Review Roundup - October 2026

Welcome to the latest edition of Review Roundup, one that, for the first time in a while, only covers one month worth of writing! October has been quite productive for me, both in terms of film watching and review writing, with many of the things I've seen leaving me eager to get my thoughts into words and also prompting me to take all the time necessary to articulate them as best as can be rather than haphazardly getting them down mere moments after finishing a given film. There's some interesting new releases to discuss, and a couple older pieces that in this month's case all come under one franchise in particular. So, let's waste no more time and get to covering my reviews from October!

 

NEW: Digger (Alejandro G. Iñárritu, 2026) - reviewed 02/10/2026

    "This was one of my most anticipated films of 2026, a fact only boosted by the polarising reactions it went on to receive. Having now seen it for myself, I can safely say it’s one of the most intriguing, bizarre, complicated objects to emerge from cinema this year, perhaps best described in recent terms as Don’t Look Up by way of Asteroid City with an expected dash of Birdman too. To start I was admittedly a bit concerned and disappointed as the film seemed to consist of nothing more than the rather safe and tepid satire regarding corrupt billionaires and elites we’ve seen time and time again, not without some funny moments but quite grating on the whole. As the film went on, however, it became apparent that it was deliberate in its depiction of such and consequently about more than that, with a key revelation in the first third that enabled a greater level of nuance in how it could approach the given topic as well as interrogate its own essence, which I won’t spoil here as it seems to have been cleverly left out of the marketing. By the end, the film clearly asserted itself as a critique of the futility about satirical art in its laziest form, the kind that only exists to reaffirm the status quo with an ironic edge rather than using its platform to offer a constructive alternative. Such art is in turn shown to be damaging by serving as a distraction to audiences, giving them the illusion of their frustrations being recognised and resolved despite ultimately achieving nothing in the grand scheme of things, an effect that powerful individuals are also shown to be clearly aware of and eagerly capitalise on in order to suppress the mass desire for any real-world change that threatens their status. It is true that you could interpret the film as guilty of practically everything that it’s intent on critiquing, as large portions are dedicated to depicting upfront the very satire it otherwise seeks to deconstruct (and mostly in not so enjoyable fashion), but I’d say Iñárritu manages to successfully underscore it all with sufficient acknowledgments of the artifice at hand, coupled with the sense of the fabricated space imploding on itself as reality sets in, that it all feels intentional in how it comes across, even if that doesn’t suddenly make it any less tedious to sit through. [Tom] Cruise’s casting is hard to fully discuss without going into spoilers, but broadly speaking, him boisterously portraying a character that is essentially emblematic of an archetypical easy target for satire in its most perfunctory form could perhaps be understood as a sly comment on the lack of risks taken throughout much of his career, specifically where he has frequently opted to play the same badass, almost invincible action star rather than more challenging roles. That’s something we all recognise about him even if we continue to enjoy films like Mission: Impossible or Top Gun: Maverick, and it’s what makes an outing like Digger so exciting. Sometimes he goes a bit overboard, but as discussed, that is sort of the point. The same goes for other members of the ensemble, namely John Goodman as the delusional American president, perhaps the lowest common denominator in any kind of political satire nowadays. Some definitely get more to do than others, Sandra Hüller disappointingly being given little to work with despite the fact that she seems to hold her own comedically where possible. Hopefully she takes on another role of this tone that provides more space for her to shine. Beyond that, you can’t go wrong with something shot on VistaVision, which here provides Iñárritu with a different realm of cinematic artifice to explore following his decidedly digital efforts on Birdman and The Revenant, both of which I’m left itching to revisit as my understanding of film form has come a long way since my last viewings of either. You get more of his familiar long takes here, and they compliment the overarching thesis in their incorporation, especially with one particular bombastic set piece around the middle. The film’s final images are among its most striking and encapsulate everything masterfully, squandering any lingering doubts I had regarding the film’s intentions, even though I also think it practically accomplished most of what it needed to by the ninety-minute mark. Digger is certainly not an easy film to get on board with, it definitely took a while for it to click with me in terms of revealing what it was doing and how it ought to be taken, but once it all comes together, the end result is one I’d comfortably say I’m more enthusiastic about than not. No doubt it’s going to be a huge flop and Iñárritu will probably disappear off the face of the earth for another decade while Cruise promptly resumes business as usual with the likes of Days of Thunder 2 and Top Gun 3, but I’m glad it exists and takes the bold swings that it does as we probably won’t see something like this from either of the central driving forces (or on this scale at all for that matter) for a while. It’s also kind of bittersweet to watch as apparently the final release of Warner Bros before their official absorption into Paramount, I have a feeling this will be quite something to look back on some years from now in more ways than one. How it ages all the while is a whole other question." 8/10

 

