Archive for horror

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple

A brutal, theologically charged sequel that outstrips its predecessor, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple pushes the franchise into darker, stranger territory — blending ghoulish violence, sharp social commentary, and standout performances into what may be the series’ finest chapter yet.

This review is relatively spoiler-free.

The movie was filmed back-to-back with 28 Years Later,which was released last July. This meant a mere six-month gap between the two films, a big bonus if, like me, and most who have seen it, you’d liked that last film, the belated third instalment in the now four-film strong ’28…’ franchise. My review of that last movie can be found here Exploring Themes in 28 Years Later: Survival and Society , but I’ll add that it was one of the few films I’ve seen in the last year that I enjoyed almost as much second time around, on a much smaller screen in the comfort of my own home.

Although there is a clear thematic and chronological through-line that links last year’s movie to 28 Day Later and 28 Weeks Later released in 2003 and 2007 respectively, franchise creator and overall supremo Danny Boyle had been keen to stress that was also 28 Years Later wasintended to be the beginning of a whole new trilogy, with the making of the intended final part dependent on the success of the first two.

With this in mind, I’d been slightly concerned that Boyle had chosen to vacate the Directors chair for this latest outing. He’d sat out 28 Weeks Later too and, though still a decent movie that expanded the universe of the franchise, few would choose it over that very first film, a film that, for good or worse, had lifted the ‘Zombie’ sub-genre of horror out of the doldrums. Without 28 Days, no Walking Dead.

Nia Dacosta was handed the Director’s chair by Boyle for Bone Temple. I was not greatly familiar with his work, though I knew he’d done some well-regarded movies, notably Hedda. But his reputation had been somewhat sullied by the almost universally panned Superhero flick The Marvels.

Too factors eased my concerns about the effect this change of Director might have on the quality of this new film. Firstly, Alex Garland remained in place as screenwriter (he, along with Boyle, had been much missed in Weeks), and secondly, the third film in this trilogy, the fifth in the franchise as a whole, had already been green-lit in December, purely on the basis of audience approval at pre-release test screenings of Bone Temple.

To get my conclusion in early, I needn’t have worried. This film is every bit as good, and probably even better than last year’s offering.

Negatives

This will be a short section. The whole film was one big positive.

For the sake of having to say something, I suppose it could be argued that while last year’s film could be enjoyed with little to no knowledge of what had come before, this is not so much the case here. The new film begins almost at the point the last left off, with the introduction of the Savill-esque Sir-Lord Jimmy Crystal and his brutal seven-strong band of cult-like followers (an ending that bewildered some but was clearly a prelude to what was to follow). You could enjoy this for its own sake. But it would surely leave you wanting to immediately check out its predecessor, and probably the two older films too, so what’s the point? 28 Years Later is now readily available on disc or to stream, and I’d highly recommend checking out at least that one before tackling this.

Some have also pointed out that the choice Sir Jimmy Saville as a role model for Son of Satan Crystal is a strange one, because it doesn’t fit with real-world continuity. In universe, the Rage Virus first ravaged Britain in 2002. Saville’s role as Britain’s most notorious celebrity sex-abuser didn’t emerge until a year after his death, in 2012. Had the world of 28, a world where such things as televisions and newspapers have become an increasingly dimly remembered relic from before (and not even that for younger characters like Alfie and Jimmy Ink), then Saville’s crimes would never have been revealed.

But that world isn’t our world, and it’s probably better not to overthink such things. The film doesn’t explain Krystal’s attachment to Saville, and nor does it need to. But we can speculate that it was perhaps for his kitsch value, which would tie-in with another (for him) fondly remembered item of light entertainment, the children’s television show, The Teletubbies. If you wanted to go deeper, then perhaps Garland, or Boyle, was referencing Arendt’s famous formulation concerning The Banality of Evil, for never was a celebrity as banal nor, as it turns out, as evil as Saville.

As for the direction, perhaps Bone Temple suffers slightly from the absence of the experimental, mixed media approach of Boyle. Dacosta’s approach is much more direct. Whereas Boyle suggested patriotic olde-English, vaguely post-Brexit yearnings and religious themes symbolically, this is all much more on the nose here. But this isn’t really a criticism. The central character, Sir-Lord Jimmy, is almost literally setting himself up as the anti-Christ, perhaps the only sort of Christ which would make sense in such a post-apocalyptic Hell-scape. There’s no getting away from the fact that this is a deeply theological movie, and the direction had to reflect that. Sometimes, symbolism isn’t enough.

Positives

That the one-hundred-ten-minute length flew by is a testament in itself to how well this was directed, and Garland is a superb writer, with a knack for producing realistic dialogue in a fantastical world.

The acting was universally superb, a relatively small cast gelling superbly as an ensemble. We must particularly cite O’Connell for his skill in making in Crystal a believable character from what was essentially a deliberate caricature of a caricature. That he proved himself the equal of the great Ralph Fiennes, here reprising and adding further depth (and humour) to the Dr Kelson character introduced last time out, is a testament to his abilities.

The youthful Spike had a much less central, though still important, role in this film than the last. Alfie Williams had nailed the character in what had been his first appearance on film in Years, and he was excellent again here.  Particularly of note is the chemistry he exhibits with Erin Kellyman’s Jimmy Ink, in whom he finds an, at first, reluctant ally in his desperate bid to escape the brutal demands of the Clockwork Orange like cult in he’d unwillingly been press-ganged into.

Those who felt the last film lacked the necessary amount of blood and gore to qualify as a proper Zombie-horror movie, can rest safe in the knowledge that ghoulish violence has been notched up to Max here. 

That the majority, and most graphic of this violence is unleashed not by the Infected’ (to give the Zombies of this universe their proper name) upon survivors, or even survivors upon the Infected, though we get plenty of that too, but by one group of survivors, the Jimmy Cult against other survivors, any survivors who cross their path, all under the command of Crystal, and all in the name of administering his warped version of ‘charity.’ (the choice of this word, ‘charity’, is itself a no towards Saville. Our real-world Sir Jimmy, if course, hid his decades-long rampage of abuse in plain sight behind his tireless charity work).

I’m by no means squeamish, but the scenes that followed commands such ‘Take their shirts’ were hard to watch.

I don’t want to give away too many spoilers as regards the plot, but I will briefly mention my three absolute highlights in a movie of highlights.

The first concerns the relationship between Dr. Kerson (Fiennes) and the Alpha Infected Samson. Like Kelson, Samson is a returning character from last year’s film, but here the actor Chi Lewis Parry is given much more to do, and he does it superbly, almost without speaking a word.

