Director: Fawzia Mirza
Writer: Fawzia Mirza
Stars: Amrit Kaur, Nimra Bucha, Hamza Haq

Synopsis: Azra is worlds apart from her conservative Muslim mother. Following a tragedy, Azra finds herself on a Bollywood-inspired journey to Pakistan – guided by memories of her mother’s youth in Karachi and her own coming-of-age in rural Canada.

It’s safe to say that The Queen of My Dreams is a deeply personal directorial debut from Fawzia Mirza. Starting off as a short film of the same name from Mirza in 2012, she turned her short film into a stage play titled Me, My Mom & Sharmila. Over 10 years later, Mirza brings this story of a young woman of two cultures navigating complicated familial relationships and loss to the big screen. Using her own life as inspiration,  Mirza explores being queer as a Pakistani woman who has lived her entire life in Canada. This gives audiences an authentic view into growing up queer in two different worlds.

We first meet, or rather hear the film’s lead Azra (Amrit Kaur) as The Queen of My Dreams shows her mother, Mariam (Nimra Bucha), sitting in front of a mirror staring at her reflection. Azra recounts fond memories she has with her mother from her childhood, how beautiful her mother is, and their shared love of Bollywood, especially Sharmila Tagore and Rajesh Khanna in the film Aradhana. As the memory fades, we see Azra, who is at college, living with a woman, Rachel (Kya Mosey), she tells her family is her roommate, but is definitely something much more. A call to her parents’ house has her chatting with her father, Hassan (Hamza Haq), catching up about her schoolwork. As her father passes the phone to her mother, it’s clear that there is a rift in their once happy relationship, leaving questions about how there is such a frigid coldness between two that seemed so close.

After Azra’s father has a fatal heart attack, something she learns over a voicemail left after several calls made to her apartment went unanswered. She must travel to Pakistan to be with family and start mourning her father. From Azra’s perspective, her father was kind, understanding, and the only parent who gave her warmth. Her mother, at some point in her life, turned cold to her, and they don’t even get along well enough to speak to each other on the phone. The film often shifts to flashbacks from Azra’s past, showing that she and her mother were once inseparable, even being a mother-daughter sales duo selling Tupperware to their neighbors. The Queen of My Dreams tugs hard at those moments, making the reveal of why their relationship is strained that much more heartbreaking.

When Azra arrives in Pakistan, Mirza makes sure to show how out of place Azra feels; her clothing makes her stand out right away. But she soon feels at home as a familiar face picks her up from the airport. As Azra is traveling, the film shifts into 1960s Pakistan, where Kaur is now playing the younger version of her mother, Miriam. The colors are vibrant, and her clothes are a bit more revealing, portraying the younger version of her mother who is full of life and ambition. This is where the most about Miriam is learned, how she met and fell deeply in love with her husband, Hassan, and how their love story bloomed from secret dates to their wedding. Mirza uses these flashbacks to also show the parallels between Azra and Miriam’s lives as they were growing up; although Azra grew up in Canada and Miriam in Pakistan, the foundation of their girlhood and finding their sexuality is rooted in their shared love of Bollywood films.

The non-linear way that Mirza tells the story in The Queen of My Dreams is where the most is learned about Azra and her mother. Constantly shifting from young Miriam to Azra keeps the audience’s attention, but it can be a tad confusing for the film’s narrative. Information on Azra and her sexuality takes a back seat during the majority of the film as there’s a larger emphasis on Miriam and her backstory, and even though her younger life is often more lively than her daughter’s, it is easy to lose interest in Azra. The best of this storytelling comes when a younger version of Azra (Ayana Manji) is introduced in a flashback, and a young woman’s love and admiration for her mother is slowly chipped away as her mother walks in on something she shouldn’t.

What makes The Queen of My Dreams tick is the performances from Kaur, as both Azra and  young Miriam. Fully embracing both Mirza’s Canadian and Pakistani side, the duality between a young queer college student and an outgoing Pakistani woman is captivating. My favorite moments from Kaur are when she arrives in Pakistan back with her family, learning how to dance, taking the male part in a couples dance, causing gossip among her female family members. She makes it look so easy shifting from Miriam to Azra, giving committed performances for both. Paired with Bucha as an older Miriam, their work together is captivating to watch; their ability to show a quiet tension that is easily agitated is a wonder to watch.

The Queen of My Dreams is easy to fall in love with from its visuals, especially during the 60s flashbacks with a youthful Miriam. The bright colors of the clothing, cars, and food in Pakistan pop with the saturated color grading. Cinematographer Matt Irwin balances the narrative shifts between the past and present incredibly well, making a clear distinction between then and now. What stands out the most with Irwin’s work is during the Bollywood recreations where Azra and Miriam place themselves in their favorite film. Irwin mimics the framing of it well and captures the romance through the glowing colors and lingering close-ups of women in love.