THROWBACK: Carrie (David Carson, 2002) - reviewed 06/10/2026

    "Sort of a step in the right direction for a new take on Carrie following [Brian] De Palma’s; there is an attempt to align closer with the nature of [Stephen] King’s novel here in that the retrospective angle is incorporated and thus more depth is achieved, but at the same time it more often than not settles for just imitating what the 1976 film did than anything else, only this time largely by way of early 2000s digital imagery and effects gone wrong. It’s thirty minutes longer and while some of that time is well placed in focusing on what unfolds after the climactic prom night events, such does feel a bit perfunctory in its inclusion and doesn’t come close to capturing the melancholy about how it comes across in the novel. Carrie herself still gets plenty of close, upfront introspection as opposed to only ever being understood via other people’s ignorant perceptions, so the essence of the novel is kind of lost there. It wouldn’t be so bad if the film didn’t also pull out a bunch of De Palma-isms in its formalism too, with canted angles, axial cuts, POV shots, and more seen throughout. Even the music sounds like the poor man’s Pino Donaggio. To top it off there are also some outright stupid alterations here, especially the ending which defeats the purpose of the whole story even further and eliminates a key emotional angle. The actress playing Carrie did a great job though, and there’s more flavour to what’s going on here than in the dull 2013 rendition, but for everything it does better than the latter there’s a fair bit it does worse too. I really do wonder what [Mike] Flanagan is going to bring to this material in his new miniseries given what a King purist he strikes me as, something that doesn’t just rehash what De Palma did would be more than welcome at this point." 5/10

 

THROWBACK: The Rage: Carrie 2 (Katt Shea, 1999) - reviewed 10/10/2026

    "I was really hoping for this to be a hidden gem I could derive some vulgar reading of as a follow-up to one of my favourite horror works, but sadly the common consensus seems to be spot on here in that it’s just not very good. The opening moments were highly promising, and in the end there is some squishy fun to be had here, but ultimately nothing that meaningfully adds to the legacy of Carrie. It’s a shame because if there’s one thing De Palma’s film does lack (albeit not to a detrimental extent), it’s incorporating the epistolary style about how King tells the story in its original incarnation. That’s the most outstanding feature of the source material for me, the primary force behind the central sense of melancholy that no one involved ever really knew the central character for who she truly was. This sequel was the perfect opportunity to delve into that on film, perfectly complementing the intimate brilliance of the 1976 film in doing so, but it takes ages before it does remotely anything to expand on the latter, and even when it does it all feels rather cursory. Instead of being a proper reckoning with what came before, it instead adheres to the typical legacy sequel tradition of rehashing matters with a less compelling thesis. I appreciate how it looks to different aspects of the female coming-of-age experience as means to its own end, but this doesn’t amount to a radically distinct through line compared to what came before, and also causes the majority of the runtime to be occupied with rather uninteresting high school movie shenanigans that the original Carrie was clever to subvert and critique. Amy Irving gives her all in reprising the role of Sue, but the film doesn’t give her an awful lot to work with and is also quite distasteful in how it treats the character overall. Obviously no time needs to be spent analysing how this formally falls considerably short of what De Palma did twenty years earlier, but it’s not like it needed to match his talent in order to be any good. Psycho II is an equally long-delayed horror sequel, but one that manages to stand its own ground even in following on from the mastery of Alfred Hitchcock, mainly because it actually has a thoughtful narrative that isn’t afraid to take things to new places and thus fosters its own unique identity. If The Rage did the same, it easily could’ve achieved the same status, but as is, the most it has to offer is some playful moments of violence here and there. I suppose it’s nice that it doesn’t rely on the audience’s nostalgia for the original, but given how distanced it feels overall, I honestly might have preferred that." 4/10

For more on the topic of Carrie, I'm currently working on an extensive piece that will analyse and review the story across its numerous screen adaptations, all of which I have now seen. Stay tuned for that around December time if interested!

 

