy flight.

Hossein Amini‘s script, an update of Mike Flanagan‘s original script and story, eventually leaves behind Clayface’s gruesome explorations of Hagen’s identity and how intrinsically it’s tied to his face as an actor in favor of more standard fare. It’s here where the gory prosthetic work gives way to an excess of VFX, not all of it effective, as Hagen learns to embrace his new body and give in to revenge. It’s a transition that comes too abruptly. A horrific horror character study instead leads to shallow, flashy mob violence building to a campy climax set in Gotham’s Vesuvius nightclub. The tonal shift is a bit jarring.

The central relationship between Matt Hagen and Dr. Corr, who’s grappling with both the ethics of treating Hagen and her attraction to him while being engaged to one of Gotham’s few non-corrupt detectives (Max Minghella), is meant as the throughline between the film’s two clashing halves. It’s underserved, though, unhelped by the lack of spark between Harries and Ackie. On their own, though, both deliver charismatic performances that instill rooting interest, despite Hagen’s path of destruction and Corr’s culpability in it.

Closing moments bring the horror full circle, a reminder of Clayface‘s body horror strengths that sends off DC’s villain origin story with stark imagery that lingers. Watkins gives precedence to the horror that keeps audiences invested in Matt Hagen’s bid for goopy, gory revenge. Clayface sacrifices its early nuance and themes for a more predictable villain origin story, but it’s one that honors the DC character and keeps its DC connections and easter eggs subtle, preferring instead to dwell in the grimy Gotham underbelly. 

There are no post-credit scenes to be found here connecting to the broader DC universe, just a gross-out crowd-pleaser that stands alone on its own merits. 

Clayface brings horror to the DC Universe in theaters on October 23.

The post ‘Clayface’ Review: DC’s Bold Body Horror Gamble Is At Its Best When It Gets Gross appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Nonetheless, this ‘80s creature-feature has gone on to develop a sizable cult following.

For the last decade, we have had the pleasure of witnessing a deluge of nearly forgotten ‘80s horrors be given a second life. Yet it’s only now that Watchers, a video store staple that had been out of print for years, is finally getting the proper upgrade it deserves. Indeed, Toy Robot’s anticipated release comes after the movie had already been available in HD in other regions, as well as on streaming services. To have this flick on Blu-ray now, though, is still something worth celebrating.

Anyone who went into the adaptation, expecting it to be a close match for the novel, was bound to be disappointed. The biggest change from the book was the protagonist, a thirty-something man who was switched out with a teen boy played by Corey Haim. Pushing for a younger demographic isn’t too surprising, given the era of horror from which Watchers hails, but perhaps more damaging than the casting is the look of the creature.

People know Watchers as a movie about a hyper-intelligent lab dog that’s hunted down by both government agents and an unrelenting monster. Unfortunately, there being too many cooks in the kitchen led to a rather awful creature design. It’s very understandable why the Outsider is kept off-screen for most of the movie, and why profuse amounts of darkness and flames are utilized. Believe me, though, the design didn’t improve until maybe the third sequel, and that’s only because they essentially turned the Outsider into a werewolf.

Watchers boasts a silly, straightforward premise that makes no real effort to flesh out any of its characters. Even so, you still manage to care about wide-eyed Travis, his heroic mother (Barbara Williams), and the love interest (Lala Sloatman). The genius pooch dubbed “Furface“—Sandy in real life—is, without a doubt, the most likable character here. The scenes of Furface communicating with Haim’s character, such as his tapping a pencil on a computer keyboard, are as funny as they are wholesome. Keep in mind, cute scenes like those are offset by some shockingly bloody kills that feel out of place in what first looked to be a teen horror movie.

People may ask why Toy Robot didn’t issue a 4K release, but what we have here is still quite impressive. The video is crisp and retains the movie’s natural look. It’s a huge step up from the underwhelming 4:3 double-feature DVD that many of us eagerly bought back in the 2000s, then settled for when it seemed like a Blu-ray wasn’t in the cards. This remarkable transfer, which was supplied by Quiver Distribution, shines whenever it comes to the local Vancouver scenery, and it emphasizes Richard Leiterman’s best bits of cinematography. As for audio, we get an adequate English Dolby Digital 2.0 mono track with optional English subtitles.

Considering the sheer neglect Watchers has received over the years, the supplemental material here should be welcome by fans. New interviews with director Jon Hess and actors Michael Ironside, Barbara Williams and Lala Sloatman are each illuminating in their own ways. The segments are all well directed and shot, too. The standout, though, is that one-on-one with genre icon Ironside, who airs his disappointment about the movie as an adaptation. He is refreshingly honest without coming across as rude. Ironside and Sloatman also address the pink elephant in the room, as they bring up Haim’s personal struggles behind the scenes.

Nostalgia has a lot to do with Watchers’ longevity, despite it being a bit mediocre, not to mention a poor interpretation of Koontz’s novel. I myself re-rented this movie multiple times growing up, and on the off chance that it’s ever playing out in the wild somewhere, I’ll be sure to immediately stop what I’m doing and watch. However, fans can attest to there being an almost uncanny quality about Watchers that makes it tremendously entertaining, regardless of its glaring shortcomings.

Watchers is now available on Blu-ray from Toy Robot.

The post ‘Watchers’ Blu-ray Review: Dean Koontz’s Cult Creature Feature Gets a Fan-Pleasing Upgrade appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Cut to this month, where they’ve revisited the concept, this time with two notable names associated with the project. Not only is it a game set in the world of the hit Conjuring movie franchise, but it’s also from Supermassive Games, a studio that’s been building a huge catalog of “interactive movie” games since 2015’s Until Dawn.

The Conjuring: Unspoken is a big swing that immediately has more mainstream appeal, especially given that most of Netflix’s other original games are based on existing properties like Squid Game or Too Hot to Handle, but it still doesn’t quite feel like a breakout hit that makes full use of the format.

The game opens in medias res with Francesca Noakes running through a cave system for unknown reasons. To my surprise, unlike Unhinged, you have full third-person exploration mechanics in this game, walking around by using arrows on your phone screen to guide your way. During this tutorial, you’re also given a demo of how the EMF reader works, glowing different colors on your phone as you get closer to the supernatural clues. It’s a brief scene, but it’s nice to start with a very mechanics-forward sequence, given that it takes a little getting used to. Using phone arrows traditionally doesn’t feel great, but once you get used to it, it doesn’t get in your way too much.

After the tutorial, there’s an opening crawl that explains a bit of information about the Red Lion, a haunted pub that Unspoken takes place in, before introducing you to the family that lives there and their history of tragedy. The story centers around Bryony Cooper, who lives with her dad and sister, Charlotte, after the passing of her mother. Not only has she not spoken since the incident, but she has also been plagued by supernatural forces, which forces her sister to call on Francesca, a paranormal researcher who worked with Ed and Lorraine Warren. I was a little surprised the Warrens weren’t directly involved in the events of the game, but the narrative contains enough of the hallmarks of a Conjuring story that it feels at home in the series even without their direct presence.

As a Conjuring story, it’s not bad. It certainly isn’t up to the standard of the first film, which I consider the strongest, but the family unit presented in the game is still a compelling one. Bryony is able to convey her sense of grief, even without speaking, and Charlotte clearly is a great big sister who cares for her immensely. Their father struggles to balance his processing of grief with taking care of his daughters alone, while also being highly skeptical of the supernatural happenings in his home. Francesca has her own baggage that she brings to the case, which allows her to empathize with the family in a way that helps her connect with Bryony.

One of the best elements about Conjuring movies is the family aspect, both with the people suffering the hauntings and the loving couple of the Warrens. It’s definitely the strongest aspect of Conjuring: Unspoken, with clear character motivation at every turn. I wish the game had more of the other thing the Conjuring movies are known for: scares.

Much like the films, what seems like a standard haunting quickly reveals to also involve demonic activity, and that part is a bit weaker, never really providing much tension. There are a few lore elements that make the demon feel a little more interesting, but without any quick-time events or other more active moments of tension, the game fails to really get the heart racing.

It’s not for lack of polish, though, because Conjuring: Unspoken is up to the high graphics standard that Supermassive is known for in their work. Not only do the character models look great, but the performances captured bring the characters to life in a believable fashion. While the Red Lion pub where the game takes place doesn’t have much of a unique visual identity, it’s still beautifully rendered from a pure graphics standpoint.

Like many Supermassive games, a lot of the interaction you’ll do in the game is making choices about what your character says or does, but there are a couple of wrinkles added that cleverly take advantage of the unique format the Netflix provides. There are ghost-hunting devices that you have at your disposal that use your phone in interesting ways to make you feel like part of the action. In addition to the aforementioned EMF reader, there’s also a radio that can be tuned into specific otherworldly signals by physically moving your phone around and tilting it until the sound becomes clear.

It’s not the most interesting action, and one time I had to restart the game (which thankfully saves your progress) because it wouldn’t work, but it’s at least a unique and thematic activity to be doing between cutscenes.

The other device is an infrared camera that feels a lot more dynamic and clever. Through your phone window, you’ll see the infrared version of the scene while the TV shows the regular version, and you’re looking for specific things that the camera picks up that your naked eye would miss. Using the camera really fulfilled the fantasy of ghost hunting in an immersive way, particularly in the climax where you were tracking the demon in the dark. I appreciated the ways they used the phone to play around with the format, and I hope if they take another crack at this style they keep pushing it further.

For a Supermassive game, it felt like there were fewer choices, and the choices felt less consequential. The runtime of the game was about ninety minutes, which is a reasonable length for a horror movie and works great, but the decisions I made didn’t really seem to push the narrative in different directions.

Even at the end, when I made a choice that seemed to be saying, “if you do this, this character will die,” they ended up being fine and making it to the end. For something so short, it’s a little disappointing that it seems like the paths don’t branch much, but the conclusion actually ended up being one of the strongest narrative moments, so maybe it’s for the best story-wise. It’s not a surprising ending, but it comes to a well-deserved emotional resolution that focuses on the game’s characters rather than being overly scary.

Even if I don’t associate Netflix with video games yet, I’m always happy to see them experimenting in the gaming space. There’s definitely something to the format, and it’s at its best when it’s trying to figure out clever ways to use the phone controller to make the experience feel more immersive. Working with an established studio and franchise was a smart bet, even if it doesn’t reach the heights of either. The phone usage feels solid, even if the narrative choices don’t seem as dynamic or interesting as I’m used to from Supermassive.

I’m hoping they continue to iterate on this formula, but Conjuring: Unspoken is a clever, tightly-paced story with strong characters and performances, even if it is lacking a bit in the scare department.

The Conjuring: Unspoken is available to play now with your Netflix subscription.

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Frogman Returns – see, it’s right there in the title! – is a hop up from its predecessor in nearly every way as it treads initially familiar ground before jumping into something significantly weirder.

Dallas’ (Nathan Tymoshuk) documentary struck a chord with folks who believe it proves the existence of monsters in general and Frogman in particular, but the notoriety wears off quickly and leaves him with a hosting gig on a second-rate “monster hunter” show called Chasing Cryptids. His concern for an old friend sees him take a detour from their current episode to revisit Loveland, Ohio – this time with better cameras and a professional producer – and he soon finds himself digging even deeper into the perverse legend that is Frogman. Last time he discovered a cult of frog fuckers. This time he finds something even more mind-blowing.

Micro-budgeted horror films don’t often get sequels, and when they do, they’re typically more of the same. Director/co-writer Anthony Cousins wisely avoids that default by delivering a bigger, better, weirder follow-up with Frogman Returns. It’s still genre fare on a tiny budget, but the drama, thrills, and world-building are all turned up a few notches to deliver a fun ride into and beyond the world of found footage cryptid horrors.

The first film ended with the core trio – Dallas, Amy (Chelsea Grant), and Scotty (Benny Barrett) – disbanded through trauma. Poor Scotty was last seen having been turned into a Temu frogman, Amy left for a hopeful acting career in Los Angeles, and Dallas is left riding the coat tails of both low-key fame and overwhelming guilt over Scotty’s fate.

The follow-up ratchets up the character drama as Amy’s anger towards Dallas bristles up against newcomer Lucy’s (Natalie Tran) affection and curiosity for Dallas’ world. Add in the producer, Bridget (Alexis Allotta), who couldn’t care less about any of this beyond the ratings it can provide, and it’s clear that Cousins has developed a much stronger character element this time around.

The cast does good work with the script, once again co-written by Cousins and John Karsko) and sells the goopy horrors of it all, too. Well, aside from the running: people in found footage films are all slow, awkward, terrible runners! Tymoshuk delivers an effective dramatic beat late in the film when he’s reunited with Scotty, and while it’s minor compared to more traditional dramas, it’s still good to see.

Even better, and arguably even more important, the creature side of things gets a major upgrade, too. We’re introduced early on to the Fresno Nightcrawlers, creatures that look like walking pants (a good reminder to go watch Elza Kephart’s Slaxx!) that haunt a local golf course, and references are made to cryptids as diverse as Squonk and Raatma along the way. We get some icky, mutated children of Frogman here and there, and then the film’s final ten minutes go wild with the beasts as all manner of lo-fi creatures make appearances in both practical and digital form.

That mix of approaches to the special effects is especially appealing here. There’s a raw, homemade feel to some of it while other aspects are legitimately impressive, and all of it works to make it feel like you’re right there in the dark with these dedicated weirdos as they hunt for creatures that shouldn’t exist and sicko humans that most assuredly do. From puppets to CG to the always reliable man-in-a-suit that is Frogman – Tom Ringberg is in the suit, but he’s voiced by Sinister screenwriter C. Robert Cargill – it’s a fun peek into cryptid mythologies.

Folks prone to disliking found footage won’t become converts here as the format’s numerous issues are still on display. There’s jerky camerawork on occasion, you’re sometimes left suspicious of what camera is actually capturing certain moments, and you’ll want to slap some of these idiots for filming each other when there’s a goddamn monster just out of frame.

That said, Cousins has upped the visual quality in obvious ways, meaning most of the film looks clear, detailed, and feels much more like a “real” movie. There’s even a brief retreat from found footage at the end, something I will always cheer for (that also reminded me I’m overdue for a rewatch of Zachary Donohue’s under-appreciated horror gem, The Den).

Frogman Returns is a fun ride with a thankfully short running time of under 80 minutes. It’s like a Scooby-Doo episode, but instead of pulling masks off greedy land developers at the end, we’re dropped into a world of amphibious diddlers and inter-dimensional rifts. That alone makes it worth a watch, but that third act turns things up to eleven in unexpected ways. We get a look into something far bigger, and with it comes the tease/promise/cliffhanger for a third film I truly hope we live to see.

Frogman Returns screened at the 2026 Toronto After Dark Film Festival.

The post ‘Frogman Returns’ Review: Cryptid Sequel Takes A Bigger, Weirder Worthy Leap Beyond The Original appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

And fuckup she is.

Part-time bartender, part-time thief, it’s clear that Fuckup hasn’t been living the most productive or exemplary life. As Drag opens, she has roped her “Sister” (Lucy DeVito) into being a lookout for a robbery of a rich man’s home. Alas, things quickly go south when Fuckup throws out her back and winds up having to be dragged (hence the title) out of the house before its owner returns home.

As far as premises go, it’s slight, but solid. Ullman and Yagolnitzer lean heavily into the dysfunctional sisterly dynamic for the first half of the film, occasionally veering into exposition-heavy dialogue to explain the women’s history and respective backstories. The reality, though, is that this is mere window dressing: all we need to know is that the sisters have a fractious relationship and now they must work together to survive a very bad situation.

Thankfully this early section of the film also includes some of Drag’s best physical comedy work as the petite DeVito must first negotiate her older sister out of the tub, into a draggable position, and then avoid pitfalls such as an ill-placed nail and many, many flights of stairs.

As a result, the house winds up becoming a prison, as well as a character unto itself. The co-directors and cinematographer Ben Goodman love an overhead shot to emphasize the gruelling physical toll placed on both sisters, in addition to charting their progress through the isolated palatial home. It’s a smart decision that helps to vary the visual cadence of the film, which sometimes falls prey to a talky “play-like” format due to the women’s slow progress.

Throughout all of this, Caplan is essentially immobile, though the manipulations Fuckup’s body is put through, and Caplan’s resulting facial contortions and shrieks, prove very effective at inducing hisses, gasps, and laughs from the audience. Particularly wince-inducing is Chekhov’s nail in the floor, teased in a tight close-up well in advance of actual contact to build dread and anticipation.

The bloody aftermath is but one of several calamities that make the film hit quite a bit harder than your average black comedy. While the dialogue is all barbs and jabs, the violence and the stakes are legitimate, as evidenced by the increasing toll Fuckup’s body takes: Caplan spends the entire last act of the film with a broken nose and one eye barely open.

The situation becomes even more dire when the home’s owner, John Stamos (playing “Man”), returns home earlier than expected, trapping the women in the house and introducing additional complications in the form of a date: “Woman”, played by Christine Ko, who proves to be the film’s secret comedic MVP.

Despite all of these strengths, however, the film’s comedy tends to be one-note. If bickering siblings aren’t your bag, this is not the film for you. The pacing, in particular, tends to ebb and flow. Despite the constant parade of new challenges preventing the sisters from making a smooth escape, the nearly 1-hour-50-minute runtime feels excessive, regardless of how audiences feel about Stamos vamping it up in rubber boots, a short housecoat, and little black briefs.

While Caplan is always a delight and she and DeVito play off each other well, they do not share a family resemblance (like, at all) and repeated assertions that Caplan is the older sister also ring false. Their family history ultimately feels a bit underbaked, while the truth about “Man“, “Woman” and the contemporary art- filled house that the sisters stumble into isn’t quite as juicy and subversive as Drag believes it to be.

Ultimately, Drag is good for fans of talky, play-like dark comedies. Fans of physical comedy will also find plenty to like here. Comedically speaking, your mileage may vary on the success of the film’s jokes and its pacing, however.

At the bare minimum, at least no one can accuse Drag of living up to its title.

Drag screened at the 2026 Toronto After Dark Film Festival.

The post ‘Drag’ Review: Lizzy Caplan Leads a Brutal, Darkly Funny Home Invasion Comedy [TADFF 2026] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

This month, that changes for at least one of these movies with Kino Lorber‘s new 4K release of Rollercoaster, a 1977 disaster/terrorist thriller hybrid directed by James Goldstone. It’s got a stacked cast, a pleasantly meandering ’70s thriller pace, and most importantly, a real visual point of view that makes it perfect for this kind of upgrade. The disc is a little sparse in its offerings, but if you’ve never seen this film before, it’s also the perfect opportunity to get sucked into this fun little world of amusement park disasters. 

George Segal, best known to modern audiences for his work on sitcoms like Just Shoot Me, stars in the film as Harry Calder, a safety investigator who gets the call someone in his job never wants to go: A rollercoaster he just recently inspected suffered a fatal accident, as cars slid off the track and plummeted to the concrete below. But it turns out this was no accident. A lone terrorist and extortionist (Timothy Bottoms) orchestrated the whole thing, and he’s about to lead Harry on a chase across America through park after park, attraction after attraction, as Harry tries to save lives while also working to catch his mysterious new foil. 

Rollercoaster was shot by cinematographer David M. Walsh, whose career already had a versatile track record (he shot The Goodbye Girl the same year) by the time this movie came around, and his work is arguably the star of the whole show. This isn’t some gritty indie film shot from the hip in the Corman style.

This is a Universal Pictures production with solid talent behind the camera, and they make it look wonderfully slick, from the wide establishing shots of the theme parks to the granular detail of popcorn, gaming stalls, bright lights, and colorful rides. This is where this particular 4K disc really pops, reminding us that cinema in the 1970s had a lot of visual intrigue to offer even when playing by the most steadfast studio movie rules. I can’t say enough about how great it looks and sounds, as the carnival sounds mix in with the great Lalo Schifrin’s score.