The relationship has shades of that between Frankenstein’s Monster and the blind fiddler in the original, 1931 Universal version of Frankenstein. In that classic, the fiddler had accepted the unfortunate creature because he had been literally unable to see that it was a monster who had entered his humble home. Here, Kelson is only too aware of what he is dealing with, that this afflicted super-strength creature will rip his head from his shoulders and devour his brain without moral restriction. Yet, he is able to see beyond the infection to the human being that once inhabited this body and, perhaps, the human mind that still remains, but has been rendered dormant by the rage-virus. Through his compassion, his willingness to try and recover this latent humanity, and with more than a little help from the opiate narcotics he brews up in his private bone temple laboratory, partly in search of a cure for the virus and partly as a means of giving himself relief from the horror that surrounds him, he is able to forge between them an unlikely friendship and alliance.

My second highlight is the scene on the long derelict train when Samson, surrounded by the dead and the similarly afflicted, finds his dormant mind does indeed, in a tantalising, brief and sporadic manner, begin to flicker into life. The resulting glimpse of the mundane but magnificent world that once was, a world of rules, of attractive ticket collectors and passengers hiding behind newspapers, is almost as shocking to us as it is to Samson, and a reminder that only a fragile veneer separates our civilisation from barbarism. 

The highlight, the scene that is destined to be the scene that will be shown whenever this film, or the career of Ralph Fiennes, is a subject of online screen discussion, is the climax of the movie, the point at which the twin narratives of the rampage of the Jimmy’s and Alfie’s bid to escape it collides with that of the story of Kerson and his Temple, a macabre but magnificent monument, and perhaps the ultimate expression of Outsider Art, finally collide.

I won’t say any more about Fiennes’ ‘Old Nick’ routine, except to say that if Iron Maiden pass on the opportunity to re-release their song 666 The Number of the Beast, with this song as its accompanying video, then they are missing a superb career kick-starting opportunity.

Aside from Iron Maiden, we really must give a big shout out the musical accompaniment to the movie as a whole, both the original core by Hildur Guonadottir, and the selection of British eighties pop classics that Kelson manages to play on an old record player within his Bone Temple as another reminder, to him and to us, of the world that has been lost, are superb. 

At the very end of the film, we see the brief return of a character from way back at the beginning of the franchise. The appearance of Crystal and his followers at the end of 28 Years Later gave us a strong clue as to the main narrative drive of the next movie, and I suspect the return of the central character from 28 Days Later performs the same function here.

Conclusion

Probably a Masterpiece. 10/10. If the final movie is the equal of the last two, the 28 series will have a strong claim to be the greatest horror franchise of all time.

We’ll have to wait more than six months to find out what happens next, but Garland’s script is written and production is soon to begin, so it’s unlikely the gap will be anything like the eighteen years that separated Weeks from Years.

My money is on late 2027 but, whenever it happens, I’ll be there to see it.

Reviewed by Anthony C Green

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is in cinemas now.

Anthony C Green, January 2026

Picture credit: By Columbia Pictures – http://www.impawards.com/2026/twenty_eight_years_later_the_bone_temple.html, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=80967111

Directed by Nia Dacosta

Written by Alex Garland

Produced by Danny Boyle

Key Cast:

Jack O’ Connell – Sir Jimmy Crystal, Ralph Fiennes – Dr Ian Kelson, Alfie Williams – Spike, Chi Lewis-Parry – Samson, Erin Kellyman – Jimmy Ink and Emma Laird – Jimmima. 

Cover image of the novel 'Better Than The Beatles!' by Anthony C. Green, featuring a blue abstract design and the text 'BUY NOW.'

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Weapons (2025) – A Mystery That Cuts Deep

Seventeen children vanish from a single classroom in Maybrook, Pennsylvania. No warning. No trace. Just silence. Zach Cregger’s Weapons doesn’t ask for your attention—it demands it.

We learn of the disappearances through a chilling narration, the kind that crawls under your skin. Julia Garner leads as Justine Gandy, a teacher caught in the crosshairs of grief, guilt, and suspicion. Many will remember Garner as Ruth from Ozark—a role that earned her acclaim and cemented her as an actress to watch. Here, she’s reliably great: high-strung, possibly alcoholic, and quietly devastating. She drinks too much, sleeps too little, and carries the weight of seventeen lives on her shoulders.

The film unfolds in fractured chapters, each told from a different perspective. It’s not just a narrative device—it’s a reckoning. Josh Brolin’s Archer Graff, a father searching for his child, is the emotional anchor. His rage simmers, then boils. Alden Ehrenreich’s Paul Morgan, a cop entangled with Justine, is all frayed nerves and buried secrets. Marcus (Benedict Wong), the school principal, tries to hold the community together while it quietly unravels.

Then there’s James (Austin Abrams), a homeless addict who stumbles through the wreckage with surprising clarity. Abrams sidesteps cliché, giving James a bruised dignity. And Cary Christopher, as Alex—the only child not missing—carries the final act with astonishing poise. His scenes with Amy Madigan’s Gladys are electric. She’s a wildcard, and he’s a slow-burning fuse.

Cregger’s direction is confident, even audacious. He juggles grief, paranoia, and supernatural dread without dropping a beat. The camera lingers in empty hallways. The sound design weaponizes silence. There’s gore, yes—but it’s the emotional violence that lingers.

Maybrook itself becomes a character. A town stitched together by secrets and slowly coming apart at the seams. Behind every closed door: grief, addiction, self-harm, and the quiet ache of what might’ve been. The film flirts with allegory—school shootings, lost innocence, the cost of looking away—and mostly lands its punches.

Still, Weapons is a triumph. A horror mystery that respects its audience, trusts its cast, and never settles for easy answers. It’s messy, ambitious, and unforgettable. And in a landscape of formulaic thrillers, it feels refreshing.

Reviewd by Pat Harrington

Picture credit: By http://www.impawards.com/2025/weapons_xxlg.html, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=79835149

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Fringe Review: Faustine

310 words, 2 minutes read time.

What would give in exchange for your Soul? That’s the bluegrass song from the Hillybilly Thomists that plays before and after this short pop opera begins. For Faustine, the last twenty pages of her PhD dissertation on Ibsen will cost her her soul.

Faustine’s not one of the cool kids, she’s been raised by her mother, whom she resents bitterly, especially her regular nagging phone calls. She’s lonely and – despite her protestations to the contrary – she’s lazy. She leaves it too late to complete her work and cries out in despair. Help comes, not from God, but from Satan. She gets an A grade, the opportunity to deliver her dissertation to a conference and a publishing deal with Princeton University.

