Two films now in 2023 have dared to examine the fallout and societal implications of WWII’s nuclear exclamation point:
1. A hard-hitting social drama chronicling years in the life of a man broken and haunted by his own failure to prevent the darkness and devastation that enveloped the world following the introduction of the atomic bomb and the inadvertent opening of a door to an endless plague of hopelessness and destruction set upon future generations; a film which truly encapsulates…
You know, it’s funny. All the other world-class filmmakers like Nolan, Scorsese, Scott, and Mann are diving headfirst into Oscar campaigns with epic biopics this year, meanwhile David Fincher’s just chillin saying “imma make a psycho assassin genre pic for Netflix and it’ll still be more entertaining than all y’all’s 3+ hour browbeating slogfests”.
It’s not Jason Bourne, no—it’s Michael Fassbender as The Killer (aka maybe real life Michael Fassbender), knocking off names on a list with finely tuned skills,…
“Fuck this cowboy shit! You fuckin’ hoedown, podunk, ‘well, them there’ motherfuckers!”
Have you ever asked yourself, what if Evil Dead II was a campy neo-Western with badass roadside hotel employees, biblical world ending stakes, practical effects galore, and Billy Zane being as perfectly & magnificently “Billy Zane” as any Billy has ever Zaned? Because I know I have. 🍻
P.S. so you’re telling me Jada Pinkett Smith was able to successfully resist the sweet, seductive whispers of an omnipotent Billy Zane but NOT those of her son’s best friend? Ooof.
“Everyone is innocent here.”
American Psycho meets Rope meets an “every politician, billionaire, and figure of authority should eat shit and die” mentality. An all too real black satire that transcends borders, cultures, generations, and political lines in depicting the outright arrogance of those who wield the “rules for thee but not for me” power to protect themselves from scrutiny and self-righteously determine the consequences of their own pompous actions. I could go on for hours waxing a symphony of…
Horror movies can be many things. They can be shocking. They can be campy. They can be spooky. They can have cheap scares. They can be “elevated”. They can be downright gross. But, while I love and cherish each one of those things, every now and then there comes a film that reminds you why the genre is actually called horror.
And this one right here rattled me to my fucking core.
Its allegorical themes are nothing new—longing to escape…
It’s now been 10 films since Endgame. And with each one, my enjoyment, hope, and admiration for the MCU has lessened and lessened. After the war crime that was Quantumania, I was all but ready to fully abandon the franchise that had consumed my life for over a decade. And then, this film came out.
I sat in that fucking theater for two and a half hours. No one cheered, few audibly laughed, and at the end I realized all…