With Segal and Bottoms trading blows from a distance, communicating through tense phone and radio calls, the film also finds a wonderful chemistry and rapport. Segal’s Harry doesn’t really want to be doing any of this. He’s a safety inspector, not a cop, and he’s in over his head the entire time, constantly pushing for his superiors (including Richard Widmark and Henry Fonda) to understand the gravity of the situation.

Meanwhile, Bottoms is cool as a cucumber, an excellent criminal mastermind whose detached commitment to destruction gives the film a real horror edge. He’s simply so matter-of-fact about the disasters he’s creating – disasters which really pop in 4K, by the way – that you can’t help but be chilled. It’s not a straight-up horror film, more of a combination of disaster and serial killer thriller with terrorist notes thrown in, but that doesn’t mean there are no scares. 

Combine all of this with a package that includes two solid commentary tracks by film historians at various levels of closeness to the film, and you’ve got a lovely little refresher for a relatively overlooked disaster movie. Rollercoaster will never climb to classic levels of the kind that its brethren like The Towering Inferno and The Poseidon Adventure reached in the same era, but it is a fascinating little thriller with big setpieces to offset its character work.

If you’ve never seen it, you should treat it like an essential piece of the disaster cinema boom. That’s what this new 4K does, and physical media collectors are better for it.

Rollercoaster is now available in 4K from Kino Lorber Studio Classics.

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The film opens with an unnecessary in media res wherein Atlanta gym owner Mario (Blair Anthony Hall) runs into his house to find an armed woman in a wedding dress holding his wife hostage. A title card jumps the action back four months to focus on the extramarital affair between Mario and his titular side chick, Kelsey (Najah Bradley). Their relationship is deeply sexual (he shows up at her couture pop-up event so they can have sex within earshot of her bigwig clients), but unbeknownst to Kelsey, Mario is also a husband and expectant father.

This wrinkle – that Kelsey was unaware that she wasn’t the primary – offers some subtle empathy for the character…at least in the first act. It’s clear that Kelsey has an intense obsession with her lover, as evidenced by her immediate commitment to planning their wedding after Mario mentions marriage in what is clearly a post-coitus bliss slip. Best friend Paris (Chuanica Pickard), meanwhile, clearly understands Kelsey’s capacity for both delusion and violence because she tries to talk the dressmaker down, but Kelsey will not be assuaged.

Meanwhile, Mario is half-heartedly trying to repair his marriage to health worker Chloe (Tatiana Le’Joy), who initially presents as the dutiful and supportive wife and mother-to-be, but is eventually revealed to have her own flaws and issues. Mario, too, is more than a simple liar and cheater, though his poor decision-making will carry a substantial body count by film’s end.

These deviations in character type add both complexity and complications to an otherwise pretty straightforward narrative. These kinds of thrillers tend to operate in straightforward black-and-white moral and ethical terms: cheating = bad; fidelity and marriage = good. Psycho Side Chick doesn’t exactly break the mold, but by acknowledging that none of its characters are perfect, the film plays in a slightly more murky grey area.

Performance-wise, it’s not surprising that Bradley rules the screen. Her Kelsey is unhinged, unpredictable, quick to temper, and utterly ruthless in her dedication to hold on to Mario and get rid of any obstacles standing in her way. There are several moments when Kelsey falls prey to her frustrations, and Bradley clearly embraces the opportunity to throw a fit and break some furniture. There’s even a Jill Roberts from Scream 4 moment when Kelsey self-harms in order to get close to Chloe at urgent care.

As the straight man and woman, Anthony Hall and Le’Joy are required to ground the film and, as a result, don’t get as much fun stuff to do. By comparison, their respective best friends, private investigator Jerrell (Niles Austin) and Chloe’s snarky white friend Aaliyah (Rachel Comeau), both make an impression as the voices of reason. All of the friends, including Paris, go above and beyond the call of friendship – from breaking and entering to burying a body to initiating a beatdown in a hospital bathroom stall. Perhaps the true takeaway from Psycho Side Chick is to find a ride or die bestie?

If this all sounds utterly ridiculous, credit Blackwell and Singleton’s script, which is packed with highly entertaining developments and over the top dialogue. For example, one character – who shows up solely to get murdered in the very same scene – begins every. Single. Line of dialogue with the word “Bitch.” One of Kelsey’s most endearingly odd come-ons to Mario is “Your name is the only one written on this kitty.” Reader: she is not talking about a cat.

It’s extremely silly and entertaining, which are perfect descriptors for Psycho Side Chick. The film knows exactly what it is – a campy thriller in the vein of a Lifetime film – and it aspires to be just that and nothing more.

So if you dig the title, you’ll probably enjoy the film. Just don’t lie to your psycho side-chick, because she will track you down and ruin your life.  

Psycho Side Chick is now streaming on Tubi.

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Technically, I Love Paris is the stage name of the film’s protagonist, Paris (Thiboult). The fame-seeking rapper settled on the name in part in order to capitalize on the (free) merch made popular by tourists wandering around the city of love.

What’s delightful about Paris is that this – and pretty much every other half-cocked idea she comes up with – is confessed, without shame, in direct address to the camera, regardless of how good, bad, or unhinged it may make her look.

Paris’ willingness to be candid and unfiltered, giving 100% access to the lone male documentarian following her around as she aspires to greatness, says a lot about the woman at the heart of the film. She’s cheeky and savvy; more than a bit of a grifter; and an opportunist who is equally likely to screw over a stranger or a friend if she thinks it will help her. And she’ll do it with a shit-eating grin and a cute little smile, because she knows she can get away with it.

As played by real-life actress/musician Thiboult, Paris is equal parts charming, frustrating, and temperamental. In short, she’s the perfect figure to center a horror mockumentary around: an aspiring musician with questionable talent (at least early on), eager for shortcuts to fame, whose plans are temporarily derailed when she inadvertently winds up getting turned into a vampire.

The film looks like a true documentary, complete with direct address confessionals, walk and talks along infamous streets, and invasive editing (Murphy loves a zoom). Narratively, however, it is broken into two distinct acts that capture Paris’ journey towards stardom.

The first act takes place over a single weekend. It introduces Paris, her somewhat supportive manager Joe (Noé Hermelin), and her aspirations to win over Paul (Antoine Dumortier), a bigwig who books talent for all kinds of festivals that Paris quips she would “kill” to be a part of.

And kill she will.

After being told to boost her social media presence by doing more TikToks, Paris inadvertently attracts the attention of a lonely vampire, Lutèce, or Lu (Leonor Oberson). After being half-transformed (Vampires are visually exemplified by a pale blue eye), Lu gives Paris a crash course on the realities of vampirism: burgers and human food are out; drugs don’t work anymore; vampires don’t have any special powers or strength, and Paris must kill in order to complete the transformation, or she’ll die.

This and other exposition is doled out slowly, in conversations on streets, subways, and dark alleys as Lu and Paris bicker comedically. Even as the film unfolds, the way vampirism is used is complicated and tweaked. The film is only tangentially interested in exploring horror tropes; more often than not, it is content to use vampirism as a tool to interrogate Paris’ aspirations, as well as for comedic purposes.

The world opens up in the back half as the film counts down to a major gig: the Emerging Artists Festival. As Lu’s backstory is fleshed out, Paris is matched with an up and coming young pop star, Mimi (Louiza Aura), who begins hooking up with Lu, which threatens her and Paris’ secret.

The looming deadline for the show, captured in interstitial titles counting down the weeks, then hours to showtime, generates plenty of narrative urgency and comedic pratfalls. It’s a clever and successful storytelling device, upping Paris’ worst instincts while simultaneously raising the stakes.

At its heart, I Love Paris is a character study of its narcissistic protagonist, with plenty of great comedy beats and an exceptional lead performance that leaps off the screen. Thiboult’s charisma is unparalleled, and it’s impossible not to fall in love with Paris even when she’s making terrible choices or being completely irrational. The performance is that good.

It all culminates with an unexpectedly tender and tonally perfect (anti)climax that reinforces how cleverly Thiboult and Murphy understand their material, followed by a great comedy zinger to close out the film.

I Love Paris is an unexpected gem and a film that absolutely needs to be sought out. Pair this with Uncle Peckerhead and enjoy an evening of comedically disastrous, but lovable anti-heroes trying to make it in the music industry.

I Love Paris screened at the 2026 Toronto After Dark Film Festival.

The post ‘I Love Paris’ Review: Hilarious Vampire Mockumentary Is One of the Year’s Best Hidden Gems [TADFF 2026] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Marvel’s latest new line of titles is an arrow aimed straight at my horror-loving heart. The Midnight line, which starts with Fantastic Four, X-Men, and Spider-Man books, offer terrifying twists on the classic comics, exploring various horror subgenres through the lens of superheroes.

The first issues have all dropped for these titles, and so far the line is off to a great start. I’m not sure if the titles have any plans for crossing over or building connections between the various corners of the universe, but so far their focus on laying a solid foundation individually has been a great call. Despite featuring many of the standard characters you’re used to seeing, their new context makes many of them nearly unrecognizable, retaining enough of their previous character to render the dramatic irony of the changes meaningful to the reader.

Midnight Fantastic Four, written by Benjamin Percy and illustrated by Kev Walker, pushes their focus on dimensional travel into a cosmic horror realm. Percy has successfully dabbled with horror in the past via run on Ghost Rider and a series of Predator books, so I was excited to see what he had in store.

The issue starts with a pill popping Reed Richards getting fired from the New York Institute of Technology, then attempting to sneak back into his lab overnight to continue his work. His research assistant, Victor (as in von Doom), is also sneaking in, and Reed’s experiment kills Victor (at least for now) and leaves Reed in a mental hospital. There, he’s released by the mysterious Sue Storm, along with her security adviser Ben Grimm, and recruited to continue his work for her company. Along the way you also meet Johnny Storm, who clearly has PTSD from losing his legs in an unspecified crash. The issue ends with the name drop of a classic Fantastic Four concept, the Negative Zone, but does so in a way that implies more Lovecraftian horrors may be in store for our group.

For a first issue, it was a bit slow, but the pieces it’s moving are all intriguing, setting up the series for success. I was surprised that most of the characters were relatively unlikeable, but in a compelling way. Reed is reckless, Sue is manipulative, and Ben is a hired goon willing to go to drastic means for his employer. The most immediately relatable person is Johnny, but he doesn’t have as much time on the page as the others. The art brings to life strange hallucinations that Reed is experiencing, while also giving us a mad-scientist-like brief glimpse at Latvaria. Gone are the bright colors most associated with Marvel’s First Family, replaced with a darker color palette that conveys the menace of the new setting.

I’m curious to see where it goes from here. Knowing the strange transformations their bodies go through in their traditional origin story, I’m sure making contact with an eldritch horror in this new version of the Negative Zone is only going to be worse for any potential powers they might gain. Stretchy body, rock skin, invisibility, and fire generation all sound like abilities ripe for something going terribly wrong, so I can’t wait to see what shape they take.

I was so excited to see that Jonathan Hickman was returning to X-Men following his game changing “House of X”/“Powers of X,“ and the Midnight line seemed like an interesting place for him to do it. Alongside artist Matteo Della Fonte, he takes the world of mutants as we know them and mixes it up with vampires. This wasn’t the most outright horror of the books, nor the biggest departure from their standard portrayal, especially since X-Men has confronted vampires in the past, but the setup does get to the hated-and-feared core of the concept that has made X-Men endure for decades.

There’s a lot of exposition in this book, setting up a war between humans, vampires, mutants, and mutant vampires. The book smartly opens with Cardinal Stryker and his Purifiers approaching Nightcrawler, who is a priest, adding an interesting layer of religious undertones to everything. Their interactions provide a lot of the background as we cut to more action packed scenes of factional confrontations. We see a group of people stumble onto a lab for cybernetically enhanced vampires, only to see them be brutally murdered before vampire mutants, called Empyres, come to save the day. This fight is then interrupted by Cyclops, who is referred to as “the last X-Men” who saves one of the original group, who ends up being Hope.

It’s a lot to take in for a first issue, but the pieces that it places on the chess board all make for a very compelling setup, brought to life with dark and brooding art from Della Fonte. While I was skeptical about the vampire angle being a bit too generic for someone like Hickman, it gets to the core of mutants by putting a horror spin on the concept, finding new ways to push the concept of evolution within X-Men. Hickman is a long-term planner, so it’s easy to see how this complicated web he’s weaved will provide great story potential.

As much as I love Spider-Man, his was the Midnight book I was looking forward to the least, but writer Phillip Kennedy Johnson and artist Scietronc put together my favorite of the number ones. Even going back to the 90s cartoon, there has been body horror associated with the character through the Man-Spider transformation arc, but this book takes that concept to a horrifying new level.

We start a tragic flashback of a very young Peter Parker with his parents, coming home from a vacation to find their family cat dead. The lesson from his father ends up being an inversion of the classic “with great power comes great responsibility.” As they find the cat gruesomely devoured by another animal, his father says “power makes monsters, every time.” This ends up being the thesis statement of the book, not only from a superpower standpoint, but from an economic one as well.

Flash forward twelve years and Peter Parker, who alongside being a genius high school student, is also an anti-corporate streamer. He lives with his Uncle Ben, who is struggling to pay the bills because of an ongoing lawsuit he’s been keeping up trying to hold Oscorp accountable for the deaths of Peter’s parents. Peter is then approached by Felicia Hardy on behalf of Oscorp, bringing him a job offer that comes with a massive amount of fine print. Seeing this as an opportunity to change things from the inside, he forgoes his morals and accepts the position. What the audience sees that he isn’t aware of is the horrific experiments that Oscorp is performing, which lead to possibly the most gruesome sequences of any of the Midnight books so far. Predictably, one of those experiments, obviously a spider, follows Peter home, with drastic consequences for his family.

What I loved about this book was how quickly it was able to set up all the relationships, updating the standard characters to feel more modern and progressive. I loved Ben’s crusade against corporate America along with Peter’s activism, and seeing how those two both stand by or betray their ideals as the opportunity to work with Oscorp arises. It almost felt like the way Scott Snyder updated Batman in the Absolute universe, keeping the core of Peter while making him feel up to date with times. It ends with a small hint of what this new, horrific version of Spider-Man will look like, and I can’t wait for that full reveal. Horror is best when it’s grounded in strong characterization, and Midnight Spider-Man does the strongest job of pulling that off in my book.

For something that could have been a gimmicky stunt by Marvel to get headlines, the various creative teams did great work rethinking these characters in a new light. Instead of treating it like a What If, they treat it like the foundation of a new universe, making it feel like something that could be used for years to come. I’m not sure what the long-term plans are for the Midnight line, but I’m excited to follow these titles for as long as they can keep them up.

The Midnight Universe publishing line is now available.

The post ‘Marvel Midnight’ Comics Offer Terrifying Twists on Classic Characters [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

The good news is that feeling never goes away, and over the course of 80 minutes, writer/director Ben Sottak, in his feature directorial debut, finds plenty of ways to reinforce both the film’s concept and the Halloween atmosphere teased out by its title. It’s never bad and always watchable, but that brings us to the bad news: it also never really becomes much more, leaving us with a pleasant ride that could have gone deeper, darker, and scarier.

Shapiro plays Pumpkin, a young woman in a post-apocalyptic world that’s left her, as far as she knows, the only remaining survivor. When we meet her, she’s about to celebrate her fourth Halloween alone in the apocalypse, and while she’s making every effort to decorate, put out candy for would-be trick-or-treaters, and get into the spirit, it’s hard when it feels like she’ll never meet another living soul again. 

That changes with the sudden arrival of three scavengers: Thalia (Shannyn Sossamon), her husband Royce (A.J. Bowen), and Wendy (Ajani Russell), another young person who seems to be there only reluctantly. Desperate for connection, Pumpkin invites the trio to celebrate Halloween with her, unaware that she’s inviting something much darker than a few houseguests into her life. With her boarded-up home suddenly under siege, Pumpkin has to fight to survive and figure out who to trust during the scariest Halloween she’s ever experienced.

There’s something instantly endearing and heartbreaking about watching Pumpkin go through her Halloween rituals without the family that made it her favorite holiday. Whatever strange plague has swept through the world took everyone she loved away from her, but she’s still trying to connect the only way she really knows how, through the decorations and traditions of October.

Shapiro, with her expressive eyes and childlike face, immediately pulls us into her emotional narrative, making Pumpkin feel fully formed even before we really know her. The vehicle is imperfect, but she’s clearly a star, and Sottak surrounds her with all the trappings of a Last of Us-style life, one that’s a shell of what she once had.

This means that when other people come in and start stirring up Pumpkin’s world in ways both good and bad, we’re pulled right along with her as she tries to figure things out. Is Thalia telling her the truth, or is Wendy? Is she safe, or is she about to face something more horrifying than even the mass death that previously surrounded her? Sossamon in particular is very well equipped to fuel this ambiguity, at times gentle but always simmering with a sense of deception lurking behind her eyes.

The true co-star of the story, though, is Russell, whose work as Wendy is full of cold fire. The character is a perfect foil for Pumpkin, and Russell and Shapiro generate a healthy dose of chemistry along the way. 

These performances, combined with wonderful Halloween-centric production design, keep the film humming along, even when the story stumbles. Though it’s only 80 minutes long, there are times when Hallowarrior feels like it’s spinning its wheels, holding off on new scares and set pieces simply because the edit requires it and not because the story requires it.

The dialogue often doesn’t help matters, as characters either explain exactly what’s about to happen or get bogged down in repetitive plot devices that require them to have the same reactions multiple times.

The good news, though, is that these issues really only persist through the second act. If you can make it to the grand finale, Sottak and his cast really turn up the intensity, delivering a kind of demented Halloween version of Home Alone that turns the film bloody, more intense, and more emotionally satisfying. 

The bumps in the road are noticeable with Hallowarrior, and they don’t necessarily leave your head when the good stuff starts to kick in, but that good stuff is more than enough to outweigh the bad in this film. Milly Shapiro seized the moment and gave a great performance, and with Ben Sottak, we’ve got another rising horror star with loads of potential. It’s a solid film; I just wish there was a little more meat on these Halloween bones.

Hallowarrior hits theaters and Shudder on October 16.

The post ‘Hallowarrior’ Review: Milly Shapiro Shines In Halloween Post-Apocalyptic Horror appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Julia has been plagued with nightmares. When she goes to sleep, she sees her ex-boyfriend, an independent filmmaker and cinephile, being torn to shreds by horrific creatures. When she returns to the apartment they shared to check in on him, she gets sucked into a terrifying world constructed from his memories, created by the actions of a mysterious cult that he has apparently gotten involved with. To make your way closer to the truth, you’ll be solving adventure game-style puzzles while fighting your way through monsters that roam the halls of these reflections of the past. It’s an incredibly compelling setup that had me gripped throughout, deepening my appreciation for the main character as twists and turns were revealed.

Narrative was such a driving force for me in this game. I was truly engaged with the characters and their complicated relationships not only to each other but to movies in general. As someone who studied filmmaking, the way that their different creative drives were integrated into their relationship really spoke to me on a personal level, drawing me into the story more than I expected. There are multiple endings, I got two of the four endings in my nine hours with the game, and the “good” ending had me feeling extremely satisfied with the place it left Julia.

Not only was the relationship a strong foundation to build upon, the mythology of the game was extremely well crafted, creating lore that felt unique even when it was taking inspiration from other sources. One of the strongest parts about the game is that no matter how much it explains the mechanics of the cult and their strange rituals, it never loses its mystique. Too much explanation generally kills the vibes for me, but every new piece of information revealed about what was going on only drew me in more. Tenebris Somnia also creates very strong bits of visual language that it plays with throughout, making things feel cohesive and unique.