Things spiral out of control; she has sex with a senior academic, Richard Jones. She turns to drugs.

“I’m done with the losing team. So what if I sold my soul, when you feel you’re on top?” Satan demands another soul. She murders her room mate Emma, putting bleach in wine and making it look like suicide.

The co-writers, Sarah Norcross and Lydia Brinkmann, fight at the start to play Faustine. I don’t know which one prevailed at the showing I saw, but she brought a perfect mixture of pathos, comedy, and horror to this production. The songs were witty and well-scripted, worthy of Cole Porter having a dark turn. The actor carries off the transition back and forward between Faustine and Satan by facial expression and clever lighting.

The words of the third song, ‘How long have I wanted everything to come easy?’ Conjure thoughts on the current controversy over many students using AI to do their work for them. Perhaps it’s a stretch to say that such cheating is akin to a pact with the devil, but it is potential snare for the unwary.

Reviewed by David Kerr

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Exploring Themes in 28 Years Later: Survival and Society

1,413 words, 7 minutes read time.

28 Years Later us the belated third instalment of a series that began with 28 Days Later in 2003 and continued with 28 Weeks Later in 2007. So, it’s been a long time coming, after long periods stuck in ‘production hell.’ But, in my opinion, it’s been well worth the wait, and easily surpasses both of its predecessors.

Whilst the reviews of professional critics of 28 Years have been largely positive, the online response of ‘ordinary’ cinema goers has been mixed. I’m guessing that the negativity has come largely from those who were expecting a run-of-the-mill Zombie story, perhaps along the lines of The Walking Dead or the films of George A Romero.

Movie poster for '28 Years Later' featuring a towering structure made of skulls, with a biohazard symbol in the background. The title and release date are prominently displayed.

And it isn’t that.

Technically, of course, it’s not a ‘zombie’ film at all, as the antagonists have been turned into bestial killer sub-humans through being infected by an unspecified, originally worldwide virus rather than being creatures of the undead, though that’s an unimportant detail. It still belongs firmly within the zombie genre. 

In spirit, it’s much closer to Days than the, in my opinion, much inferior Weeks,the latter of which was much closer to the kind of adventure ‘Zombie hunting’ movie that many seem to have been expecting this time around.

I suspect that this is in no small part due to the welcome return of Danny Boyle as the director, and Alex Garland as scriptwriter, both of whom were absent from the second film.

Both did a sterling job here, as did cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle, and the Scottish punk-lo-fi hip-hop band Young Fathers who provided the music.

Set in Lindisfarne, though filmed in various northern British locations in a mere two months between May and July 2024, it utilised a complex array of iPhones filming from multiple angles in order to maximise Boyle’s editorial choices.

I’m no expert on the technicalities of movie making, but the technical choices made were obviously good ones, because the film is visually and sonically superb, as is Garland’s script, with excellent dialogue and the barest minimum of l exposition necessary to make the story intelligible to those with no prior knowledge of the 28 Universe.

The acting was also superb. I really can’t single out any of them for criticism, though the standout performances came from one fourteen-year-old in his first acting role, Alfie Williams as the twelve-year-old Spike, in his first acting role, and one veteran, Ralph Fiennes, as the enigmatic Doctor Kelson, showing his versatility after his recent, very different but equally excellent performance in Conclave.  

I’ll try to avoid spoilers, but the premise of the movie is that the virus that turned the ‘Infected’ into savage murderous beasts has been eliminated on the continent of Europe but not in the UK, causing the latter to be effectively quarantined from the outside world, with its isolation enforced by European border guards armed, unlike the surviving non-infected Brits with modern weaponry.

This isolation has led the UK to revert to something resembling a medieval traditional society.

It is through this reversion to an earlier time that the main themes of the movie reveal themselves.

These themes  include survivalism and self-sufficiency; the return of a form of natural and meritocratic hierarchy with people being assigned clearly defined specialist, and often gender-specific roles, like hunter, baker, seamstress etc; the clash between these old ways and the modern world, particularly when Spike meets the Norwegian border guard Eric (Edvin Ryding); the honouring of the dead through the character of Dr. Kelson and his ever-growing monument of skulls; the very different forms of love that exist in traditional societies between a mother and child and a father and child; the nurturing of new life amidst the apocalypse; and distrust of the world outside and of lone outsiders like Dr. Kelson.

But, at its heart, this is a good old-fashioned coming of age story, set in a society where young males once again have a clear route into manhood, in this case by crossing the causeway to the mainland to hunt the Infected with longbows, their main form weaponry, as Spike does with his father Jamie (Aaron Taylor).

 Later, he returns with his mother Isla (Jodie Comer). She is not infected, but is stricken with a physical and mentally debilitating illness, the nature of which we don’t learn until they meet the object of Spike’s quest, Doctor Kelson and the possibility of a cure for Isla.

The resolution of this quest gives us perhaps the film’s most moving and sequence.

Some have seen Britain’s isolation in the movie as perhaps a metaphor for Brexit, and that is there, I suppose, if you want it to be, whether for or against.

There is also, almost certainly the influence of the ‘covid period’ of recent, real-world’ memory in play.

But there are subtle, dream-like patriotic themes too: the fluttering of a lone flag of St George in the wind; the recitation of a section of Kipling’s poem Boots, remastered from a 1915 recording by an American actor, brief clips of the 1944 Laurance Oliver film version of Henry V, and an encounter with one of our most iconic monuments, The Angel of the North.

These sections worked very well for me, and helped lift the film well above the norm for the genre, though I can imagine some viewers might find them puzzling, or even pretentious.

By the standards of modern movies, the casting was refreshingly demographically accurate, with no concessions to the DEI culture which has been dominant throughout the entertainment industry in recent years.

There is action and gore, as is to be expected. A second outbreak of the virus has led some of the infected to evolve into what have become known as the Alpha’s, who are much larger and stronger than those seen in the earlier films, and with a higher level of intelligence, and others to devolve into reptilian-type creatures who seek prey and food through scurrying through the earth.

The battles between these two distinct branches of the infected and Spike, his father and others, was action enough for me, though perhaps not enough for those wishing to see a more traditional ‘Zombie’ movie.