NEW: The Social Reckoning (Aaron Sorkin, 2026) - reviewed 16/10/2026

    "I have a certain fondness for The Social Network as it was one of the first ‘proper’ films (that is to say, something other than a mainstream animated film or big budget blockbuster) that I remember watching and really enjoying in my formative years as a film enjoyer around the age of sixteen. I haven’t seen it for quite a few years now, but I distinctly remember it as a rather eye-opening account of the creation of Facebook with some striking dialogue and direction, plus a highly memorable score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. As such, I was intrigued to see how this spiritual successor would turn out as a piece arising at a completely different point in my life, and the end result is just okay all things considered. The key area where The Social Reckoning struggles to live up to its predecessor is that it’s a far less groundbreaking approach to the subject matter. Maybe this is just a byproduct of how ubiquitous the negative consensuses surrounding Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg are in today’s world, but so much of what is said here fails to add to that conversation in a meaningful way. There is, at best, an attempt to start a nuanced discussion surrounding the value of Facebook / lack thereof, with Mikey Madison’s character initially being used to suggest the belief that there is something of value within the platform that ought to be preserved amid drawing attention to what simultaneously makes it a point of contention. However, as the film goes on, this stance becomes decreasingly prevalent, and the film’s conflict is simplified as it instead opts to primarily reiterate the more widely accepted, cynical views. The same goes for how the film portrays Zuckerberg; it’s an effective portrait brought to life by Jeremy Strong, emphasising his intimidating status, peculiar mannerisms, and questionable morals, but such is all too aligned with the contemporary popular perception of him and thus doesn’t possess much depth. While it’s not quite to the point of caricature, it is rather one note and not properly productive. That doesn’t mean there isn’t anything worthwhile about the experience overall, as the best thing the film has going for it would be its focus on this particular investigation into the mechanics and impact of Facebook in the late 2010s / early 2020s, which I regretfully didn’t know much about beforehand and, based on what’s presented here, would consider sufficient grounds for a follow-up to the 2010 original. That said, while it may have been enough to sustain my interest over the course of the runtime, it can also ultimately be reduced to little more than a showcase of specific, tangible evidence to support truths that we more or less already knew. Everyone knows that the algorithms behind Facebook and its contemporaries are manipulative and meticulously designed to be as addictive as possible, and everyone knows that individuals like Zuckerberg are complicit in such things as the spread of misinformation across their platforms for the sake of profit. Much of the investigative angle about the film is concerned with uncovering the numbers and data that prove these points, except there’s little to no sense of revelation about them because they’re essentially already known even if the specifics are not. The narrative is therefore really only insightful on the surface level of finding out who did what and to what exact extent the facts go instead of being more deeply revealing, which, from what I can recall, was not the case with The Social Network, as that film completely recontextualised much about Facebook and Zuckerberg as I’d previously understood them. Again, maybe this is just because of how times have changed and what constitutes common knowledge of these topics in this day and age, but it’s a sign that perhaps Reckoning needed to go above and beyond if it wanted to leave a lasting impression in approaching such nowadays. Even if one is willing to look past the shortcomings of the film’s thematic through lines and commentary, much about the execution elsewhere sadly doesn’t stand to scrutiny either. When I first watched The Social Network, I instantly became a fan of David Fincher and Aaron Sorkin, the latter largely because I was addicted to the energetic, snappy style of dialogue within his writing. This was around the same time that The Trial of the Chicago 7 was released, and [...] I really enjoyed that on the basis that the writing had all the classic Sorkin-isms within the landscape of a courtroom drama, a genre I was becoming interested in at the time. Unlike how The Social Network has remained in my mind, I can’t say I remember much about Chicago 7 now, and I think that might be because there actually may not have been an awful lot going on around or beneath those superficial elements, likely because what Sorkin does in the director’s seat simply isn’t up to the standards of his writing. Reckoning only makes me more certain of that assertion, as it’s a film I can certainly imagine being fully swept up in as the wide-eyed seventeen-year-old with a developing interest in cinema that I once was, but in my current position, there’s so much about Sorkin’s filmmaking and formalism that really bothers me. This is one of the ugliest looking films of the year, completely lifeless in its colour choices and devoid of depth in almost every image. I could try being vulgar about it as an overly digital, desaturated product surrounding the highly digital, monotonous world of social media and tech corporations, but I’d be kidding myself in doing so because it’s really just workmanlike slop and nothing more. Park Chan-wook is a filmmaker who has mastered the digital aesthetic in his recent works, last year’s No Other Choice being an excellent example, not only because the look and feel is closely woven into his film’s theses, but because he cares enough to have memorable compositions and use such features as focus pulls in a striking way. The same doesn’t apply here, as it’s mostly made up of unimaginative blocking and unmotivated cutting, thus it’s a night and day difference when framed against what Fincher brought to the table in the original. In addition, while his direction expectedly falters, even Sorkin’s script fails to completely impress. The non-linear structure feels clunky and doesn’t have the satisfying flow that The Social Network had, as it jumps around between varying points in time rather inelegantly and also seems far too preoccupied with ensuring that the audience is never lost in the process instead of trusting their ability to follow along. I suppose that can indicate a lack of faith that Sorkin has in his own direction as it seems like even he doesn’t trust himself to make each time period and setting feel distinct enough to be registered in isolation. The dialogue and its rhythm remains his greatest strength as a writer, and there’s undeniably much to enjoy about it here, but the charm wears off when you realise it’s effectively the core of his cinematic expression, and, as someone who values cinema for its visual qualities above all else, I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. In the moment, I didn’t mind The Social Reckoning. It relays an adequately compelling narrative to its audience and has an array of enjoyable performances (the central trio give it their all even if some are given more to work with than others), but it’s when you take a step back and consider what it’s actually achieving that you begin to wonder what the point of the endeavour was. Anyone who is the least bit educated on these topics won’t come out thinking any differently, and for a talking point as big as Facebook (and by extension social media as a whole), the appeal there seems all the more limited. It may put things into a clearer perspective, but the current state of things demands more than that, a fact I may have been more forgiving of if it at least had the courtesy to do anything noteworthy as a cinematic object all the while. Hard to recommend unless you already know your stuff and want an excuse to pat yourself on the back, although this is also the second time this year that Patrick Fischler has unexpectedly popped up in a new release so that’s something to be happy about." 5/10