As I mentioned before, there are two halves to its presentation, the pixel art gameplay and the full motion video cutscenes. When playing the game, all the rooms, along with the characters that populate them, are crafted in an 8-bit retro style, which isn’t always my personal favorite aesthetic. Fortunately, they find just the right level of detail to convey character through their models and place through their environmental props. Even when it’s lacking in detail, a smart use of color brings everything to life in a way that’s stylish and captivating.

What really works for me is the full motion video cutscenes, which look incredible. They resisted the temptation to add any sort of film grain or VHS filter, presenting them in a glorious crispness that pops off the screen. Not only does it look nice, the scenes themselves are directed with a deft eye for framing, not feeling like a cheap afterthought like much FMV has a history of doing.

It’s impressive when they use it to pull more emotion out of a scene, as seeing a tear run down Julia’s real human face has so much more impact than watching a pixelated character model cry.

According to New Blood, the game’s publisher, the same team behind the effects for When Evil Lurks worked on Tenebris Somnia’s live action sequences, and it shows. There’s a smart combination of practical effects and CGI that brings to life the monsters, bringing it up to a quality that would be impressive even in a theatrical release, much less a video game. They even produced a full version of “Devora”, the ex-boyfriend’s in-fiction award-winning short film that’s central to a lot of the game’s plot. Even though the team chose to have FMV sequences be dialogue-less, yet it always manages to wordlessly convey whatever emotion or information with ease.

Enemy design looks amazing in both pixel art and live action, with a lot of effort going into creating unique-looking monsters that stand out compared to other modern games. They are an excellent combination of disgustingly gory and nightmarishly twisted, with strange distended mouths, blood-slicked tentacles, and unsettling shapes. My favorite, which is featured in the trailer, was the first boss of the game, a man with the top half of his head replaced by lit candles and melting wax. It takes a lot of skill to create distinct designs that will be readable and exciting in two vastly different visual styles, but they somehow pulled it off.

A retro aspect that worked perfectly for me was the sound effects, which are deliciously crunchy. Standard monster moans sound even weirder when compressed down, and each of them has their own distinct set of noises that identify them before you even see them. Footsteps also change depending on your surface, which isn’t necessarily novel but sounds unique in the low-fi audio when you’re crunching through broken glass or squishing on pools of blood.

All of this takes place in a version of the apartment complex that’s merging with memories, which makes for a narratively interesting and surreal location that doesn’t have the same level of creativity level design-wise. It’s a nicely rendered space, but it doesn’t have that classic survival horror interconnected and dense layout with a series of shortcuts unlocked as you go. The footprint of the game isn’t too big, so it wasn’t like I had a lot of trouble getting around, it just wasn’t additive to the experience in ways that I love in the genre normally.

The part about survival horror that it nails is the puzzle design, which is full of clever little adventure game logic. Even though many of the puzzles operate on dream logic, it’s never too difficult to figure out what the game is asking of you. Many of them even made me feel clever for figuring them out, requiring more than just combining items to solve them. One of the most clever ones involved using various containers to add and subtract liquid from a giant glass container to try to get the tone it makes when you strike it to match that of a nearby bell. Puzzles were easily my favorite part of the gameplay, and they not only challenged my mind but also felt narratively relevant.

While the enemies visually looked good, they were rarely that fun to fight. You have a combination of melee and ranged weapons, but they feel a bit clunky to use. You don’t really have to kill everything you come across, but even navigating around them can feel stiff. As the game progresses, more enemies will be spawned in places you’ve already been, which can clog up areas with monsters quickly if you’re not clearing them out. Given the ammo and health economy in the game, it’s not really practical to kill them all, but it can be kind of punishing when you get to a hallway and there are three guys on top of you immediately when you enter.

Boss fights magnify this problem, as they often feel like they are more complexly designed than the mechanics really capable of keeping up with. A few of them have fun little gimmicks that give you some business to puzzle out as you fight them, but even once you figure them out it takes a little too long to complete the fight. There are two options for the final boss based on your choices, and both of them felt way more difficult than the rest of the game to me, requiring pattern recognition and reflexes that felt more frustrating than fun. I loved seeing their wild designs, but rarely enjoyed actually playing them.

There were a couple of encounters where you were being chased by creatures rather than having to directly fight them, and those felt like a good fit for the game’s mechanics. They were tense and interesting, bringing a cinematic and exciting feel to the gameplay. Part of me was thinking about if the game would have been more consistent if it focused on chases and puzzle encounters rather than actual combat mechanics. Given this game’s excellent puzzles, I kept wondering if this game would have been better served taking inspiration from point-and-click adventure games rather than classic survival horror.

Despite my issues with combat and boss fights, I was completely charmed by Tenebris Somnia. Its combination of pixel art and FMV to present its engaging narrative is completely unique, creating a game that looks like nothing else. The love for cinema is clear not only from the quality of the live action footage, but also from its inclusion in the narrative, making it a movie lover’s dream. It’s a video game story that will stick with me for a long time, featuring well-written characters and interesting mythology. I think if they take some time to rebalance the bosses or maybe add a lower difficulty mode that allows you to focus on the clever puzzles, this could end up being an all-timer.

Review code provided by publisher. Tenebris Somnia launches October 16 on PC via Steam and GOG, Nintendo Switch 2, PlayStation 5 and the Xbox Series.

The post ‘Tenebris Somnia’ Melds Pixel Art and FMV to Create a Wholly Unique Survival Horror Experience [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Maclain Nelson’s new film, Don’t Move, while absolutely crawling with thrill-killing issues, opens with a loss that is anything but conventional or mundane.

Megan (Lyndsy Fonseca) is enjoying an amusement park’s offerings with her husband and young son. They hop into a haunted house ride while she watches over their belongings, but when a fire breaks out and the screaming starts, she springs into action. Megan saves some other riders but is unable to free her own family, and she’s instead left helpless as her son and husband are burned alive before her eyes.

One year later, she’s living a quiet life working in a church’s office. Memories of her family still fill her days, so she gives in after Pastor Rizzo’s (Tom Cavanagh) latest effort to invite her to a church camping trip over the weekend. They’re joined by the bus driver (Rob Riggle), the pastor’s daughter (Hunter King) and her boyfriend (Joseph Lee Anderson), and a young boy and his grandparents. Also along for the ride is an obnoxious prick named Ricky Vargas (Russ). They’ve barely set their tents up when the group is fractured by the arrival of a Volkswagen Beetle-sized spider determined to put their belief in the power of prayer to the ultimate test.

The opening sequence is maybe a little rough around the edges, but it’s easily among the most intense and horrifying setups to a grief-fueled horror film that I’ve seen in some time. Part of it stems from my own fear of being trapped by one of those ride safety bars – I legit try to block them with my arm when possible so they lock in with some wiggle room – but Fonseca also sells the hell out of the nightmare. Megan knows that she’s the one who suggested they check out the ride. She knows that she saved others but couldn’t save her own family, and she can’t get their harrowing screams out of her head. It’s horrifying. It’s fantastic.

And it’s by far the biggest high point in Don’t Move.

The film’s core issues can easily be broken down into three areas – the script, the spider, and Ricky fucking Vargas.

The script, co-written by Nelson and the source novel’s authors, James Murray & Darren Wearmouth, loses real steam after that stellar setup. The other characters and actors are mostly lacking in weight and charisma, and the handful that actually deliver real personality and entertainment value are killed off too quickly. It also struggles to mesh together Megan’s trauma and her current predicament in a way that justifies the repeated intrusion of the former into the latter. Chocolate and peanut butter, this ain’t.

The spider is every bit as weightless, and it’s not just because the CG lacks tangible thrills. There are some practical effects used rather sparingly, while too much of it is presented via CG that fails to convince that it’s part of the scene. The creature leaps between trees, hoists up a CG deer for a snack, and picks off the cast, but as a monster it leaves an impression similar to that of the CG blood and CG waterfall. That impression is boredom.

Finally, there’s Ricky. To be fair, the intentionally obnoxious side character whose rash actions and annoying attitude lead to the unnecessary deaths of others (and inevitably themselves, too) is arguably one of the tougher characters to get right in genre cinema. Most films are content in letting the character frustrate viewers before killing them off in a hopefully satisfying fashion, but Don’t Move takes a different tack: it makes Ricky a co-lead.

Not only does this undercut Megan’s journey and mute much of her dramatic arc, but it also leaves viewers stuck with a whole lot of Russ. Look, I’m not here to suggest that Russ, aka Russell Vitale, has some kind of blackmail material on the filmmakers. Would it explain making his annoying as hell character a co-lead and big hero? Perhaps. Would it justify the inclusion of two of Russ’ songs on the film’s soundtrack? Who’s to say.

Nelson made his feature debut 15 years ago with the horror/comedy Vamp U before shifting gears and directing 19 movies that Letterboxd really wants me to believe exist. Small Town Christmas, Christmas on My Mind, Christmas in Vienna, Haul Out the Holly, A Heidelberg Holiday, A Keller Christmas Vacation. His 21st feature sees him return to horror with a dash of comedy, but a busy (and clearly successful) career spent making made-for-TV romances has left his genre chops wanting.

Fonseca, who’s had her own run of supposedly real Christmas-themed films like Next Stop Christmas, Where Are You, Christmas?, Holiday Crashers, and Single on the 25th, actually does good work here before being let down by a script that loses interest in her. The other standouts, Riggle and Cavanagh, bring both the funny and the sincerity and subsequently inject a bit of life into the film while they’re onscreen.

A great opening sequence, some good/fun performances by Fonseca, Riggle, and Cavanagh, and a single effective jump scare that isn’t even related to the damn spider. That’s the net positive that Don’t Move has to offer, and it’s just not enough to warrant a rental, a purchase, or the loss of 90 minutes of your time.

Don’t Move is now available on Digital.

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Yet director Brian Duffield(No One Will Save You), who co-adapts the novel with Kraus, does just that, translating the white-knuckle intensity of an implausible scenario to screen with all of its emotional resonance intact.

Resident Evil star Austin Abrams finds himself in another insane survival scenario as Jay Gardiner, a college student struggling to cope with the suicide of his ocean-obsessed father, Mitt (Josh Brolin). The coastal community loved Mitt, as did Jay’s mom (Elisabeth Shue) and sisters (Emily Rudd and Jane Levy), but Jay’s relationship with Mitt as his only son was far more contentious. So much so that they weren’t on speaking terms when Mitt fell ill, leaving Jay with a lot of guilt and baggage in the wake of his death. To process it, Jay embarks on a solo scuba dive in the futile hopes of recovering even part of Mitt’s remains from the sea.

Instead, Jay gets swept into a battle between a giant squid and a sperm whale, and the whale swallows them both. 

That one sentence sets up an entire feature’s worth of nail-biting tension and harrowing survival thrills, as this wild predicament brings a series of gripping challenges that include depleting oxygen, traumatic pressure changes, and pesky things like digestive mucus and stomach acid. Duffield ensures every bit of it is felt, too, with claustrophobic practical sets that see Abram’s character frequently maneuvering to avoid getting completely “chewed” and digested.

The sound design is sharp and incredible, further immersing audiences in the visceral nature of this particularly wild survival thriller. Bioluminescence serves as clever lighting, but the natural darkness of being trapped inside a whale at deeper depths means that one dimly lit theatre bulb or TV setting could easily tip large stretches of this movie into unseeable territory. It’s a minor observation, considering just how cinematic Duffield makes this unique story. The film’s climax instills as much awe as emotional catharsis, for its stunning marine vision of community and letting go.

That’s also helped by flashback scenes that flesh out the father-son relationship fueling this exercise in unrelenting suspense. Brolin makes these fleeting moments count, ensuring a profound depth of love lurks beneath the surface of Mitt’s tough-love exterior. Mitt tearfully confesses to an infant Jay in one scene that he will screw him up, but it’s only out of love and a paternal desire to prepare him for survival. It’s the emotional crux of Jay’s entire journey, the ultimate test of a harsh father’s unrelenting lessons. 

But Whalefall rests almost entirely on the shoulders of Abrams, and the rising talent has already proven adept at navigating the physical challenges of a propulsive, escalating survival scenario without sacrificing character. Here, the emotional stakes are even higher, and the physical challenges just as daunting. Jay’s interiority is brought to the surface, giving Abrams more opportunity to showcase his range. Instead of leaning into the absurdity of the premise with humor, Abrams mines it for all its daunting terror and emotional devastation.

Whalefall unlocks new fears, even if the likelihood of being swallowed by a whale is astronomically small. Even smaller are the odds of survival. That Jay, raised to dive by a nautical father, knows this acutely only contributes to the unwavering edge-of-your-seat tension. It’s not a horror movie, but Duffield and Kraus’s cinematic, deeply affecting adaptation unnerves all the same. 

Whalefall releases in theaters on October 16.

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That’s apparent straightaway, with a pilot episode that not only recreates the tragedy that sets the entire franchise in motion but also features a throwback title card and opening credits that pay tribute to the films, accompanied by Harry Manfredini‘s theme. But it’s also here where the first noticeable shift from canon arrives; Crystal Lake introduces a sweet but sickly Jason Voorhees (Callum Vinson) and his mom in 1972, the night before his drowning accident. It’s a shift from the late ’50s, one that imbues the series with a rich palette but serves as a more important backdrop for the overarching mystery that centers around Pam and Jason and begins in earnest when Jason’s body is never found.

After an exciting Friday the 13th-heavy premiere that introduces all the callbacks and familiar sights of the film, including locals Crazy Ralph (Nick Cordileone) and Camp Crystal Lake owners the Christys, Crystal Lake settles into methodical mystery building surrounding the Voorhees’ hidden past. Kane writes with careful surgical precision, recreating iconic moments (like a certain death in the boathouse) to blend with the original while adding new details and revelations that shift our read on them.

It’s as if Kane’s biggest question for Crystal Lake wasn’t what drove Pam to murderous madness, but how someone of her size and demeanor could physically pull off such a body count. Refreshingly, Linda Cardellini’s Pam is relatively well adjusted despite what she’s been through, and her tender bond with her son is instantly endearing. There are flashes of madness, of course, as Pam is driven to graphic violence on more than one occasion, but Crystal Lake tends to find sympathetic justification for her actions, like a rather visceral first-episode battle in self-defense that culminates in a burst of blood spray. It’s a series that takes care in its escalation, ensuring we never lose rooting interest in a protagonist prone to murder.

Cardellini latches onto Pam’s fierce maternal instincts, and Pam’s warm affections for her son provide the series’ biggest heartbreaks and motives. Pam’s budding relationship with Crystal Lake sheriff Levon Brooks (William Catlett) further instills rooting interest as one of her few sources of support. They’re kindred spirits of sorts, though Brooks is more of a beacon of hope. 

While Crystal Lake does build to a proper camp bloodbath late in the eight-episode run, Kane injects enough death and violence to keep gore-hounds satiated until it arrives. The deaths are suitably gnarly, and most effective when employing practical effects over VFX, but they do have a tendency to get repetitive. The first instance of mouth trauma makes you wince, but the effect wears off by the fourth instance. Still, the series earns its marks for brutality.

Episode eight wraps so tidily that the series could stop here and satisfy, answering all of its major questions by season’s end. Well, depending on whether you’re on board with its grounded explanation behind an undead killer stalking the woods of Crystal Lake. There’s a remarkable level of detail and reverence for Friday the 13th here, one apparent by every careful tie to the original film and even more thoughtful treatment of original characters. Crystal Lake even carefully bridges Crazy Ralph from PTSD-suffering survivalist to townie doomsayer.

But that careful consideration means a more sluggish early half than expected, and a series deeply concerned with addressing questions that aren’t exactly being raised in the first place. Especially not in a franchise that’s resurrected its iconic killer by lightning strike or body-hopping possession; it’s standard practice to roll with the wacky sequel punches when it comes to ’80s slasher franchises, after all. Crystal Lake cares a great deal for continuity, making for a cohesive, compelling vision. It’s a success in its character-forward vision, all the same.

Kane extends endless empathy for the Voorhees clan, peeling the curtain back wide on two of horror’s most memorable slasher villains. While it might be a bit too wide for some, having Camp Crystal Lake and all the Friday the 13th iconography back on screen, even the small screen, is a deeply welcome sight.

All episodes of Crystal Lake premiere Thursday, October 15, only on Peacock.

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Belmont’s Curse takes place in 1499 Paris, with Rose Belmont taking back the city after it has been overrun by demons. Inheriting Dracula’s curse from her mother, she’s also trying to find a way to cure it. The story is nothing new, as it’s just the typical Castlevania plot of “we’ve got to stop Dracula,” that most of the games in the series go for.

But what truly elevates it are its characters.

A Colorful Cast and World

Throughout Paris, Rose encounters many different historical figures and powerful servants of Dracula who, once found or bested, are captured in her tarot cards given by her deceased mother. As a result, they end up becoming allies of Rose in her quest to liberate Paris. What I love about them is their distinct personalities. “The Fallen” and Joan of Arc fit more of the heroic archetype, and often give Rose advice. Other, more hostile hostages in her deck, like Medusa and Dracula’s accomplice vampire Carmila, goad Rose instead. They’ll taunt her to face Dracula unprepared, or tell her that she won’t ever be good enough.

These characters act like angels and devils on Rose’s shoulders, which often leads to entertaining banter between them. I mean, they’re trapped in her tarot cards, after all! They feel like siblings bickering over the dinner table, making the journey through Paris feel more lively and less lonely.

What also makes Belmont’s Curse stand out is its art direction. Created by Motion Twin/Evil Empire, the developers behind the excellent Metroidvania Dead Cells, they brought their distinctive style to Castlevania. The menus, especially the tarot cards, are meticulously and beautifully designed, each one of them looking like exaggerated yet accurate versions of the cohorts Rose will find. Plus, I love the character portraits that show up when the characters are talking. They remind me of the ones that Hades has, this gothic comic book-like illustration that looks both vibrant and modern.

Instead of dark or dreary backgrounds that you’d typically associate with the series, the streets of Paris are drenched in beautiful yellow and red hues. Even indoors, you can see the light pouring through the stained glass windows of castles and churches.

There’s also an eclectic number of environments, from blood soaked halls to astrological chambers, adding a lot of visual variety. The environments are so colorful, yet foreboding and dangerous in a way that feels unique to Motion Twin/Evil Empire.

Putting the Vania in Metroidvania

Belmont’s Curse emphasizes exploration similar to that of other 2D sidescrolling Metroidvania games such as End of Abyss and Blasphemous. As you control Rose through Paris, the map will automatically fill with places like the streets of Paris and the Clock Tower, which are all divided into different areas and subsections. Along the way, you’ll come across traps and environmental puzzles that block your progress. By navigating and jumping between platforms, you’ll eventually be able to find your way through these areas and unlock shortcuts to get around quicker. It’s always incredibly satisfying when you stumble across a new area because you found the crack in the wall or you solved a puzzle.

As Rose continues on, she’ll earn new traversal abilities, including an air dash and double jump that let her reach new places where she couldn’t go before, which incentivizes backtracking and further exploration. You’ll find collectibles such as new weapons, as well as orbs that can increase Rose’s maximum health and mana, making her permanently stronger and able to really make a difference against later bosses.

There are mirror rooms at various points of the map where Rose can recuperate and save the game, as well as fast travel to other mirror rooms. It’s a welcome reprieve, but feels like one step too many. Rose has to enter a different pocket dimension through the mirror and run a short distance to another mirror to come out the other end. This results in two separate loading screens, and I wish it were simply a drop-down to make things quicker. It becomes an annoying problem, especially if you’re playing the Nintendo Switch version as I did. Loading times are quite long.