There are criticisms to be made. Principally, would Britain really be left to its own devices by the outside world, with no attempt to rescue and evacuate those not yet infected? And, the film is set in 2031, precisely twenty-eight years after the first film was shot. This isn’t really a long time, in the scheme of things, and it’s reasonable to question whether society would have so rapidly reverted to an earlier time, to the point where modern technology has become not only unusable, but seems to have been largely forgotten.

 As an example, Spike has no idea of what a mobile phone is, until he meets Erik. True, in 2003, mobiles were nowhere near as omnipresent as they are now, and they had not yet become ‘Smart’. But they were common enough, and surely there’d be a few lying around which adults could use to explain to their children what their use had once been?

I prefer to see anomalies such as this as perhaps due to the isolated nature of the village upon which the film is principally centred. They certainly didn’t undermine my enjoyment of the film.

Some have also criticised the ending. But that is to miss the point that it isn’t an ending. The sequel, 28 Years Later: The Bone Monument was shot back-to-back with this film, and is due to be released in January 2026. So, in reality, the conclusion, which has its own little, intriguing surprise, is a ‘To Be Continued’ rather than a ‘The End.

Boyle hasn’t directed this second film, which may or may not affect its quality. But it is written by Garland, and he has said he has already planned out a third film, making Years the first part of a new trilogy, rather than simply continuation of Days and Weeks.

This third film has yet to be green-lit, and whether it is depends on the success of the current film and its already completed sequel.

But 28 Years Later seems to be doing well at the Box Office so far, and I suspect this will also be true of Bone Palace.

I’m certainly looking forward to seeing it, and I’d be surprised and disappointed if the series was to end there.

Reviewed by Anthony C Green.

Picture credit: By https://www.movieposters.com/products/28-years-later-mpw-148006, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=78535102

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Sinners (2025) Review: A Blend of Horror and History

Sinners, directed by the visionary Ryan Coogler, is a masterful fusion of historical drama and supernatural horror. Set in the 1920s, the film follows the journey of twin gangster brothers. Elijah “Smoke” Moore and Elias “Stack” Moore are portrayed with magnetic duality by Michael B. Jordan. Their dream is to open a juke joint. It’s a vibrant club where Black people can gather to drink and dance. They revel in the transformative power of music there. This establishment becomes a sanctuary for plantation workers. It offers them a rare escape from the harsh realities of their daily lives.

The plot delves deeply into the socio-political tensions of the era. The spectre of racial discrimination looms large. The Ku Klux Klan is also a significant and sinister force. Coogler deftly weaves social commentary into the narrative. He uses the supernatural as a lens to explore themes of oppression. He also explores themes of resilience. Vampires arrive adding a chilling layer of intrigue.

Music is the lifeblood of Sinners, and it pulses through every frame of the film. The blues, often linked with the devil’s influence in folklore, takes centre stage. Miles Caton delivers a breakout performance as Sammie “Preacher Boy” Moore. His haunting guitar riffs and soulful vocals captivate not only the audience but also the vampires themselves. The soundtrack features blues, gospel, jazz, and even Irish folk music. It is composed by the Oscar-winning Ludwig Göransson. Traditional songs like “This Little Light of Mine” and “Rocky Road to Dublin” are reimagined with a haunting beauty. Original tracks like Hailee Steinfeld’s “Dangerous” and Miles Caton’s “I Lied to You” add emotional depth and authenticity.

Movie poster for _Sinners_, directed by Ryan Coogler, featuring Michael B. Jordan as Elijah 'Smoke' Moore against a dramatic sunset backdrop, with the tagline 'DANCE WITH THE DEVIL'.
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The dance sequences are another highlight, serving as a powerful form of cultural expression and emotional release. These scenes are electric, brimming with raw energy and sensuality, capturing the uninhibited joy and passion of the era. The choreography is unapologetically bold, celebrating the physicality and intimacy of dance as a form of rebellion and connection.

Hailee Steinfeld’s Mary emerges as a compelling and complex character. She is Stack’s former lover, and her return stirs up unresolved emotions and conflicts. Mary’s biracial heritage becomes a focal point in her character arc, as she shares her struggles with identity and acceptance. Her decision to remain at the juke joint despite challenges highlights her resilience. Mary’s journey through the film explores themes of belonging, identity and defiance.

Wunmi Mosaku’s Annie adds a layer of mysticism and emotional depth to the narrative. Annie, Smoke’s estranged wife, is deeply connected to her faith. Her rituals are believed to protect Smoke and Stack from harm. Her spiritual practices contrast sharply with Smoke’s pragmatic outlook, creating a poignant dynamic. Her tragic backstory, including the loss of their daughter, imbues her character with vulnerability and strength. Annie’s influence is felt throughout the film. She convinces Smoke to lower entry prices at the juke joint. This emphasizes her empathy for the struggles of the community. Her sacrifice during the climactic battle against the vampires is heroic. It is also heart-wrenching. She stays true to her love and her promises.

Jack O’Connell’s Remmick is a standout as the film’s primary antagonist. An ancient Irish vampire, Remmick exudes a chilling allure that is both terrifying and captivating. His motivations originate from a deep sense of loss. He wants to spread his dark influence. These factors make him a complex and compelling villain. O’Connell’s performance is electrifying, blending menace with moments of sincerity that hint at the character’s tragic past. His connection to traditional Irish music and dance adds a unique dimension to his character. This makes him a haunting and unforgettable presence.

Coogler’s direction is both bold and meticulous, with stunning cinematography that captures the gritty elegance of the era. The film’s climax is a tour de force. It blends horror and historical commentary. This combination is both thrilling and thought-provoking. Just when you think the story has reached its conclusion, you get surprised by a post-credits scene. It delivers a jaw-dropping twist that will leave audiences buzzing.

Sinners is a visceral journey through history, music, and the supernatural. It is a testament to the power of storytelling and a celebration of the resilience of the human spirit.

By Pat Harrington

Picture credit: By IMP Awards, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77948449

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The Heretic: A Dive into Psychological Horror and Faith By Patrick Harrington

820 words, 4 minutes read time.

The film The Heretic, directed by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, dives deeply into religious philosophy and psychological terror, starring Hugh Grant in an unsettling departure from his typical rom-com roles. Set primarily in a claustrophobic, dimly lit house, The Heretic weaves tension through intellectual debate and moments of mounting dread. The film is a slow-burn thriller that pulls viewers into the uncomfortable space between religious conviction and reason, embodied in the cat-and-mouse dynamics between Grant’s character, Mr. Reed, and two Mormon missionaries, Sisters Paxton and Barnes (played by Chloe East and Sophie Thatcher).

