After watching the trailer I really want to see it. I don't remember a over the top silly jokes comedy from the last 20 years or so.

Ghost World (2001) is one of the truest, most accurate coming-of-age stories I have ever seen.

I can say this with confidence because I graduated from high school around the same time Ghost World came out. Funny enough, this film actually mirrors my life and how I experienced it. I identify with Enid so much because, hell, I lived her life. The parallels between us are wild.

What’s wonderful about Ghost World is how it captures that moment in time—the early 2000s. It almost seems aware of itself as an artifact of the era. That opening commercial with the Palm Pilot, for example—there’s nothing more early 2000s than Palm Pilots.

Ghost World is about two teenage girls, Enid (Thora Birch) and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson), who have just graduated from high school and are trying to figure out what to do with their lives. But as they’re figuring things out, they do something teenagers of that era did constantly: they observe and critique the people in their town, the culture, and the meaning of it all, constantly making themselves out to be above it all—as if they know something everyone else doesn’t.

There’s a big difference between Enid and Rebecca. Rebecca might be a little awkward, but she mostly knows what she wants to do with her life and, more to the point, attracts a lot of male attention.

Enid, on the other hand, doesn’t know what she wants to do. She feels like she’s drifting closer and closer to the margins of society. Despite being conventionally attractive, she fails to attract male attention, partly because of her awkward and taciturn manner. What’s more, she constantly makes fun of people she doesn’t know, calling them losers—partly because she feels like a loser herself.

Everything changes when they encounter a classified ad in the “Missed Connections” section of an alternative weekly paper. They find Seymour (played by Steve Buscemi), and Enid decides to play a prank on him to humiliate him for being a “loser.”

I should mention here that Ghost World is adapted from a comic book of the same name by Daniel Clowes. The character of Seymour is a major addition to the film, and I think it’s a great one—I can’t imagine the movie without him.

Both girls start stalking Seymour, following his whereabouts and seeing what he’s up to. Rebecca’s opinion of him never changes, but Enid discovers that Seymour is not the nerd she thought he was. He has his own world, with hobbies, interests, friends, and even parties. Seymour is a bit depressed over his inability to get a girlfriend, but Enid starts to admire him for his ability to live life on his own terms. Unlike her, Seymour genuinely doesn’t buy into the pop culture mumbo jumbo that Enid claims to hate but can’t seem to extricate herself from.

In other words, despite Seymour seeing himself as a loser, he’s living the life Enid wishes she could live.

This, of course, causes tension with Rebecca. Despite Rebecca and Enid’s pseudo-intellectual back-and-forth, Rebecca wants to live a conventional life, while Enid feels alienated from convention.

What I love about this film is how well it tackles topics like validation, aspiration, and the need to strike out on your own. It portrays the two girls so realistically, touching on hope and despair, and even the way they explore their sexuality and what they truly want.

After watching this film, I can’t help but wonder what happened to these girls. If they were real people, what kind of lives would they be living now? What jobs would they have? Would they be married, have kids? What would their hobbies be?

Ghost World was directed by Terry Zwigoff, who was the perfect director for this film, having previously directed Crumb in 1994. He co-wrote the screenplay with Daniel Clowes, who created the graphic novel. Zwigoff later directed Bad Santa and Art School Confidential, but hasn’t been very active since the 2000s.

The film has received universal acclaim. On Rotten Tomatoes, it scores 93% on the Tomatometer. Audiences love it just as much, giving it a 7.3 out of 10 on IMDb and a 3.6 out of 5 on Letterboxd.

I think this is one of the best films of the 2000s. Definitely one of the best coming-of-age stories ever made. I love these characters. I love how it explores a specific moment in time and how true to life it feels. I recommend it.

https://youtu.be/juzGS-GN79M

@movies@piefed.social

Top Dog (1995) is Chuck Norris’s attempt at a police dog buddy film.

This concept was nothing new. In fact, in 1989, there were two hugely popular films based on the same idea: K-9 starring Jim Belushi, and Turner & Hooch starring Tom Hanks. I’ve seen all of them, and by far the best is Turner & Hooch because Tom Hanks really sells his performance. The worst? Top Dog.

What should have set Top Dog apart from the others was Chuck Norris. Unlike Belushi or Hanks, he’s a bona fide martial arts master.

In terms of credibility, Norris is probably the most qualified action star ever. He has black belts in Tang Soo Do, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Judo. There’s a reason why he was the main villain in Bruce Lee’s Way of the Dragon, which, by the way, featured one of the best and most memorable fight scenes of both their careers.

Adding to his credentials, Norris was a world champion at the 1969 International Karate Championship. So, while I don’t like Chuck Norris’s politics, he’s worlds apart from Steven Seagal in that Norris is the real deal.

But unfortunately, Top Dog doesn’t showcase Norris at his action star best. Sure, there are some action scenes, and Norris demonstrates he’s still capable, but he was 55 years old when this movie was released. This is far from peak Chuck Norris, and the action scenes are few and far between.

The plot is generic for this type of movie. A police dog witnesses his former partner getting killed by terrorists, and Norris becomes the dog’s new partner. Together, they try to stop the terrorists before time runs out. Most of the time, Norris is just mugging for the camera, trying to be comedic, going on and on about how he doesn’t want a dog for a partner.

The problem is that Chuck Norris isn’t nearly as funny as Jim Belushi or Tom Hanks, and the action scenes are too few and far between.

One interesting note: the antagonists in this film are white supremacists who want to commit an atrocity against racial minorities. It’s funny considering Chuck Norris’s current stint as a right-wing talking head. He’s gone full MAGA—drinking Trump’s Kool-Aid, happily chugged with a grin. It’s interesting that in the 90s, Norris made a film where Nazis are the bad guys, and everyone understood that Nazis are bad. At the time, this wasn’t even controversial.

Top Dog was directed by Aaron Norris, Chuck Norris’s brother, who has produced, directed, and even acted as his brother’s stunt double earlier in his career.

The film is not well-liked. On IMDb, it scores 4.2 out of 10. On Letterboxd, it averages 2.1 out of 5. Professional critics hated it even more—on Rotten Tomatoes, it has a 0% on the Tomatometer.

I don’t think this movie is unwatchable or bottom-of-the-barrel terrible, but it’s certainly not good. It squanders its potential. If you want a good buddy cop action comedy, just watch Turner & Hooch instead. I don’t recommend Top Dog.

As an aside, I’ll say this: When I was walking through the aisles of Blockbuster as a teenager, I really wanted to see this movie. I knew it wasn’t going to be good, but I wanted to see it anyway—because Chuck Norris.

Well, 30 years later, was it worth the wait? No, not at all. Que sera.

https://youtu.be/25xDKzytus4

@movies@piefed.social

Masters of the Universe (1987) is one of the most infamous box office flops of all time.

Some people call it the worst movie ever made. But as a connoisseur of bad movies, I disagree. This film is nowhere near as horrible as its reputation suggests.

Is it a good film? No. Is it Ed Wood or Tommy Wiseau-level bad? Not even close. But I definitely understand why it was one of the biggest disappointments ever made. And to explain why, I have to take you back to my childhood.

Like every child of the '80s, my world was dominated by Saturday morning cartoons. I waited all week for that wonderful, glorious slot from 6 AM to 1 PM when I would be treated to the golden age of children's TV. Scooby-Doo, G.I. Joe, The Smurfs, Transformers, Looney Tunes, DuckTales—a whole host of classics that have stood the test of time. But at the very top of the perch, at least in my eyes, was He-Man.

Not only did He-Man have great animation, fun action, and cool characters, but it also had probably the best toy line out there. And Masters of the Universe was supposed to be the live-action adaptation of this beloved TV show. The thing is, live-action adaptations had proven to be a goldmine—just look at Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or Transformers. They did gangbusters at the box office.

But Masters of the Universe wasn’t just a bomb. It was the bomb that helped kill Cannon Films, one of the most notable production companies of the '70s and '80s. This is the same company that brought us movies like Enter the Ninja, Death Wish II, and Breakin'. But why did Masters of the Universe flop so hard?

In many respects, it's a lot like the cartoon—Skeletor wants to dominate everything, and He-Man is there to stop him. But where the whole thing goes off the rails is in its bizarre, convoluted plot. Instead of an epic battle on Eternia, He-Man and his crew—along with Skeletor and his forces—end up in 1980s America, dealing with a bunch of teenagers and their everyday concerns.

What this movie should have been was a massive Star Wars-scale epic between the forces of good and evil. And we do get hints of that at the beginning. But then we go back to Earth, and suddenly, instead of an epic, we’re watching a coming-of-age story about teens preparing for their high school dance. There’s this fundamental conflict between what the movie should be and what it wants to be.

Then there’s the issue of performances. And it’s not the actors’ fault. The problem is that He-Man doesn’t get to be He-Man. Dolph Lundgren should have been perfect for the role—he was Ivan Drago in Rocky IV, an intimidating, larger-than-life presence. But in this movie, He-Man barely has any screen presence. His character isn’t written well. We learn nothing about his backstory, motivations, or even why he’s fighting Skeletor in the first place.

Worst of all, the fight choreography is atrocious. Again, this isn’t Lundgren’s fault—he’s proven he can handle action scenes. But here, it looks like he can barely swing a sword. The fight scenes are so clumsy that He-Man doesn’t come across as powerful or skilled—just lucky. And that’s not what you want from your hero.

Then there are the other He-Man characters. Man-At-Arms and Teela? Why are they even here? They contribute nothing to the plot. The only reason they’re in the movie is because they were popular in the cartoon and toy line. But in the film? Useless.

And then there’s Gwildor. Oh my God, Gwildor. He’s so annoying. They created this character just for this movie—they try to make him funny, but he’s unbearable.

But you know how I said this movie isn’t all bad? Believe it or not, there are some good parts.

First, there’s Courteney Cox, who plays one of the teenagers, Julie Winston. In many ways, this movie is about her and her struggles. And I love Courteney Cox. She was my favorite in Friends, she was awesome in the Scream movies, and even now, she’s still a total babe. Seeing this young, 23-year-old version of her was a delight. Honestly, if this movie had just been about Julie Winston, I would have enjoyed it. I would have loved it.

But obviously, nobody paid to see a He-Man movie about her. They wanted to see He-Man. And the fact that the best part of this movie is something nobody came to see is just awful.

The other great part of the movie—my absolute favorite—is Evil-Lyn, played by Meg Foster. Oh. My. God. It blows my mind that this is the same woman who played Cagney in Cagney & Lacey because she is totally different as Evil-Lyn. Let me tell you—when she’s on screen, she does something for me. She steals every scene. And she’s a major hottie.

Not gonna lie, I would love to be Evil-Lyn’s minion. If she asked me to commit evil, I’d be like, “Yes, ma’am.” But honestly, why is she even wasting her time with Skeletor? What the hell is he going to do with Evil-Lyn? She should ditch him and rule the universe with me.