 

NEW: Wildwood (Travis Knight, 2026) - reviewed 27/10/2026

    "Stop motion animation is one of the most enchanting art forms out there, one that is especially close to my heart having tried it for myself a couple times over the years, so I’m always going to be there for any work that utilises it, let alone one on this scale. From a purely visual perspective, Wildwood is unsurprisingly everything you could hope for, equal parts vast, intricate, detailed, inventive, and all-round stunning. No part of me was let down by the immense level of craftsmanship on display, and seeing it projected on 35mm only added to the delightful tactility of it all, which itself is also a welcome antidote to the widespread presence of AI-generated slop in today’s world. Sadly, similar to other acclaimed animated films of the 2020s such as Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio or The Wild Robot, the screenplay here failed to completely live up to the insane wonder about the execution for me. Narratively and thematically, I found Wildwood quite unremarkable; the world building was perfectly sound but nothing particularly intriguing, a mostly very archetypical fantasy setting with the odd unique facet such as its curious depiction of flora, and the story that unfolds within was similarly quite ordinary at the end of the day. There’s a somewhat compelling coming-of-age theme at hand, but one that doesn’t get as much development as it ought to have had, thus feeling rather half-baked as is. The film has elements reminiscent of texts such as The Wizard of Oz and Labyrinth to name a few, but I can’t say it has too strong an identity of its own aside from the aforementioned look and feel courtesy of the animation. That’s not to say it’s bad, it just isn’t especially outstanding. Compare this to a previous Laika outing, Kubo and the Two Strings, one of my favourite animated films thanks in no small part to its central theme of decidedly being a story about storytelling, the central character in some ways acting as a self-reflexive embodiment of the Laika animators as a storyteller who similarly expresses himself through the act of breathing life into small, delicate models. Parts of Wildwood feel similarly self-conscious, specifically in interrogating the wistfulness of fairy tales by subversively exposing and indulging in their darker sides that are shown to only become apparent as one leaves their childhood years behind, but it never really advances beyond broad allusions to such a thesis and definitely isn’t as rigorous as Kubo in negotiating with its own essence all the while. Additionally, the mythology constructed in the latter film is far more striking and memorable on both an aesthetic and narrative level, filled with countless spectacular and unique set pieces such as the giant red skeleton, the ship made of leaves, the creepy underwater eye plants, or the menacing Moon King. Compare those to what Wildwood has to offer; there’s a sequence with the protagonist flying on the back of a large bird, which felt a lot like what we regularly saw in the How to Train Your Dragon films, and there’s an enormous final battle with numerous fantastical factions colliding, not unlike the climaxes seen throughout fantasy franchises such as Tolkien’s Middle-Earth and The Chronicles of Narnia. These aren’t at all weak in isolation, I just can’t foresee them staying with me like any of the above has been able to, and once again, the animation is primarily what’s doing the heavy lifting to make them captivating on any level, simply because the scope at hand is undeniably breathtaking. To give credit where it’s due, I really admire how audacious much of the film is in its tone. As indicated, it is very upfront in exploring certain mature topics such as suicide and is also quite intense and gruesome in how it depicts its fantastical threat and violence, at times reminding me of some radical animated works from past decades such as Watership Down or The Secret of NIMH. But, unlike those films, for every novel quality it has going for it, there’s a lot that is wholly conventional about it when situated in the wider contemporary mainstream animation climate. While those overtly darker elements are appreciated, the film is not beyond also implementing some very trite dialogue and humour along the way, and that’s extremely disappointing to see in a film of this sort. When it comes to studios like Pixar or DreamWorks, I don’t expect a wholly serious tone in their films these days as they’ve built a reputation around making generally light-hearted films for all ages. Does that mean I wouldn’t want to see them take a stab at such? Not necessarily, but at the same time I also don’t find myself that bothered whenever they don’t. Conversely, when you watch Wildwood’s bold, dramatic trailer and see its 12A / PG-13 rating, you’d like to think you’re in for something that will set aside the familiar tendencies of most mainstream animated works for once. But the film doesn’t entirely fulfil that promise, and I really can’t understand why. Why must we have our main characters make quippy remarks about the nature of the fantastical world they’ve been thrust into instead of just letting it be so the audience can become immersed? Why must we have characters that only exist for comedic relief that drastically meddles with the tone of certain scenes instead of allowing heavy impacts to be felt? These are things that really take me out of a film when not done carefully, and while they aren’t too frequent here, I nonetheless found them distracting considering how much my immersion in the film depended on how seriously it otherwise wished to be taken. I’ve heard some compare this to Hayao Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke, and framing it against that really only accentuates this issue. Not only is the world constructed in that film far more engaging with an infinitely richer thematic through line, but, as is the case in any of his films, Miyazaki crucially lets his fantasy worlds just exist for what they are, rarely feeling a need to call attention to themselves or undercut any subsequent dramatic moments with levity, at least not in a way that’s jarring. That’s something I feel as though Western artists have little to no grasp of in this day and age, and to be honest, probably never fully will in the mainstream sector. That doesn’t mean there can’t be any good stuff made within these confines, as Laika themselves have been able to operate just fine under them in the past. Going back to Kubo, that film also has its own child protagonist that makes snarky remarks about the situation he finds himself in, but largely so the film can illustrate his growth as he gradually comes to take the central adventure seriously as the stakes reveal themselves, unlike in Wildwood where such comes across as pitiful attempts at comedy to frivolously lighten the mood. It also has its own comedic relief, but one that is well integrated into the central group dynamic and overarching narrative, and is also just actually funny, unlike that of this film who serve minimal narrative purpose and simply aren’t that enjoyable in and of themselves. It’s clear that the creators of Wildwood want to push boundaries, and in many ways they successfully do, but I suppose they also just can’t help themselves amid breaking away from tradition. It probably sounds as though I disliked this film overall, and the truth is it has indeed left me a little sour. I don’t think I could ever watch a stop motion film and regard it as anything less than okay or good, because practically every frame is bound to have a myriad of things to be in awe of, which is precisely the case here and thus why my rating is as high as it is. I’m just a bit disappointed that sixteen years worth of painstaking effort seem to have primarily paid off on the surface rather than in many places around or beneath. There’s absolutely lots here that impressed me, but only so much that truly moved me, and it gives me no pleasure to say something of the sort about a film like this. Anyway, it’s now all eyes on Ray Gunn to be the one animated film of 2026 I wholeheartedly adore." 7/10