Ultimately, Mirza captures a queer story that is deeply connected to her personal experience; its heartbreaking and often charming moments show just how much potential this film has. It’s easy to get lost in the film, but the performance from Kaur makes each passing minute more interesting than the last, especially when she’s being a rebellious young woman. The Queen of My Dreams works best when exploring the generational differences between a mother and daughter and how getting to know your mother’s past helps you understand your own life.

Grade: B+

Director: Aimee Kuge
Writer: Aimee Kuge
Stars: April Consalo, Nate Wise, Clay von Carlowitz

Synopsis: An exploration of one’s relationships with food, sexuality, and revenge. It asks, “How far would you go in the name of love?”

Food and sex aren’t the strange combination we, in our most vanilla moments, believe them to be. Popular sexual innuendo includes some reference to eating or parts of anatomy that are referred to as food items. This combination, when taken to extremes, can contribute to the use of cannibalism as a version of sexual desire or as a catalyst for arousal. It’s not everyone’s proclivity, of course, but this avenue of eating, sex, and cannibalism is something worthy of being explored.

As much as these elements are all a part of Cannibal Mukbang, the story often doesn’t go far enough, or push deep enough into the psyche of its characters. In some ways, there are points where the depths could be plumbed with precision like a sharp knife through a tomato, but instead, the script, by writer/director Aimee Kuge, seems to smash the tomato first and then try to cut the pieces with a different and less effective mode of communication. It may be that the holes in the logic are just more visible when taken as a whole because the ending is a surprise, but not in a good way.

There are many things to like about Kuge’s script, though. The way she builds her metaphors about truly knowing someone and the anonymity that is built into our lives on the internet is well thought out. It’s clear that Mark (Nate Wise) has had a lot to unpack with his therapist and that his hesitancy with Ash (April Consalo) is coming from a real anxiety. It feels true to life that no matter how much Ash opens up to Mark, she has to remain guarded because of her mission and how she proceeds with it. It’s actually sweet, in spite of the circumstance, to see the two of them growing to trust and open up to one another.

That’s also thanks in part to Kuge as director and co-editor. The story is crafted like a pre-internet age horror film and a pre-internet age romance. There are multiple montages set to upbeat music and terrifying angles to cut between. This gauzy, emotional killing spree is also benefited by the eye of cinematographer Harrison Kraft. Kraft and Kuge are obviously aficionados of B movie horror and, in the midst of this modern tale of internet life, they find a way to create a throwback that at once looks familiar, but is distinctly modern.

One of the best crafted sequences of the film is also a terrific example of the “show, don’t tell” mantra of storytelling. Ash is ready to open up about her past and in a flashback made to look like a B movie scene, we see the story of Ash and her sister Allie (Autumn Consalo). The scenes are wordless, but the shift from something innocent to something horrible is deftly handled with careful staging. The sequence is ultimately a triumphant origin story for Ash.

This scene is helped by the fact that April Consalo fits that mold of classic femme fatale and modern “e-girl” stand in so perfectly. She has an arresting presence and a depth to her performance that makes you wish she was the focal character of the film and not just Mark’s love interest. She can shift easily from the vulnerable to the frightening, and from the cheesy to the serious. Consalo becomes every bit of Ash, or at least what Ash is willing to show.

Cannibal Mukbang might make you hungry or horny or both. It is a horror-romance, after all. These strange feelings will arise from these seemingly disparate ideas, like sex and food, mingling together. Cannibal Mukbang had the potential to be a truly awesome experience, but a few narrative missteps, including a tragedy of an ending, and slow pacing keep it from the upper echelons. It’s still a film to see to believe and worth seeking out wherever you can find it.

Grade: B

Director: Dean DeBlois
Writer: Dean DeBlois
Stars: Mason Thames, Nico Parker, Gerard Butler

Synopsis: As an ancient threat endangers both Vikings and dragons alike on the isle of Berk, the friendship between Hiccup, an inventive Viking, and Toothless, a Night Fury dragon, becomes the key to both species forging a new future together.

It’s interesting to see Dean DeBlois’ readaptation of Cressida Cowell’s How to Train Your Dragon, fifteen years after seeing the original animated masterpiece on the big screen. I may be the biggest hater of these cash-grab live-action remakes that Disney sadly popularized since 2010, but there’s something about How to Train Your Dragon that, for me, feels semi-earnest, so I couldn’t not give it its day in court. 

DeBlois has never directed a feature film in live-action and has been making animated masterpieces ever since bringing Lilo & Stitch to the world with Chris Sanders, which makes this shift as intriguing as Brad Bird going from Ratatouille to Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol. Obviously, this remake doesn’t reach the heights as Bird’s transition to live-action, but it makes sense for DeBlois to have a desire in bringing this story back to life with new challenges and constraints, even if the plot, dialogue, and musical score from John Powell is the exact same as the original. 