Now, I might as well mention the other reason He-Man has remained culturally significant—he's become something of a gay icon. And if you’re into that side of He-Man, I think you’ll be disappointed. While the movie is undeniably campy, it’s probably not the kind of camp you’re looking for—except for one scene towards the end. But you’ll have to slog through a lot of garbage to get there.

Gary Goddard directed Masters of the Universe, and he also rewrote the script. Whatever the original script was, I highly doubt it was worse than what we got. This was his first (and last) attempt at a mainstream Hollywood movie. After this disaster, the only notable thing he ever directed was the Jurassic Park: The Ride pre-show video—nine years later.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Goddard has been in the news for some very unpleasant reasons. He’s apparently close friends with Bryan Singer, and, well... let’s just say there have been some allegations.

There’s no question Masters of the Universe has a terrible reputation. It holds a 21% on Rotten Tomatoes. Over time, audiences have somewhat warmed up to it, which is why it has a 5.4/10 on IMDb and a 2.5/5 on Letterboxd.

But while it has its fans, I’m inclined to agree with the critics. This is definitely not the worst movie of all time—but it’s certainly not good.

Watchable? Yes. Entertaining? Sure. But if you grew up on He-Man? No doubt—this movie will be a disappointment.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=raYkZH8KVyY

@movies@piefed.social

Believe it or not, until today, I had never seen the original RoboCop (1987).

Neither had I seen the sequels or even the reboot made in 2014.

The closest I ever came to experiencing RoboCop was the TV show made during the nineties. I don't think anybody remembers that TV show, but I saw it because it was something to watch. Back then, my family didn't have cable—we saw everything over the air. There were only five channels to choose from, so I watched RoboCop to kill some time. The TV series, well, I'm only discovering now that it's very different from the movie. The movie is way better.

It's funny—for the longest time, I thought the movie was exactly like the TV series, so I avoided watching the original RoboCop because the TV series left a bad taste in my mouth. But let me tell you, I'm amazed at how good the original movie is. I was expecting something fluffy and campy, but Peter Weller, who played RoboCop, did an incredibly good job. We see him before he became RoboCop, then watch the process that made him RoboCop, and finally see him as RoboCop. It's such a trip.

Seeing this movie for the first time in 2025, I have to comment on the tech. Watching the tech is a treat: this is still very much a world of CRTs and primitive computers. We get to watch commercials, and you really get the sense that the Detroit of this film is just a few years removed from 1987—maybe like a decade into the future. There’s a game advertised, Nukem, which is almost like a board game, but also plays like a hybrid video game. It's clear they didn't foresee in 1987 how far we would go with video games, and that’s just one incredible nugget since RoboCop went on to spawn numerous video games afterward. I specifically remember the Commodore 64 version of RoboCop, which I played. It's interesting that in the film, you don't see video games, even though computers are such a prominent thing.

Another noteworthy aspect is how they thought artificial intelligence and cybernetics were just around the corner. Knowing what we know now, there's no way this world—with all its low-tech—could build something as advanced as RoboCop.

That being said, it’s interesting because this film is about the rise of corporations taking over our lives, having near-oligarchic control over civic life. There’s a mega-corporation, Omni Consumer Products (OCP), that controls the Detroit police department.

Watching the TV show during the ‘90s was my entry into the world of RoboCop, and until today, that was my only exposure. Talking about OCP, I remember thinking it was ridiculous because, in a functioning democracy, we’d never allow a corporation that much power. I was a teenager back then, and little did I know that RoboCop would be prophetic.

Now we live in a world where a mega-billionaire, Elon Musk, has winnowed his way into the American government, corporatizing it even as we speak. And I’m not even touching upon Peter Thiel and what he's up to because Palantir is practically OCP today. Let's be honest, OCP isn’t nearly as ambitious as the mega-corporations we have now.

Director Paul Verhoeven could have made just another cyberpunk movie, but what puts RoboCop over the top is its humour and ability to make fun of itself. He did a dynamite job here. He later made notable films like Total Recall, Basic Instinct, and Starship Troopers. He also made the flop Showgirls, which in my opinion makes him even more legendary. Having watched Total Recall and Starship Troopers, I feel like this is Paul Verhoeven's best work. Some might say Black Book, but that film hasn’t winnowed its way into popular culture like RoboCop. RoboCop was a phenomenon and still is. This film is universally praised; audiences love it. IMDb scores it a 7.7 out of 10, while Letterboxd scores it 3.9 out of 5. Critics echo audience enthusiasm with a score of 92% on Rotten Tomatoes.

I think everybody's right about RoboCop. It’s definitely a defining science fiction film of the 80s, during a decade that had excellent science fiction all around. It's too bad my entry point into RoboCop was the TV series. But I'm glad I've seen the original film now, and if you're like me and have held off on seeing this classic, I definitely recommend it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqvRDhW-XVA

@movies@piefed.social

There's so much to love about Kick-Ass (2010).

It's a movie I've waited 15 years to see. Other things always grabbed my attention, but I finally sat down to watch it, and I was not disappointed.

Kick-Ass is about a gawky teenage nerd who asks himself, "What if there were superheroes in real life?" He decides to become one, despite having no superpowers or special skills. Armed only with a ridiculous costume and a willingness to risk his life, he soon discovers that more qualified superheroes exist, and they are all battling an ugly criminal underworld.

This film is hilarious and delivers on action. Before watching, I was drawn to it because I'm a big Nicolas Cage fan. I sincerely believe he's one of the greatest actors of our time. Watch Leaving Las Vegas, where he won an Oscar, and you'll see Cage acting everyone under the table. It's no secret that Nicolas Cage is ready to take on any role, even in the lowest-budget films. Amazingly, he turns even the worst B-movies into something watchable.

Surprisingly, he isn't the standout actor in this film. That honour goes to Chloë Grace Moretz, who plays Hit-Girl. Every time she's on screen, she lights it up, and she was literally a child when the role was filmed. She's winsome and convincing—you just have to love her.

Then there's one of the main antagonists, Chris D’Amico/Red Mist, played by Christopher Mintz-Plasse. Known for his breakout role as McLovin in Superbad, he's just as good here, acting as the nerdy foil to the main protagonist.

The character Kick-Ass, portrayed by Aaron Taylor-Johnson, is Dave Lizewski, an incredibly unlucky and unqualified superhero. Despite frequently being overpowered and everyone else realizing he's out of his depth, he continues to persevere.

Kick-Ass emerged when superhero movies were on the rise, with many trying to reinvent the genre. Even Marvel movies were trying to flip the superhero story on its ear, to the point where reinvention became stale. What makes Kick-Ass stand out are two things: First, the world it inhabits is almost exactly like ours, and its superheroes are not so different from some real-life vigilantes out there. If you don't believe me, search "real-life superheroes" and you'll find an assortment of hilarious vigilantes whose heroism might be more cosplay than reality.

Secondly, the performances by the actors make this movie shine. Unlike other superhero films where the stars always feel very Hollywood, this one doesn't. There's something about seeing gawky and geeky superheroes and villains that adds authenticity. Even Nicolas Cage, who can be a heartthrob, plays his character, Big Daddy, as a nerdy homage to Batman.

Directed by Matthew Vaughn, who is mostly known as a producer but directed notable films like Layer Cake, Stardust, X-Men: First Class, and Kingsman, Kick-Ass is highly regarded.

On IMDb, it holds a 7.6 out of 10, on Letterboxd a 3.5 out of 5, and the critics on Rotten Tomatoes scored it 78%, with a 66% on Metacritic. I'd say it's held up well over the years. Although I'm quite tired of the superhero genre—I've even lost interest in Marvel and DC movies—this film has a unique outlook. It's funny, and the action sequences often surpass those of higher-budget superhero films. Made for just $30 million, which is modest for a superhero movie, it exemplifies how much can be achieved with so little.

I definitely recommend Kick-Ass as one of the better superhero movies and may even check out its sequel, Kick-Ass 2. It's definitely worth watching, even now, 15 years later.

https://youtu.be/2rpXHqnGDXo

@movies@piefed.social

We have to talk about the absolute train wreck that is Hellboy: The Crooked Man (2024).

And when I say train wreck, I mean industrial disaster proportions. It’s wild how far this franchise has fallen.

Twenty years ago, Hellboy was an iconic superhero film, directed by Guillermo del Toro and starring Ron Perlman. It was as important to superhero movies as X-Men and Batman—not necessarily in box office returns, but in critical acclaim. It helped establish Dark Horse Entertainment as a go-to source for fresh movie properties. But when you compare that film to Hellboy: The Crooked Man… wow. How the mighty have fallen.

This latest Hellboy didn’t even get a theatrical release in North America. It was dumped on Prime Video with little fanfare, and I doubt it’s made back its budget. Speaking of budget, this entire film was made for $20 million—that’s $30 million less than the already underperforming 2019 Hellboy reboot. It was shot in Bulgaria to save costs, and the cast lacks any real name recognition. Jack Kesy, who plays Hellboy, was almost certainly paid far less than Ron Perlman or David Harbour.

Word on the street is that Millennium Media, the production company behind this film, is teetering on bankruptcy. They made The Crooked Man just to retain the rights to the Hellboy character, which is why no major studio wanted to distribute it. Instead, Ketchup Entertainment picked it up and quietly dumped it on Prime Video.

I haven’t even mentioned the plot yet, and there’s a reason for that—everything I just described affects the final product. But here’s the gist: Hellboy: The Crooked Man is based on one of the most critically acclaimed stories from the comics. If you love that story, you’ll be happy to know the film is extremely faithful to it. It doesn’t diverge at all. The movie takes place in the 1950s, with Hellboy traveling to the Appalachian mountains, where he encounters a community plagued by witches and a demonic figure known as the Crooked Man, who makes deals for people’s souls. Naturally, Hellboy won’t stand for this, and that’s our conflict.

I’ll give the movie credit for one thing: it doesn’t pretend to be family-friendly. It’s rated R, and it earns that R. It’s creepy, it’s unsettling, and it has a great Southern Gothic aesthetic. Unfortunately, the film just can’t deliver what it’s going for. The budget is part of the problem, sure, but let’s be real—I’ve seen Asylum and Roger Corman films with a fraction of this budget that did far more with far less. I’m talking movies made for $500,000, maybe $1 million. And yet, despite having $20 million to work with, Hellboy: The Crooked Man looks like a YouTube fan film.

And that’s not just me saying it—critics have pointed it out. It genuinely looks like a bunch of Hellboy cosplayers grabbed some cheap Nikon DSLRs and started filming. I’ve seen Star Trek and Star Wars fan films made on shoestring budgets that look better. The color grading is flat and drab. Yes, it’s horror, but horror doesn’t have to look ugly. To make matters worse, the film tries to cover its limitations with bizarre camera effects—random speed-ups, weird motion blurring—none of which help. It just looks amateurish.

And where did that $20 million budget go? Was it the CGI? Because, again, I’ve seen low-budget indie films with better effects.

But the worst offense? The sound design.