Review Roundup - August & September 2026

Despite stating in my last Review Roundup that I intended to get back to producing such on a monthly basis once again, we find ourselves once again here after two whole months have passed. However, even though it may not appear this way, I have watched my fair share of films throughout August and September, and even better, managed to write a few words about a lot of them! As was the case with earlier in the summer, it has been mostly new releases, but not without a few throwbacks all the while. Even so, what we also have here is also a great variety in terms of quality, with many good, some okay, and even a few outright bad. So, let's get started!

 

NEW: Spider-Man: Brand New Day (Destin Daniel Cretton, 2026) - reviewed 01/08/2026

    "This was a good time overall. It keeps up the great character moments that have always defined Tom Holland’s Spidey films for me, and at times improves on the generally lacklustre action sequences too. That’s the area that stood out for having held up the worst on my latest rewatch of the ‘Home’ trilogy, but with the more assured direction of Cretton here it’s able to sometimes go beyond the nauseating and disorienting web swinging and crashing I’ve come to expect. It also didn’t completely undo the ending of No Way Home as I feared it might, rather it’s actually quite thoughtful in terms of how it handles things there even though I found the latter a satisfactory conclusion. Not much else of note really, not sure why the praise for this is as high as it is, [...] perhaps people are just thrilled to finally see a more contained Spider-Man caper that reduces the character to its essence while also finding some ways of taking it to new places. I too like how it does just that, but much like last year’s Superman, I fear there might be just a tad too much going on elsewhere that gets in the way of letting the simple charm at its very core have all the space to shine for what it is." 7/10

 

THROWBACK: Hunt for the Wilderpeople (Taika Waititi, 2016) - reviewed 18/08/2026

    "I missed this during its initial theatrical run, and since it has become one of my favourite films of all time over the years, I was eager to see it on the big screen when I found out it was returning for its 10th anniversary, and to no one’s surprise, the experience was a delight. I absolutely loved hearing all the moments of comedy I know and love be met with collective laughter from an in-person audience, there’s still so much here that effortlessly put a smile on my face. It really is one of the most quotable films of the last decade for me, any time it pops into my head there are countless lines I find myself able to recite and chuckle away at, and they just never get old. This was also my first time watching it in a world without Sam Neill, and I would have to say this is probably my favourite role of his. Even on putting the film’s special meaning for me aside, the dynamic he has with Julian Dennison here is so endearing and makes for so many memorable moments and interactions, I just can’t get enough of it. There’s just so much to love here, and it’s a shame that nothing Taika has done in the ten years since its release has come close to capturing its charm, this really did mark the end of an era for him. Even as someone who is still yet to see such films as What We Do in the Shadows and Boy, I can safely say that the portion of the director’s career to which those films and Hunt for the Wilderpeople belong is infinitely more interesting than where he’s gone subsequently. This is also the third viewing in a row I’ve had where I’ve managed to introduce the film to various people in my own life, and seeing their reactions throughout only enhances my enjoyment, today being no different. I’ll no doubt be coming back to this for many more years to come, and will hopefully find more and more people to continue sharing it with all the while." 9/10