However, Konami has confirmed that there will be an upcoming patch to alleviate the tech issues on Switch. I played Belmont’s Curse on Switch 2, so I didn’t experience too many performance problems aside from longer loading times.

One Woman Army

Rose has a huge arsenal of weapons, much more diverse than I’d expected from a Castlevania game. She can wield things like swords, lances, gauntlets, and whips. They all have their pros and cons, such as the whip being able to hit from range, but it is much slower than the close combat fists.

You can also equip relics that Rose finds, which grant her special abilities. For example, Revenant’s Shard allows Rose to recover 10% of her mana when killing enemies, while Pale Thorn lets Rose take 60% less damage when attacked from the front, but 100% more when hit from behind. There’s a lot of fun mixing and matching between the weapons and the relics that you can build a loadout accustomed to your playstyle.

Rose also has special abilities granted to her through the tarot cards. So whenever Rose defeats a new boss, she can equip their respective arcana and unleash a new attack. Joan of Arc, for example, erupts pillars of fire around Rose, incinerating her immediate vicinity. Meanwhile, Medusa petrifies enemies in front of her, giving Rose an opening to attack them. These abilities give the gameplay the extra oomph in the otherwise simplistic combat. Overall though, the customization is incredibly straightforward to understand. There’s nothing overcomplicated here, and that’s definitely appreciated.

Enemy variety is surprisingly good too, consisting of skeletons, monsters, ravens, and other nefarious creatures. But what prevents the gameplay from feeling stale is that the assortment of enemies is mixed up enough that not every single encounter plays out the same way. They all have their own individual attack patterns and ranges, so you have to carefully dodge them while finding openings to strike.

A Worthy Return for Castlevania Fans

There’s no doubt that Belmont’s Curse is a difficult game, and defeating bosses gives you the same sense of satisfaction as you would in a Soulslike. Plus, you’ll most certainly die fighting normal enemies and trying to get through the plethora of traps laid out throughout Paris. It can be frustrating, but the immense payoff feels well earned when you finally come across a new mirror room or beat that boss.

However, if you’d rather not tear your hair out, Belmont’s Curse offers accessibility options, similar to those of Control Resonant. Instead of difficulty tiers, you can adjust parameters such as decreasing damage received from enemies or increasing the damage you deal. You can even prevent death and respawn in front of boss doors so you don’t have to trek all the way from a mirror room back to the boss again. If you want to have the experience that the developers intended, these adjustments are completely optional. Also, toggling them on doesn’t impact platform Achievements or Trophies, so that way you don’t feel pressured or guilted into using them.

Castlevania: Belmont’s Curse is finally the new entry that fans have been waiting for. Its crunchy progression systems and gratifying exploration remind us of why there’s a whole genre named after Castlevania. It’s challenging, but fair, while delivering an amusing adventure. While the long loading times on the Switch version can get frustrating, this is still one trip to Paris you won’t forget.

Review code provided by publisher. Castlevania: Belmont’s Curse launches October 15 for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, Nintendo Switch, and PC via Steam and Microsoft Store.

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Gone is the hyperkinetic cyberpunk action, replaced by a first-person soulslike set in a horrifically twisted alternate history setting. Even with the massive changes in structure and setting, you can definitely see that the team is iterating on what they learned in Ghostrunner, taking the core of deadly melee combat and dynamic movement abilities and putting it into a more encounter-and-exploration-based game. It’s a bold move to try to build a soulslike in first person, but the end result is a flawed success.

Valor Mortis immediately sets itself apart with its unique historical setting. At the start of the game, you are resurrected on the battlefields of Europe, brimming with supernatural power as the voice of Napoleon himself speaks to you directly in your mind. Not only do you have to face the horrors of war, but also the horrors of the mysterious Crimson Plague that has corrupted the landscape, turning soldiers into monstrosities.

We have obviously seen plenty of strategy games that explore the Napoleonic War era, but to see a horror-focused game like this set during that point in time feels rare.

A Beautifully Twisted Battlefield

The time period does give it a bit of a Bloodborne vibe, but it’s focused more on rural villages and bloody battlefields. Despite some repetition in the various locations you’re going through, they each have their own personality that makes them stand out from the others. Some of them were a bit drab, like the caverns early in the game, but some of them felt alive in their grimness, like the late game university full of experimental horrors like a Resident Evil setting.

The rampant infection has also caused strange organic growths to erupt from the land itself, shattering buildings and lifting the debris into the air. It’s a unique looking game that’s beautifully rendered, setting itself apart from other soulslikes, which traditionally have a dark fantasy vibe.

While the visual design of the areas is strong, the actual level design of these spaces was a bit more of a mixed bag. Several places, particularly in the early game, were elegantly laid out, with the subtle hand of the designer guiding you while still giving you space to explore and discover secrets. Other areas would be more confusing, either because they doubled back on themselves in ways that didn’t immediately make sense or didn’t have enough visual variety to let you know you’d backtracked. I’d always eventually find my way, but there were times when I had to do a loop a couple of times before I saw the correct pathway forward, leaving me irritated when I should be feeling a sense of discovery.

Much like other soulslikes, you have a save point you rest at, in this case a lantern, and as you explore you’ll unlock shortcuts back to a specific lantern so that you can respawn there and be closer to forward progress. Unfortunately, this would happen so much that if I stepped away, I would have trouble remembering which of the pathways near the lantern would lead me to the ‘furthest’ point I’d been so far. Perhaps some of this would have been solved with a map of some sort, but Valor Mortis sticks closely to the conventions of the genre by not providing you with one (even though more recently successful soulslikes such as Elden Ring and Mortal Shell 2 have given you one).

First-Person Soulslike Combat Is Thrilling—and Frustrating

Even though it’s traditionally very hard to pull off, Valor Mortis makes a valiant effort at making soulslike melee combat work in first person. In your right hand, you can equip one of a few different swords, and swinging your sword with the attack button, which can also be charged up, uses stamina. Your sword can also block, which also uses stamina, and a perfectly timed block will parry, doing posture damage to the enemy. Break their posture, and you can do a critical attack that does massive damage. Perfectly timed dodges are another tool in your defensive arsenal, which give you a nice little bit of slowdown to turn the table on your foe.

These mechanics are all pretty traditional to the genre, but putting it in first person makes it all feel very visceral and immediate. Everything feels so much more desperate as the monsters are bearing down on you, getting right in your face, setting it apart from other soulslikes. Unfortunately, being that close to the action also comes with problems. Not having a third-person view of things removes some of the situational awareness that is often necessary for these types of fights, particularly when taking on multiple enemies at once.

Bigger monsters can also be challenging up close, as their windups are harder to read without a wider perspective. Given how much I was dodging around enemy attacks, I had trouble getting caught on objects in the environment, as I wasn’t able to keep track of the space around me as much. While I enjoyed the effort put into attempting these combat mechanics from a novel perspective, I found myself thinking that it was getting in the way of itself more than improving the genre.

To mix up the melee attacks, you can also make attacks with your left hand, which can either have a gun or magic power. This was the strongest part of the combat for me, adding in different ways for me to gain the upper hand. Many creatures have big weak points that can be shot for massive damage, and that was always a fun way to kick off a battle. The different firearms each have their own range, damage, and individual ammo type, so keeping track of everything is key to success. The powers all run on a resource called nephtoglobin, which pops out of enemies when you hit them in their weak point. There are three powers, with the most useful combat power being the fire spell that can light monsters on fire, giving them damage over time while also doing a bit of crowd control with its wider range.

You’ll also have an array of items that can be used, which range from special bullets that do status effects to nephtoglobin refill potions to hand grenades, giving you limited use options to deploy when the going gets tough. It was a ton of fun when you’d get all these parts of the combat working in conjunction, blasting an enemy in its weak spot, hitting it with a grenade from a distance, showering it in flame as it runs towards you, then parrying its attacks to finish the job with a critical strike.

Memorable Creature Designs Elevate Every Encounter

Creature designs are all strong, with a great selection of mutated soldiers that are visually distinct from each other and can be read from a distance. Given how intense the combat can get, knowing what enemies you’re up against at a glance is so important, and their silhouettes communicate tons of information about how they behave quickly and efficiently. There are certain ones that are definitely harder than others, so you’re always able to spot the emergency enemies and focus on evading or taking them out right away. Some of them are downright creepy in their look, with my favorite concept being the soldiers that contort and warp their bodies to look like horrible dogs.

While fighting most enemies one-on-one worked fine, even if there were certain enemies like the aforementioned dogs that were more irritating to deal with, encounters became a problem when multiple creatures were engaging you at the same time. Even with little UI notification along the side of the screen to indicate enemy positions, it still felt like you were missing a lot of the incoming attacks because you weren’t fully aware of your surroundings.

Dodging around multiple enemies at once while trying not to accidentally box yourself in a corner was particularly tricky, making some encounters harder than they should be. Late in the game, there was a small room full of crates that had you facing off with five dogs, including one extra strong one that was on fire, which was harder than many of the game’s boss fights, simply because I kept dodging into a corner and wasn’t able to keep up with attacks from all around me.

There’s a slight stealth mechanic in the game, in the sense that enemies will patrol until they spot you, and it always felt great to sneak up behind them and deliver a critical strike, which was often a one-hit kill. Some areas were even set up a bit like an immersive sim, where you could watch patterns and try to set up traps by using explosive barrels or other environmental traps. Encounters like these were easily my favorite in the game, as I could often creatively use my powers along with the element of surprise to cleverly pick off the enemies one by one. Overall, the focus was definitely on the soulslike, parry-based melee fighting, but I wish they had constructed more situations that felt like BioShock or Prey, because that’s when the game worked best for me.

The Biggest Battles Lean Too Heavily on Defense

In keeping with the soulslike tradition, boss fights are a large part of the game, and they are Valor Mortis at its best and worst. Bosses were extremely varied and visually stunning, ranging from superpowered humans to hulking beasts, and demanded precision to overcome. Given that the fights were one-on-one, they were the easiest to read, with a wide variety of attacks for you to learn. Defeating them always felt like you had to earn it, making it a satisfying victory when you finally won. As a nice little twist, you’re always granted a small amount of Catalyst, this game’s version of souls, when you lose a boss battle, so that can eventually add up to enough for a level up, preventing you from the need to go out and grind.

The bad part, for me at least, was how parry focused many of the bosses were. Chipping away at them with sword strikes took a while, which meant that the most effective way to damage them would be to break their posture through parrying, which put me in a strangely more passive mode for certain fights. It felt like instead of being on the offensive, the best move was just to sit back and wait for an attack, which made it frustrating when I had trouble getting into the rhythm of a boss’s attacks.

In addition, they seemed to have lots of attack animations with very long wind-ups, which always caused me to jump the gun and block too early. Eventually, your suite of weapons, powers, and items can give you some solid options aside from parrying, but defense still felt like it was the primary focus of most fights in a way that didn’t always work for me, especially if creatures were bigger and hard to read up close.

A Slow Burn Story That Finds Its Momentum

As you progress through the game, you can spend your Catalyst at lanterns to level up, which gives you a choice of perks from a fairly large skill tree. While most of these were simple stat upgrades, there were builds you could craft that focused on specific tactics. I liked to enhance my various powers, taking perks that gave them more damage or allowed for status effects to build quicker. At the Abandoned Church, a location you reach early in the game that acts as your base of operations, you can spend unique crafting materials to upgrade your weapons and powers specifically, with some branching options mixed in with standard damage improvements.

The combat may be the main star of the show, but One More Level took a lot of the movement mechanics they used in Ghostrunner and implemented them here. Eventually, you’ll be given the power to change the environment, allowing you to pull platforms out of the wall, which gets mixed in with the game’s extensive use of wall running and grappling, creating some interesting platforming challenges. While I enjoyed that they broke up the action and made getting around more interesting, these parts didn’t fit as well for me, with the limited perspective making precise platforming a little more difficult. For a genre that’s more known to be slow and methodical with its exploration pace, these sequences felt a little out of place, even if they were mostly entertaining.

Throughout the twenty-to-twenty-five-hour campaign, Valor Mortis weaves a compelling tale, even if it ends up taking longer than it should to get to the good parts. The beginning involves meeting up with the main characters as Napoleon, voiced by actor Vincent Cassel, guides you to reunite with your countrymen, eventually leading you to the church with a fellow soldier and a researcher. As you interact with the various NPCs, there are binary dialogue choices available, which don’t seem to have massive impact on the overall narrative, but allow you to define where your character’s head is at as the plot unfolds around him.

The majority of the first half involves some uninteresting business about trying to find notes for the researcher to see if he can work on a solution to the Crimson Plague, but the story finally picks up when you are sent to the University. It’s a long journey to get there, and on the way, you meet the most compelling figure in the game, a rebel leader known as the Shrike, who starts to plant seeds of doubt in your mind about your leader’s intentions. As you are seeing and experiencing the horrors of his war with your own eyes, you’re left wondering if she’s right or just trying to manipulate you for her own purposes.

To fill out the world, you’ll often run into ghostly echoes of events, playing out as spectral flashbacks in front of you. These will often lead you to side quests, which are helpfully tracked in your quest log. Most of them were fun to do when I ran into them, but I wasn’t going out of my way to complete them, as many of them were fairly simple and didn’t feel essential to the experience.

Despite the fact that I’m not fully sold on the use of the first-person perspective for a soulslike, Valor Mortis is a strong attempt. I loved how much impact you could feel from every strike and parry, but the lack of situational awareness made it hard to read fights with too many enemies. The game actually worked best for me when it leaned into a more freeform structure, allowing you to combine powers and planning to clear out the battlefield cleverly rather than just testing your parrying ability.

Even if the story felt too long and slow going, the back half of the game crafted intriguing drama to match its horrific world. I hope they take another crack at the concept, because with a little more polish and fine tuning, a version of this game that leans into the immersive sim just as much as the soulslike could be something special.

Review code provided by publisher. Valor Mortis will launch October 13 for PlayStation 5,the Xbox Series, and PC via Steam.

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The action begins in 1985 as single mother Jacqueline (Sara Jane Redmond) grows increasingly uncomfortable with the intimacy of the relationship between her fifteen-year-old daughter Shelley (Molly Saunders) and family physician Dr. Joseph Charalambous (Matthew Morrison).

However, when Jacqueline tries to interject and cut off contact between the two, Shelley quickly moves in with Joe and cuts Jacqueline out of her life. A six-year time jump follows and, before ten minutes have passed in the film’s runtime, Shelley is a twenty-something mother with an abusive husband, two children, and no social support network.

Initially, it seems as if writer Jason Bourque has jumped over a few crucial details. As The Monster She Married settles in, however, it’s not hard to deduce how Joe’s control over his wife has kept her isolated and subservient. (There are a few key flashbacks along the way that confirm Jacqueline didn’t simply abandon her daughter to a pedophile, as well as why Joe wasn’t immediately arrested for statutory rape).

Initially it seems as if the film will focus on the next cycle of Joe’s predatory grooming habits as he targets a pair of underage sisters, Sian (Olga Petsa) and Katie Simmonds (Matreya Scarrwener). When the teens tell their parents about the unwanted touching, however, charges are brought against Joe and – when it becomes clear that mere intimidation won’t keep them silent – events escalate quickly.

If this weren’t based on a true story, the events of the middle section of The Monster She Married might seem ridiculous or even melodramatic. Unfortunately, they’re tragically based in fact. The remainder of the film follows Shelley’s growing awareness that she’s being abused, gaslit, and used by her husband as a shield, as well as her plot to escape.

Tellingly, director Caitlyn Sponheimer doesn’t lean too heavily into the sensational aspects of Shelley’s terrible marriage. There are scenes of intimate partner violence, certainly, but they aren’t overdone or exaggerated for dramatic effect. In fact, nearly all of the incidents of violence (sexual or abusive) are framed and edited in a tasteful, non-exploitation fashion – be it slightly out of frame or only briefly appearing on camera before we cut away.

While Saunders is laughably unconvincing as a teenager in the early scenes and flashbacks, her performance as adult Shelley anchors the film. One of the most compelling aspects of the film is Shelley’s “complicity” (as a prosecutor infers late in the film) in her husband’s crimes – she’s aware of his plot against the Simmonds’ sisters, and she knows her husband is capable of lies and violence, but she doesn’t speak out.

Anyone familiar with Intimate Partner Violence will understand why Shelley remains silent and why she stays with Joe for as long as she does. The first half of the film occasionally struggles to capture the depth of the manipulation and the effect of the abuse and isolation, but by the second half, when Joe’s behavior becomes more erratic and more people in Shelley’s life acknowledge her abuse, it all comes together. It’s challenging, but realistic, how The Monster She Married doesn’t sugarcoat how difficult it is for domestic abuse survivors to flee their situations, even when their lives are being threatened.

As the villain of the piece, Morrison is ok. At times he overplays the menace, particularly in the back half of the film, but the actor’s charm – verging into smarmy territory – works well, as does the “nice guy” persona he carries forward from his stint on Glee.

None of the other actors make a huge impact because the film is principally a two-hander. Redmond is there to be supportive and cry over Shelley from her parked car outside Joe’s house every morning, and the police – represented by Corporal J. Reid (Ben Cotton) – are models of supportive protection, which is arguably the film’s least realistic element.

The expedited ending feels a little perfunctory, but it’s ultimately less about the specific details and more about Shelley’s arc. A closing postscript, as well as the contact information for RAINN, the nation’s largest anti-sexual violence organization and operator of the National Sexual Assault Hotline, provides the necessary amount of catharsis and resources.

Ultimately, The Monster She Married is part of that less obvious Lifetime movie canon which doesn’t lean into sensationalism or melodrama to achieve its goals. Perhaps because this story skews much more closely to the real-life details than some other “ripped from the headline” adaptations, the goal is simply to present the difficult realities of women trapped in the spiral of domestic abuse. As it stands, the film is both sobering and effective.

The Monster She Married airs on Lifetime Movie Network on Oct 10.

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Director Gregory Morin and writer David Neiss actually do manage to deliver, not just on the film’s wild premise but on some genuinely upsetting horror imagery, loads of dark humor, and a surprisingly emotional core. What could have been forgettable gimmick horror instead becomes something from which you cannot look away, no matter how much you might wish you could.

Luc (R. Jonathan Lambert) just wants to get his family back together. An addict who’s struggled with child custody issues, he’s finally got the opening that will allow him to reunite with his seven-year-old daughter. All he has to do is convince his ex, Val (Elodie Navarre), to come along and present the image of a united front. Because Val doesn’t want to talk to him, he heads to the bar where she works to plead his case, but not before slipping into a bathroom stall to do a line of coke.

This is where we meet Luc, on the verge of getting what he really wants, making one dumb decision. An encounter with the bar’s shady owner (Elliot Jenicot) and his drug dealer (Remy Adriaens) later, and Luc finds himself face down in the toilet, his head stuck in a pipe, unable to move lest a shard of the busted porcelain cuts his throat and kills him. His only hope is to somehow reach Val, but that’s easier said than done when you’re trapped in a bathroom stall, and the only thing you can see is the disgusting drain below you. 

So yeah, this is a movie about a guy who gets his head stuck in a toilet, a European-style one that’s basically a hole in the floor on a slightly raised platform. Luc can move his arms and legs, and can even lower very small objects down through the cracks in the porcelain around his head, but that’s about it. And we’re trapped there with him. The movie opens with Luc inside the stall, really just a short hallway with a toilet at one end and a door at the other, and never leaves it. There are no flashbacks, no cutaways to supporting characters in the bar outside, and no breaks from the disgusting surroundings. 

Narratively, it’s an exercise in creative problem solving, and we watch as Luc goes through every stage of survival horror instinct, from trying to use voice commands on his phone to picking at the porcelain around his head, hoping to dislodge some of it. And, as you might expect from a movie about a guy stuck in a toilet, things get weird. 