Oh. My. God. The sound in this movie is atrocious. It’s hard to even hear the actors. They mumble, they whisper, they speak in low voices, and then ambient background noise drowns them out. I don’t understand why so many modern movies refuse to let the audience hear the dialogue. And before anyone asks—yes, I have a good sound system. I’m not watching on a TV speaker or a soundbar. I have a full 5.1 surround system with Dolby. The issue is entirely on the production team.

Critics have universally panned the film. On Rotten Tomatoes, it has a 37% score. Metacritic gives it 44/100. IMDb? 4.5/10. Letterboxd? 2.3/5. And honestly, I think that’s generous. I suspect some people are rating it higher just because they love Hellboy. And look, I get that—the story itself is fine. There’s nothing wrong with the source material. But the film’s production completely fails to bring it to life. Even fans of the story agree: the execution is what kills this movie.

And that’s the thing—I’ve seen movies rated 1/10, movies people call “the worst film ever made,” and you know what? A lot of those films had budgets of $10,000. When you consider that, it’s kind of impressive that they even got made at all. I can’t be too hard on them. You scraped together ten grand, cast your actors, shot your scenes, edited the film—you made something.

Movies like Velocipastor or The Atlantic Rim—sure, they’re not good, but they make the most of their resources. Meanwhile, Hellboy: The Crooked Man had twenty million dollars, made by people who’ve worked in the film industry for decades—people who went to film school, have production experience, secured financing—and this is what they came up with? A movie that looks like a low-budget B-movie at best—but, in reality, looks like a YouTube fan film?

Yeah. I’m gonna go ahead and say Hellboy: The Crooked Man is worse. I don’t recommend it. It’s not worth watching. If you want to experience The Crooked Man story, do yourself a favor—just read the comic. Skip this one.

https://youtu.be/4fw2PIpndnM

@movies@piefed.social

Lethal Obsession (2007) asks: “Hey ladies, what if you were stalked by your own brother?”

This is a TV movie—specifically, a thriller—and it has that distinct French-Canadian flavor. For those unfamiliar, many productions meant for American audiences are filmed in Canada to save costs, and weirdly, this has led to Quebec churning out a lot of made-for-TV thrillers. Lethal Obsession is one of them. Part of the fun, for me at least, is spotting all those Montreal locations and that unmistakable Montreal architecture—where much of my extended family lives.

As for the plot, Lethal Obsession follows a woman on the lam, taking every precaution to cut off contact with her psychopathic brother, who, as the title implies, is obsessed with her. She has changed her name, moved to another state, and taken on a different profession. When she visits her dying grandmother, she rents a car just in case her brother sees her, ensuring he can’t identify her vehicle. She’s serious about staying hidden—she even keeps a gun at home, ready for the inevitable moment when he finds her.

Nina Saint-Clair, as she’s now known, is played by Kellie Martin—the queen of made-for-TV movies. But she has another problem: a philandering husband (Dylan Neal) who’s been cheating on her for years. And of course, this wouldn’t be a movie without her psychopathic brother, Drew, somehow winnowing his way back into her life. He does this by cranking up the charm to 11, convincing Nina’s family, friends, and coworkers that he’s a great guy.

This is the most unbelievable part of the movie. Even the most charismatic people don’t build trust that quickly—why would Nina’s husband, best friend, and coworkers all suddenly believe Drew after just a few conversations and completely ignore Nina’s repeated warnings?

And why is practically every woman Drew meets instantly charmed, willing to sleep with him at a moment’s notice? I get that actors are usually good-looking unless they’re character actors, but Adam MacDonald, who plays Drew, is hardly Timothée Chalamet.

Then again, what do I know? I’m not an easily manipulated woman ready to spill my carefully guarded secrets in order to worship a guy I just met.

Since this is a thriller, we get the usual genre staples: sex, violence, blood, and multiple scenes of nudity. I’m surprised censors allowed this on TV—it must have aired in a really late time slot, maybe 1AM or something.

A movie like this is made for women and marketed to women. That doesn’t mean it’s necessarily enjoyed by women—it just means a bunch of execs sat around and asked, “How do we appeal to the widest swath of women? Make something provocative for them.”

And so, this movie leans hard into the woman in peril trope, where Nina knows the truth but everyone in her life is either too stupid or too naïve to believe her.

But let’s talk about the brother for a moment. Usually, in movies like this, the stalker is an ex-lover, an estranged husband, or just a generic creep. Making the stalker her brother is a bold—and creepy—choice, adding an unsettling incestuous subtext. For almost the entire film, you’re left wondering: Why is he this obsessed with his sister? And why, despite many years apart, is Nina this vigilant about staying away from him? The twist ending, which I didn’t see coming, answers those questions—and the reveal is even more bizarre and absurd than the subtext implies.

Director Philippe Gagnon is prolific in this field—he’s made 35 TV movies, most of them English-language productions, though a few are in French. Nearly all have a similar production value and similar ratings on IMDb and Letterboxd. If nothing else, the man is consistent.

Speaking of ratings, IMDb gives Lethal Obsession a 5.2/10, and there aren’t enough reviews on Letterboxd to generate an average—most hover between one and two stars, which seems about right. It’s watchable, it has its thrills, but it’s standard TV-movie fare.

Now, is this a good movie? No. Is it a bad movie? Also no. It’s a generic thriller that wouldn’t be notable at all if not for the sibling stalker angle. It’s so generic, the title of the movie is recycled every year for another low budget thriller—none of them related—this just happens to be the Lethal Obsession made in 2007.

I don’t recommend Lethal Obsession, but I don’t not recommend it either. Maybe it’s so mid that it’s actually worse than the outright bad B-movies I usually talk about. But hey, there are worse ways to kill time.

https://youtu.be/c657R-kL0i4

@movies@piefed.social

I thought Howl from Beyond the Fog (2019) was just going to be a basic kaiju flick, but instead, I got one of the most unique Japanese animated films I’ve ever seen.

This is far removed from typical anime—arguably, it’s not anime at all. What we have here is incredible stop-motion animation using puppets, green screens, and watercolors. It’s ornate, poetic, and breathtaking. In some ways, it reminds me more of Canadian animation from the NFB back in the ’50s and ’60s.

But Howl from Beyond the Fog actually comes from a specific Japanese live-action genre known as Tokusatsu. Tokusatsu is huge in Japan—one of its biggest and most popular film genres. It’s not as well-known in the West, but we recognize it through films like Godzilla and series like Ultraman. What makes Tokusatsu unique is its heavy reliance on practical special effects rather than CGI.

The film follows a blind girl who has a special connection with a mountain monster named Nebula. Her mother has died, and she is now under the care of her aunt, who keeps her hidden away from the world. Nebula is her only friend.

Meanwhile, a group of businessmen seeks to buy her family’s land and will do anything to get it. They’ve heard rumors of the monster and devise a plan to exploit it to seize the property. But, as with any good kaiju film, things don’t go according to plan.

The film itself is short—only 35 minutes—but after the feature concludes, we’re treated to a behind-the-scenes documentary showcasing how it was made. And as amazing as the film is, the making-of segment is just as fascinating. We see the creature being built, the environment being designed, and even the marketing process.

What takes it over the top for me is the fact that this was a Kickstarter project. No grants, no studio backing—just a pure labor of love. A big draw for Kickstarter backers was the monster’s designer, Keizo Murase, a legend in the field. He worked on films like Mothra, King Kong vs. Godzilla, and The Mighty Peking Man. Howl from Beyond the Fog was one of his final projects, and it shows his artistry at its peak.

This is art. The cherry blossoms, the movement, the way the creature emerges from the fog to interact with the blind girl—absolute magic.

Some people felt the film needed a bigger budget for more developed puppets, but I disagree. For example, the characters don’t have mouths, which actually enhances the experience. Without visible mouths, the expressions are inferred through the dialogue, making it even more immersive. I loved that approach.

If I have one criticism, it’s that the English localization wasn’t always great. Some translations felt off, but they were understandable. I’m just glad they didn’t opt for a dub—the original voice performances are essential to the film’s impact.

Sadly, this film hasn’t been widely seen. It didn’t even receive professional critical reviews, which is a shame. On IMDb, it holds a 6.5/10, and on Letterboxd, a 3.5/5. I completely agree with those ratings—this is a stellar work. It’s incredible to see how much can be achieved with practical effects alone.

You’d think Howl from Beyond the Fog was based on a traditional Japanese folktale, but surprisingly, it draws inspiration from The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, a Ray Bradbury story that was adapted into an American creature feature predating Godzilla.

So in a way, this film reaches back to the very origins of kaiju, which—interestingly enough—have American roots, not just with The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, but with King Kong as well. That’s just plain cool.

I highly recommend this film, especially if you want to experience Japanese animation that’s completely distinct from the typical anime style. It showcases what can be done with Tokusatsu when merged with stop-motion animation. There’s almost a Bunraku-like quality to it—traditional Japanese puppet theater brought to life in a visual feast.

You’ve gotta see this.

https://youtu.be/Vj8pnPdYwWw

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In Permanent Midnight (1998), Ben Stiller pounds out a few episodes of ALF while high on heroin.

It’s wild that this movie came out the same year as There’s Something About Mary, because it is the polar opposite in tone. The best way to describe Permanent Midnight is as a tragicomedy—a sad, haunting film that still manages to be darkly funny at times. It never glorifies heroin addiction but instead portrays its mundane, grim reality.

The film is based on a real person, Jerry Stahl, a TV writer who, during the 1980s, penned episodes of ALF, Thirtysomething, Twin Peaks, and later, in the 2000s, co-wrote the script for Bad Boys II. But throughout the ’80s, Stahl was deep into heroin and cocaine addiction, which had severe consequences. He wrote all about it in his memoir, Permanent Midnight, which this film adapts.

Heroin addicts are often portrayed in movies as poetic or romantic, like tortured souls flying too close to the sun. Permanent Midnight dispenses with that entirely. It shows the raw truth: addiction is about getting more drugs. It’s less about the high and more about chasing away the feelings you have when you’re not high. When you’re addicted, your main job is constantly acquiring more drugs.

The film brutally depicts the depths Jerry Stahl (played by Stiller) sinks to in order to feed his addiction. It is humiliating. He has lost all dignity. It has turned him into an ugly person. The saddest part is that he has people who believe in him, who go to bat for him, who give him opportunities an ordinary person wouldn’t get.

His beautiful, loving wife (Elizabeth Hurley) secures him great jobs and stays with him even when it’s painfully obvious he’s a liar, a cheat, and a manipulator. Yet we watch him spiral deeper and deeper. We wait for him to hit rock bottom. And when we see it, it is horrifying. It’s a miracle something even worse didn’t happen.

Now, I mentioned comedic elements, and yes, there are moments of dark humor. Because the other truth about addiction is that junkies can be ridiculous. Not because addiction is funny, but because the sheer absurdity of their behavior can be. It’s dark. It’s cruel.

But it’s undeniably funny to watch Jerry Stahl, high as a kite, bullshitting his way through a Hollywood meeting—and getting away with it because everyone else in Hollywood is so self-absorbed they don’t notice he’s completely out of his mind.