Literally – and I guarantee this will happen when the film eventually reaches homes – you can do a side-by-side comparison of the animated and live-action films, and nothing has changed. DeBlois doesn’t deepen any of the side characters further or flesh out aspects that might have been briefly touched upon in his animated movie. It’s the exact same product, but done through the prism of live-action. In a sense, the film severely lacks originality and inventiveness, especially if someone knows the animated entry by heart. 

The biggest cynics may think this transposition is nothing more than a shameless piece of “content” designed to milk as much money as possible, as its release has been positioned with the opening of Universal’s Epic Universe, and they would be right to think so. However, what I found most fascinating was how DeBlois used the limitations he had at his disposal, which animation does not have, to essentially make the same movie, almost as if this entire thing is nothing more than an exercise for him to know if he indeed can direct something in live-action. 

In that regard, he mostly succeeds. Mostly, because the entire back half of the movie does not hold weight (at all) compared to the staggering visuals of the animated film’s climax, and is instead a largely artificial, sludgy action setpiece where the costumes look like poor cosplay, and the green screens stick out like a sore thumb. There’s little to no excitement in seeing Stoick the Vast (Gerard Butler, reprising his role from the animated film) stand aimlessly in front of an entirely synthetic background as he gathers his troops to invade a Dragon’s Nest and kill all creatures who live there. 

There’s also little excitement in seeing Hiccup (Mason Thames) and Toothless fight against the Red Death, even if cinematographer Bill Pope tries his hardest to give it some form of life, but to no avail. The emotional impact is also dampened because anyone who’s seen the original knows what will happen. DeBlois likely took his screenplay from the 2010 movie, did CTRL + C and CTRL + V on his computer, added “2025” to the new script, and delivered it to Universal. That’s how close it follows the original movie – no stone is left unturned in replicating it down to a tee, but with living actors as opposed to the staggering artistry of the animated film. 

However, one thing that differentiates both movies is how DeBlois can employ large-format photography in key sequences to immerse the audience in Hiccup’s bond with Toothless in ways he couldn’t, even with the use of 3D in 2010. Utilizing the immense power of IMAX cameras (with the aid of 3D, creating an even more powerful effect than in 2D), DeBlois and Pope frequently expand the frame and plunge us straight into the world of Berk, creating jaw-dropping flight sequences that will genuinely make you jump out of your seat in pure adrenaline, as Powell’s score blares through the speakers and reminds you exactly of why the animated offering has stood the test of time. 

These first-person shots are exacerbated by some of the most lifelike CGI you’ll see in a modern movie, especially regarding Toothless’ design. The Night Fury looks like a living, breathing entity next to Hiccup, even if it’s entirely created through the artifice of computer-generated animation. Thames is also very good as the protagonist, though he doesn’t possess the same range as Jay Baruchel, as illustrated during scenes of confrontation with his father. The dramatic intensity of those moments doesn’t hit the same, especially when Butler approaches Stoick with the exact same register as when he voiced him fifteen years ago. 

Moreover, the alchemy Hiccup possesses with Astrid (Nico Parker) doesn’t work. The two aren’t on the same wavelength at all, and it’s highly evident when DeBlois attempts to pair them together in the romantic sense of the term. They only work when in the ring, competing against each other, as Hiccup has found ways to subdue the dragons as opposed to brutally killing them, which is what Stoick and Gobber (Nick Frost) are training them for, and the path Astrid is following. 

These moments are wondrously directed and engaging enough for us to ultimately care about this reheated story (the IMAX aspect ratio shifts certainly helps involving us in the live-action world), with enough care for DeBlois in wanting to flex his filmmaking muscles a bit and show that he can transpose his story in a different language and environment. While it may not be a perfect shot-for-shot remake, it’s certainly an admirable one, notably thanks to DeBlois’ reverence for Cowell’s source material. He would never make something outright egregious, even if one can feel that he can sometimes get pressured by the limitations he’s working with. 

The climax, in particular, is an absolute visual nightmare, and incomparable from what was showcased in the 2010 film. And yet, it’s miles ahead from the other live-action remake of a Dean DeBlois movie released last month, especially in how its filmmaker thinks about how his story should be told through a different medium. That alone made it somewhat compelling, even though I was watching the exact same movie as I did when I stepped foot in the world of Berk for the first time, fifteen years ago, and my appreciation of animation as a medium forever changed. 

While feeling was not present while watching this readaptation, I still left the cinema moderately satisfied, knowing that it could’ve been worse. But in the hands of DeBlois, this source material will always be treated with the utmost respect, but I don’t think I’m ready to relive the emotional trauma of How to Train Your Dragon 2 in live-action just yet…

Grade: B-

Director: Michael Pearce
Writer: Brad Inglesby
Stars: Julianne Moore, Sydney Sweeney, Domhnall Gleeson

Synopsis: Kate is dealing with a personal tragedy while owning and training horses in Echo Valley, an isolated and picturesque place, when her daughter, Claire, arrives at her doorstep, frightened, trembling and covered in someone else’s blood.