THROWBACK: Heathers (Michael Lehmann, 1989) - reviewed 23/08/2026

    "[The] First title in my newly upgraded physical media collection that I’ve taken for a spin (albeit not on a 4K TV of my own), and a great way to get things started on that front.* I enjoyed Heathers on my first viewing, but didn’t think it was much more than just plain good, and on becoming obsessed with Heathers the Musical shortly afterwards, it really only went down in my mind. The musical struck me as a far improved and more assured take on this story, using the theatrical space to enhance its heightened and outrageous qualities, essentially taking what’s already there but taking it a much needed step further. It applies to almost everything, be it the characterisation, costuming, lighting, and more. The music is also phenomenal and plays a key role in bringing the thesis together, and it’s a bonus that almost every song is memorable and an absolute joy to listen to in isolation. Thus, the musical quite easily became the optimum version of this material in my mind, and whenever I thought back to the film, there wasn’t much about it I considered superior or even noteworthy, aside from the performances of Winona Ryder and Christian Slater undoubtedly being the definitive versions of their respective characters (a sentiment I still hold to this day). Despite this, part of me wanted to give the film another go at some point, and after finally seeing Heathers the Musical on stage this summer and discussing how it compares to the original film with others, it seemed like the time was right to return to Westerberg High in its original incarnation. As it turns out, there was no better way to do so than on Arrow Video’s gorgeous 4K disc, which revealed how there is a lot of creative and stylish stuff going on formally that matches the tone and energy of the musical. So much of the lighting, for instance, is extremely distinct here, expertly using the basic yet iconic colour scheme of red, yellow, green, and blue about the central characters to define so many scenes in a really striking way. I particularly love the party scene in this regard, which features Veronica bathed in red while indoors only to step outside and become engulfed in a blue nighttime glow as well as the bright flickering of a fire just in time for her confrontation with Heather Chandler. The same goes for Veronica’s nightmare set in an imagined funeral for Heather Duke, with plenty of the green that defines the latter character consuming the church space in an eerie way, while Veronica watches from the back covered in a haunting red light as a ghostly Heather Chandler taunts her, almost capturing the same sense of liminality about the stage space in the musical on screen. Consequently, I no longer feel like the film is quite holding back as I once thought it did, and I find it to actually possess many of the elements I once considered amendments about the musical but in its own, uniquely cinematic ways, which is the best case scenario for two renditions of the same material operating in different mediums. As a whole, I still think Heathers the Musical is overall the more successful and cohesive piece, and I can’t deny that there were plenty of times where the impact of its additions and alterations were greatly felt (the whole climax in particular feels so lifeless here without the boisterousness of Dead Girl Walking Reprise underpinning everything), but I am very glad to have gone back and realised that the basis of what is now one of my favourite pieces of musical theatre doesn’t drastically pale in comparison to its adaptation as I once thought it did." 8/10

*This will be the subject of an upcoming retrospective that I'm planning to release around the end of the year, so stay tuned for that if interested!

 

NEW: The End of Oak Street (David Robert Mitchell, 2026) - reviewed 24/08/2026

    "Modern Hollywood and dinosaurs… name me a worse combo. This is admittedly more interesting than the sludge of the latest Jurassic World sequels or other recent misfires like 2023’s 65, but it still leaves a lot to be desired. It’s sufficiently diverting as a throwback to the simplistic excitement and warmth of 1980s family blockbusters, yet I can’t help but feel like there’s a smarter film in here somewhere, maybe one that interrogates that time period and cinematic aesthetic in some way. But this is more so just emblematic of such instead of attempting to dissect it at all; you could’ve released it in the 1980s as is and it wouldn’t really feel out of place or ahead of the curve, which only speaks to how disinterested it is in saying anything about that given time and the familiar suburban atmosphere in which it unfolds as we now understand them in the 2020s. It’s a shame because the film starts in a manner that indicates this sort of approach, with Michael Giacchino’s music abruptly overemphasising the whimsy of classic John Williams while some actors like Ewan McGregor seem to lean into caricature with their performances. But as it goes on, this becomes less the case, with Anne Hathaway for one dramatically giving it her all and the sincerity about how the narrative wishes to be taken becoming more prevalent, leaving one to rethink whether any of what they just saw was the least bit self aware whatsoever. There are some fun set pieces throughout, and the dinosaurs are depicted in a fairly unconventional way which I appreciated, particularly with their rather unappealing appearances as well as the frankly horrifying sounds some of them make. I haven’t seen any of writer / director David Robert Mitchell’s prior work, but from what I gather, I would’ve thought that he’d be above this sort of thing. Although, when you see his name directly followed by JJ Abrams as producer in the credits, it sort of adds up. I suppose the whole thing can be understood as a means of escaping director’s jail, that is to say, a rather safe outing on the whole but not without the occasional curious touches half heartedly dotted throughout to make the endeavour a tad more worthwhile. One can only hope whatever pay Mitchell got from this will allow him to go back to more interesting territory, something I don’t think can wholeheartedly be said about Oak Street." 6/10