In another scene, Jerry and his dealer, wasted out of their skulls at a high-rise construction site, start running into a window. If it breaks, they plummet to their deaths. And yet, in their drug-addled state, they find it hilarious. If you’ve ever known an addict, you know this kind of behavior is par for the course.

One impressive aspect of Permanent Midnight is its supporting cast, filled with actors who later became stars. Owen Wilson plays his friend and fellow addict, Nicky. There are bit roles from Janeane Garofalo, Sandra Oh, and Peter Greene, who steals the show as Gus, Jerry’s dealer—both intimidating and completely insane.

The film was adapted and directed by David Veloz, who also wrote Natural Born Killers and Behind Enemy Lines. Strangely, despite his talent, he only wrote five films. Since Behind Enemy Lines, he’s disappeared from screenwriting, which is baffling considering his track record. I’d love to know what he’s doing now—how do you just stop making great movies?

Permanent Midnight was a hard movie for me to watch, but I’m grateful I did. Audience reactions seem to align with my feelings: it holds a 6.2/10 on IMDb and a 3.1/5 on Letterboxd. Critics were more divided—Rotten Tomatoes gives it 59%, while Roger Ebert actually liked it, awarding it three stars. Metacritic scores it at 57/100.

In this case, I think the audience got it right. The film is tough to watch, balancing humor and darkness, but it burrows into your heart.

It’s also the only time we’ll probably ever see Ben Stiller play such a genuinely despicable character. He plays it straight, using his comedic chops not to lighten the mood, but to highlight just how awful Stahl’s situation is. While Stiller would go on to more dramatic roles, he never played anything quite this intense again.

I recommend Permanent Midnight, but with a caveat: it’s not for everyone. It’s a heavy film, and if you don’t want to engage with a brutal look at addiction, steer clear. But if you’re willing to watch something honest, dark, and unexpectedly funny, this movie deserves your attention—especially since so few people have seen it.

https://youtu.be/UuxgGHbNT2I

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I wasn’t looking forward to watching Grandma’s House because I’ve seen enough Christian films to last a lifetime.

I grew up in a strict religious household where my mom was against any secular influence, to the point of banning secular media entirely. Most of what we had in the house was Christian media, including movies, and most of them were garbage—poorly acted, poorly written, and existing purely to preach at you. So, based on past experience, I wasn’t expecting much. But I have to say, Grandma’s House is miles better than the films I grew up with.

Despite being a supposedly family-friendly movie, it actually deals with heavy topics—spousal abuse, alcohol addiction, teen pregnancy, gang violence. The list goes on. It’s set in an African-American community, and I suspect that’s part of why it feels more grounded than the sanitized, lifeless Christian films I was raised on.

It deals with real-life problems that don’t have easy answers, and it doesn’t just imply that Jesus is a magic fix for everything. The message is clear: you have to solve your own problems too. That’s something I can actually get on board with.

I’m not against spirituality, Christianity, prayer—none of that. What I’ve always been against is the cultural homogenization where Christians try to turn everyone into carbon copies of themselves. Grandma’s House doesn’t do that.

It embraces its African-American cultural roots, and that makes a huge difference. Black folk, religious or not, have a distinct identity separate from the generic, corporate-friendly American evangelicalism I grew up with. For example, the music in this film is actually good. It’s not the kind of contemporary Christian music that sounds like a YouTube stock track or a watered-down U2 knockoff. Instead, we get big, bright gospel music with powerful vocals, and I love it. The actors also give genuinely heartfelt performances—nothing feels phoned in.

The movie follows three kids whose home life is falling apart. Their father lost his job, started drinking again, and things got violent. Their mother, desperate to get them out of that environment, drops them off at their grandmother’s house.

Grandma runs a tight ship—no video games because they “rot your brain,” everyone has to be up at 6 AM, and nobody is allowed to visit without her permission. The house is also home to a young man training to become a college football player, whose mother recently died of cancer. There’s a teen mom living there as well, and another woman who fled to Grandma’s house after her husband cheated on her.

I’ve talked about what I liked, but now for what I didn’t. The kids push back hard against Grandma, and honestly, I get it. She’s a little too much of a hard-ass. If she weren’t so strict, the kids probably wouldn’t rebel as much or get into as much trouble.

Do they really need to be up at 6 AM? They’re kids. They just need to wake up in time for school. They’re also bored. Take away their video games and other entertainment, and of course they’re going to sneak out, go to parties, and get into trouble. If you make life miserable for them at home, they’ll find somewhere else to be.

Another thing that bothered me was the way the film handled the women’s storylines. The mothers in the movie have been put through hell by their husbands, yet the film seems to suggest that forgiveness means going back into those situations. I understand the idea of forgiveness, but why does it have to mean putting yourself and your kids back in danger? It doesn’t make sense. You shouldn’t have to wait for something terrible to happen—you should just avoid the situation altogether.

I also don’t agree with a lot of the Christian values presented in the movie. I don’t think it’s a woman’s job to cook or a man’s job to be the provider. That’s just outdated nonsense.

And the ending—without spoiling it—was way too cliché and predictable. It felt emotionally manipulative, like it was designed just to tug at the heartstrings. It also wrapped things up too neatly, which didn’t sit right given the weight of the issues presented earlier. Some narrative threads felt unresolved—one character dies, and then… that’s it. Nothing comes of it.

That said, I still think this was a better film than most Christian movies. It tackled serious issues in a way that felt more honest than what I was used to.

One moment stuck with me: when the kids ask Grandma why she’s so mean, she tells them, “I’m mean because life’s mean, and I want to prepare you for that.” I get where she’s coming from—the world isn’t a bouquet of flowers. But I also don’t think you need to be cruel to prepare kids for a cruel world. Kindness and gentleness go a long way, especially with children.

Would I recommend this movie? It’s okay. I wouldn’t watch it again, but it’s family-friendly, and I’d consider gifting it to my very religious parents.

https://youtu.be/WMWUC1I9Zbc

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Sharktopus, released in 2010, is a movie I’ve been wanting to watch for years. I just never found the time to slot it into my viewing schedule—until now. And it delivered.

But why was I so excited about this particular B-movie? Because Sharktopus is the last great franchise from legendary producer Roger Corman.

Now, I’m not exaggerating when I say that Roger Corman is the most important producer in American film history. He’s the man who brought us Bucket of Blood, Little Shop of Horrors, Death Race, Battle Beyond the Stars, Chopping Mall, and—I kid you not—almost 500 films.

And it’s not just the films Corman made. It’s the talent he discovered. Under his tutelage, we got some of the most influential directors of all time: Martin Scorsese, Jonathan Demme, Francis Ford Coppola, Ron Howard, and Peter Bogdanovich. Even into the 2010s, Roger Corman was still making movies.

Sharktopus was what we used to call a SyFy Original. These were a slate of B-movies made specifically for the SyFy Channel. And Sharktopus proved to be one of the most popular of them. As I said, this became a franchise, spawning sequels like Sharktopus vs. Whalewolf and Sharktopus vs. Pteracuda. You could even argue that this franchise helped spawn an entire genre of ridiculous, shark-related creature features, including Sharknado (another SyFy Original, though produced by The Asylum).

So, what is Sharktopus about? It’s very simple. Dead simple.

It’s a horror movie about a shark-octopus hybrid, created by the military, that goes rogue and starts attacking innocent people in Puerto Vallarta. The film follows scientists trying to bring the creature back under control. That’s it. Simple plot, but a lot of fun.

What makes Sharktopus so memorable? Well, for one, its star: Eric Roberts. He’s been in a lot of B-movies—perhaps hundreds at this point—but here, he’s in full scenery-chewing mode, and it’s glorious.

But the real star of the show is, of course, the CGI-animated Sharktopus. It’s not convincing. It’s extremely low-rent. But that just makes it even better. Even for 2010, the CGI looked bad. The producers clearly leaned into the ridiculousness, and it paid off. The best moments? When Sharktopus walks onto land using its tentacles. Absolute gold.

What’s really funny is that critics liked this film way more than audiences did. On Rotten Tomatoes, it sits at 50%, but IMDb gives it a 3.3/10, and Letterboxd a 1.9/5. The IMDb reviews are particularly hilarious because many of them seem to completely lack a sense of humor. You almost get the feeling they don’t understand what they’re watching. They just trash the movie for its low budget—without realizing that’s the point.

To me, Sharktopus is one of a kind. I recommend it. Just seeing that absurd creature in action is worth the watch.

https://youtu.be/ZihMeeB-hBU

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Invasion (2005) is Albert Pyun at his most experimental.

The entire film is supposedly shot in one continuous take using a car dash cam. I’m not sure I fully believe that, though, because there are white flashes throughout, suggesting multiple takes were stitched together with these flashes disguising the cuts.

As the title implies, Invasion is about an alien invasion, witnessed entirely through found footage discovered from a police cruiser’s dash cam. It’s a fascinating concept, but before diving into the film itself, some context is in order. Albert Pyun was an iconic B-movie director. Some compared him to Ed Wood, dismissing his work as bad yet prolific, but I think that’s unfair.

The fact is, he made several iconic films—The Sword and the Sorcerer, Cyborg, and Nemesis, to name a few. You could even argue that Jean-Claude Van Damme became a star because of Cyborg. Pyun also directed Captain America—not the Marvel blockbuster, but the obscure 1990 version. Over a 30-year career, he made 54 films, including one that remains unreleased.

By the 2000s, Pyun had almost no money left for filmmaking. He was entirely outside the Hollywood system. Many directors in his position would have simply given up. Pyun couldn’t. He had to make movies, even with almost no resources. Invasion is a product of that determination—his attempt to tell a story using nothing more than a single camera mounted on a car.

Whether he succeeded depends on your perspective. If you view it as a demonstration of what could be accomplished with a low-quality 2000s-era dash cam, it’s impressive. If this were a student film, it would probably get an A. But Pyun wasn’t a student—he was an established (albeit often derided) B-movie director.

The film has several flaws, the biggest being that much of it consists of a car driving through a forest, with long stretches of nothing happening. Because there’s only one fixed camera, key events often happen off-screen. This makes sound design crucial, as the film relies on audio to fill in the gaps where visuals fail. Pyun tries his best, and at times, he succeeds, but at the end of the day, this is supposed to be a movie, not a radio play.

Another issue is its runtime. The film is advertised as being 81 minutes long, but 11 of those minutes are just credits—one of the most extreme cases of runtime padding I’ve ever seen. In reality, the film is closer to 70 minutes.

It’s worth mentioning that Invasion was written by Pyun’s wife, Cynthia Curnan. She wrote several of his films, including Road to Hell, Cyborg: Nemesis, and The Dark Rift. In total, she wrote nine movies, one of which remains unreleased. She wasn’t a bad writer—her ideas were unique—but given the extreme limitations of Invasion, there was only so much she could do.