Hugh Grant’s portrayal of Mr. Reed is a key highlight, as he brings a chillingly controlled malevolence to a role that could easily become overblown in lesser hands. Grant, known for his charisma, subverts his usual affable charm, presenting Reed as a disarmingly courteous yet manipulative antagonist who delights in intellectual debates that unsettle and entrap his young guests. Reed’s charm and sinister edge blur the boundaries between captivating conversation and psychological torment, demonstrating Grant’s versatility and adding a layer of sophistication to his menace. This transformation into a philosophical villain feels refreshingly novel and almost playful—Grant clearly revels in embodying a character who uses intellectual sparring as a weapon of control and intimidation.

The young missionaries, Paxton and Barnes, represent two contrasting approaches to faith. Sister Paxton (Chloe East) is devout and naive, and initially appears to be an easy target for Reed’s sharp criticisms and dark humor. Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher), on the other hand, is worldly and self-assured, serving as a grounded counterpoint to Paxton’s wide-eyed zeal. Both actresses bring depth to their roles, with Thatcher particularly shining as her character’s skepticism transforms into visceral fear. Together, they become effective foils for Reed’s probing discourse on faith and reason. Their performances create a tension that carries the film forward, as each sister is pushed to her psychological limits by Reed’s manipulative conversations and subtle threats.

Beck and Woods craft The Heretic with atmospheric visuals and well-paced suspense. The cinematography by Chung-hoon Chung adds a level of depth to the film’s tense ambiance. His use of close-ups and shifting perspectives intensifies the feeling of entrapment within Reed’s home, making it both alluring and foreboding. As Reed’s home becomes a labyrinthine trap, we see the subtle but effective transformation of this ordinary setting into a claustrophobic prison that reflects the characters’ entangling psychological struggles. Philip Messina’s production design supports this transformation beautifully, creating a deceptively simple but eerie space that feels increasingly oppressive as the film progresses.

Yet, The Heretic isn’t a typical horror film. Instead of relying on jump scares or supernatural elements, it leans into “elevated horror,” a subgenre that emphasizes character and theme. In The Heretic, horror is rooted in Reed’s manipulative rhetoric and philosophical debates, questioning organized religion in a way that challenges not just the characters but the audience’s beliefs as well. As Reed dismantles the young women’s convictions, Beck and Woods explore the gray areas of faith, raising questions about certainty, doubt, and moral absolutes. Reed’s monologues, which touch on religion’s contradictions and its social role, spark fascinating questions but occasionally veer towards heavy-handedness, particularly as the film progresses and the focus shifts to a more traditional horror climax.

The film’s third act introduces some pacing issues. After a compelling and nuanced build-up, the narrative dips into more familiar genre tropes, with the final showdown between Reed and the missionaries feeling somewhat rushed compared to the earlier, dialogue-driven tension. Although some viewers may find this a satisfying payoff, others may feel that the intellectual intensity of the first two acts is sacrificed for a more conventional horror ending. Nonetheless, even as the film’s impact wanes slightly toward the end, it maintains enough suspense to leave a lingering sense of unease.

The Heretic is also complemented by a haunting score from Chris Bacon, who punctuates the film’s quieter moments with unsettling tones that amplify the tension without overpowering the narrative. Notably, the soundtrack includes Radiohead’s “Creep,” which adds a layer of irony and darkness, resonating with Reed’s sinister personality and amplifying the film’s eerie undercurrents.

Overall, The Heretic presents an ambitious meditation on belief, doubt, and the psychological impact of faith. While its philosophical musings and complex character dynamics make for an intellectually engaging experience, the film may fall short for audiences seeking pure horror. Those, however, who appreciate thoughtful, dialogue-driven suspense anchored by strong performances will likely find The Heretic a refreshing addition to the horror genre. Hugh Grant’s unsettling transformation, coupled with Beck and Woods’ skilful direction, ensures that this film will remain a provocative and memorable exploration of horror in the context of faith and doubt. Despite its minor narrative flaws, The Heretic is a compelling experience that deftly uses horror to pose profound questions about the human psyche and the nature of belief.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

Picture credit: By Bloody Disgusting, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77217687

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Horror Movies Against War

1,651 words, 9 minutes read time.

I am a lifelong anti-war activist and a diehard horror movie buff. A lot of people seem to find those two facts to be a contradiction, and I guess on the surface I can comprehend their confusion. Showing up to a Free Gaza rally in a Blood Feast t-shirt does seem to send some mixed messages. However, at their finest, horror films must be understood as unflinching investigations into what terrifies society most and nothing should be more terrifying to society than war. 

This is why some of the most influential movies of the genre, some of the movies that form the very foundation of what every day Americans think of when they think scary movies, are actually the by-product of the Anti-Vietnam War Movement.

Vietnam was a real-life horror movie, the first modern war that America lost badly played out on live television too quickly to be censored for public consumption. The empire was stripped bare every evening at six for the hideous, brutish thing that it was, and this spectacle irreversibly altered the DNA of American culture on a very fundamental level. In many ways, it temporarily radicalized pop culture as we knew it and horror movies were far from an exception.

One of the least understood consequences of this cultural Vietnam syndrome was the invention of the modern-day slasher film. The first and debatably most influential picture of that grotesque oeuvre was the 1974 grindhouse classic, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.

Most of the oft repeated tropes were in place; five teenagers stranded in the middle of nowhere being stalked by a psychopath in a mask. But anyone who has actually seen this film can tell you that there is something unsettlingly different about its delivery. The entire thing feels raw and almost intimate in its depiction of young tourists at the mercy of a hostile and alien environment. The sticks and weeds of the unforgiving Texas scrublands seem to conspire with the killers and there is a pervasive feeling that we shouldn’t be watching this even as we can’t look away.

That’s because director Tobe Hooper shot the film specifically to look like the war footage that kept him up at night. This is also what convinced the young director to cast the monsters of this movie as a perverted portrait of the average American family, literally clamouring for blood at the supper table from their deranged young son, armed to the teeth with a power tool and concealing himself beneath the flesh of his own victims.

But The Texas Chain Saw Massacre wasn’t the first bloodbath with roots that reach from the My Lai Massacre to Elm Street. One of horror cinema’s most influential auteurs and the man behind Freddy Krueger, Wes Craven, got his start shooting shocking and grotesquely misunderstood exploitation films that attempted to make sense of the horrors of Vietnam much the way that Tobe Hooper’s Texas Chain Saw Massacre did.