While Luc languishes in the toilet that could soon become his tomb, the other major characters come and go, none of them wanting to call the cops but all of them thinking they should probably do something about, y’know, the guy stuck in the toilet. The story unfolds like a bizarre comedy of errors, everyone dancing around each other, trying to achieve their own ends and stumbling over themselves at every turn.

The violence, when it arrives, arrives with the impish wit of a Coen Brothers film, and visually the film has a lot of fun with its confined space, taking us down the drain with Luc, introducing new wrinkles to his predicament, and bathing the whole affair in a wonderful greenish hue that adds a layer of surreality. It’s like an even more disgusting version of the strange French dark comedies of filmmakers like Jean-Pierre Jeunet, with an added dose of really violent sitcom energy. 

But none of what’s happening around him works if Luc is not absolutely committed, and we’re lucky there, because Lambert is phenomenal in the lead role. It’s hard to imagine many more vulnerable places than the one in which he finds himself, and he injects loads of emotional heft into what could have been a wacky B-movie premise. Luc is kind of a loser, a druggie who lost his partner and his child and now has to beg and scrape to get them back, even while still sneaking drugs and trying to pretend that he’s got everything figured out.

Yet he’s also capable of tremendous ruthlessness when it’s required, and you can see perhaps who he was at his worst, when the drugs rule his whole life. There are plenty of reasons to dislike him, and yet you can’t help but be on his side, because he feels so close to a breakthrough, to getting past that one shitty (pun intended) situation and back to the person he feels he should have been all along. That’s powerful stuff, and as much as the script never lets us forget it, it’s Lambert who keeps it all feeling alive.

I did not expect to be this moved, or this intellectually curious, about the movie where the guy gets his head stuck in a toilet, but that’s exactly the kind of film Flush is. It brings the high-concept fun, then it hits you with the gory details, and then it hits you in the heart. And it does it all without ever leaving the bathroom. 

Dark Sky Films’ Flush is now available on Digital.

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For instance, his 1999 anthology book, The Nightmare Hour, provided the basis for one of the best children’s horror shows around. As of last year, stories from that omnibus have become the source material for a new series of movies. This includes Pumpkinhead, as well as its sequel, R.L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead 2.

In the first movie, a folk horror-inspired plot to improve the town of Redhaven had been exposed; in exchange for a prosperous harvest, a child had to be sacrificed—turned into a “pumpkinhead”. To make that offering easier on everyone else, though, the victim was wiped from the townspeople’s memories. It was as if they never existed.

So although Sam (Bean Reid), the central character in Pumpkinhead, was successful in both saving his older brother Finn (Seth Isaac Johnson) and putting an end to the pumpkinhead ritual, he himself became forgotten. Well, by everyone apart from his two confidants: the sheriff’s daughter Becka (Adeline Lo) and an adult outlier named Rusty (Matty Finochio). The latter took in Sam now that his mother and brother’s minds had been wiped of him.

It’s been a year since the events of the last movie, and all but Sam is calm before Halloween. Reid’s character simply can’t accept that his family doesn’t remember him, and he’s insistent on finding the magical tome that could put an end to his ordeal. No luck yet, but that’s only because the book has found its way to another boy: a mistreated classmate named Evan (Sebastian Billingsley-Rodriguez).

As with the first movie, Pumpkinhead 2 has little to do with the source material. Even less so here, on account of Stine never issuing a sequel to his short. Jem Garrard’s own continuation certainly has nothing to do with “Return of the Pumpkinheads”, an episode from the Haunting Hour series. No, Garrard’s sequel is more high concept, even if it does end up like a mix between the Care Bears movie, Hocus Pocus and Stranger Things.

As sequels tend to do, or rather, they should, Pumpkinhead 2 aims for bigger and better. The stakes are raised, and not just for Sam. His emotionally stunted but likable guardian gets his own arc, and it proves effective. As for the secondary antagonist, who’s only outranked by the town’s curse, Evan is never fleshed out. He merely exists as a sort of sad parallel for Sam, whose own domestic situation could be worse. After all, he has someone like Rusty in his corner, whereas Evan has no one.

There is also an upgrade in monsters. While the last movie housed just the one scarecrow enforcer, Evan is assisted by a brigade of walking and stalking pumpkinheads. They’re still very much actors in costumes, but there is more effort in concealing that fact.

If you took a shine to the previous Pumpkinhead, its successor should also be to your liking. It’s more on the dark fantasy side than before; horror icon Cassandra Peterson is crucial to the story’s magic element. The sense of originality is a bit lower this time around, but even so, Pumpkinhead 2 is a fine patchwork of familiar and popular ideas. Plus, it’s never a bad thing to have more gateway horror.

R. L. Stine’s Pumpkinhead 2 is now streaming on Tubi.

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Nathan Elston‘s script, adapting Josh Malerman‘s Incidents Around the House, skips past explaining how Other Mommy arrived to an already forged bond between the maternal doppelgänger and a young child protagonist coping with a new school and parents who can barely mask their dysfunction. Daddo (Jay Duplass), Bela’s stay-at-home fun dad, and the career-focused Mommy occasionally steal glances that signal domestic woes bubbling beneath the surface, but they’re quickly tamped down for the sake of preserving the facade that everything’s ok.

The entity desperately wants into Bela’s heart, though, and has no qualms about interrupting, then wrecking the family’s lives to get it from practically the very start.

Savage zips from set piece to set piece, like a film edited and cut to death, linking empty jump scare sequences and uncanny valley-based disturbances with flashy camerawork that signals a stronger vision that never comes to pass. Other Mommy contorts not just her body, but reality and spaciality. Anniversary parties and playground ball pits that end in calamitous bendings of physics give the outward appearance of a haunted house movie trying something new, but it steadfastly adheres to formulaic mundanity. Half-hearted attempts to subvert familiar clichés and tropes, like the magical guide or the classic seance, amount to nothing more than quick punchlines before the family races off to the next scare sequence.

Other Mommy plays with visual perspective in its demonic machinations, but forgets to address storytelling perspective. It leads to baffling narrative choices, like having the 7-year-old Bela witness a gory evisceration mere feet from her, only to shake it off as if it was temporary indigestion in the next scene at a playplace (cue the next surreal scare attempt). Or the even more confounding climax, which picks the exact wrong moment for unearned heartfelt confessions too oddly placed to land with anything other than jarring bewilderment.

It all feels like the wrong approach to its child protagonist. Much like Other Mommy’s attempts to woo Bela through whimsically designed nightmares and distortions of childlike wonder, Savage mistakes the camera’s focus on Bela for interiority and perspective. We’re as passive as she is in her own clumsily stitched together story, as much in the dark outside of a few scattershot clues signaling a messy emotion based explanation. Don’t expect any supernatural worldbuilding or explanation here beyond its loose metaphors; Other Mommy has zero interest in logic, either.

Chastain gives it her all, playing Mommy and Other Mommy with heightened melodramatic flair, but it almost feels out of place in a film where everyone else is content to drift through paper-thin characters trapped in an outrageous scenario. Not even the film’s characters find the events as scary as they should be. Even when the insanity spills out into public view, it’s all met with a concerned, then confused, shrug.

It instills apathy in the viewer, too. Other Mommy is so flat and devoid of tension that by film’s end, you’re more likely to laugh or groan at the absurd lengths this family will go to avoid therapy than root for their triumph over an ultimately forgettable demonic entity. Even the briskly paced 94-minute runtime feels too cumbersome for such an inert and empty scarefest.

Other Mommy releases in theaters on October 8.

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Creator Jesse McKeown injects modern anxieties in to a limited series that harkens back to the simpler aquatic creature features of yesteryear, especially Jaws and 1996’s The Beast. It gives ample time to fall hard for the small Newfoundland town that’s already facing extinction before the arrival of a mysterious oceanic beast.

Set in a remote fishing town, Snooks Arm, the series takes place during “Come Home Year,” a Newfoundland tradition that welcomes those who moved away to reconnect with their family and friends for larger-scale reunions and festivities. It’s a perfect backdrop to allow lead protagonist Calvin Penney (Josh Hartnett) to reconnect with his children but with the bonus of a larger pool of potential fodder for the aquatic monster lurking in the very waters that provide the town’s livelihood.

But Calvin is a bit preoccupied struggling to make ends meet; not only is the relocation initiative that resulted in his father’s death in 1986 still an ongoing issue due to dwindling resources, but his ice-fishing business hardships are compounded by the arrival of a massive iceberg filled with contaminants in the harbor. He brings it to local scientist Fonda Howander (Mackenzie Davis) for answers, putting them both on the front lines of a battle against an ancient creature from below, one that’s been there before.

In Jaws-like fashion, Below bides its time, revealing its ultimate threat, building mystery as characters find initial traces of foul play that slowly escalate to the discovery of mutilated bodies, or pieces of them at least. Reported disappearances give way to severed limbs, pieces of blooded scalp, and partially digested moose that stumps the locals. This steady build allows for ample time to get acclimated to Snooks Arm’s many endearing quirks and traditions, while establishing the friction-filled dynamics of the Penney clan. 

Calvin’s close sister Ruth (Willow Kean) acts as the group’s true adult, while his daughter Mary (Ruby Stokes) brings her boyfriend home for the first time to meet dad. Prized son Jay (Rohan Campbell, Silent Night, Deadly Night) uses his gregarious personality to hide his vices and debts, while the son who remained behind with dad, Wade (Charlie Heaton, Stranger Things), struggles to measure up to his dad’s eyes. While the family drama itself is paper thin, it works; there’s a lived-in quality to the Penney family and their bickering that feels authentic and relatable.

It’s also what adds hefty emotional stakes when the slow build of early tension-building, dread, and scares gives way to take-charge action as characters attempt to go on the offense. Snooks Arm is so effectively cut off from the rest of the world that it creates a claustrophobic atmosphere, trapping the residents in place without many options. McKeon keeps viewers on their toes with piecemeal revelations about the beast, and unexpected byproducts of its presence; like the way the contaminated ice disrupts a small town accustomed to plucking ice from the water for everyday use.

This is where McKeown and crew inject the most variety with the horror, yielding a few surprises along the way. It’s also here where Below diverts from its parallel path with The Beast, turning its thoughts instead toward prevalent worries over the ocean’s increasing (and increasingly worrisome) warming waters. It builds to a suitable and climactic conclusion, though one that’s all but abandoned its horror waters by the final episodes.

The brief 6-episode format means lean efficiency that keeps you hooked, but it also means certain peripheral story elements and plot developments are more perfunctory than satisfying.

It’s a minor complaint as it ultimately amounts to simply wanting to spend more time with this hardy bunch. In truth, the creature feature elements are rather straightforward and familiar, though affecting and effective all the same. It’s the richly complex town and its characters that paint a sobering picture of rural communities devastated by the powerful and rich that anchors an entertaining aquatic horror series, one as full of vibrant personality as resilience. It’s also gorgeously shot by cinematographer William Baldy, making it even clearer why this picturesque Newfoundland town is worth wading into the treacherous sea to fight for.

Even better is that McKeon never gets too dour with its eco-messaging; Below isn’t afraid to poke fun at itself either or get playful with its editing and humor. There is a final hook that leaves the door ajar enough for continuation, but as it stands, this cozy, self-contained series is close to perfect as is, an entertaining, compelling, and genre-bending new entry in the realm of aquatic horror thrillers.

Below premieres globally on Netflix today, October 8.

The post ‘Below’ Review: Josh Hartnett Anchors Netflix’s Best Aquatic Horror Offering Yet appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

At one end of the flock, we can see a woman being [REDACTED] as she [REDACTED] on a fellow parishioner’s [REDACTED] and, at the other, there’s a trio engaged in what can only be described as a particularly acrobatic session of [REDACTED].

Scanning the wider venue, we also bear witness to another congregant satisfying themselves with a [REDACTED] — said to be so prodigious that it’s big enough to [REDACTED] — as well as people kneeling on all fours in front of rows of [REDACTED], presenting their orifices for whatever may happen to come through the other end. All the while, their spiritual leader goes on sermonising to his faithful about the indivisibility of pleasure and pain until they all [REDACTED] in perfect synchronicity.

In short, it’s a very raunchy situation all round. But you might be surprised to learn that it isn’t especially graphic by the standards of Hellraiser: Revival. At least the holes being penetrated are of the naturally formed kind, and not man/demon-made. That’s more than you can say for some later bits in the story!

As a game, Saber Interactive’s new first-person shooter certainly doesn’t hold anything back. To plainly and clinically describe most of the acts that occur in it, we’d have to employ language that’d call for the enforcement of age verification methods in some countries. If we were to instead insinuate our meaning via coy euphemisms, this review would end up being so mired in innuendo and double entendre that it’d resemble the script of a bawdy sex comedy from the 1970s (Carry on Cenobite).

Pleasure and Pain

It’s not just the lasciviousness either. Hellraiser: Revival is dripping with every bodily fluid imaginable and confronts you with such a staggering amount of gore that it puts Mortal Kombat to shame. Before you’ve so much as completed the tutorial, it’s already forced you to prise rusty nails out of your palm, walk through a trail of cascading intestines (draped over the entrance to a hallway like PVC strip curtains) and perform combat slides over all manner of unidentifiable viscera. In the nude, no less!

Then, once you’ve finally got your paws on some weapons for self-defence, it turns into a no-holds-barred bloodbath of Countess Báthory proportions. One that shows absolutely zero chill until the credits roll. You’ll be hacking off limbs, shotgun-blasting chunks of meat from opponents’ torsos, singeing the flesh of blasphemous abominations, embedding blunt objects into skulls, telekinetically launching spikes into cultist nether-regions, yanking folks apart with chains, and generally painting every room you enter a different shade of claret.

It’s essentially the nightmare scenario for those hysterical moral campaigners who always warn of the evils of video games, and who are currently reacting to the upcoming release of GTA 6 as though it were foretold in the Book of Revelation. Yet, if anything, this is the 2026 title they should be worried about. In addition to the orgies, the spanking, the maiming, and the constant gun violence, it even has you shooting up at one point!

Another, more positive, way to look at it (as opposed to as an assault on good taste and polite society) is as a wonderfully authentic and uncompromising take on the Hellraiser mythos. One that contains more than enough salacious depravity, boundary-pushing vice and hedonistic delights to make you overlook some of its negatives. Much like a thrill-seeker deciding that the pros of opening the Lament Configuration vastly outweigh the cons.

An Experience Beyond Limits

There’s actually a different puzzle box at the centre of Revival, though, albeit one that still possesses a similar allure for those inexorably drawn to the further regions of experience.

Said explorers in this case are Aidan (the player character) and Sunny (his girlfriend), who are constantly seeking ways to spice things up in the bedroom. We’re introduced to the pair mid-coitus — surrounded by ball gags, needles, and even a speculum — as they try to tick a few new kinks off their bucket list.

One of their most daring experiments involves the use of a peculiar sex aid, known as the Genesis Configuration, the activation of which summons the infamous Order of the Gash (Hellraiser’s mascot quartet) to Aidan and Sunny’s fuck pad. Honouring the contract implicitly signed by the box’s solver, these extradimensional beings then proceed to whisk Sunny away to their cosmic realm of the Labyrinth (as seen in Hellbound: Hellraiser II), where they plan to subject her to an eternity of exquisite torment.

Even though she seems weirdly cool with this, Aidan resolves to do everything in his power to break his paramour free. What follows is a “one-crazy-night” story in which you go up against the profane Scarlet Church, a sect of fanatical Cenobite LARPers, as well as the original Pinhead and Co., and several botched attempts to create new “angels” in their image. All of which you must endure in the name of true love.

Or so it would seem at first. As it turns out, Aidan’s motivations aren’t quite as chivalrous as he’d like everyone, himself included, to believe.

Sunny gives off the distinct impression that she’s entirely on board with the whole eternal torture thing and appears to consent to the Cenobites’ every treatment of her, squealing with ecstasy and begging for more. The vibe of your rescue mission is less that of a hero trying to rescue a damsel in distress, then, and more that of a possessive boyfriend refusing to let his partner go.

Living up to the intelligent ideas of Clive Barker’s literary works, the game’s writing is very introspective about this. It doesn’t shy away from the ugly side of its protagonist and raises thoughtful questions about his inability to fill the void inside of him, as well as his failure to distinguish between love and need.

Red flags abound, indicating that the nature of his relationship with Sunny was never healthy to begin with. Recurring flashbacks show that, while they were always willing to be physically vulnerable with one another, the same level of intimacy did not extend to real emotions. Collectible Post-it notes scattered throughout the levels provide more damning evidence to support this theory, with the missives depicting a couple that is utterly incapable of communicating, other than when expressing their carnal desires.

Meanwhile, an intriguing parallel is drawn between Aidan’s addiction to drugs and his insatiable lust for the supposed love of his life. When reflecting on all this testimony, you do have to wonder if Sunny truly needs rescuing and, if so, whether Aidan is the right man for the job.

Combine this subversive character dynamic with the usual Barker themes of people searching to push the limits of human experience, the transgressive beauty of the grotesque, as well as sex, death and the link between the two, and you’ve got a narrative that’s worthy of the Hellraiser licence. It’s more than just cheap provocation and taboo-breaking for the sake of taboo-breaking. It has something to say about people and the destructive ways that we try to satisfy the emptiness within us.

Such Sights to Show You

If that makes the game sound like it might be a bit of a downer, rest assured there’s plenty of illicit fun to be had. In fact, we’d go so far as to say that Hellraiser: Revival is one of the most entertaining titles we’ve played all year, with Saber Interactive understanding the assignment and maximising every last opportunity to cram NSFW depravity into the experience.

Whether you’re getting up-close-and-personal with melee weapons or plugging away at foes using the submachine gun, combat is always super visceral. When it comes to the dismemberment and deformation of character models, in particular, there’s no skimping on the messy details. It makes you feel every cut, every impalement, every burn and every face-full of buckshot that you inflict upon victims. If you allow certain foes to get right up in your grill, you’ll have a chance to marvel at your handiwork in greater propinquity; scrutinising the exposed cartilage and bone in a way that’s sure to elicit a sadistic chuckle from gorehounds.

It’s not just the action, though. Every facet of Revival screams “M for Mature”. The brainteasers are all appropriately perverse, whether they’re getting you to piece together an obscene mosaic, correctly sequence a timeline of erotic positions, or retrieve a collection of sex toys (in one adventure game style puzzle that’s almost like a Clive Barker riff on Monkey Island).

The behaviour of hostile NPCs is similarly on brand, with Scarlet Church cultists relishing the punishment you dole out. They’ll cry out in sweet release as you wail on them. They’ll remark on how their genitals are engorging whenever you pierce their flesh. They’ll even heckle you and come up with suggestions for how you could hurt them better.

Elsewhere, the written notes are extremely explicit; you save your progress by thrusting Aidan’s hand into a gaping, throbbing wound, and the mere act of opening a door will sometimes require you to stimulate a severed, waggling tongue. There’s one scene in a prison that gives a whole new meaning to the phrase “beat ‘em up”!

That doesn’t account for half of the nasty shit Revival will have you doing over its 11-hour runtime. Indeed, most of the objectives here would be enough to make Frank Cotton blush. In other words, it’s kind of everything you could ever want from a Hellraiser outing!

Angels to Some, Demons to Others

One thing that might prove contentious with fans, however, is the relatively minimal involvement of the Cenobites. Despite the fact that the developers managed to get Doug Bradley to reprise his role as Pinhead, he and the rest of the Order of the Gash make only fleeting appearances here.

You don’t ever fight them and, for the most part, your interactions are limited to either negotiating or resisting their temptations. The Chatterer does at least pursue you as a stalker in a number of supremely effective and panicky chase sequences. But, as a document later clarifies, that’s only because he was a young child when he first ascended to demonhood, and so still likes to play hide and seek from time to time.