Albert Pyun passed away in 2022 from multiple sclerosis and dementia. It’s a sad loss, but his legacy endures, particularly in the realm of cyberpunk and cyborg films. In many ways, RoboCop likely wouldn’t exist without Pyun’s influence. That’s why I think calling him “another Ed Wood” is unfair. Say what you want about the quality of his films—at least he had ideas, and at least they were fun.

Is Invasion good? Is it bad? Honestly, I don’t find it particularly enjoyable to sit through. Conceptually, it’s an interesting experiment, but the execution leaves much to be desired. That said, I admire Pyun’s determination. Faced with no money, he asked himself, “How can I make a movie anyway?”—and then he went and did it.

I don’t recommend Invasion, but I applaud the ambition behind it.

https://youtu.be/GxQy8HotrJw

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Beyond the Reach (2014) is beyond awful.

Not everyone agrees with me, but let me make my case.

This film is an adaptation of the classic juvenile novel Deathwatch. If you spent any time in a high school library during the ’80s or ’90s, you know that book’s cover—it’s iconic.

Deathwatch is about a successful businessman and hunter named Madec, who acquires a hunting license for big-horned sheep. To help him find one, he hires a young, timid gas station worker named Ben to be his guide.

During the hunt, Madec accidentally shoots someone. Rather than face the consequences, he tries to cover up the crime by bribing Ben into silence. When Ben refuses, Madec snaps. He forces Ben to strip down to his shorts and wander the desert without water, watching from a distance as he slowly succumbs to exposure.

The entire book is a tense survival thriller—Ben using his wits and endurance to outlast Madec and make it out alive.

A few years later, Deathwatch got its first film adaptation, Savages, starring Andy Griffith as Madec, playing completely against type. Instead of the wholesome sheriff from The Andy Griffith Show, here he’s a ruthless, spoiled rich man. Ben was played by Sam Bottoms, best known as surfer Lance B. Johnson in Apocalypse Now. Savages was an amazing TV movie, and if you can find it, do yourself a favor and give it a watch.

Nearly 40 years later, Beyond the Reach became the second film adaptation, this time starring Michael Douglas as Madec and Jeremy Irvine as Ben. On paper, that’s a great cast. And let me tell you—Michael Douglas is the best thing about this movie. He goes full-on capitalist sleaze. It’s like watching Gordon Gekko go insane and murderous. Hearing him yell, “I’ll kill you!” is a treat.

So what went wrong? Why don’t I like this movie?

Let’s start with the title.

I know a title doesn’t make a movie, but it does set expectations. A title is a preview, a taste. Beyond the Reach is a forgettable, meaningless title. I’ve been thinking about this movie all day, and I still struggle to remember it. Now compare that to Deathwatch—a fantastic title that immediately tells you what the book is about. It’s about watching someone die. Or Savages, which promises people going wild and Andy Griffith playing against type. But Beyond the Reach? Beyond the reach of what? Madec is constantly within reach of Ben. He watches him, points his gun at him multiple times. The title doesn’t fit. What were they thinking?

Now, let’s talk about Ben.

Jeremy Irvine is completely miscast. Ben is supposed to be meek, lacking confidence—a struggling college-aged gas station worker. But in this movie? Irvine is too pretty, too put-together. He’s got a girlfriend, six-pack abs prominently displayed, and carries himself with way too much confidence.

Some people compare him to Paul Walker in terms of just being cast for his looks, but I disagree. Paul Walker, at least, fit his Fast & Furious role because he was a genuine car enthusiast.

Do I buy Irvine as a survivalist? No. Do I buy him as meek and insecure? Not for a second. There’s nothing wrong with being attractive, but he looks like a damn model the entire time.

Another problem? Ben barely uses his survival skills. He mostly survives by sheer luck. How do you avoid dynamite multiple times by just the skin of your teeth? Once, okay, but over and over? Come on. Give the guy some actual competency.

But the worst thing about Beyond the Reach? The ending.

It diverges from the book in a way that is inexplicable. I won’t spoil it, in case you actually want to see this movie (which you shouldn’t), but it’s bad. It defies all logic. Symbolically, Madec represents capitalism and institutional power, but the ending? It’s a slap in the face. It goes against everything Madec’s character represents. Worse, it cheapens Michael Douglas’s performance—the one good thing this movie had going for it.

And that’s why I hate this film so much.

It had so much potential. Great source material. A fantastic performance from Michael Douglas that almost makes up for Jeremy Irvine’s miscasting. But the script? Holy fuck, the script is awful. You had two writers, Stephen Susco and Robb White, and all they had to do was read the book and stick to the story. They couldn’t even manage that.

The film was directed by Jean-Baptiste Léonetti. This was his one and only American film. He’s made some well-received short films and another French feature, Carré Blanc, but I doubt he’ll be making another English-language movie anytime soon.

Now, I realize not everyone agrees with me. Some people do like this movie. On IMDb, Beyond the Reach has a 5.6/10. On Letterboxd, it scores 2.7/5. Clearly, some people enjoy it—maybe just for Michael Douglas’s performance. But professional critics? They hate it. It has a 36% on Rotten Tomatoes and a 34/100 on Metacritic. And I think the critics are right.

It’s not the worst movie ever made, but when a film wastes this much potential? It’s infuriating.

Skip this one. Watch Savages instead. Or better yet, read Deathwatch.

https://youtu.be/5qlFGI5n_C8

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The Killer Eye (1999) is a rabbit hole if I’ve ever seen one.

When I put it on, I fully expected a low-budget, trashy horror film—and that’s exactly what it is. This is high-grade B-movie schlock, almost tailor-made for Mystery Science Theater 3000, but for one big reason, it probably won’t end up there—at least, not without heavy censorship.

The plot is about what you’d expect: a mad ophthalmologist scoops up a twink hustler off the street and gives him some experimental eye drops that allow him to see into the eighth dimension—until now undiscovered. Dr. Jordan Grady (played by Jonathan Norman) believes these eye drops hold the key to unlocking this new reality. What he doesn’t realize is that they will also bring a giant, tentacled eyeball into our world, an eyeball that spends most of its time groping women before going on a killing spree.

Now, let’s be clear: this film is borderline a skin flick. There’s a lot of nudity, mostly from the women, but also a few homoerotic moments (more on that later). That said, there’s not so much nudity that it wouldn’t make it onto Prime Video or Pluto TV, which is where I watched it. There are a few frontal shots—some nudity, no genitals. Well, maybe a hint of genitals.

So why can’t I hate this movie, even though it’s undeniably trash? Because it’s self-aware trash. It knows its audience, it leans into the absurdity, and it’s genuinely funny. I’d even go so far as to say it’s downright witty.

The characters are a riot. Dr. Grady is single-minded in his pursuit of the eighth dimension, funding his research with his rich wife’s money. His wife, Rita, is sexually frustrated and desperate for attention, constantly trying to seduce every male character in the film—including two “best friends,” Tom and Joe, who do nothing but lounge around in their underwear and take drugs. The film insists they’re just best friends, but it’s clear they’re more into each other than Rita. These guys are pure himbo eye candy, existing solely to show off their six-packs.

Then there’s Morton and Jane, the monogamous married couple, with Rita repeatedly hitting on Morton—who repeatedly turns her down. Oh, and we can’t forget Creepy Bill, a guy who lives in the attic and, well… is creepy. That’s his entire character. That, and his weird drawling Southern accent.

Meanwhile, the killer eyeball spends most of the film trying to impregnate women so it can spawn more eyes, while also possessing men to go undercover.

But here’s where things get really interesting: The Killer Eye is the work of David DeCoteau, a man who has directed over 180 films since the 1980s. That’s a level of prolific output that borders on the absurd. And nearly all of his films fall squarely into the B-movie exploitation genre, with many carrying overt gay themes. In fact, if you had to describe DeCoteau, you could call him the gay Roger Corman—because that’s exactly who and what he is.

DeCoteau got his start at age 18 working for Corman, and his movies are very much in that same vein. But unlike John Waters or Bruce LaBruce, who also inhabit the realm of queer underground cinema, DeCoteau is both more commercial and more underground than either. What truly sets him apart is that he doesn’t seem to care about prestige or critical acclaim—he just wants to make movies that sell. And he does. Like clockwork. His filmography includes Assault of the Killer Bimbos, Shrieker, Witchouse, A Talking Cat?!, and the 1313 series of horror films.

And while you can argue that all of these movies are pure schlock (no disagreement here), it’s also clear that DeCoteau injects a little bit of himself into each one. He’s no amateur—he knows exactly what he’s doing and has carved out a very specific niche. His films have a cult following, with people who go out of their way to watch every single one. And I get it. Because as commercial as they are, they’re all made on his terms.

Despite this, The Killer Eye has predictably low ratings:

• IMDb: 2.9/10
• Letterboxd: 2.1/5

But that hasn’t stopped it from being reissued on DVD multiple times. It even got a spiritual sequel of sorts—Killer Eye: Halloween Haunt—though that one wasn’t directed by DeCoteau, but by Charles Band (who is another deep dive-worthy figure in the world of B-movies).

Can I recommend The Killer Eye? Not really—unless you’re specifically looking for an R-rated skin flick with horror elements and a dash of homoeroticism. If that’s your thing, you might get a kick out of it. Otherwise, this movie is only worth checking out if you have even a passing interest in David DeCoteau and the peculiar world of gay trash cinema.

https://youtu.be/bdfAmQwq4EM

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Kid Cannabis (2014) is a dramedy that hits home for me. A good portion of the film takes place near where I live—British Columbia.

The movie follows an 18-year-old high school dropout who makes a killing trafficking BC Bud (marijuana from British Columbia) into Idaho. It’s almost a fish-out-of-water tale because this kid knows nothing about the nuts and bolts of drug trafficking. He quickly discovers he can make millions moving marijuana across the border. At one time, BC-grown marijuana had as much value as cocaine—if you were willing to take the risk, you could make a lot of money.

But the thing is, while marijuana may not be as harmful as other substances, as the movie shows, trafficking it is not a victimless crime. The problem doesn’t even come from the drug itself—it comes from the greed that takes hold when people get into this profession. How far would you go for the money?

What’s interesting to me is that I’ve seen the other side of this—the Canadian side. The drug trafficking business has resulted in a lot of deaths, a lot of innocent lives lost. Hell, I’ve known people who got involved in this kind of thing, and it just isn’t worth it. People like to say alcohol is worse than marijuana, but the kind of people who are willing to take the risk of smuggling weed across the border? They’re usually into other shady shit too. It’s rarely just marijuana. And the sad truth is, a lot of the illegal weed you get off the street isn’t even just marijuana—sometimes it’s laced with something else. Most people already know this, but this is what the movie explores.

The story follows Nate (played very well by Jonathan Daniel Brown) and his transformation from a naïve, G-Willikers-type kid into someone who goes fully to the dark side. The best way to describe this movie? It’s Breaking Bad, but with marijuana instead of meth. And there are a lot more laughs because it’s funny watching these dumb kids do stupid things. Almost all of them are reckless idiots, but they take the risk.