Craven’s 1972 directorial debut, The Last House on the Left, was also deeply influenced by the horrors on the evening news with a story loosely based on Ingmar Bergman’s Virgin Spring. A pair of teenage girls are kidnapped and brutalized by a gang of fugitive psychopaths who then unwittingly seek shelter in the nearby house of one of their slain victims’ parents. When the parents discover the crime and the criminals in their midst, they prove themselves to be every bit as capable of savagery in the service of revenge.

There are two messages to be learned by this ugly story. The first is that a society defined by violence has no right to be shocked when that violence shows up unannounced on their doorsteps. In the early seventies, Wes Craven was baffled by a nation that had found itself in the midst of a gruesome crimewave but didn’t seem capable of making the connection that perhaps this was merely a reflection of the violence that their own government was committing on a daily basis in the jungles of Indochina. 

The second uneasy lesson from this deeply uneasy picture is that anyone can become the monster in their own horror movie once they begin defending violence as a means justified by its ends.

Craven explored this theme further in his 1977 follow up to Last House on the Left, The Hills Have Eyes. This time a normal suburban family find themselves stranded in the barren Nevada desert where they are preyed upon by savage mutants. But once again, this films power comes in the form of two revelations which come far too late. The first revelation being that the mutants these milquetoast Nixonites encounter are in fact the desperate and deranged by-product of nuclear testing committed by their own nation’s military. 

The second is that these upstanding Americans find themselves as capable of the same kind of savagery when they too are tormented by forces that defy their comprehension. By the final scene the lines between the good guys and the bad guys become so severely blurred that the film can only end in still shots that fade to red.

Sadly, like much of the American counterculture of that era, the slasher film found itself a victim of commercial assimilation and so did Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven for that matter. But the greatest contribution that the anti-war movement made to horror cinema has to be the zombie movie and this subgenre continues to serve as a pliable tool for social criticism on a shoestring budget. We have the late, great George Romero to thank for this.

While this Rust Belt cult icon made scores of terrifying pictures over the decades, he is most notorious for the original trilogy of his Living Dead series. The truly fascinating thing about these movies is that they are all monster movies in which the actual monsters serve largely as a faceless backdrop for the evils of average human beings who find themselves embattled, isolated, and surrounded by an unstoppable force. 

This template was set by 1968’s Night of the Living Dead, in which seven strangers hold up in a vacant farmhouse when they find themselves inexplicably surrounded by man-eating corpses who have risen from their graves to lurk and feast. But it doesn’t take long for those strangers to find greater conflict between each other than their shared enemy.

This scenario was inspired not only by the Vietnam War but by the fact that in the midst of this holocaust, America found itself hopelessly at war with itself with the violence that erupted across the country after the failures of the Civil Rights Movement. It is particularly telling that the closest thing to a hero that this movie has is a Black man named Ben (brilliantly played by Duane Johnson) who manages to survive the onslaught of the living dead only to be shot dead by the posse of heavily armed white men allegedly there to rescue him. 

Romero expands upon this theme with the sequels, 1978’s Dawn of the Dead and 1985’s Day of the Dead, each with a new batch of stranded survivalists attempting to make sense of an increasingly senseless apocalyptic American landscape. 

In Dawn of the Dead, the unlucky survivors manage to isolate themselves in the luxury of an abandoned shopping mall only to find themselves crippled and despondent by depression, agoraphobia, and nihilism. Day of the Dead shows a spark of hope in the fact that the undead appear to be evolving into something more human only to have the movie’s hardened warriors double down on their forever war on these creatures that has come to define their existence.

All of these gore fests are really movies about empire, about the horrible things that society can consign itself too in an endless state of constant warfare. The war always comes home, even in a bunker designed to survive nuclear winter, and the zombies always come home to roost. As Nietzsche famously observed, those who fight monsters frequently find themselves reflecting that which they fight.

Many movies have continued to mine this unique post-apocalyptic scenario for gruesome lessons about the banality and inhumanity of western consumer culture today. The best, in my opinion, are Danny Boyle’s 2002 masterpiece 28 Days Later and it’s 2007 sequel by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, 28 Weeks Later. Both of these movies involve everyday people attempting to survive an apocalyptic, rage-inducing virus by putting their faith and safety into the hands of modern-day standing armies only to find these soldiers to be far more likely to kill the innocent in a crisis than to save them.

This is the horrific world that we now find ourselves in and it’s not just a movie anymore. The western world has found itself held captive by a military industrial behemoth that creates monsters simply to justify its own increasingly nihilistic existence. Francois Truffaut once said that “every film about war ends up being pro-war.” My response is that Francois should have spent less time at Hollywood matinees and more time at the grungy grindhouses of Times Square. 

Working class directors slumming it in exploitation cinema new all too well that the only accurate way to capture the horrors of modern warfare is with a monster movie.

Peace, Love, & Empathy- Nicky/CH

Soundtrack: Songs influenced by this post

* Hybrid Moments by the Misfits

* Mandatory Suicide by Slayer

* Release the Bats by the Birthday Party

* For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica

* TV Set by the Cramps

* Let’s Have a War by Fear

* Peace Sells by Megadeth

* Rooster by Alice in Chains

* There Won’t Be Many Coming Home by Roy Orbison

* Too Many Puppies by Primus

* American Nightmare by the Misfits

Nicky Reid

Reprinted with kind permission of Nicky at Exile In Happy Valley Blog: One Queer post left anarchists campaign to get even with civilization, one gonzo rant at a time. Offending every end of the political spectrum with idiosyncratic populist prose since 2015.

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Unconventional Horror: Longlegs

918 words, 5 minutes read time.

“Longlegs,” directed by Osgood Perkins, is a haunting cinematic experience that promises to linger in the minds of its audience long after the credits roll. Set in a stylized version of the 1990s, the film follows the journey of FBI agent Lee Harker (Maika Monroe), who possesses a seemingly psychic ability to track down a satanic serial killer, portrayed by Nicolas Cage. Perkins’ film stands out in the horror genre for its unique approach, eschewing traditional jump scares in favor of creating a pervasive atmosphere of dread.

Atmosphere and Tone

The film opens with a haunting sequence that sets the tone for the rest of the narrative. Perkins skillfully plays with perspective and time, locking viewers into a tight frame that offers a child’s point of view on a disturbing encounter. This choice of framing is indicative of the film’s overall approach: it prioritizes a sustained sense of unease over shock value. The oppressive soundscapes and heavily mannered performances contribute to a cinematic experience that feels akin to a fever dream, designed to rattle viewers on a psychological level.