The conceit of Michael Pearce’s Echo Valley promises a riveting psychological thriller between mother, Kate (Julianne Moore), and daughter, Claire (Sydney Sweeney), as the two carry a fractured relationship, but not as heated as when Kate is with her ex-husband, Richard (Kyle MacLachlan), who has now wiped his hands clean of his past life and lets Kate take care of their daughter. We learn that Claire has been in and out of rehab, and promises to her mother that she is finally clean, when the two reunite for the first time in a long time. 

Things seem to be going relatively well, until, one night, Claire arrives at Kate’s door covered in blood, and demands that she helps her out. I won’t reveal more specific detail, as Pearce and screenwriter Brad Inglesby essentially hope that you watch this movie without having seen a piece of footage or know the bare minimum. This is a thriller which thrives on the audience not knowing what will come next, for its reveals to act like a shock to the system, especially its final needle-drop that supposedly ties the entire story together. The only problem is that, at every turn, Pearce and Inglesby make some of the most ridiculous screenwriting decisions that constantly shift the movie from point of interest to the next, without much thought behind the machinations of its story. 

It starts out as a quiet, almost poetic drama in whichKate still reels from the loss of her wife (the reason for the divorce with Richard was her coming out) and has trouble keeping her ranch afloat. When Claire arrives in the picture, the movie becomes something else entirely, one that feels like a reconnection picture, as Kate attempts to help her daughter out in getting back on her feet, until Jackie (Domhnall Gleeson) comes into the picture, and the movie once again shifts gears. It’s at that point where it began to lose my grip, particularly during a confrontation between Kate and Claire, with Sweeney being especially terrible in moments of raw dramatic power. 

We’re supposed to fear for Kate’s life, at the grasp of Claire, who is still clearly using, but each occasion of terror, where Jed Kurzel’s music creates bludgeoning impact, doesn’t feel at all tangible, either through Sweeney trying way too hard to sell strong emotions that don’t need to be exaggerated this way, or with a defenselessMoore having little to no chemistry with the actress playing her daughter. It doesn’t work, and the movie sadly never recovers from that scene, since most of the emotional beats that follow are built around it. 

Moore does try her best on several occasions, especially when pitted against Gleeson’s Jackie, but he gives one of the worst performances of his career. It creates a wobbly sense of tension when one veteran actor is terrific, or at least tries to imbue her thinly written character with as much humanity and emotional attachment as possible, while the other completely misunderstands the assignment, even during the final scene, where all is revealed. None of it works, and very little actively feels earned. 

The only saving grace the film offers in its 104-minute runtime is fleeting appearances from Fiona Shaw, as Les, one of Kate’s closest friends. Whenever the two are paired together, the film lights up, especially during Shaw’s perfect delivery of “Grief: There is no roadmap for that shit.” She brings a much-needed emotional anchor for a movie that’s in desperate need of something, anything, for the audience to cling to. Their relationship works, and even though Shaw sparsely appears, her presence is always most welcome. 

When Echo Valley eventually culminates in a scene where the audience realizes they were tricked and everything is revealed, every scene of importance we saw before feels pitifully unearned, as if all the narrative and thematic threads Pearce wanted to present led to nowhere intriguing. Cinematographer Benjamin Kračun certainly tries to develop an arresting visual language for the movie, but when the story never engages its audience to a real point of interest, most of what we get is a series of striking images with little to no meaning while many A-list actors deliver some of the flimsiest performances of her career. 

Thank God for Fiona Shaw, because if it weren’t for her, I would’ve turned it off ages ago. 

Grade: D-

Director: David Midell
Writers: David Midell, Enrico Natale
Stars: Al Pacino, Dan Stevens, Ashley Greene

Synopsis: Two priests, one in crisis with his faith and the other confronting a turbulent past, must overcome their differences to perform a risky exorcism.

There’s few aspects about David Midell’s exorcism film The Ritual that will shock you more than a sassy priest Al Pacino butting heads with a demon-inflicted young woman. But even then, his performance isn’t even close to being campy enough to save this film from being a total mess. From its directing, acting, and, even down to the way The Ritual is shot, it all makes it feel more like an overly long sitcom than it does a horror film. Whether you are new to exorcism films or a veteran, there’s little to keep you invested in a film based on the most documented exorcism in history.

Midell takes us back to 1920s Iowa with his film based on a true story focused on the exorcism of young Emma Schmidt (Abigail Cowen), performed by Parish leader Father Joseph Steiger (Dan Stevens) and Father Theophilus Riesinger (Pacino). After trying to find a cure for Emma’s ailments through medical and even psychological methods, she is turned over to the spiritual experts to figure out what is happening to her. She’s wasting away from fragility suffered from not eating or drinking and fears what is taking her over. When Father Steiger’s parish is chosen to hold the dangerous exorcism, he’s in the middle of a conflict of faith, seeing Emma in more of a need for a hospital than an exorcism. Even with his protest against it, he agrees to take part in the exorcism taking notes. Father Riesinger leads the process, with some restrictions put in place for Father Steiger’s participation.