Other than that one member of the Fab Four not getting the memo, the rest of the Cenobites are consistent in leaving Aidan be. In fact, they actually seem to go out of their way to offer assistance, as they see untapped potential in his capacity for causing suffering. Whenever you do parlay with one of them, they’re always egging you on, encouraging you to be more barbaric, and trying to make you see that this is all in accordance with your true nature. They even imbue you with some of their eldritch S&M powers, just to give you a nudge in the right direction.

While fans might have gotten a kick out of dealing with the Order in more direct gameplay terms, we have to admit that this is probably the right way to handle these specific antagonists. After all, the Cenobites were never meant to be blunt-force slashers or rabid movie monsters, but rather elegant, almost stately figures who conduct themselves with poise. To bludgeon the Female to death with a baseball bat or to get into a vulgar firefight with Butterball would likely rob them of that mystique. A seduction narrative feels far more in line with their previous depictions and with Barker’s original vision, allowing them to preserve their dignity.

And as for the screen time issue, Pinhead doesn’t show up properly in the first Hellraiser until there’s only like 30 minutes left of film. So, there is definitely a precedent for withholding the characters like this.

You’ll Tear Their Souls Apart with the Genesis Configuration

The Order’s grooming of Aidan is best illustrated by how they lend him the Genesis Configuration and mentor him on its usage throughout the game. A catalyst of immense power, this occult device has the ability to manipulate the world around you and can channel energy from the Labyrinth dimension itself.

Across your adventure, you’ll rely on it to solve all kinds of problems. For instance, it can be used in environmental puzzles to rotate bridges, levitate structures, and transfer heat from one source to another. As its name suggests, it can also be reconfigured into various shapes to act as a kind of skeleton key for doors with differently profiled locks.

Of course, being a gift from the Cenobites, the box’s main purpose is to inflict immeasurable pain. When wielded creatively, it makes for a more devastating weapon than any conventional firearm in your inventory.

Alas, the Genesis Configuration will only reveal these combat functions to users who manage to successfully woo it. When you’re in the awkward early phase, you’ll be limited to psychically flinging a few projectiles around. However, once you’ve impressed the box with your voracious appetite for destruction and completed the necessary courting ritual, it will let you get past first base.

At that point, you’ll be able to cast blistering fireball spells, execute grisly finishers, and perform ultimate attacks that summon chains from the Labyrinth to literally rip everybody to shreds. A delicious power trip, it makes you feel like a Cenobite in training and does a very persuasive job of luring you to the dark side! Indeed, every time you enter a room and see that the floor is littered with circular sawblades, propellers and open flames — just seductively waiting to be launched into a cultist’s head — it’s guaranteed to bring a wicked grin to your face.

Telekinesis might not be anything new in video games, but the grisly, uniquely Hellraiser way in which it’s implemented here is novel. It reminded us of the fun gimmicks that defined a lot of shooters in the Xbox 360 era, such as Singularity’s time manipulation device, Dark Sector’s elemental glaive, or, to evoke another Clive Barker property, Jericho’s body hopping.

Like them, the box is incredibly versatile and can be abused by players with twisted imaginations. Case in point, we once laid a bear trap behind an enemy and then giddily catapulted them into it with a projectile railway spike. Another time, we used telekinesis to douse a field of monsters in gasoline and then promptly switched to pyrokinesis to set them all ablaze.

There are some supremely inventive combat arenas in the late game as well that are built explicitly around the configuration’s powers. One example has you taking advantage of a certain booby trap and bending it to your will, so that you can wipe out hordes upon hordes of creatures without wasting a single bullet.

A Worthy Journey Into the Labyrinth with Some Minor Hiccups

There are a lot of these ingeniously designed and varied set-pieces in Revival. A mid-game cabin siege introduces Call of Duty Zombies mechanics out of the blue, with you boarding up windows and frantically trying to defend all possible entry points. Then there’s a great bit where Aidan finds himself trapped in a suspended cage, fending off leaping ghouls that try and claw at him through the bars.

Whenever you explore the Labyrinth, you’re inevitably put through a series of gruelling obstacle courses that resemble Wipeout challenges, as devised by the Marquis de Sade, all meat grinders, spiked ceiling traps and lacerating whirligigs.

The enemy roster is equally diverse. In lieu of the Order of the Gash, you’ll be going toe to toe with the Scarlet Church, as well as with their failed attempts to create “angels” in the image of the Cenobites. These rejected martyrs take on a number of increasingly gruesome guises as the campaign rolls on, ranging from towering gimps to manacled homunculi and a slug-like beast that’s an amalgamation of human flesh, demon cast-offs, and the metallic structure of an iron maiden. They’re extremely imaginative wretches, and their constant evolution prevents the scenarios from ever getting stale.

Special mention should also go to the freaky (in every sense of the word) boss fights. In terms of visual design, arena layouts, and mechanics, there’s not a dud in the set. One particular standout is a recurring battle against a deranged artist whose skin has been flayed and whose condition visually deteriorates as you subject him to every punishment under the sun. But don’t discount the thrilling duel with a masochistic mutant susceptible only to fire attacks, and whose lair is conveniently an arsonist’s wet dream, or the winged dominatrix who seems to think she’s providing a service as she pounds you into oblivion.

Yet for all of its many, many positives, Revival isn’t completely without sin. Compared to his retinue of colorful minions — all of whom have fascinating personalities and backstories — the head of the Scarlet Church is a disappointingly vanilla antagonist.

Meanwhile, the obligatory crafting mechanic adds nothing to the experience, and yields such meagre rewards that it barely feels worth it. The stealth is similarly half-baked and, during at least one frustrating encounter, didn’t work as intended with our hunter blanking every distraction and somehow perceiving us through solid objects. On that note, we did experience our share of AA jank throughout, most notably in the form of missing audio and textures.

These technical hiccups can be forgiven to an extent and will likely be patched out by the time of release. Nevertheless, they did impact our experience somewhat, and we can’t just let that slide.

It is a testament to how much we enjoyed Hellraiser: Revival, however, that niggles like these didn’t dull our enthusiasm for it one iota. On the contrary, we’re remarkably fond of this sleazy little title. Perhaps more than it objectively deserves.

But, man, the action is just so satisfyingly brutal; it’s thoroughly debauched in all the right ways, its visual imagination is messed up, and it’s got an astute understanding of what makes Clive Barker’s world so enthralling. More than anything, though, we just loved its sheer commitment to the bit.

Review code provided by publisher. Clive Barker’s Hellraiser: Revival is out now for the PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, Nintendo Switch 2 and PC via Steam.

The post ‘Hellraiser: Revival’ Review: Sadistic Flesh-Ripping Horror Shooter Understands Clive Barker appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Vampire Carnival is the latest entry into this traveling subgenre, but it’s worth noting right up front that this isn’t quite the horror film you’re expecting (or that’s being advertised).

Gemma (Nell Verlaque) was just eighteen when she found her father dead from a self-inflicted gunshot. It’s a few years later, and while her mother hides her grief in extra work shifts and long naps, Gemma’s feelings of loss leave her with nightmares and days shrouded in numbness and despair. In desperate need of a pick me up, she joins her friends, Ryan (Corrado Martini) and Olivia (Paulina Chavez), for a night at a new carnival that’s recently popped up in town.

The evening fun takes a turn as Eric (Kieron Moore), a young man with a violent past, resurfaces with vague threats, but the bigger issue might just be the carnival employees. Surprise! Toussaint (Jason Isaacs), a long-haired, smooth-talking hypnotist, is the patriarch of the carnival family, and they’re all just a little bit… off. They’re also sexy as hell, though, and soon Gemma and her friends are seduced by carnies, welcomed into a magical sex party, and promised a night they’ll never forget. Granted, it’s because they’ll never remember it, but still.

Vampire Carnival is an odd movie, and it’s not entirely clear that the filmmakers – directors Justin Powell and David Charbonier, writers Jason Filardi and Peter Filardi – are all on the same page here, as the end result feels like a real mixed bag. Part of it wants to be an exploration of grief (it’s a horror film made in the 2020s, after all), part of it feels like a belated riff on Twilight complete with an Edward Cullen reference, and then the third act arrives and someone seemingly reminds them this is supposed to be a horror movie. Also, at no point does anyone utter the word “vampire.”

The pieces are there, and some of them land really well, but the script feels like it’s alternately doing both too much and too little. Excess time is spent on some elements, including an unnecessarily messy subplot and brief flashbacks to scenes we’ve already seen in the film itself, while more time is needed on both Gemma’s journey and that of the carnival folks.

The film definitely looks good, though, some CG blood aside, as the directors and cinematographer Jose Luis Bernal shoot some frequently attractive visuals. The carnival exteriors are vibrant, busy, and capture the feel of walking through the crowd from one sticky ride or attraction to the next. The opening credits do just that with an extended tracking shot (via a handful of not-so-hidden edits) throughout the carnival as we follow one character, then another, and so on. Bright lights, constant motion, and the chattering, screaming crowd complete the illusion as we move past ticketed attractions and talented acrobats.

The aforementioned sex party, meanwhile, is a swirling feast of flesh and implied naughtiness. An effort is made to make nearly every coupling a throuple, sexual fluidity is on tap right next to the red stuff, and it’s a good time for all. The guys are all beefcakes, the gals are occasionally topless, and these toothy carnies are more respectful of the rules of consent than frat boys as evidenced by one’s comment that “no means no” when it comes to bloodsucking. Of course, then Ryan’s homemade “molly” ruins everyone’s night, and that’s why we all hate Ryan.

“Grief is a strange architect,” says Sebastian (Alvise Rigo), the absolutely ripped carnie who woos Gemma into opening his magic door. “It builds walls where doors used to be.” The line is just clever enough, and Rigo, an Italian model and bodybuilder who recently turned to acting, gives it an oddly affecting, Schwarzenegger-like delivery, belying a weirdly compelling sadness we never get the chance to explore. Isaacs‘ dialogue isn’t quite as poetic, but he’s having a very good time ramping up the playful mysticism, speaking in Latin, and when needed, delivering a beatdown.

But where’s the horror, I can hear you asking, and it’s a fair question. It’s nearly an hour into the film’s 98-minute running time that the first hint of something vampiric arises, and the first kill kicks off the third act shortly thereafter. No spoilers as to what exactly unfolds, but in addition to their somewhat unique double fangs – they have two upper fangs per side – the vamp’s bloodletting grows from spurting arteries to a decapitation. I would have loved more, I always do, but it’s enough for what ultimately amounts to college-level YA horror with a light R-rating.

That’s probably an incredibly confusing way to describe Vampire Carnival, but it is what it is. A mild jumble of ideas, some good and some less so, all aimed at Twilight fans who’ve aged a few years but still yearn for the forbidden sauce of consensual human/vamp diddling, thrown together with visual care en route to an ending that delivers both closure and a doorway towards further supernatural adventures of the heart. It’s horror-lite, and that’s okay.

Most of you will probably dislike the film, and I get it, but there’s something about its messy truths that speaks to me and leaves me just intrigued enough. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic. Maybe the abundant beefcake has me fondly remembering the time I subjected myself to a pair of David DeCoteau “horror” films for a Bigfoot list I was writing. Or maybe it’s just my curiosity about the “Cast Mistress” credit in the end credits. Who’s to say, really.

Vampire Carnival releases in theaters today, October 7.

The post ‘Vampire Carnival’ Review: A ‘Twilight’-Esque Vampire Romance That’s Light On Horror appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

The game has you filling the shoes of private investigator Red Walker as he searches the mostly abandoned titular town for musician Eddie Velvet, who may be related to the disappearance of a local woman. It’s a simple setup that feels familiar, but sets itself apart with a unique dreamlike tone that evokes things like Twin Peaks and Silent Hill while still doing its own thing.

Right off the bat, I need to mention that this game is gorgeous. I’m so used to 2D games adopting a pixel art style, but Silver Pines looks like almost nothing else. It has a stunning rotoscoped look to its character models that makes them stand out from the crisp backgrounds, brought to life by animations that make them feel eerily out of step with reality. The scenery has so much depth to it, with multiple layers that parallax as you walk through them, giving each area a ton of personality.

It can’t be stressed enough how much of the success of Silver Pines comes from this look, as it sets the wonderfully strange tone for everything you experience.

A Dreamlike Mystery Worth Getting Lost In

At one point, Walker says, “I feel like I’m dreaming,” and that’s emblematic of the surreal feeling that the narrative captures. The town of Silver Pines is mostly evacuated due to a huge storm that’s rolling in, making for a strange combination of lived-in and abandoned. Only the town’s weirdest residents remain, offering you cryptic bits of information about what’s happening. I remember when one of the characters started talking to me about the “Little Man,” telling me that he was going to “come for [me], just like he came for the girl in the water,” and it made my blood run cold.

It walks that perfect line between vagueness and specificity that David Lynch was such a master at capturing, grabbing you in a way that feels like it bypasses your rational mind and taps into something you fear with your primal lizard brain.

The surreal vibe is there from the jump when Walker wakes up in a classic looking diner, completely devoid of other people, before making a phone call that sets up the premise of this indie survival horror. The Lynchian mood was solidified with a memorable early game trip to a music club that was inexplicably full of people, introducing you to the enigmatic Eddie Velvet in a scene that felt straight out of Twin Peaks. While I never felt like I got full answers that explained everything for me, there were enough narrative bits to keep me intrigued to the very end.

It’s clear there is a second ending unlocked through solving the game’s many optional puzzles, and I look forward to returning to the game soon to hunt them down.

Excellent Exploration and Metroidvania Design

Not only does it nail the Silent Hill-esque tone perfectly, but I was shocked at how well the mechanics of survival horror were all represented in a 2D game. Silver Pines advertises itself as a Metroidvania, and the navigation of the game makes the genre declaration completely justified. In addition to finding keys that will unlock specific doors like a normal survival horror game, you’ll also gain new weapons or items that will allow you to open new pathways.

For example, finding a crowbar will not only give you a stronger melee option, but it will allow you to break open areas that are boarded over. For the most part, these will be marked on your incredibly useful map, making it easy for you to backtrack and find areas to revisit with your new tools.

Despite only moving around on a 2D plane, Wych Elm was able to construct a world that feels three-dimensional in its expansiveness and density. As you move left and right, you’ll come across cross-streets and doorways that you can press a button to pass through, which brings you to an area parallel to your current one. I usually have trouble mapping out 2D space in my mind, but for some reason this structure made it easier to do, which is assisted by the distinct locations and helpful map.

Diegetic signs are also everywhere, pointing you in the direction of the locations you’re looking for in a way that feels natural to the world being presented. One of my favorite features was the ability to use a Polaroid camera to take pictures of an area, which is then added directly on the map for reference. That way, if there was a code scrawled on a wall or a unique lock, I could look it up at a moment’s notice and be reminded exactly where it was.

For an abandoned small town, there’s a solid variety of locations that not only distinguish themselves from each other visually, but also feel extremely believable, painting a picture of the quintessential small American town. Places like a motel, an apartment complex, and a TV station, which is the home of the famous show “Terminal Drive“, are all brought to life with such specific detail that gives an air of familiarity to the town that draws you in. It’s a cliché to say the setting itself is a character, but it definitely applies to Silver Pines.

Resource Management Keeps Every Encounter Tense

Wandering the abandoned streets and buildings are shadowy creatures out to kill you. While I don’t think any of them have a super unique look, they get the job done. Most of them attack you from a melee range, slowly approaching you until they can take a swipe at you, but others have more varied behavior. A few enemies crawl along the ground before jumping at you, requiring a timing to hit that feels a little annoying at times,  but they serve their purpose of forcing you to make important calculations about whether or not a specific enemy is worth using your precious ammo to take out.

Much like other survival horror games, combat in Silver Pines is mostly about making resource-based decisions under pressure. You have a surprisingly good dodge that can get you past most creatures, but it uses stamina, so it won’t save you forever. Fighting enemies can be done either with melee weapons, which degrade over time, or guns, which have limited ammo, so you’ll always need to figure out what fights are worth it in the heat of the battle.

I was very glad to see that melee weapons never completely break; they just do less damage when broken, so you always have at least some options available even when you’re short on supplies, but larger groups of enemies will require some good shooting to deal with.

Guns are reloaded with quick time events, and many are even loaded one bullet at a time, so knowing exactly how many shots you have left can be the difference between life and death. Bullet counting is one of my favorite aspects of survival horror, so I was glad to see how well Silver Pines managed to balance combat with resource scarcity.

Combat Packs Weight, Though Bosses Fall Short

On top of the tactical decisions you’re making, the combat also has very impactful effects that emphasize each hit. A generous amount of screen shake, accompanied by great sound effects, makes the crack of a sledgehammer or the blast of a shotgun come to life as it rips apart your foes. It’s just another piece of the audio-visual puzzles that makes the Silver Pines shine, elevating it with all-around excellent presentation. 

There are several boss fights throughout the game, all of which are well marked with an ominous red light to signal to you that you need to be prepared, but they were often the weakest encounters for me. Boss fights rarely are the highlight of survival horror games, especially the older ones that this game tries to emulate, and I found most of Silver Pines’ encounters to involve just running back and forth on the screen to dodge the monster, turn and shoot, then repeat until it was dead.

They aren’t terrible, but the length they end up taking does bring to light some of the weaknesses in the otherwise solid combat mechanics.

Ingenious Puzzles Reward Careful Observation

As with many survival horror games, my favorite part of Silver Pines was the extremely clever puzzles. While many of them boiled down to collecting specific items and finding the right place to use them, they were the perfect combination of grounded ideas and dream logic that made them satisfying to solve and narratively interesting. Much of Silver Pines has you going to various locations in order to find a series of bells that, naturally, will activate a ski lift to the nearby mountain area, and the puzzles involved in acquiring these all feel meaty and interesting, sending you through dense and intriguing levels.

There is a fair amount of backtracking through the town as you progress, but with the Metroidvania structure you’ll always have new areas to unlock when you return. The amount of shortcuts opened up by one-way doors keeps things feeling interconnected, and a puzzle to repair a boat allows you to fast travel to limited locations later in the game, making getting around a breeze. The only nitpick I have about navigation is the finicky jump your player has, which always feels weird to line up when you’re trying to leap up to grab a ledge above you.

With the survival horror genre comes inventory management, which some players are annoyed by, but I personally love. There are plenty of interconnected storage containers a la Resident Evil scattered around the town that allow you to stash away extra items, and you’ll frequently run across pickups that will expand your inventory spaces to give you a nice power curve as the game goes on.

I love the choices you have to make when figuring out which weapon to bring based on how many spaces it takes up and how many puzzle items you need to bring to a specific area, but I can understand how constantly returning to containers could become irritating to some.

Final Verdict

As I mentioned before, you’ll have to be pretty good about resource management to stay alive, but there are vending machines that will allow you to buy items should you find yourself needing something specific. Cash is found all over, but you have to make sure not to spend it all since you’ll also need it to save at payphones in the save rooms.

I never really found myself wanting for money throughout Silver Pines’s 12-hour runtime, but it still felt like I was making careful decisions about when to spend things and when to save, which is the sign of a well-balanced resource economy in my book.

I’m always on the lookout for the next throwback survival horror game, and Silver Pines is the best example of the genre I’ve seen this year. The fact that it not only nails all the elements perfectly, from the resource management to the satisfyingly surreal puzzles to the excellent level design, but does so as a 2D game is a huge achievement. Its dreamlike tone paints the scene for a Twin Peaks-esque tale that keeps you intrigued until the end.

Even though the combat has a strong sense of weight and impact, I wish the boss fights found better ways to challenge you through complexity rather than attrition, but even that is a small complaint in the grand scheme of things thanks to the game’s difficulty options.