Production Design and Cinematography

Visually, “Longlegs” excels in crafting a world that is both familiar and unsettling. The cinematography captures the beauty and darkness of the Pacific Northwest, utilizing shadows and close-ups to add depth to the storytelling. The production design, while evoking the ’90s, also contributes to the dream-like quality of the film, blurring the lines between reality and the surreal. The film’s meticulous attention to detail in its visual and auditory elements enhances its unsettling mood, making every frame contribute to the overall sense of dread.

Characterization

The performances in “Longlegs” are central to its impact. Maika Monroe’s portrayal of Agent Harker is compelling; she captures the essence of a determined yet vulnerable investigator. Harker’s psychic abilities are subtly portrayed, adding layers to her character without overwhelming the narrative. Monroe’s performance is both nuanced and powerful, making Harker a relatable and engaging protagonist.

Nicolas Cage’s portrayal of the eponymous “Longlegs” is nothing short of chilling. Drawing inspiration from figures like Ted Bundy and Tiny Tim, Cage embodies the character’s sinister nature with unsettling ease. His performance adds complexity to the role, making Longlegs a villain that is both terrifying and fascinating. Cage’s ability to convey menace with a mere glance or gesture is a testament to his skill as an actor, and his portrayal is a standout in the film.

Plot and Mystery

The narrative of “Longlegs” is carefully constructed to keep viewers on edge. The film’s plot revolves around Harker’s pursuit of the satanic serial killer, with clues cleverly woven into the story. The tension builds steadily as Harker races against time to solve the case, leading to surprising twists that keep the audience guessing. The film’s exploration of themes such as faith, evil, and the human psyche adds depth to the narrative, making it more than just a typical serial killer thriller.

Comparisons and Influences

“Longlegs” distinguishes itself from other entries in the horror and thriller genres through its unique blend of elements. The film’s connection to real-world cases and its departure from traditional narrative structures set it apart. Perkins’ direction invites the audience to surrender to the film’s nightmarish vision, challenging the boundaries of the genre. This approach may divide audiences, but it also makes “Longlegs” a refreshingly intense and thought-provoking experience.

Soundtrack and Musical Themes

The soundtrack of “Longlegs” plays a crucial role in shaping the overall experience. It heightens tension, evokes emotions, and underscores key moments. For instance, during suspenseful scenes, haunting melodies intensify the viewer’s unease, while quieter moments are accentuated by subtle piano notes. The soundtrack’s synergy with the visuals creates a captivating and immersive atmosphere.

Several musical themes stand out, enhancing the film’s impact. The “whispering strings” motif, used during tense moments, adds a layer of eeriness. The killer’s theme, combining dissonant chords with a slow, deliberate rhythm, signals impending danger and reflects the antagonist’s malevolence. In contrast, Harker’s theme features a determined melody, emphasizing her unwavering resolve as she unravels the mystery.

One of the most striking elements of the score is the haunting dominance of the cello. Its deep, resonant tones evoke mystery and unease, perfectly complementing the film’s atmosphere. Whether in suspenseful scenes or quiet moments, the cello’s presence adds intensity to the viewing experience.

Criticisms

Despite its strengths, “Longlegs” is not without its criticisms. Some reviewers have pointed out that the film occasionally loses its grip on the fever dream tone it seeks to maintain, particularly during a late-film exposition dump that feels out of place in the otherwise enigmatic narrative. Additionally, while the film’s brutality and thematic exploration of faith and evil are generally praised, there are moments where it seems to shy away from fully committing to its own oddities. These inconsistencies can disrupt the film’s otherwise immersive experience.

Conclusion

“Longlegs” is a film that may divide audiences with its unconventional storytelling and unapologetic departure from mainstream horror. Yet, for those willing to embrace its peculiarities, it offers a refreshingly intense and thought-provoking experience that challenges the boundaries of the genre. I enjoyed the crime drama aspects of the film. Whether it becomes a cult classic or a divisive entry in horror cinema remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: “Longlegs” is a film that cannot be easily forgotten. Its haunting atmosphere, compelling performances, and unique approach make it a standout in contemporary horror, leaving a lasting impression on its audience.

By Pat Harrington

Picture credit: By http://www.impawards.com/2024/longlegs_ver7_xxlg.html, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=75958671

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Ambition, Infamy, and Hollywood Dreams in ‘MaXXXine’

1,601 words, 8 minutes read time.

The world of arthouse horror received a jolt of energy with Ti West’s ambitious trilogy, which began with ‘X’ and continued with ‘Pearl’. Now, the final installment, ‘MaXXXine’, has arrived, stirring up quite the conversation. The film takes us back to the mid-1980s, a time of excess and vivid style, which West captures with a meticulous eye for detail. The neon-soaked streets of Los Angeles serve as the backdrop for this lurid tale, where the glitz and grime of Hollywood are on full display.

Mia Goth reprises her role as Maxine Minx, the character we last saw escaping the adult film set of ‘X’. Now in 1985, Maxine is in Hollywood, chasing the dream of stardom with unyielding determination. The film opens with a powerful audition sequence, showcasing Maxine’s undeniable ‘X factor’

Maxine Minx , our enigmatic protagonist, navigates a city teeming with danger. She’s not the killer but rather a reactive figure caught in a web of intrigue. As the body count rises, Maxine’s past unravels, revealing unexpected connections. Twists abound, some cleverly foreshadowed, others hitting like a sucker punch.

Critics have noted that while the film’s style is consistent with its predecessors, ‘MaXXXine’ falls short in substance. The narrative seems to lose the captivating essence of Maxine’s character, turning her into a more reactive figure rather than the proactive force we’ve come to expect. Despite this, Goth’s performance has been praised as “brain-blastingly brilliant,” especially in the face of the film’s bloody climax.

The film also features a strong supporting cast, including Michelle Monaghan and Bobby Cannavale as LAPD detectives, and Kevin Bacon in a memorable role as a private investigator. The plot weaves through the dark underbelly of Hollywood, touching on themes of fame, ambition, and the sinister forces that often lurk behind the camera.

‘MaXXXine’ is not without its merits. West’s direction and the cinematography are commendable, and there are moments of genuine cinematic flair. However, the consensus seems to be that the film doesn’t quite live up to the high bar set by its predecessors. It’s a visual feast that may leave some viewers wanting more in terms of a cohesive and engaging story.