The script is rather straightforward and each act loses itself in the other, mostly due to the repetitiveness of the events taking place. Day one of the exorcism feels too similar to day four, and so on. After a few days of rigorous scripture shouting at a young woman who finds herself becoming more and more taken over by whatever is harming her fails to render an answer, tensions rise as harm falls on Sister Rose (Ashley Greene). Causing a break in the lull of the film, whatever has a hold on Emma starts getting nasty, spilling secrets to those who shouldn’t be hearing them, and torturing the nuns and priests while speaking in the voices of their past loved ones. Through the loose lips of Emma’s affliction, Father Reisinger’s past with Emma is made known, a prior event years ago had both of them crossing paths, information that clearly irritates Father Steiger. 

There’s some praise to be given to the film’s cast; their performances are the only aspect of the film that serve any sort of entertainment. Pacino is an extremely aged Father of the cloth, carrying a grumpy old man demeanor throughout the film that comes across as comedic at times, even if that’s not the intended purpose. Stevens, who was the main draw to me for this film, gives one of his more dull performances, especially after such memorable horror roles last year with Abigail and Cuckoo. His conflicted feelings for the faith come across as more of an obstacle of irritation; his patience is quick to snap, but Stevens rarely captures any feelings outside of annoyance for his situation than anything else. Greene arguably has the least to work with in The Ritual, and her performance as a quiet nun leaves a lasting impression for her modern appearance over her lack of range in the role.

On a technical level is where the film completely falls apart due to the constant moving of each frame in The Ritual. There’s not a moment where it feels like that camera isn’t in motion; even in moments where characters like Father Steiger are in contemplation quietly sitting by himself, the camera’s constant need to move makes it nearly impossible to pay attention to smaller details. The way this film is shot could’ve worked in a found footage film, but the choice here is truly baffling. Picture, if you will, an episode of the television show The Office, and imagine those quick zooms and unsteady camerawork devoid of the humor and instead it’s a generic exorcism film. It’s a shame that the camerawork is distracting enough to take away from some rather beautiful shots of Catholic buildings and imagery from Cinematographer Adam Biddle, leaving even the scarier bits of the film to fall by the wayside.

The film takes place mostly in the same room after Emma is brought to the parish, leaving much to be desired from a production design standpoint. It’s confusing what time period the film takes place in, and if you don’t pay expert attention to the film’s opening, looking at the cast won’t help you distinguish it. The cast, especially the nuns, are some of the most modern-looking actresses I can imagine; microbladed eyebrows and filled lips make even the background nuns stick out. Characters in the film wear the same outfits from one day to the next, making the days indistinguishable from one another unless strictly laid out on screen with a prompt of the day.

On the grand scale of films involving exorcisms, this fails to hit the heights of such films as William Friedkin’s The Exorcist or even Scott Derrickson’s The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Which is maddening considering the story that this film is based on has been used as inspiration for the genre. Where those films succeed is with memorable performances and creating genuinely terrifying visuals of a woman being possessed. Writers Middell and Enrico Natale choose to focus a lot of their time establishing the ritual of the Father’s task, leaving the audience stuck in scripture rather than the supernatural elements that make the genre captivating. Even as the film comes slowly to an end, the lack of any kind of resolution or answer makes the effort to watch feel as if it’s for nothing.

Overall, it’s hard to find aspects of The Ritual that are worth a watch, especially when there are other films with the same subject matter that excel in every aspect where this one fails. A middling lack of focus on the flow of the film, along with a script that teeters on being a parody, makes The Ritual more of a chore to watch than a treat-yourself trip to the movies.

Grade: F

Director: Andrea M. Catinella
Writer: Harry Boxley
Stars: Alexander Butler, Lauren Staerck, Alina Desmond

Synopsis: On Kate’s 21st birthday camping trip, her friends encounter Piglet, a monstrous human-pig hybrid who brutally murders one of them. They uncover Piglet’s origins and Kate must confront her past to survive the relentless killer.

There’s something about the Poohniverse that makes a horror fan salivate at any opportunity to watch one of its new spinoffs, prequels, sequels, or original stories. Piglet is no exception, as director Andrea M. Catinella creates a gruesome fantasy world where nightmares thrive and cartoon characters owe it to their bloody Brothers Grimm origins.

The story goes as follows: a group of typical horror fan girls (meaning so hot and so dumb) rent a camp for the weekend. Little did they know that Camp Festing is home to a psycho, sadistic, convicted murderer in a pig mask and his controlling brother. It is a House of Wax (2005) situation, but with a lesser charismatic cast, and yet a chilling premise. As we watch the girls walk into the camp, one can’t help but wonder who is going to get out alive.