 

NEW: Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma (Jane Schoebrun, 2026) - reviewed 30/08/2026

    "A film about so, so many things, highlighting the artifice of cinema and how this pertains to our subjective views of the world, exploring the disjunct between interpreting the medium on a purely emotional level against a colder more analytical lens, questioning the role of the viewer, and of course deconstructing the slasher genre as it has existed over time. So much fun to be had, so much left to ponder. A pleasure to see such delights as painted backdrops and split diopters front and centre on a cinema screen in this day and age. Self-reflexivity and interrogating the essence of film is and always will be my jam, this is one of the most exciting instances of late." 8/10

 

CATCH-UP: Wuthering Heights (Emerald Fennell, 2026) - reviewed 31/08/2026

    "An expectedly woeful attempt at breathing new life into Wuthering Heights, opting for vapid neoclassical melodrama fused with a sense of contemporary edginess and in turn reducing the source material to its surface level facets and dismissing any of its subtext. Not the most misguided endeavour in today’s day and age if the film had an overtly postmodern sense of knowingness towards the shallowness at hand and an interest in dissecting and commenting on such for some broader, self-reflexive purpose, but this is Emerald Fennell we’re talking about, someone so out of touch at this point that I find it hard to believe what we see here is anything other than her completely unironic interpretation of Emily Brontë’s novel, as she might be the last person I trust to have a nuanced understanding of the issues regarding class and race relations at hand here. Her interests go no further than aesthetics; this film is competently helmed and not without the occasional dash of visual grit and depth, but it becomes apparent after ten minutes that she has nothing to say all the while. She doesn’t even go all out with the more outlandish side of her rendition as much as I was led to believe, in the end it just comes down to a few brief moments of supposedly sexy content that seem specifically designed to look striking and audacious in the landscape of a choppily edited trailer, as otherwise this is remarkably stagnant and repetitive so much of the time, and I spent most of the runtime ready for it to be over. I wouldn’t say it’s abject failure on all grounds but at the same time I do sort of wish that it was, that at least would have made the experience more enjoyable on some level. Ultimately it’s just a load of nothing, equal parts tame, hollow, regressive, and unbelievably boring." 3/10

 

CATCH-UP: Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu (Jon Favreau, 2026) - reviewed 04/09/2026