There are three standout supporting performances. First, Ron Perlman plays an Israeli gangster, Barry Lerner, and his intimidating presence is perfect. I love Ron Perlman in pretty much anything.

Then there’s John C. McGinley as a Canadian marijuana grower who is passionate about making the best, most organic product possible. His scenes describing weed are hilarious—he cares so much about the bud that I almost get a tear in my eye. And honestly, guys like him do exist over here, especially now that weed is legal in Canada. I’ve met people who treat marijuana as their whole life, almost like a spiritual experience.

Me? I can go to a store right now and buy as much weed as I want, but I don’t. I think it’s overrated. It makes me feel like shit. And the weed guys always say, “Oh, you’re just trying the wrong strain!” Nah, I just like being sober. The only vice I allow myself is one cup of coffee—maybe two, but that’s my hard limit.

The third great supporting character is an adopted Korean kid, the former top weed dealer in town, who gets jealous of Nate. He’s played by Aaron Yoo, and the guy is unhinged. Watching him lose his mind is fantastic. Aaron Yoo is a tremendous actor—I need to see more of his work.

This movie is based on real people. I looked them up—they all exist. One of them, played by Kenny Wormald, was actually shot and killed outside a bar recently. Sad, but we don’t know the full story. And look, murder is always wrong. If I have to say that out loud, then I don’t know what to tell you.

For a low-budget film, Kid Cannabis does a lot. The accuracy is impressive—the locations look like British Columbia, and they nailed the setting. It also successfully walks the line between comedy and drama. It’s hilarious, a great stoner flick, but it never glorifies what Nate does. You don’t root for him because, let’s be honest, he’s a piece of shit.

Still, it’s fun, engaging, and takes the subject seriously. Definitely a recommendation from me.

https://youtu.be/U1_casgexVE

@movies@piefed.social

In 1978, The Big Sleep got a remake starring Robert Mitchum. The best way I can describe this film? It’s as if someone built a zebra out of chicken parts.

If you’re unfamiliar with The Big Sleep, a little context is in order. Written by Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep is a hardboiled crime novel often regarded as one of the greatest novels of the 20th century. It introduced Philip Marlowe, a private investigator who’s seen it all. He’s inhabited every dirty gutter, is familiar with every vice, and knows who’s who in L.A.’s low-down, grimy streets. In a way, Marlowe is an anti-Sherlock Holmes. He doesn’t solve cases through pure logical deduction but by inducing high-wire situations, profiling every lowlife he encounters. He thrives in a dark, neon-soaked world.

Marlowe was such a compelling character that he inspired numerous cinematic adaptations. The most famous is the original The Big Sleep (1946), starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, directed by Howard Hawks in one of his signature films. A tremendous film—everyone should watch it. And while I’m not reviewing that version today, I’ll acknowledge one of the big critiques: it was a victim of the Hays Code, meaning many elements of Chandler’s novel were censored. Key plot points are only hinted at.

Fast forward to 1978. Why was this remake made? Well, three years prior, Robert Mitchum starred in a remake of Murder, My Sweet, based on Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely, another Philip Marlowe story. That film, which kept the original novel’s title, was highly praised. Mitchum’s performance was so well received that the producers essentially wanted him back for an encore. This time, they got an even bigger hotshot director: Michael Winner, known for Death Wish, The Mechanic, and The Sentinel.

The 1978 Big Sleep also boasted an even more impressive cast than the 1946 version. Beyond Mitchum, they had James Stewart as General Sternwood, Sarah Miles as Charlotte Regan, Richard Boone as Lash Canino, Joan Collins as Agnes Lozelle, Candy Clark as Camilla Sternwood, and Oliver Reed as Eddie Mars. We’re talking Academy Award winners and nominees. And anchoring it all? Robert Mitchum, one of the actors who defined film noir, already proven to be every bit as good a Philip Marlowe as Humphrey Bogart.

So how is this not one of the greatest American films ever made?

Well, I’ll tell you.

The biggest problem? This version of The Big Sleep doesn’t take place in Los Angeles. Instead, it’s set in the bucolic English countryside. Why? I have no idea. In both the novel and the original film, L.A. is practically a character unto itself. The darkness, the grit, the urban decay—that’s what The Big Sleep is about. Setting it in England? At some point, I half expected Miss Marple to pop out of the woods and offer a witty rejoinder to Marlowe’s musings. In fact, maybe the movie would have been better if it were a Philip Marlowe/Miss Marple crossover where they team up to solve a crime. But no, this is played straight.

And when I say straight, I mean that Philip Marlowe is still an American. So is General Sternwood. One of Sternwood’s daughters speaks in an American accent, while the other has an English accent. Essentially, the film just transports a bunch of Americans to England for no apparent reason.

It’s like encountering a parrot in Antarctica—Philip Marlowe simply does not belong in a vast English estate, talking to butlers.

That’s the biggest issue with the 1978 Big Sleep, but there’s another: this version of Philip Marlowe is missing some zip. Marlowe has always been laconic, but here, he’s almost too laconic. He seems tired, like he’s running out of life. And according to reports from the set, that’s because Robert Mitchum was drunk. Every. Single. Day. Plastered. And he wasn’t alone—Oliver Reed and Richard Boone were also drinking heavily. The whole production was just an excuse for the actors to get together and booze it up.

And the result? The film feels sluggish.

That said, it’s not all bad. There are some aspects of this version that are actually better than the 1946 film. For one, it’s no longer at the mercy of the Hays Code, meaning the plot makes more sense. This time, it can explicitly state that there’s a homosexual relationship, drug use, and pornography involved. And because these elements are no longer just hinted at, General Sternwood’s blackmail has much higher stakes.

Another positive? While Mitchum is sluggish, everyone else seems to be giving it their all. Sarah Miles, Candy Clark, and Joan Collins deliver strong performances, and Oliver Reed is particularly menacing. John Justin as Arthur Geiger also stands out. At every turn, the film is filled with fascinating, quirky characters, each with their own motives, played with aplomb.

The other great thing? The aesthetic.

Now, while the English countryside is a baffling setting for a Big Sleep adaptation, the Art Deco style is highly attractive. Although the film is set in 1970s Britain, it leans into the retro revival of the 1920s and 1930s that was popular at the time—think Cabaret or Murder on the Orient Express. More similar to this movie would be Chinatown. The result is a stylish, neo-retro Art Deco look that’s fun and visually striking.

But let’s be real: as nice as those elements are, this is still a flawed film. The 1978 Big Sleep received negative reviews upon release. Both Siskel and Ebert hated it.

But is it as bad as the critics said back then?

No, I don’t think so.

Over time, audiences have come to appreciate this version. On IMDb, it holds a 5.8/10. On Letterboxd, a 2.9/5. So while it’s polarizing, there’s still much to appreciate—particularly the supporting performances and the aesthetic.

That, of course, doesn’t absolve Robert Mitchum’s phoned-in performance or the bizarre relocation from L.A. to England. But I’d still say it’s worth watching—especially since you can stream it for free on Prime Video, Hoopla, Plex, Tubi, and even YouTube.

Nowhere near as good as the 1946 classic starring Bogart and Bacall. But still watchable. And still fun.

https://youtu.be/F7XjeHylJwc

@movies@piefed.social

The best reason to watch Black or White is to see Kevin Costner get absolutely shit-faced drunk while yelling at his dead daughter’s baby daddy for smoking too much crack.

Kevin just can’t stand the guy—calls him every offensive name in the book while downing yet another whiskey on the rocks.

But that’s not the only good reason to watch this movie. I also love the part where Bill Burr tells Kevin Costner that if he doesn’t have a drinking problem, then he’s sure as hell addicted to anger—and the drinking is just an outgrowth of that. Can you imagine Bill Burr, of all people, lecturing you about your anger issues? Like, how bad does it have to be when the guy who makes a living going off the rails tells you to dial it back a little?

And if that’s still not enough of a reason to see Black or White, how about Octavia Spencer telling Kevin Costner off for not liking Black people? And for good measure, calling him a no-good, dirty drunk.

Now, this movie could have been one of those didactic family dramas about race relations. The title makes it seem like a binary, right-versus-wrong story where there’s a clear hero and villain. But in reality, this whole thing has the unhinged thrill of a Jerry Springer episode—albeit with major-league actors and better production value.

The plot revolves around a custody battle over a mixed-race girl. The people fighting it out? Kevin Costner, a rich guy living in his mansion with a pool, and Octavia Spencer, an entrepreneurial woman living in the hood with her big family gathered around while she finesses some real estate deals. Complicating things further, the poor girl’s father is, in fact, a loser, but Octavia refuses to see it because she just wants everyone in her family to grow and thrive.

Meanwhile, Kevin Costner’s wife has recently died, so he’s trying to process that while fighting for custody and insisting he doesn’t have a drinking problem—which, I assure you, he does. The man practically owns a full bar in his living room.

The side characters in this movie are spectacular. Big props to Bill Burr, who plays Kevin Costner’s friend and lawyer. But I also have to shout out Anthony Mackie, who plays Octavia Spencer’s lawyer (and relative). He’s got some zippy lines and really brings out his inner Johnny Cochran.

And then there’s the egghead tutor, Duvan, played by Mpho Koaho. Despite being 19, the guy knows six languages, is a math genius, and has written in-depth papers on practically everything… except substance abuse. When he’s not tutoring Kevin Costner’s granddaughter, he’s driving Kevin around because, well, Kevin is simply too drunk to drive.

Man, this film was a blast. It’s a heavy drama—no question—but watching Kevin Costner and Octavia Spencer go at it in a high-stakes court battle? That’s something to witness.

Is it a perfect film? No. I thought the ending was a little too neat. Actually, I’ll just say it—the ending wrapped things up way too easily, which kind of diminished the impact of the story and its overall message.

Black or White was written and directed by Mike Binder. He’s mostly a writer, known for Reign Over Me, The Upside of Anger, and The Search for John Gissing, but he’s also done some directing, mostly for TV. He does a solid job here—no complaints.

So, do I recommend Black or White? Definitely. It dives into racial politics quite a bit and has some genuinely insightful moments. But the best part? The acting. Oh boy, I can’t get enough of an angry, drunk Kevin Costner.

https://youtu.be/1ZwN85UJqAQ

@movies@piefed.social

There’s only one reason to watch Zandalee (1991), and that’s to see Nicolas Cage flip the hell out.

On that front, I was not disappointed. We get full-force, be-mulleted, Southern-drawling Nicolas Cage going absolutely ballistic. And I mean—he goes for it. That scene in his painting studio where he loses it and starts smearing black paint all over his body? That’s a top 10 Nicolas Cage flip-out moment, no question.

Now, you might be wondering why you’ve never heard of Zandalee. That’s because it was a direct-to-video release—at least in North America, where it never made it to theaters. On top of that, the biggest obstacle to the film’s visibility was its NC-17 rating. But then, right before release, the movie surrendered its rating entirely, meaning there are two versions: an unrated and uncut version, and an R-rated version. I haven’t seen the unrated one since Prime Video only offers the R-rated cut, but even that is something else.