Every horror cliché out there is in Piglet, but that doesn’t make it unwatchable by any means, but it shows how it clearly lacks creativity whether in storytelling, character development, or even the iconic jump scares normally associated with the genre. The feature also plays according to the twisted morality code of slasher films with such blind faith that every expected trope or archetype manifests in front of the audience to such painful predictability.

The film is plagued with a score that disconnects the avid horror fan from the foreboding mood. There are multiple incidents in which the film would’ve truly benefited from a better sound design, and a less over-the-top, theatrical score. Music in horror movies is one of the most important elements that could either skyrocket a film, or stab it in the heart, depriving it of its impact. Unfortunately, in this case, the original music takes away from the suspenseful, eerie mood the film is going for.

Now for the fun part, this horror flick has some excellent, gruesome kills. It doesn’t hold back on the gore and horror fans will be satisfied. It has multiple memorable, deplorable murder scenes in all their bloody aftermath. It satisfies the inner gory violence fan, and brings to mind the two predecessors, Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey and Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 2, with all the iconic childhood favorites gone rogue. The man in the mask himself carries the weight of the intrigue and the exciting element in the film. Piglet is mute, violent, and so much fun. It’s cool to see him chopping up those characters (who lack even the least hint of common sense) and it’s liberating not to try and think of his “dimensional personality” as a serial killer. As for the group of girls, my least favorite is, unfortunately, the main protagonist Kate (Alina Desmond) whose healing and trauma storyline seems so forced and on the nose.

However, watching this group of girls have fun and be mean to one another is actually a good, cathartic experience of feminine rivalry. In other contexts, it would’ve been lazy and overdone, but in this particular film it’s amusing, as opposed to all the grim, serious scenes that feel like filler powder in the potent drug. Needless to say,all the male characters suck and seem like they’ve come out of a textbook rather than flesh and blood creatures, kudos to Piglet for being the most exciting of them.

Piglet is another modest addition to The Twisted Childhood Universe, and while some may say it as unnecessary due to the franchise raising the bar with Peter Pan’s Neverland Nightmare, it is still a decent take on an iconic Poohmpanion and turning him into a monstrous antichildhood favorite. It’s also over an hour of watching young, hot people make some of the dumbest decisions ever shown on screen.

Grade: C

Director: Dan Trachtenberg
Writer: Micho Rutare
Stars: Lindsay Lavanchy, Louis Ozawa, Rick Gonzalez

Synopsis: An anthology following three of the fiercest warriors in human history becoming prey to the ultimate killer of killers.

Predator: Killer of Killers (2025) is a first for the now almost 40-year-old franchise as it delves into the world of animation and anthology storytelling. Director Dan Trachtenberg now helms his second film of the franchise following 2022’s Prey and yet again proves that he’s taking the franchise to astronomical heights. Killer of Killers provides the audience with all the bloody and violent carnage we’ve come to know and love from past entries, while also pushing beyond the boundaries of what the franchise is known for. It ties three different periods of stories and people together for one epic journey of persevering through sacrifice and loss. Whether you look at it from a perspective of doing something new or wanting what’s worked before, it delivers on both fronts with some insanely creative Predator kills and gadgets and splendid animation that adds to its flavor, Killer of Killers not only rules as a new clever Predator story but as a film that can be enjoyed on its own. 

The anthology follows three stories, a Viking named Ursa (Lindsay Lavanchy) on a brutal quest to avenge her father with her young son; Kenji (Louis Ozawa), a ninja in 1620s Japan looking to challenge his brother for succession; and a WWII vet named Torres (Rick Gonzalez) who is trying to prove himself as a pilot. Like any good anthology, these three separate stories are not only intertwined thematically but the main characters of them converge in the film’s final 30 minutes, showing how they’re all the ultimate prey to the world’s ultimate killer. Through the themes, each story deals with proving one’s self through accomplishing a certain task and they’re all handled with grace and proper emotional weight during the 90–minute runtime, but that’s not the only aspect that separates Killer of Killers from previous films in the franchise. 

In a similar vein to another film of animated bits in a long-spanning franchise (2003’s The Animatrix), Killer of Killers’ decision to go fully animated widens the scope of what the entire franchise can be. Fight sequences, even ones not including Predators, feel even more brutal and look incredible on the screen, Predator gadgets and the way they’re utilized here are unbelievable to watch, and the animation style complements action setpieces and new locations within the franchise quite nicely. One might be quick to call it a “pale imitation,” of what we’ve seen from how the Spider-Verse movies continue to break boundaries with the mix of 2D and 3D animation as a similar style is used here, but the flick manages to bring its own take to the style with more brush-stroke type backgrounds and character outlines rather than a flashy comic-book aesthetic. 