In conclusion, ‘MaXXXine’ is a film that will undoubtedly divide audiences. Some will appreciate the stylistic homage to a bygone era and the bold performances, while others may find the narrative lacking. Regardless, it’s a film that contributes to the conversation about the evolution of horror and the role of style in storytelling. For those intrigued by the darker side of cinema, ‘MaXXXine’ is a journey worth taking, if only to complete the experience of West’s unique trilogy.

The Cultural and Cinematic Tapestry of ‘MaXXXine’

The 80s references in ‘MaXXXine’ serve as a rich tapestry that not only sets the film’s aesthetic but also deepens its narrative, creating a layered experience that resonates with fans of the era and genre. Ti West’s ‘MaXXXine’ is steeped in 80s culture, from its visual style to its thematic content, making it a veritable treasure trove for enthusiasts of the decade’s cinematic offerings.

The film’s setting in 1985 Los Angeles is a deliberate choice, providing a backdrop that is ripe for horror and sleaze, a combination that defined a subgenre of films during that period. ‘MaXXXine’ taps into the LA Sleaze tradition, which includes cult classics like ‘Vice Squad’ and ‘Angel’. These films portrayed the darker side of Hollywood, where the pursuit of fame could lead to dangerous encounters with the city’s underbelly.

Moreover, ‘MaXXXine’ incorporates elements of neo-noir, a genre that saw a resurgence in the 80s with films like ‘Blow Out’ and ‘Mike’s Murder’. These influences are evident in the film’s narrative structure and stylistic choices, which pay homage to the era’s blend of crime, mystery, and moral ambiguity.

The film also nods to the real-life terror that gripped Los Angeles during the time of the Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez. By using this historical figure as a red herring, ‘MaXXXine’ adds a layer of authenticity to its horror, grounding its fictional narrative in the very real fears of the time.

In terms of cinematic references, ‘MaXXXine’ is a love letter to the horror genre, with Easter eggs and nods to various horror movies scattered throughout. This intertextuality not only enriches the viewing experience for horror aficionados but also serves as a commentary on the genre’s evolution and its intersection with other forms of cinema.

The cinematography, too, is a deliberate throwback to the 80s, with Eliot Rockett’s work capturing the essence of the period through grainy textures, lighting, and camera techniques that evoke nostalgia while maintaining a modern edge.

‘MaXXXine’ is not just a film set in the 80s; it is an embodiment of the decade’s cultural and cinematic ethos. It is a film that understands the power of reference and homage, using these tools to build a world that feels both familiar and fresh. For those who lived through the era, the references are a portal back in time. For newer audiences, they serve as a guide to the rich history of 80s cinema and its enduring impact on the horror genre. ‘MaXXXine’ is a testament to the lasting influence of the 80s, a decade that continues to inspire filmmakers and captivate audiences with its unique blend of style, substance, and a touch of sleaze.

The Soundtrack of ‘MaXXXine’

The soundtrack of ‘MaXXXine’ is a vibrant homage to the 1980s, encapsulating the essence of the era with a selection of songs that not only complement the film’s atmosphere but also enhance the storytelling. The film’s auditory experience is crafted to transport the audience back to a time of big dreams and even bigger hair, where music was an integral part of the cultural identity.

Tyler Bates, known for his work on films like ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ and ‘John Wick’, composed the original score for ‘MaXXXine’. His compositions for the film are said to be a blend of synth-heavy tracks and moody atmospheric pieces that echo the tension and drama unfolding on screen. The score is designed to be evocative of the period, with electronic beats and rhythms that were signature to the 80s sound.

The film also features a collection of popular songs from the decade, each chosen to reflect the film’s themes and the protagonist’s journey. For instance, the inclusion of ZZ Top’s ‘Gimme All Your Lovin” sets the tone for the film, playing as Maxine drives through Hollywood, symbolizing her ambition and the allure of fame. Similarly, ‘Obsession’ by Animotion, which is featured in the teaser trailer, resonates with the film’s exploration of the dark side of obsession and desire.

Other notable tracks include ‘Self Control’ by Laura Branigan, which underscores a pivotal scene where Maxine’s control over her life and destiny is tested, and ‘St. Elmo’s Fire’ by John Parr, which serves as an anthem for the character’s burning aspiration to succeed in Hollywood. The soundtrack also includes ‘In My House’ by Mary Jane Girls and ‘Bette Davis Eyes’ by Kim Carnes, further immersing viewers in the era and the film’s setting.

The use of these iconic songs is not merely for nostalgia; they play a critical role in the narrative, often acting as a counterpoint to the on-screen action or as a reflection of the characters’ inner states. The soundtrack of ‘MaXXXine’ is a carefully curated mixtape that not only pays tribute to the 80s but also serves as a character in its own right, enhancing the cinematic experience and helping to tell the story of Maxine Minx’s tumultuous rise in the City of Angels.

In essence, the soundtrack of ‘MaXXXine’ is a testament to the enduring power of 80s music and its ability to evoke a specific time and place. It’s a collection that will resonate with those who lived through the decade and enchant those who wish they had, all while supporting the film’s narrative in a way that only a well-chosen soundtrack can.

Themes of ‘MaXXXine’

‘MaXXXine’ delves into the alluring yet perilous journey towards Hollywood stardom, presenting a narrative that is as much a critique as it is a celebration of the entertainment industry. The film, set against the backdrop of 1980s Los Angeles, captures the era’s glitz and glamour, but also its darker undercurrents, reflecting the often tumultuous path to fame.

The protagonist, Maxine Minx, embodies the quintessential dreamer, arriving in Hollywood with stars in her eyes and an unwavering ambition to make it big. Her character arc is a poignant exploration of the lengths one might go to achieve fame. The film doesn’t shy away from depicting the harsh realities of the industry, where the pursuit of stardom can lead to exploitation and danger.

Director Ti West uses the character of Maxine to highlight the dichotomy between the shiny facade of Hollywood and the gritty reality that lies beneath. The film suggests that to reach the pinnacle of success, one must navigate a world rife with predators and opportunists. This is exemplified by the presence of a serial killer targeting aspiring starlets, a metaphor for the predatory nature of the industry.

‘MaXXXine’ also touches on the theme of infamy, drawing parallels between Maxine’s quest for fame and the notoriety of figures like the Night Stalker. It presents a cynical view that in the quest for stardom, moral boundaries are often crossed, and the line between fame and infamy becomes blurred.

The film’s portrayal of Hollywood is multifaceted, showcasing the city as a land of opportunity where dreams can come true, but also as a place where those dreams can quickly turn into nightmares.

By Pat Harrington

Picture credit

By http://www.impawards.com/2024/maxxxine_ver2_xlg.html, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=76785592

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