What shouldn’t surprise you is that Zandalee is not a good movie, despite its amazing cast. Not only is Nicolas Cage in it, but so is Judge Reinhold. Plus, a few soon-to-be stars show up in bit roles—Marisa Tomei, for example. And Steve Buscemi is in it, too. They’re both quite memorable, but unfortunately, the plot isn’t.

This is an erotic thriller, which means lots of sex. No genitals—again, I watched the Prime Video version—but plenty of boobs and ass, specifically Erika Anderson’s, who plays the eponymous Zandalee. And yes, she’s good-looking, I’ll admit that. Unfortunately for me, she spends most of the movie getting boned by Nicolas Cage.

Now, I get it—some of you might find young Nicolas Cage attractive. Maybe you swoon over his facial hair. Personally, I get a visceral yuck anytime I see him in a sex scene. And the thing about this movie is that the sex isn’t titillating. It’s creepy. Like, goddamn, I want to scrub my skin after watching it. Nicolas Cage plays this character with such unhinged, predatory energy that it’s downright unsettling. The way he looks at Zandalee? Yeah, he’s practically a rapist. I mean, I’m just telling you the truth.

For some reason, Zandalee finds his aggression tantalizing, but in reality, this character belongs in prison. And from what I’ve read about the filming, Nicolas Cage’s performance was so aggressive that Erika Anderson was traumatized during the scene where he paints her naked body. Production had to shut down for an entire day. So all that creepiness on screen? Yeah, seems like it bled into the actual filming. It’s clear there was a lot of unprofessionalism on set. To what extent, I don’t know—but it gives me the creeps.

Now, as for the plot—or what the movie wants the plot to be—Zandalee is sexually frustrated with her husband, played by Judge Reinhold. His character, Thierry, used to be a poet, but now he’s a corporate executive and can no longer perform in bed. This drives Zandalee to suicidal tendencies—she jogs around town trying to get hit by cars, bikes, even a train. None of it works.

Enter Johnny Collins (Nicolas Cage), Thierry’s old friend. Johnny is a painter who doesn’t give a damn about the sacred bonds of marriage. He just walks right in and starts screwing Zandalee—literally in Thierry’s own house, practically with Thierry in the next room, hearing everything.

The film wants you to believe that all this is sexy and artsy because it takes place in New Orleans. So we get the heavy accents, the jazz, the Louisiana aesthetic. We’re supposed to be enthralled by these eccentric, brooding characters. And okay, I’ll give them this: the side characters are great, especially Steve Buscemi.

But the whole thing is ridiculous. Zandalee’s entire conflict boils down to being mad that her husband is not a poor, starving poet. Instead, he wants to support his family. He wants to bring home the bacon, and apparently, that’s not hot to her anymore. Nicolas Cage, on the other hand, is this primal, reckless artist who lives the life of a hedonist—drunk, on drugs, making raw, animalistic paintings. And Zandalee loves that.

Now, as much as I couldn’t care less about the erotic scenes, what really threw me was the homoerotic subtext between Nicolas Cage and Judge Reinhold. At first, I thought I was imagining it. But by the end of the movie, it’s undeniable. And I just—look, I couldn’t handle it. Nicolas Cage slow dancing with Judge Reinhold? Nope. Couldn’t do it. If male-on-male romance does something for you, hey, I get it. But Nicolas Cage and Judge Reinhold? That’s enough to make me consider becoming a celibate monk in the desert.

Another issue with the film is that while Nicolas Cage is operating at maximum intensity, Judge Reinhold simply cannot match him. It’s like comparing an acoustic guitar to an electric one at full blast. Reinhold tries, but for this movie to work, Cage needed someone who could stand up to him. And Reinhold just isn’t that guy.

As for Erika Anderson? She doesn’t have the raw magnetism to make Zandalee compelling, either. In a film like this, you need a woman who can put Cage in his place. But Zandalee is played like a wounded bird—when the plot wants her to be a frustrated woman seeking satisfaction. There’s a major disconnect between the character and the performance.

Zandalee was directed by Sam Pillsbury, a guy whose career consists mostly of TV movies and direct-to-video releases. His one well-regarded film was Starlight Hotel (1987), but after that? Downhill.

What’s interesting, though, is that Zandalee was written by a woman—Mari Kornhauser, a professor of creative writing at Louisiana State University. Knowing that a woman wrote this script does reframe it a bit. Clearly, this was her erotic fantasy. At its core, this movie is about a sexually frustrated woman consumed by overwhelming male aggression. And I guess Nicolas Cage was the avatar for that. But personally? The eroticism just does not resonate with me.

That’s always the risk with a film like this—your kink isn’t universal. Hell, I was just here for the Nicolas Cage freak-out scenes. And on that front, I got what I wanted.

But do I recommend this movie? No. It’s not popular for a reason. It has a 4.3/10 on IMDb and a 2.3/5 on Letterboxd. Critics hated it then, and they still hate it now. The only reason to watch this is for Nicolas Cage going unhinged.

Well… I guess if you’re into homoerotic tension between Nicolas Cage and Judge Reinhold, that’s another reason. But that ain’t for me.

Skip this one.

https://youtu.be/xfLyYX-oD0A

@movies@piefed.social

As God is my witness, Blow the Man Down (2019) is the best neo-noir film I’ve seen since Drive.

This movie oozes style. It reminds me a lot of Fargo, and it’s clear the filmmakers studied the Coen brothers extensively. The result? A film every bit as good as a Coen brothers masterpiece.

Set in a small fishing town in Maine, Blow the Man Down opens with a fantastic sea shanty sung by fishermen—men who have clearly lived hard lives. I can practically smell the fish and salty air. I know these people. I’ve spent time with these people. I know exactly what this town is all about.

But this isn’t a movie about fishermen. No, no. Nearly all the main characters are women. This is their world, and I assure you, the women of this town have it just as rough—if not rougher—than the men. Because they have a secret. A dirty secret. One that leads to murder.

A particular woman—a mother—has recently passed away, and we witness her funeral. Two of her daughters, Priscilla and Mary Beth Connolly (played by Sophie Lowe and Morgan Saylor), sip booze as they mourn, unaware that their mother’s death will trigger a chain of events leading to mayhem and destruction. As these events unfold, we meet a host of quirky characters, each with their own story, driven by passion, greed, and survival. Most of them are women. And as I said, this is a story about women—but sometimes, there are men. I won’t give away too much, but I will say: the women of this town are up to trouble. And that trouble has been brewing for decades. Now, it’s all coming to a head.

Every single actor in this film is a treat. They’re almost Shakespearean in their designs. But one actress stands out above the rest: Margo Martindale as Enid Devlin, an elderly madam whose very name screams menace. She’s a devil of a woman. Though she walks with a cane and carries extra weight, she is terrifying. I was genuinely scared of her. Martindale has all the intimidation of Al Pacino or Joe Pesci. Even though Enid’s best years are behind her, she has a near-psychopathic ability to manipulate people—especially men. Even at her age, she can talk her way into any man’s pants, and it’s something to behold. But when she’s not charming, she’s menacing. She is fully willing and capable of ending your life—or getting someone else to do it. And she wouldn’t think twice.

There’s a particular scene where she sits, hair freshly styled, in a black dress, her eyes boring into us, the viewers. You can feel the weight of the world crashing down on you. That’s how powerful she is.

The rest of the ensemble cast is just as fantastic. The two sisters, Priscilla and Mary Beth, have bitten off more than they can chew. They’re in deep trouble, like fishermen caught in an angry storm, dragged far from shore by forces beyond their control.

Then there’s a trio of elderly women—played by June Squibb, Marceline Hugot, and Annette O’Toole. At first, they seem like mere busybodies. But this town holds secrets, and these women know them all.

One of the few major male characters is Officer Justin Brennan (Will Brittain), a good Catholic boy—the only real innocent in the film. Watching him try to piece everything together, almost naively, is both amusing and tragic.

Blow the Man Down was written and directed by Bridget Savage Cole and Danielle Krudy. These women have crafted a vicious, compelling neo-noir with a unique perspective. Too often, films like this frame women as mere victims. Here, they are both victims and perpetrators, fully capable of unleashing destruction upon their small town.

God, I wish there were more films like this. I also wish Blow the Man Down had been seen by more people. But, alas, it’s an Amazon Prime original. I appreciate Amazon’s commitment to great films, but I wish this had gotten a theatrical release. If I could, I’d buy it on Blu-ray, but it’s only available on Prime Video.

It’s interesting—this film has a 99% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes, one of the highest I’ve ever seen. Audiences like it, but not as much as critics. On IMDb, it holds a 6.4/10. On Letterboxd, a 3.4/5. Still better than most movies, but nowhere near that critical acclaim.

And all I’ll say about that is: this time, the critics are right. Blow the Man Down deserves that 99% rating. Hell, Margo Martindale’s performance alone is one of the best portrayals of villainy I’ve seen in ages.

I highly recommend Blow the Man Down.

https://youtu.be/uWM1U_kd0rE

@movies@piefed.social

Entangled (2019) is everything I hate about arthouse films.

Let’s start with the title. Entangled. It’s the most milquetoast, forgettable film title imaginable. Do you realize how many movies have that name? Even in 2019, there were multiple Entangleds.

But I guess the marketers really wanted to scream, “This is an arthouse film!” So, they stuck a seductive woman on the poster, threw in a couple of good-looking guys, and called it a day.

But if only the problems ended with the marketing.

This film follows a Frenchwoman living in New York City who suffers a miscarriage, becomes depressed, and then seeks solace in the beds of multiple lovers—while still dating her nerdy boyfriend. The movie is enamored with the fact that she’s French. It’s equally enamored with New York City, but not the New York I love. No, this is the version of New York filled with self-absorbed rich people who think they define its culture. And it’s insufferable.

A good portion of the movie consists of this French girl waxing poetic in voiceover, indulging in stereotypical French clichés—obsessing over art, fashion, and self-discovery. I’m shocked they didn’t slap a beret on her and make her nibble a baguette. The film desperately tries to make her choices feel profound, as though she’s undergoing some deep existential crisis. But I don’t buy it.

I believe people act on their wants and desires first, then rationalize them later. And this girl? She’s not poetic. She’s not profound. She’s a narcissist. It’s all about her. Her wants. Her desires. Screw the nerdy boyfriend with glasses—he just doesn’t appreciate her.

The film even tries to justify her actions by suggesting that he has an attractive secretary, that he goes to clubs with his friends, that women hit on him. But he doesn’t hit on his secretary. His friend does. The guy just hired her. Pretty women need jobs too. And when a woman at a club makes a move on him, he shuts it down immediately and makes it clear he has a girlfriend. That’s not his fault.

If he were out looking for trouble, that would be one thing. But if trouble finds him and he says no? He’s a good guy. Sorry, film, but that’s the truth.