This film also has the most creative designs for Predators that we have yet to see in the entire franchise. Each new character design we see in the segments of the film is unique to the different elements and periods of each story. The creatures have never felt more foreboding or threatening to our protagonist in the entire franchise. In Prey, Trachtenberg was wise to make the alien more quiet and sneaky in key sequences before it unleashes bloody chaotic carnage and he’s still able to bring those skills to animation with the use of camouflage and gadgets again. Simply put, key set pieces in Killer of Killers could only really be done through the scope and unlimited potential of an animated film, and Trachtenberg can use that to his advantage with The Predator quite impressively in one fight scene in the 3rd act where we see the planet of the Predators. It is a marvel when you realize this is Trachtenberg’s first venture into animation, but he nails it. Even the film’s more silly moments near the end where our three heroes have to work together despite the literal generational barriers they have with one another would feel more believable in animation than any other medium.

After Killer of Killers, it’s officially confirmed that we are in an incredibly exciting and fresh era for this long-spanning franchise. Trachtenberg and his team have crafted yet another grisly violent entry, yes, but one that has brought the franchise to an entirely new horizon of creativity. With incredible animation and a brisk runtime, Predator: Killer of Killers will sit high among the absolute best of the Predator series.    

Grade: A-

Director: Anna Emma Haudel
Writers: Anna Emma Haudel, Maria Limkelde
Stars: Johanna Milland, Josephine Park, Clint Ruben

Synopsis: The Venus Effect is a romantic comedy about daring to love ourselves and each other.

Everyone remembers their first sexual awakening. Whether you were like me and fell in love with an alluring Uma Thurman in 1997’s Batman & Robin, or found it later in life, it’s a formative moment that guides us through our sexuality. In Anna Emma Haudal’s The Venus Effect, a young woman finds herself questioning her own sexuality in a charming rom-com that doesn’t hold back on the complicated emotions that come with being your true self. A refreshing LGBT story that depicts love in its multiple layers of lust and care, that is welcoming of all walks of life.

If you are anything like me, I watched the trailer for The Venus Effect and within the first 3 seconds I was hooked, similar to how the film’s main character Liv (Johanne Milland), a freckle-faced plant caretaker, is when she first lays her eyes on Andrea (Josephine Park), a spunky bright-haired woman who stumbles her way into Liv’s life. From the outside, Liv has a perfect small-town life, living in a small but cozy apartment with her boyfriend Sebastian (Clint Ruben) and working on her family farm. She comes from a loving nuclear family who often sit down for dinners together. Liv is quiet, taking life in through the lulls of everyday life, tending to the flowers or wishing for a more active sex life with Sebastian. Her life is quickly turned on its head when Andrea makes an unforgettable impression on Liv, awakening new feelings inside of her.

After their first encounter, Andrea requests to borrow Liv’s car, to which Liv, who doesn’t appear to have a spontaneous bone in her body, agrees. It might’ve been the costume Andrea was wearing to the “pussy” themed party she was headed to, but their connection is instantly felt. Small smirks litter Andrea’s face, who is a few years older than Liv, as she can tell Liv is totally checking her out. The next time the two women meet is the following day; Andrea returns the car and makes her way back to her makeshift home sat in the middle of a field. Liv finds her way there, and sparks fly as Andrea requests to take Polaroids of Liv.

The beginning of Andrea and Liv’s romance in The Venus Effect doesn’t start out in a conventional way; after going to a wedding for a friend of Andrea together, they find themselves waking up still drunk in the back of Liv’s station wagon. Although Liv still very much has a loving boyfriend waiting for her at home, she can’t help but let her mind wander about her feelings for Andrea. In the morning, the two have their first passionate moment with one another, leaving Sebastian in the rearview mirror. Liv and Sebastian’s final moments as a couple come to an end in a surprising way that adds some much-needed conflict to the film, giving Liv some hard consequences to deal with.

What is so profound in the film’s 1 hour and 45 minute runtime is it’s a queer story that is accepting from the get go. When Liv reveals to her family that she is no longer dating a man, but instead a woman, there’s shock at first but never does the family degrade Liv or denounce her as their own. It’s worth noting that Liv’s only brother is gay, and came out years before she did. They are a family that is riddled with drama, later in the film their lives are shaken when Liv’s parents tell their children that they are getting divorced. By no means are they perfect, but their willingness to accept one another for who they are is refreshing, especially for their sexuality.

The Venus Effect shows Liv’s and Andrea’s relationship as deeply flawed, and that’s what makes it feel incredibly real. Head over heels for one another at one moment and breaking up with the other a second later, they show that sexual chemistry isn’t the only thing that holds a relationship together. Andrea is more experienced in being out than Liv is, and has more friends who are in the community. Often leaving Liv to feel like an outsider in her own relationship with her inexperience. Wanting a more quiet and reserved life butts heads with Andrea’s want for a city apartment away from rural life.