Wych Elm Games’ debut is a gorgeous 2D survival horror game, both visually and tonally, that brings to mind the genre classics while still creating its own identity. If you long for more classic survival horror, Silver Pines is a must play experience.

Review code provided by publisher. Silver Pines is scheduled to release October 8 for the PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, Nintendo Switch and Switch 2, and PC via Steam.

The post ‘Silver Pines’ Review: A Stunning Dream-like 2D Survival Horror Game Inspired By ‘Twin Peaks’ appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Like Khaw’s breakthrough book, Nothing But Blackened Teeth, this tale of a woman and the unexpected specter of Death following her through life is brief, its prose and its narrative sharpened to a fine point capable of moving through your brain with grace and sharp clarity that cuts deep. It’s one of Khaw’s finest stories, and one of the most emotionally raw and honest horror books you’re likely to pick up this year. 

The women in Antigone’s family have an interesting way of knowing when their life is nearly at an end. For generations now, each of these women has learned their demise is close through the arrival of a spectral black dog, a dark companion that will shadow them until it’s time for them to go. Antigone’s seen it happen before, so she’s not entirely surprised when, one random morning, her own furry, doglike Death shows up at her door. 

She’s not surprised, perhaps, but she is distressed. At just 40 years old, Antigone was certain she had more time, but with nothing to really be done about it, she attempts to carry on with her days. She reads the newspaper every morning. She works as the occasional supernatural investigator for her friend Vera, and in contemplating what appears to be her impending death, she makes an unlikely friend of her Death dog, who becomes as much a pet as a companion.

But Death comes for us all, and no matter how comfortable she gets with her circumstance, Vera can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. 

Khaw structures the book as a series of major developments on the road to an event that might prove to be Antigone’s Death or might be something else entirely, laying out initial emotional arcs that are clear, straightforward, and easy to hold onto as things get bumpier and slipperier. Reading the initial chapters of this novella-length story, it’s easy to read it as a woman adjusting to her own mortality as middle age approaches, coming to understand that if she’s going to get through life (however long it might be), she’s going to have to make peace with her Death. She might even need to make a friend of it.

But this is a horror story, not a simple story of reckoning with a passage we all must eventually face. The moment Antigone starts to adjust to her new world, one in which her literal Death sits beside her on the couch and eats treats from her hand, things swerve. Ghostly encounters, bad memories, and Antigone’s own restlessness start to eat away at what had been a comfortable, if strange, arrangement. What does facing your Death every day, literally, do to a person? What does it stir that was long buried? These questions, and their answers, are existential horror in the truest sense, as Antigone contemplates not just her exit from the world, but how much control she might have over that departure. 

It’s difficult to say more about the story without unspooling the entire 100-page narrative before you’ve had a chance to read it, so I’ll end here with a word about the prose. Khaw is, for my money, one of the two or three best stylists in genre fiction, a writer with a tremendous knack for elegant, gorgeous sentences. Their words leave you constantly pausing to reread them, not because you don’t understand but because you want to savor what your brain just absorbed.

That Khaw also has a knack for deeply affecting stories that are also single-sitting reads feels like a bonus, but taken together they achieve something else entirely. You can get lost in a 100-page Cassandra Khaw story. You can sink into it, swim around, let its themes and emotional gut punches shift and change you. It’s a kind of magic, and with this dark tale of a confrontation with Death, Khaw proves they still cast a spell few others in the horror world can equal.

Find Me Where It Ends is available now wherever you get your books.

The post ‘Find Me Where It Ends’ Review: Cassandra Khaw’s Haunting Novella Cuts Straight To The Soul appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

That’s why I’d hesitate to call Alison-Eve Hammersley a newcomer to the industry, as the writer-director has been pumping out quality short films and collaborating with other filmmakers for over a decade at this point. After all that effort, the stars have finally aligned and allowed Hammersley to release her first feature-length project in the form of the found footage throwback Erie.

A late ’90s period piece that was (mostly) shot on tape, the Pennsylvania-set thriller was completed in 2025 and is finally headed towards its world premiere via this year’s edition of Beyond Fest. While I admire the confidence behind the flick’s ill-advised tagline (“Not all stories are worth telling…”), the truth is that Erie might not be the kind of movie you were expecting when judging from the marketing.

The finished film stars Carley Stewart as Stella Scott, an aspiring journalist investigating the mysterious suicide of her sister Iris (Aimee Paxton). Stella’s investigation is aided by her reluctant brother Oscar (Grant Crater), with the bickering duo soon uncovering a bizarre conspiracy involving multiple unexplainable suicides in the area surrounding Eerie, Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, Stella’s growing obsession with the story and what it might mean for her budding career soon puts everyone around her in grave danger as the clues point her in the direction of an otherworldly force lurking in the wilderness.

This is obviously a great setup for a mystery, with the retro aesthetic and uncomfortable subject matter combining into an appropriately compelling thriller that doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and monsters to keep you hooked. In fact, while the majority of the runtime here is dedicated to the characters discussing events that occurred off-screen and piecing together a larger and possibly supernatural conspiracy, the emotional implications behind these story beats keep things consistently interesting.

This subtle approach to scares and intrigue only works because of the excellent performances driving the story forward. In particular, I was a big fan of Ryan W. Garcia’s strange demeanor as the troubled conspiracy theorist Red, though Carley Stewart’s fascinating main character is the obvious highlight of the experience here.

Stewart had previously collaborated with Hammersley on her 2019 short Fragile.com, with that horror yarn going viral back in the day due to its unflinching depiction of the hidden horrors behind seemingly innocuous online fetish content. Much like in that film, Stewart’s dedication to her role also nearly carries Eerie to the finish line, especially during the latter half of the experience when Stella is forced to confront the horrific nature of what she’s investigating and how her work affects those around her.

Unfortunately, this is where I have to address the spoiler-filled elephant in the room, as Erie is not a traditional found footage experience – at least, not entirely. The final act of the feature suddenly and unexpectedly transitions to a third-person cinematic perspective as Stella comes close to unraveling the truth behind all those mysterious suicides.

To go into further detail would require spoiling essential plot points, but suffice it to say that there was very little indication that this highly immersive story was headed in a more conventional direction. While films like Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon and The Last Broadcast have managed to effectively make use of the hybrid format in the past, I’d argue that Eerie loses much of its lo-fi charm the second those cinematic lights kick in and we suddenly find ourselves in a completely different aesthetic environment.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate how Hammersley gives Stewart a chance to shine in a more traditional manner, and that’s not even mentioning how creepy the visuals are during this last third of the movie, but I get the troubling feeling that the abrupt transition was more of a practical decision than a creative one. After all, it’s much harder to convey subjective experiences via an objective in-universe camera, so it’s possible that the filmmakers simply realized that they would have to resort to a comparatively simpler format in order to properly conclude a story about personalized frights that make people take their own lives.

Personally, I view this combination as something of an immersion-breaking cop-out that doesn’t even have a meta justification for its inclusion. However, even if you’re not as much of a found footage purist as I am, you’ll likely still find yourself baffled by some of the narrative decision-making towards the end of the movie, especially if you’re looking for concrete answers about the mystery that Erie spent so much time building up.

At the end of the day, your enjoyment of Erie will depend on both your opinion on the “sanctity” of diegetic filmmaking and whether you prefer your narrative puzzles to be solved with a logical conclusion or a sensorial smorgasbord of atmospheric scares. Personally, I didn’t quite connect with the surreal finale despite really enjoying the first half or so of the flick, but I can imagine that other cinephiles might have a completely different experience.

Regardless, Hammersley is clearly talented enough to warrant keeping an eye on her work, and I’d personally love to see what she comes up with next – especially if Carley Stewart is also involved!

Eerie made its world premiere and Beyond Fest and screens at Brooklyn Horror Film Festival next.

The post ‘Erie’ Review: Lo-Fi Found Footage Mystery Breaks Its Own Rules appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Flanagan’s Carrie adheres to the basic brushstrokes of King’s classic, but only barely. This vision of Carrie White, played endearingly by Summer H. Howell, is a doe-eyed sweetheart more outgoing than her previous counterparts. Her devoutly religious and misanthropic mother, Margaret White (Samantha Sloyan), isn’t a monster but a victim herself. Here, it’s her overly protective, motherly instincts while navigating a modern world that lead to missteps. A tragic construction site suddenly thrusts the sheltered Whites into society, where Carrie finds herself navigating the hierarchy of high school. 

It’s here that Flanagan dedicates his focus; Carrie spends a lot of time with not just Carrie’s peers but the Ewen High School faculty as well. Flanagan explores the nuances of teaching during a volatile time, where social media wreaks devastating havoc upon the lives of students and teachers alike. Rita Desjardin (Amber Midthunder) isn’t just the supportive teacher attempting to protect the vulnerable Carrie from her callous peers. She’s also a young woman trying to find her footing in a new career and new town. Matthew Lillard endears as the earnest principal trying his best while dealing with unruly parents, though it’s Tim Bagley who shines as a beacon of warmth as Ewen’s unwaveringly kind guidance counselor.

While Sue Snell (Siena Agudong) becomes a more fully realized, morally complex protagonist more adjacent to Carrie’s story, it’s popular mean girl Chris Hargensen (Alison Thornton) who receives the biggest narrative transformation. Thornton is incredible at humanizing one of King’s most vicious bullies, helped by a troubled home life. Though Flanagan affords sympathy for this villain, it’s also one of the series’ biggest missteps. It’s a tall ask of viewers to witness prolonged torment inflicted over eight episodes, and Chris is suitably nasty. It’s understandable why the catty mean girl is lashing out, but it didn’t soften this viewer to her cruelty in any way. Not helping is just how effective Howell is as the unwaveringly pure and disarming is as Carrie; the iconic shower scene becomes even more barbarous in the age of social media.

As a Constant Reader and constant King adaptor, Flanagan also expands on the telekinesis thread teased by the novel’s ending. Likely banking on subsequent seasons, though, this important subplot is relegated mostly to the background as a mystery driver that only fully roars to life in the season’s rushed final two episodes. So much time is spent with these characters that Carrie nearly forgets to wrap up, rushing through the prom to deliver important developments for the series’ future. 

Carrie is at its best and most compelling when focused on exploring the very human failures of adults and institutions. Carrie is put through the wringer, ensuring no shortage of heartbreak and drama, but Carrie paints a persuasive picture of a bustling town full of people so caught up in their own baggage that kids easily slip through the cracks. But in doing so, Carrie White winds up losing even more agency than before, making her calamitous story all the more painful to see unfold.

Telekinetic subplots involving mystery players and the fervent desire to explain her bully’s motives dangle Flanagan’s overarching vision, but by season’s end Carrie feels more passive puppet than tragically empowered. The cast is incredible, but Carrie‘s parts are stronger than its not quite cohesive whole.

This new adaptation saves its most radical departures for last, setting up a bizarre continuation not earned by the eight-ep first season. Flanagan’s trademark earnestness and empathy, combined with his talented cast and crew, ensure deep rooting interest in Ewen’s residents despite an inevitable outcome, but it’s not (yet) as radical a departure as expected. It’s way more effective as a teen drama than a horror show, though, and there’s no tangible sense of peace or closure after enduring an entire season of Carrie’s torture.

Carrie begins streaming on Prime Video on October 7.

The post ‘Carrie’ Review: Mike Flanagan’s Series Modernizes Stephen King’s Classic With Mixed Results appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Indeed, as the book begins, that’s exactly what we get, but it’s not the only thing we get. Lean, brisk, and wrapped in near-constant tension, Trad Wife is a masterclass in delivering on a book’s promise while also exploring the depths of the unexpected. Even thematically, this is a book that’s willing to probe the obvious while also reaching further, and its ability to do both masterfully makes it one of the year’s best horror novels. 

Jenny Kaplan is a writer in need of a break. After years spent writing thankless listicles finally paid off in the form of a runaway hit confessional essay about life with her ex-boyfriend, she’s been let go from her job at a New York-based lifestyle magazine and left adrift, internet-famous but somehow still broke and jobless. So when her editor offers her the chance to earn one last hefty payday by doing a feature about a popular Tradwife influencer, Jenny reluctantly takes the job. 

But despite the traditional values espoused by her content, Mia Wright isn’t just another influencer in the family space. From her family farm in rural Pennsylvania, Mia has built an empire of hit videos, lifestyle products, and a multi-level marketing platform allowing her followers to not just love her, but work for her, even as the constant stream of inventory makes them go broke. Jenny thinks she has Mia pegged even before she arrives at the Wright family farm. 

Mia, it turns out, is more than the subtle tells of orchestration lurking in her carefully curated image. What starts as a single interview soon turns into a weeklong stay at the farm, and the more time Jenny spends with Mia, her husband, and her many children, the more at home she feels, even when she gets desperate to escape. 

This all starts in a very familiar place, a set of tropes stretching through horror history in everything from The Stepford Wives to The Wicker Man and beyond. It begins with something that seems too good to be true: A woman genuinely happy in her life as a mother, homemaker, and content creator, without any apparent emotional baggage or artifice. The more Jenny sticks around, the more artifice she uncovers, whether it’s issues with Mia’s teenage daughter or the strange history of the near-abandoned town Mia’s business has helped to revive.

We follow Jenny as she picks at these scabs, searching for what lies beneath, and it’s undeniably compelling. Langan knows how to write the most conventional version of this story, so even as she’s laying out the ingredients for her own spin on the tropes, she’s delivering on what we’d expect to find here. If she stuck to the formula for the entire length of the book, it would be familiar, but it would also be undeniably entertaining. 

The real brilliance of Trad Wife, though, is that Langan doesn’t stick to the formula, even as she refuses to abandon it entirely. The expected scares, the terror lingering beneath a beautifully structured surface, arrive right on time, effective and creepy and oddly comforting in their familiarity. They’re juxtaposed, then, with the more uncomfortable stuff, the things Jenny would rather avoid. She wants to write a story about a fucked-up tradwife and her fucked-up social media empire, not find a strange kinship with Mia or fall in love with Mia’s kids. She doesn’t want to be absorbed in Mia’s life or feel at home on the farm or seek common ground with these people.

And yet, as the story twists and turns through discovery and epiphany, that’s exactly what happens. Mia and Jenny, after all, are both women who are very good at their jobs, battling expectations and institutional misogyny and the constant need to craft a persona in order to succeed. In other words, they are both storytellers, and when they butt heads, it’s often because their narratives both match. The tension this creates, even as the story barrels toward its folk and cosmic horror-tinged conclusion, is positively addictive. 

It also means that Trad Wife can gracefully, seamlessly walk the line between the expected and the jaw-dropping. Langan has somehow written a book that’s simultaneously exactly what you might predict and like nothing else you’ll read this year, a beautifully layered nightmare that’s somehow timely and timeless. Don’t miss this book. 

Trad Wife is now available wherever you get your books.

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I assumed the game would involve some light puzzle solving as I moved between set pieces with horrific creatures in a strange but beautiful world. What I got instead was a challenging cross between Dead Space, Super Metroid, and Resident Evil, with a unique vibe that immediately set it apart. While there are many stylistic choices that resemble Tarsier Studio’s work on Little Nightmares, this was its own beast, and all the better for it.

End of Abyss casts you as Cel, a technician who is part of a team exploring a strange underground compound in the aftermath of an unspecified incident. You’re escorted in by a team of soldiers, but after a brief introduction, you’re largely tasked with exploring the facility on your own, fending off the warped creatures that roam its halls. For most of the game, there isn’t much more to the premise than that.

There may be things you glean from the environments or notes around the level, but the few cutscenes in the game never really fully explain what’s going on. The setup feels like just enough to send you on your journey through this harsh and compelling world, though I was hoping for a little more narrative punch to pay off all the intrigue.

An Oppressive Sci-Fi World Built on Atmosphere

What it lacks in narrative, it makes up for in pure vibes, which is something that often works best for games of this type. From the first screen, the washed out blue color palette immediately sets a bleak and eerie tone, matched by the minimal but atmospheric soundtrack that accompanies the action. The preset camera angle captures things from an isometric perspective that shifts in and out when needed, giving the devs another tool in their toolbox for setting mood. Each room feels like a little diorama, showing off a decaying and broken down facility with weird biomass growing on the walls like something out of Annihilation.

It’s clear that it takes inspiration from retrofuturistic settings like Alien, but there’s enough to the design of the technology that makes it feel like its own thing. I particularly loved the suits that the soldiers wear as they tower over Cel with weirdly geometric helmets that hide their humanity.

The strong mood is key to making the environment enticing, which is important for a game so based on exploration. The first areas feel compact and dense, tightly designed with shortcuts like Resident Evil’s Spencer Mansion, but after the second boss the game opens up dramatically, revealing a more open and sprawling game than I anticipated. Like a Metroid game, you’ll gain access to tools or abilities that will allow you to open up previously unavailable areas, building a great network of paths to cross the facility’s various sectors. After a more linear beginning, I was really surprised at how little the game held your hand, asking you to truly explore the area to find the way to your goal.

Exploration Rewards Curiosity—and Patience

For the most part, it’s incredibly successful. Save points, which bring you back to full health and restore your healing items, are scattered around at just the right distance from each other, making it feel like a well-earned relief when you stumble upon one for the first time. Each sector has a map terminal hidden within, and finding that always feels like a huge victory. Opening up your in-game map and trying to see which areas you haven’t checked out yet, then puzzling out your route to get there is one of my all-time favorite things to do in a video game, and End of Abyss captured this feeling perfectly.

To make it feel even more active, you have a scanner tool that can be used to analyze objects in the environment. This will often be the best way to figure out what’s blocking you from getting through a door, whether it’s a specific key or it’s locked from the other side. Information about doors isn’t added to your map until you do the scan, making it part of the satisfying core loop of completing your map of the world. While some people may want a smoother experience that automates this process, the friction of having to do it myself was what made it more captivating, making me feel like I’m exploring and charting this world on my own.

As with many games of this type, this open structure can lead to frustration. There were points later in the game where I swore I had explored every single option on the map, but still had areas that remained inaccessible to me. It was a laborious process to retrace all my steps, room by room, trying to figure out what I had missed. In this specific instance, I had simply not noticed a switch to extend a bridge in an area that I had passed through many times. Due to the lighting and perspective, it was hard for me to see, only spotting it when I was randomly swinging around the scanner to look for something hidden.

You’re definitely intended to feel some friction as you’re exploring, as getting lost definitely feels like the experience the developers intended, but it’s a tricky tightrope to walk to make sure that’s balanced. It feels so rewarding when you take another look at the map and realize that you finally have the right item for an area, though frustration can definitely start to build if you’re not able to spot it. I definitely have more patience for this type of game, as exploration is one of the most rewarding parts of gaming to me, but if that’s something that can grind your enjoyment to a halt, go in knowing that End of Abyss may frustrate you in certain areas. It’s challenging to explore, but that challenge comes with satisfaction when you finally find your way.

Strong Creature Design, Uneven Enemy Balance

While exploring the many sectors of the game, you’ll be fighting the mutated creatures that roam the facility. Combat takes the form of twin stick shooting, with the right stick used to aim your various weapons. The starter pistol has unlimited ammo and will be your primary weapon throughout the game, but you’ll pick up other firearms that pack a bit more of a punch. The alternate weapons have a much more limited ammo supply, so choosing when to use your precious shotgun shells is key to survival. You’ll also find other items that either have exploration utility, like flares or placed explosives, or combat uses, like grenades. A well-timed grenade definitely turned the tide of battle a few times, which meant I was sure to keep myself well stocked.