Meanwhile, this French girl is ready and willing to cheat at every opportunity. She hooks up with three different people over the course of a week. And yet, we’re supposed to feel sympathy for her. Because she’s pretty? Because she’s so very French?

There’s one scene that really grinds my gears. She’s talking to a friend about an ex she’s planning to meet up with—an ex who already flaked on her. The friend asks why she’s so into him. Instead of showing a picture of this supposedly handsome man, she shows a picture he took of her—all artsy and seductive. She’s not obsessed with him. She’s obsessed with his idealized vision of her. That’s narcissism.

Now, I know what some of you might be wondering: “Are there any sexy scenes?” No. Everything is just long and drawn-out, with this girl having supposedly deep conversations with her lovers. There’s one love scene, and it’s not sexy. It’s an over-stylized, boring slog.

The most pathetic thing about Entangled? It never once occurs to this French girl to just dump the nerdy boyfriend and go sleep around with a clear conscience. But maybe I’m giving her too much credit—of course she wouldn’t. She’s a narcissist. And apparently, all of this stems from the fact that her boyfriend didn’t respond the way she wanted after her miscarriage.

Look, I understand that miscarriages are rough. But people go through awful things all the time, and they don’t treat their loved ones like garbage. The entire movie—its full hour and a half runtime—is just irritant after irritant. I cannot stand it when rich people try so hard to make their lives seem profound and poetic when, in reality, they’re just selfish.

My biggest gripe with Entangled is that I had to spend time with one of the most self-absorbed, unlikable women I’ve ever seen on screen.

Not that Ana Girardot (who plays the lead, Marin) didn’t try. She clearly took the role seriously, and I respect that. But there’s only so much an actor can do with a bad script. The other actors did fine too—Peter Mark Kendall as the sad-sack nerd, Grégory Fitoussi and Jay Wilkison as two of the lovers. They tried. But you can only do so much when dealt a bad hand.

Which brings me to the person responsible:

This film was written and directed by Milena Lurie. That’s rarely a good sign for a first-time indie director. To date, this is the only film she has ever written or directed. She also produced it—meaning she financed it too. In her defense, making a movie is hard, especially an arthouse one. Writing, directing, and financing your own film? That’s an achievement. Most people dream of doing that and never get their projects off the ground.

So, credit where it’s due—she made a movie. But it could have been better. I don’t even know how without gutting the script entirely, but one thing is certain: someone else should have taken a pass at the screenplay. The cinematography is decent. Lurie knows how to frame a shot—good job on that. But the writing? That’s where everything falls apart.

And here’s the thing: I don’t buy into the whole auteur theory nonsense. Film, by its nature, is collaborative. Unless you’re making a one-person project (which this film isn’t), you need other people refining the vision. Lurie could have benefited from that.

One last note: Entangled was produced and distributed by Samuel Goldwyn Films. They specialize in arthouse movies—low-budget indie fare like this. Sometimes they knock it out of the park. Other times, they churn out pretentious, self-important garbage. And that’s exactly what Entangled is.

I do not recommend it. It’s everything wrong with arthouse films in one miserable package. Don’t watch this one.

https://youtu.be/_eBE6BM9i6M

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The Stranger (2010)—and I have to be very specific because there are many films with that title—stars Steve “Stone Cold” Austin.

Bottom line: this is a cromulent action movie. Not amazing, not awful, but there are worse ways to spend an hour and a half.

In many ways, The Stranger resembles The Bourne Supremacy—a man with no memory, unsure of his identity, but with deadly skills that keep him alive. The most surprising thing about this movie? Steve Austin can actually act. You’d expect him to go full ham—because that’s what a lot of wrestlers-turned-actors do—but he plays the role with seriousness, nuance, and a whole lot of charm. He’s completely believable as a good old boy who got himself into trouble.

I also have to tip my hat to the fight choreography. Unsurprisingly, given Austin’s wrestling background, this is the film’s strongest suit. He knows how to put on a show, and the action feels convincing.

Erica Cerra plays a psychologist searching for Steve Austin’s character. I found her role weak—we don’t know much about her beyond her concern for him, and it’s unclear why she’s willing to risk her life. Her character could have been written better.

Adam Beach, best known for Windtalkers and Flags of Our Fathers, plays an FBI agent also hunting Austin’s character. It’s nice to see Beach in a role with some meat on it. He often plays Native American characters—because, well, he is one (a good boy from Manitoba)—but here, he gets to show his charm in a different type of role.

The middle of this movie is actually pretty solid—compelling and fun. The weaknesses lie in the beginning and the end. It takes too long to get to the meat of the story, and while the action is enjoyable once it kicks in, the ending drags. It feels like they were padding the runtime.

I went in with low expectations—this is a Canadian indie film with a low budget—but I was pleasantly surprised. It’s a lot better than it has any right to be, so I tip my hat to The Stranger.

That said, one thing really annoyed me: the shaky cam, especially during the action scenes. I don’t understand why filmmakers insist on shaking the camera during fights. Austin clearly delivers great action without dumb editing tricks. Just let him do what he’s been doing for decades! When the camera actually holds a shot, you see what he’s capable of, and I wish more big-budget films had showcased his unique skills. He’s got more range than just “pissed off and taciturn.”

Director Robert Lieberman, a veteran filmmaker, elevated The Stranger beyond what it should have been. You might know him from Fire in the Sky or D3: The Mighty Ducks, or his work directing TV episodes for The X-Files, Dexter, Criminal Minds, and The Expanse. Sadly, Lieberman passed away two years ago, but he left behind a solid body of work.

The film was produced by Nasser Group North, a company known for Canadian-made, low-budget action flicks. Most of their films aren’t as good as The Stranger, but a fun thing about their productions is spotting Vancouver landmarks in the background. The Stranger is no exception. Nasser Group North hasn’t been very active lately, but when they were, they made several Steve Austin films—Knockout, Recoil, and Hunt to Kill. Of the ones I’ve seen, The Stranger is probably their best.

So, do I recommend The Stranger? If you’re a Steve Austin fan and want to see him in an action film, yeah, you’ll probably enjoy it. For everyone else? You won’t hate it, but you won’t remember it either. It’s just an action movie—decent fight scenes, well-choreographed, a solid way to kill some time. And that’s about it.

https://youtu.be/sE0IfbB0Y50

@movies

A Year and Change (2015) is a romantic drama that really connected with me.

It’s about a divorced man who has made numerous terrible choices in life. He drinks too much, parties too hard, hangs out with sketchy friends, neglects his son, and engages in too many toxic relationships with women he’s not invested in.

During a New Year’s party, he gets drunk, falls off the roof of a house, and breaks his arm. That moment is the catalyst for many positive changes in his life—including a blooming romance.

One thing I really love about this movie is the character of Owen, played with tremendous humor and likability by Brian Greenberg. A lot of lesser films would have written Owen as an immature man-baby who can’t take care of himself. I’m tired of the man-babies. They’re almost never realistic. Owen, on the other hand, is troubled but still functional—he has a steady job, keeps a house, and despite getting into fights and drinking too much, he can still connect with people and make friends. Because beyond all that trouble, Owen still has the capacity to do good.

This movie is less about the romance and more about the events that push Owen to want to be a better person. He remains flawed throughout the film—certainly never a saint—but the difference between the old Owen and the Owen that is changing is that he now gives a damn. He cares. He’s willing to invest himself in the motley crew of quirky folks who have suddenly surrounded him.

There’s Victor, a relative who just got out of prison and is trying to start over. Todd, now a quadriplegic, bound to a wheelchair after a horrifying accident. And of course, there’s Vera—just like Owen, she’s newly divorced and looking for her place in life.

The whole film takes place in a small town, and you really feel it. You get the sense that everybody knows everyone else, and word spreads fast. That creates real stakes when Owen has to make a critical decision about one of his old friends and where their relationship is headed.

While this film has a few comedic moments, it’s clearly a drama, and it deals with some heavy topics. The actors hit those high dramatic notes with conviction. A Year and Change can get very heavy at times—actually, downright sad. If you decide to watch it, be prepared.

One thing I noticed while watching this movie is that it’s clearly marketed toward men. That said, I think it has something to offer a wide audience. Even though it explores the male experience—specifically from a heterosexual perspective—the story is deeply human, and its themes of growth, relationships, and change are universal. You don’t have to personally relate to Owen’s journey to find something meaningful in it.

I bring this up because I keep hearing people say there aren’t any slice-of-life movies specifically tailored for men. That everything is either action or sci-fi. Well, pure dramas—especially slice-of-life ones—certainly do exist. And if you’re looking for one that really digs into the male experience, this one sure as hell is it.

Because what we have here is a movie about a guy who isn’t just trying to be better—he has to make some really tough, painful choices.

Every single actor in this film is fantastic. My hat’s off to Brian Greenberg, who plays Owen. I’m not too familiar with his work, but apparently, he’s an established TV actor. He recently played Rick Dodson in Suits: LA and starred as Ben Epstein for 16 episodes in How to Make It in America. Claire van der Boom, TR Knight, Marshall Allman, and Kat Foster round out the supporting cast. None of them are household names, but they’re tremendous actors who put everything into their performances.

Stephen Suettinger, who wrote and directed this film, did a stellar job. To date, this is the only full-length movie he’s ever directed. Before this, he worked on the visual effects for Avatar. I hope to see him direct again—especially in this genre—because he tells a great story.

Something a lot of people say about low-budget movies is that they can’t be good, that a lack of budget will always hold them back. A Year and Change is a big rebuttal to that. This film was clearly made with minimal resources. There’s not a single A-list star in the cast. But with stellar writing, strong direction, and incredible acting, we have ourselves a tremendous romantic drama.

I highly recommend this film.

https://youtu.be/Krr7r1Y9OwU

@movies@piefed.social

cross-posted from: https://lemm.ee/post/58769480

Weed Watch: The Beekeeper (2024)

I discovered this hidden gem quite by accident. I like to take edibles and progressively watch weirder stuff as time passes, to align with the intensity of the high. The Beekeeper was supposed to be the first watch, a simple run of the mill action thriller.

Then the uncanny valley started. Not specifically in a visual sense, but the pacing of the cuts, and the dialogue. There is something very slightly off no matter where you look, but that clashes with what you expect from a Jason Statham movie in just the right way.

There is also so much left unexplained and unexplored in terms of the plot that it feels exactly like when you're high and everything feels like it's going out of its way to be undecipherable.

All of this combines with the honestly decent action and cameos by Josh Hutcherson and Jeremy Irons (who I think is trying to do a Southern accent, but he hasn't gotten back to me) to make for quite a unique experience for stoners and good-bad movies alike.

Have you seen the movie? What did you think about it?

There’s lots of romance films made for men.

But they tend to be romance dramas, not romance comedies. For example:

* Jerry Maguire
* Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
* 500 Days of Summer

These tend to have slight comedic elements but the emphasis is on the drama.

However, there are exceptions like Groundhog Day but it felt like the focus was more on existential dread than the romance.

@movies