Where the film hits the brakes is with the drawn out conflict of Liv’s parents getting a divorce. A budding relationship gets lost in the mess of a hetero couple’s disinterest in one another. Liv feels that her life has slowly begun to fall apart after meeting Andrea, loss of friends, and now the family life that she had once held dear is falling away. For a large part of the film’s final act Andrea and Liv rarely have any interactions, or are even shown on screen together, almost making the audience forget who this rom com is even about. The film lacks moments that develop Andrea and Liv’s love, and even when the film ends on a tear jerking moment, it makes you yearn for a few more minutes with them.

Writer and director Anna Emma Haudal, along with writer Marie Limkilde, create a story that plays like a later-in-life coming-of-age story through a woman questioning her sexuality. Focusing on Liv draws the audience in with an everyday looking woman with tired eyes and a curious spirit. They do quite a bit of work in the first few acts of the film finding out who Liv is, which makes it all the more frustrating when her moments of self-discovery are cut too short. Andrea, who injects much of the film’s humor, lights up the script, and played by someone with a sliver less charisma than Park, would be much less entertaining. Paired with stunning cinematography from Valdemar Winge Leisner, their love is captured in a dreamy atmosphere that often feels like a fairy tale.

Overall, The Venus Effect finds a young woman in need of finding herself and coming to terms with life’s many obstacles. Enchanting lead performances make for an easy watch even when the film loses its momentum near its final moments. A welcoming LGBTQ story that finds its stride in the warm glow of new love and moments that make us human.

Grade: B

Directors: Zar Amir Ebrahimi, Guy Nattiv
Writers: Elham Erfani, Guy Nattiv
Stars: Arienne Mandi, Zar Amir Ebrahimi, Jaime Ray Newman

Synopsis: The Iranian female judoka Leila is at the World Judo Championships, intent on bringing home Iran’s first gold medal.

International sports competitions have been meant, not only for showcasing the talents of individuals or teams, but as a friendly competition between nations. Unfortunately, many of these competitions have brought out the worst in nationalistic agendas from cheating to penalizing athletes should they not perform as the state expects. It’s especially true of Iran, which places its citizens under strict and unyielding codes of conduct within and without the country.

That is what makes Tatami unique. While other sports film conflicts are about individual pride, status, or greed; this film is about national interest. Leila’s (Arienne Mandi) leaders aren’t worried she will lose in the grander scheme of the competition, but that she could potentially lose to an Israeli. The escalation of tensions at home brings tension to the fights on the tatami, which is a Japanese straw mat covering the fighting surface. It makes for a daring story by screenwriters Elham Erfani and Guy Nattiv. They take us from the adrenaline of sports to the adrenaline of political intrigue without missing any emotional beats from either. We want Leila to win and we want her to escape oppression. 

Tension like this is hard to sustain, but cinematographer Todd Martin, as directed by Zar Amir Ebrahimi and Guy Nattiv, excels at it. Every bout that we see is filmed from a different angle at first. We see the combatants from above or from behind one woman or another. We’re made aware of how large the square of tatami and the arena it’s housed in are by the movement of the camera. Even as we are in close with the combatants as they grapple, it never feels off balance or confusing. It’s controlled until the last moment when the fight or flight response kicks in. The Steadicam jostles as the characters run. Each and every movement is precise and well executed. The fact that the film is shot in lush black and white is an added effect evoking the boxing noirs where a fighter is put in a precarious situation.

There are two matched scenes that create a perfect bookend for the film and highlight the best of Tatami‘s technical prowess. Directors Ebrahimi and Nattiv give us a visual language early on, showing us trust, concern, and duplicity in equal measure through the staging of their characters. The first of the scenes is on the team bus with women in the various seats, the camera pushes in, up the aisle and it turns to see Leila, boxed in by another woman. The camera then turns to see Maryam (Zar Amir Ebrahimi), looking over at Leila, but with no one next to her. The next time these two are on the same bus, they are next to each other and they look at one another. The journey to that moment is filled with anger, betrayal, fear, and doubt. Neither scene has dialogue, but the actresses are speaking volumes with their looks.

Zar Amir Ebrahimi has the tougher role in Tatami as a conflicted coach who has been in the same situation as her athlete. Ebrahimi pulls off this conflict with such grace. Her expressions and body language say far more than a script full of monologues could. The brilliance of her performance comes out of her character’s reaction. She plays Maryam as an intricately layered woman who is revealed in pieces and through conflict. Her ability to evoke something meaningful with a twitch of her lip or an opening of her eyes, is remarkable. Ebrahimi steals every scene she’s in and when she does get her big monologue at the end, it is devastating.

Tatami is a high wire act of political tension and sports drama. It’s a film that lets neither end of its story down. If you’re a fan of films that call out political oppression, this film is for you. If you’re a fan of great sports dramas, this film is for you. It’s a film that excites and inspires while never letting us forget the realities the fiction is based on and the price some pay to do what they love.

Grade: A