Defeating enemies will yield a currency called Fragments, which can be used in save rooms to either craft ammo and consumables or upgrade your weapons. Grenades and ammo won’t be frequently found while exploring, so crafting them is the only way you can keep yourself armed for more dangerous encounters. Weapon upgrades, which require more limited resources in addition to Fragments, help your guns pack more punch, sometimes adding new fire modes or modifications in addition to a general stat bump. Most of my upgrade materials went into my pistol, since it was the most used gun by far, which often made me less likely to try to find use cases for other weapons, but they still made their way into my rotation when things got hairy.

Enemy design is strong throughout, if a little derivative. Most of them fall into the category of shambling humanoid, often given body horror flair by The Thing or Resident Evil-style mutations. While they might not be the most unique designs, they are well-rendered in the game’s gorgeous art style, brought to life by expressive animations that make them feel strange, inhuman, and dangerous.

Boss Battles Shine Despite an Inconsistent Difficulty Curve

I appreciate the way they break up exploration, but the fact that they respawn any time you stop and save can slowly turn them from menacing to tedious over the course of the game. By the tenth time you’re crossing the same area, they no longer feel like a threat, just something you need to navigate around. This is compounded by the fact that they are a bit more tanky than they should be, meaning you sometimes have to put a couple full clips of your pistol into a standard monster to take them down.

Robotic enemies in particular were guilty of this, which was exacerbated by the fact that they were the most common enemy in many of the game’s locked room encounters that required you to kill waves of enemies to progress. The tanky enemies do make the weapon upgrades feel more meaningful, but I feel like I would have enjoyed combat more if they had fewer hit points and more variety in attack behaviors.

Boss encounters featured not only the most grotesque creature designs but also the most interesting mechanically, but the difficulty curve of them didn’t feel quite right. The second boss of the game, a massive centipede made of bodies, ended up being the most challenging to me, taking way more tries than even the game’s final boss. There were late game bosses that I was beating in one try that felt way easier than the first few, so it feels like there could have been another pass done at slowly ramping up the boss difficulty in a smoother manner.

A Rewarding Horror Adventure for Players Who Love Exploration

Another big surprise with the game was the large amount of optional content. There is a weapon you get late in the game that allows you to progress into new areas you couldn’t, and exploring these areas will lead to collectibles that will get you the game’s alternate ending. I was a little disappointed with the vagueness of the standard narrative conclusion, so having both more sectors and narrative to explore after finishing is an enticing prospect, even if I didn’t have time to get to it in the review period.

For all the praise I’ve had for the general structure and gameplay, almost every aspect was, at one point or another, marred by technical issues. I had several instances where the map wasn’t updating properly, causing me to backtrack to areas that were marked as locked but I had already opened. One room I entered was completely black and did not properly show the room until I blindly walked into the exact right spot. I got soft locked when locked doors wouldn’t open after defeating the waves of enemies, and I had several hard crashes.

When trying to beat the final boss, it would occasionally not spawn after the intro cutscene, forcing me to turn the game off and on before it would load properly. One of the most frustrating bugs involved a fan that was supposed to be blocking me from climbing a ladder, but the fan wasn’t animating, so I was just hitting an invisible wall with no indication of what was stopping me. There were multiple patches during the review period, so hopefully things will be ironed out soon after release, but technical issues definitely got in the way of my enjoyment of the game several times throughout the 12 hours I spent with it.

End of Abyss is an uncompromised take on the Metroidvania genre that will probably frustrate many players, but if you get joy out of slowly filling out a map and puzzling out your next place to explore, you’ll feel right at home in its bleak and eerie world. While the combat could use a bit of a balance pass, both in its boss progression and enemy health, Section 9 clearly achieved what they were setting out to do.

The mood created through traversing its derelict world helped make up for the lack of concrete narrative, telling its tale through immaculately eerie vibes and atmosphere. My hope is that the bugs that hampered much of my playtime will get ironed out in the near future, because End of Abyss’ brand of demanding exploration was incredibly rewarding.

Review code provided by publisher. End of Abyss will launch October 1 on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series and PC via the Epic Games Store.

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Ghost in the Cell is a fantastically gory horror film with the kinds of grotesque tableaux that would make Hannibal blush… but it’s also a comedy both dark and goofy, a biting social critique on government corruption and individual responsibility, and a giddy appreciation of freeform dance. It’s a lot, and it’s a testament to Anwar’s talent that his kitchen sink approach results in a wildly entertaining good time.

Dimas (Endy Arfian) is a dogged journalist who’s just filed a scathing takedown of corporate interests run amok, but when his editor chews him out and winds up dead mere minutes later, he’s sent to prison for murder. Cell Block C is home to a variety of criminals, all divided up like high school cliques of cool kids, bad asses, religious folks, and other weirdos, and it’s that last group that begrudgingly takes him in. When other inmates start turning up dead in increasingly bloody and morbidly beautiful ways, all eyes turn to Dimas as the possible cause.

Anwar has built a reliable name for himself in the horror genre with films like Satan’s Slaves and Impetigore, but the journalist-turned-filmmaker is not one to be pigeon-holed. His very first feature, 2005’s Joni’s Promise, is a romantic comedy, and he’s also made crime thrillers, a romantic drama, and a comic book action film over the years. It’s horror, though, where he seems most at home, but it’s horror on his own terms.

Ghost in the Cell throws all of these interests, plus a few more, into a big, industrial blender, sets it on high, and leaves the cap off, ensuring the mess gets absolutely everywhere along the way. Viewers who define tonal consistency as a single tone, maintained throughout, are in for a bumpy ride as Anwar moves from gory kills and slapstick comedy to a heartfelt dance and some silat-infused fights, often within the same scene. Gags come via pratfalls and humorous dialogue, sometimes bookending a deadly serious critique of those in power.

The central narrative, the supernatural horror of it all, delivers enough violent, painful-looking kills and exquisitely crafted corpses to hold the attention before the mystery is fully revealed. It’s a satisfying explanation built equally on local beliefs and universal truths, but it’s the meat of it that matters – and that meat comes mutilated, massacred, and mauled. For all the grotesqueries, the most disturbing and unsettling image is the form the ghost takes. It appears as a doppelganger of its imminent victim but with flesh that resembles the back of a female Surinam toad. If you know, you know, but if you don’t, Google it, watch a video, and then be haunted by the images for the rest of your life.

The theme of the film allows for some wiggle room, but the core message lands as both a critique of the powerful, the wealthy, and the classist and a celebration of the need for underdogs. That pluralization is important, as Ghost in the Cell isn’t about a lone hero facing down the threat and the system; it’s about multiple heroes finding each other and becoming stronger through that unity. To be sure, Anwar’s more than a little pessimistic about the state of his country, but he knows good people exist. As one character says after realizing only five of the prison’s fifty guards are good, honest men, “Ten percent of Indonesia is still some kind of hope.”

It’s a serious, thoughtfully optimistic plea for all of us to stand together and stand strong, but it never rests on those ideals. We also get a shower scene that uses camera, score, and butt cheeks to craft a homoerotic break in the action only to see it constantly interrupted by, shall we say, less chiseled extras that cause the camera to visibly recover and the music to scratch to a halt. The ghost arrives when people get too enraged, so we also get fight scenes where participants have to switch to dance to help calm themselves down. It’s utter madness, but it works to entertain, delight, thrill, and affect in equal measure.

Any knocks against it are fairly minor and forgivable. It could maybe stand some tightening in its first half. There’s one rough CG element amid the sea of awesome physical effects, and the backstory might have benefited from a little more clarity. All fair to point out, but none of it truly gets in the way of the film’s crimson-colored celebration of male friendship in times of hardship.

Ghost in the Cell is easily Anwar’s best, most fully realized film yet. It’s a genre bender that goes high in its commentary, goes low in its broadly comic silliness, and fills its middle with wet, sticky, beautifully crafted practical effects. As if all of that isn’t enough of a reason to watch, the film also joins the too-short list of movies that feature the cast dancing their asses off during the end credits.

Yes, this gory, violent, prison-set film from Indonesia is on the same short list as The 40-Year-Old Virgin. What the fuck, indeed.

Ghost in the Cell releases in theaters on October 2, 2026.

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Tennis, a sport that doesn’t seem to get many movies about it in general, has finally landed its first crossover with the horror genre. Bloody Tennis falls mostly on the serious side of the genre net, for better and worse, resulting in an uneven matchup between sports thrills and horror chills.

Sophie (Sandra Guldberg Kampp) is a young American with aspirations of winning some majors and becoming the world number one. She’s been sent to an esteemed but remote tennis academy in rural Spain to learn from a legendary pairing – Mary Tyrone (Elina Lowensohn) is the owner/motivator, and Stavkos (Zlatko Buric) is the coach – who guarantee results for students who give the training their all. Five other girls are already in play when Sophie arrives, and she quickly discovers that she’s only here because another girl left early.

The film’s cold open shows a girl being pummeled and killed on the court by a powerful ball machine with precision aim, so we already know she didn’t leave early of her own accord.

Training commences immediately, and Sophie’s not thrilled to see that it’s harsh, unfair, and heavy in hairy proteins. She knows she has to stick it out, though, and when a knock-out tournament is announced between the six students with an incredible end prize, she decides that nothing and no one is going to stand in her way.

Writer/director Nikias Chryssos paints a vivid picture with Bloody Tennis regarding a young athlete’s all or nothing drive to be the best, and he puts style on a higher pedestal than substance throughout. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and the film’s “’70s eurohorror” vibes are certain to remind viewers of other films that have done the same. Dario Argento’s Suspiria and Phenomena, for example, both drop young American women into foreign academies with weirdly incoherent atmospheres, but Chryssos lacks Argento’s grip on the unfolding madness.

To be sure, he still nails more than a few moments of horror through imagery both beautiful and grotesque, and it works to unsettle and, on occasion, disgust. Bloody smoothies, writhing slugs and leeches, and bodily injuries captured in wince-inducing detail – a hidden tack stabbing into a toe is very effective – all feed into the idea that pain and suffering are necessary to be a winner. That suffering is required by both you and your opponents, and if you can tilt the scale so that they get the bulk of it? Well, that’s game, set, match.

As someone who only watches and plays a single sport, tennis, I’m always thrilled to see it captured in the movies, but it’s clear that Chryssos could have just as easily made this about pickleball or even water polo. Details of the sport never come into play outside of some gnarly scenes featuring the camp’s creepy handyman, Fred (Vincent Romeo), acquiring and stringing the racquets with “catgut.” In real life, people used sheep, goat, or other farm animal intestines to string with, but Fred takes the term more literally… and then goes another step or two beyond that.

Chryssos and cinematographer Constantin Campean also shoot the tennis sequences with an eye for style and beauty rather than authenticity. We get a few wide shots, but most matches are captured in close-up to highlight the sweat, pain, and inner violence that these teenagers are willingly enduring in their effort to be the best. It’s a highly effective choice given Chryssos’ focus here, even if it makes his choice of sport inconsequential.

Kampp does good work as Sophie and captures both the innocence she arrives with and the aggression she begins to develop. Her Danish accent occasionally slips through to remind you she’s not actually from Detroit, but it’s hardly a real distraction. The remaining young women are something of a mixed bag, performance-wise, but in their defense, there’s not much to the characters aside from the expected type-A personalities. Tracy Goteas’ Bana is an exception, though, as we see a more distinct line between Bana’s on and off-court personas. She and Sophie also share a striking transition shot as Chryssos moves us from a close-up of leeches to one of the girls biting the other’s bare back.

Bloody Tennis more than lives up to the first half of its clunky title, and while CG blood is nobody’s friend, there are enough practical gore beats to satisfy. I’d actually argue there are too many instances, though, as the body count really shouldn’t be as high as it is here. No spoilers, but Chryssos throws logic out the window in favor of delivering more kills when they’re just not necessary.

The film’s at its best when focused on Sophie’s growing understanding of the world around her. The academy’s atmosphere is heightened, obviously, but its real-world ramifications on the cut-throat nature of not just survival, but domination, are evident. A disconnected father, a deceased mother who was a former professional player, the idea that this is her only shot at becoming someone – these are fuel for her fire, and the strength here is seeing what she chooses to do with those accelerants.

Chryssos, who made his feature debut with 2015’s weird and wonderfully awkward Der Bunker, crafts an attractive and intriguing world with Bloody Tennis. A tighter focus on those inner workings would make for a more lasting and effective film, but as it stands, this is still an entertaining and icky entry in the sport horror subgenre. And really, parents need to stop sending their daughters to remote European schools…

Bloody Tennis makes its debut on Shudder today, September 25.

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Indeed, The Swallow is at its best when it’s the most like a Corman film, or the ’80s remake of The Blob, or a segment in Creepshow 2, when it leans hard into the garishness of its ideas and has fun with them. Unfortunately, those moments are wrapped up in a script that’s somehow simultaneously too slow and too brief, a cast working with only the barest hints of character, and a film so tonally confused that I still can’t tell if anyone involved was intending parts of it to be funny. Like its central monster, it’s a muddy mess, but that doesn’t mean it’s uninteresting. 

Like I said, we’ve got a really direct plot at work here: Young friends Ziggy (Grace Van Dien), Katie (Tayler Buck), Vince (Kalama Epstein), Rich (Jack Wright), and Kim (Kayla DiVenere) set out from their lives in the city to drive into the woods for a camping trip at one of Rich’s favorite childhood outdoor spots. After hiking a mile into the lush forest and setting up camp, they soon discover that they’re surrounded by pools of steaming mud with a pull like quicksand on steroids and an apparent sentience that makes it even more dangerous. As her friends become snared in the muck, Ziggy sets out to search for answers, while the other survivors fight for their lives. 

Basic (not a bad thing), uncut survival horror stuff, right? There’s a monster; it kills you in interesting ways, and you have to try to survive while it eats your friends. We’ve all seen this movie, and we’re still not tired of it, as anyone who’s loved movies like Slither or Infested in recent years can tell you. There’s always something new to do with this basic premise, as long as you’ve got a few things on your side. 

Let’s start with the good stuff. As lame as “sentient mud” might sound on paper to some of you, the creature at the heart of the Swallow really is its most interesting character. Comparisons to “The Raft” from Creepshow 2 are already floating around, and they’re not entirely off base. This story isn’t as good at building tension or genuine empathy in the way “The Raft” is, and that story benefits from brevity, but we’re talking about the same kind of ineffable muck monster. At its best, this creature is clever, even witty, and when it starts to go to work on human bodies, it makes for some striking, gloriously gnarly practical effects.

There are at least two gore shots in this one that I’ll be thinking about for quite a while. 

Sadly, the monster really is the most interesting sentient thing in the movie. The young cast, who genuinely give it everything they’ve got and wrench some real feeling out of moments of peak terror, are saddled with a script that reveals little interiority, or even basic dynamics between the characters beyond a series of archetypes. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, wooden dialogue and all (at one point a character no older than maybe 22 says “scurry on your butt,” I kid you not, three times in a row), but what’s mystifying is how much the film seems to want to try to be something at least a little more complex. 

There are hints of bigger ideas at work in the story, both on a micro and macro level, that either never pay off or simply linger in the background in an effort to offer some vague connection to something like an environmentalist message. Just one, non-spoilery example: Early in the film, it’s established that Ziggy’s real name is “Chelsea,” and she hates being called that, so when another character makes a point of calling her that, it hints at antagonism. Is there tension in this friend group? Are Vince and Ziggy insecure about their relationship in light of Rich and Katie’s? These things are sort of gently lobbed at the screen for a few moments, then disappear like smoke, evaporating any real potential empathetic link along with them. It leaves the film feeling unfocused at best and unfinished at worst. 

This lack of focus – which is sometimes literal, as the focus in many of the forest scenes appears alarmingly soft – colors the rest of the film a muddy brown. It’s too serious to be intentionally funny, too reserved to be camp, and yet too campy to be grounded. Apart from the central monster, which really does hold the film together with its surprisingly effective set of talents, The Swallow feels less like a movie and more like an excuse to make a mud monster. The film feels cobbled together around one cool idea, and when that one cool idea’s really all to hold onto, the rest of the film sinks. 

The Swallow made its world premiere at Fantastic Fest. Release info TBA.

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That’s never happened with Due’s fiction. Instead, the celebrated author, teacher, podcaster, and more wields her vast knowledge to build novels like cathedrals, layering meaning and wit and depth into a story that’s also a thumping horror yarn. Due’s latest, Mazywood, is exactly that kind of book, melding the history of Black Hollywood with an unforgettable monster story to create one of the year’s must-read genre books. 

The “Mazywood” of the title takes its name from Mazelle Washington, a Black Hollywood legend who started performing as a child on the stage with her parents, and soon grew beyond her family act. As the title character in a series of comedies centered on a stereotypical character named “Lazy Mazy,” Mazelle built fame and fortune, but as with so many Black actors in Hollywood’s Golden Age, the more substantive roles were always just out of reach, and her legacy was marred by compromise, trauma, and regret. 

Jump ahead to the present day, and Mazelle’s grandson, Johnny, is dealing with compromises and regrets of his own. A writer and director best known for creating a well-worn horror franchise, Johnny dreams of more ambitious, fresher projects, only to be shut down in meeting after meeting. Frustrated and in need of a getaway, he decides to take his wife Tasha and his two daughters, Imani and Sharise, out to the mountains for a stay at Mazelle’s legendary retreat, Bear Creek Lodge. Once a haven for Hollywood’s best and brightest, the former resort is now simply an old family property, and represents a chance for the Washingtons to have a snowy vacation away from the Hollywood machine. 

But Johnny’s memories of Bear Creek aren’t the happiest, and the longer he and his family stay in the old lodge, the more he starts to realize that while Mazelle is long dead, something else is still alive on the property. And it’s hunting them. 

Across nearly 500 pages, Due’s narrative weaves in and out of past and present, telling the generations-long story of a bargain that was once struck and the ripples it’s still sending through the Washington family. In the past, we meet Mazelle as a girl with an uncanny talent, watch her rise in Hollywood, see her build her mountain retreat and welcome everyone from Clark Gable to Sammy Davis Jr. into her life.

In the present, Johnny and his wife and daughters are plunged into a nightmare as a monster stalks their vacation home, something inexplicable and strangely intelligent and connected to decades-old family secrets. These parallel stories each run with their own particular cadence, and yet the emotional resonance of the entire book binds them, unites them. With Due’s knowledge of Hollywood history and her own experiences in the modern development grind built into the narrative, Mazywood takes on a depth that allows the reader a chance to get lost in another world not too far from our own. 

The dual narrative threads also allow Due to show off her versatility as a horror novelist, because while Mazelle and Johnny’s story are of course part of one larger narrative, they each carry a different flavor. Mazelle’s narrative is a tale of dark bargains, Hollywood compromises, sleazy executives, and, eventually, confronting her own inner darkness. Johnny’s narrative is pure survival horror, a monster movie in the snow complete with excavations of old family traumas and a search for the truest version of his own history. Together they make for one ferociously scary book, but the fear isn’t the only thing knitting the story into one family saga epic. 

Mazelle Washington and her descendants are all storytellers of some kind or another. Johnny’s a filmmaker, Tasha wants to write a book about Mazelle’s life, and even Imani and Sharise are beginning to experiment with their own grasp of legacy, creating their futures as they dig into their pasts. By linking these family members together with a shared interest not just in their story, but in all stories, Due crafts a novel about the power and importance of owning your narrative, and the horror that comes when you realize someone else has taken it from you.

Even the title, Mazywood, refers to what Mazelle once named her lodge, in the days before she decided to rechristen it something that made more sense to the person she became. All of these ideas merge seamlessly with the propulsive thrills of the horror narrative, making Mazywood not just a book you’ll want to read, but a book you’ll want to read over and over again. 

Mazywood is now available wherever books are sold. 

The post ‘Mazywood’ Book Review: Tananarive Due’s Chilling Horror Epic About Black Hollywood’s Haunted Legacy appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.