    "Despite it having been a few months ago now, I still can’t quite comprehend how a new STAR WARS film was released in cinemas and I did not care to see it one bit. In fact, it was an easy skip for me. Around the same time, I was happy to go out and pay money to see the likes of a murder mystery with talking sheep as well as the sixth instalment in a horror parody series, but when it came to a new entry in one of the most iconic and beloved film franchises of all time, the prospect of which would’ve been the most exciting thing to me ten years ago, that could wait for its inevitable drop on streaming, which is where we find it today. That’s quite something, isn’t it? To be fair, I’m not the biggest fan of the show The Mandalorian that this follows on from. I enjoyed the first season as a departure from the familiar side of the Star Wars universe with a distinct atmosphere about it, but then it gradually became more and more preoccupied with slotting itself into the wider lore and concerning existing characters from here, there, and everywhere, thus undermining most of what it had going for it to begin with. That’s kind of the core problem with Star Wars media in this day and age, hardly any of it is able to stand on its own as there’s almost this unspoken obligation to tie everything in with endless amounts of prior content, and when you’re only a casual fan like myself, that’s more off-putting than anything. That and I feel like the newer stuff just doesn’t have any bit of the imagination and invention that once defined the series and makes its earlier works so curious to look back on, and with so much being produced on an annual basis, it quickly becomes quite tepid. This isn’t the case for everything, The Last Jedi and Andor are both examples of strong standalone pieces that go beyond drawing upon older / familiar Star Wars narratives and iconography for their thematic and stylistic inspirations, but ultimately it’s the few exceptions that prove the rule. Suffice to say, I used to love Star Wars with all my heart, and I still hold great affinity for the episodic films as well as some of the wider material, but my feelings towards the franchise as the expansive entity it has evolved into would now be a net negative all things considered. Arriving at Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu, what we have isn’t conceptually the worst thing imaginable, but in execution is guilty of practically everything wrong with the franchise at this point in time. I’m actually fully on board with the idea of a one-off film in this universe that prides itself on nothing more than spectacular sci-fi thrills with memorable characters, but as it has come to fruition here just isn’t what it ought to be. For a start, one’s engagement with this narrative is almost entirely predicated on prior engagement; who are these characters? What exactly is going on in their side of the universe at this point? Why should we care? These are all things the film either doesn’t concern itself with or briskly speedruns so it can just cut to the chase with its set pieces. Obviously having seen The Mandalorian series I do have some idea of where we’re at, but the value of the film as an individual object (something it should strive to be taken as on transitioning to the big screen) is diminished through its laziness on this front. It’s perfectly possible to achieve a balancing act of not tiring your dedicated fans while also keeping newcomers in the loop; I’ll always cite the Mission: Impossible films as perfect examples of this, with every new entry taking some time to re-establish where the series finds itself so that they each remain self-contained and don’t come across as incomplete despite also neatly fitting into a larger whole. The Mandalorian and Grogu is the opposite, as unless you’ve consumed many hours of existing content, you’re probably going to be left in the dark to some extent. Even I as someone who has sat through my fair share of Star Wars material over time, as far as I’m aware everything featuring the titular characters here at the very least, was still left with a lot of questions! Who was the random purple guy with pointy ears joining Mando and Grogu? What was the deal with that tall guy with the big hat and his dog? Sure, these are just side characters and you can probably take an educated guess as to who / what they are based on how they operate within the narrative, but it’s just a bit frustrating of the film to assume its viewers are all-knowing on this front so it doesn’t have to do any legwork itself, especially when it’s a matter of crossing between different mediums, in this case film, television, and goodness knows what else. Additionally, this can’t help but also reek of aggressively pandering to fans, because as we all know, nothing is more exciting to Star Wars fans than their beloved glup shittos appearing on screen for five minutes only to contribute nothing to the overall piece. I’m all for a bit of fan service here and there, but it needs some sort of constructive purpose to feel truly satisfying and earned, as simply pointing out something you recognise isn’t enough for me. The issue of the film’s standalone status is only exacerbated by how it so blatantly feels like several episodes of television haphazardly taped together. There are cuts to black throughout that you can tell were likely once intended to be where one episode ended and another began, and the pace is rather awkward as large chunks involve practically nothing of note happening, the sort of padding that’s perhaps forgivable within a more far-reaching season of television but absolutely destroys the momentum of a single two-hour film where efficiency should be more of a priority. As if things couldn’t get worse from there, The Mandalorian and Grogu happens to also unsurprisingly be one of the most visually insipid and unimaginative works in the entire franchise. It absolutely feels like it belongs on the small screen despite its desperate attempts to suggest otherwise, consisting of little more than the monotonous, overexposed, and softly lit grey mush we’ve become all too accustomed to in our streaming content. Favreau isn’t a bad director by any means, rewatching the first Iron Man recently reminded me how much tactility and moodiness the Marvel franchise once had before the aforementioned look and feel became the standard there too, but here the most exciting thing about his formalism would be comparatively superficial elements such as the constant shifting to IMAX aspect ratios, a frankly basic means of enhancing scope, with no meaningful depth, colour, or expression in the actual images he constructs. Moreover, there’s just no sense of a filmmaker behind the camera employing their own cinematic inspirations and interests here, something that generally isn’t a dealbreaker for me but is nonetheless always nice to see, and also what I’ve come to expect from Star Wars. While I’ve always liked the original six films, what helps that adoration persist into the present is being able to go back and recognise the clear directorial interests of George Lucas within them. Even in a lesser entry like The Phantom Menace, there’s so much going on that amounts to a really fascinating object with a clear sense of building on an existing wider cinematic lineage, such as the pod-race sequence effectively being Lucas’ take on the hefty chariots of William Wyler’s Ben-Hur in a hyper computer-generated landscape. This sort of thing has been few and far between in the Disney era; some may despise The Last Jedi for whatever reasons, but the fact is that remains one of the few instances where a Disney Star Wars product has come close to replicating this dynamic, with Rian Johnson thematically taking after Akira Kurosawa just as Lucas once did while also employing visual nods to films like Wings and Vertigo. As is to be expected, nothing of the sort is apparent here, with the only points of inspiration being nothing more than the aesthetics of older Star Wars works but without any of the charm. For example, remember the holographic board game that Chewbacca plays on the Millennium Falcon? The one where the avatars are brought to life in a manner that lovingly harks back to Ray Harryhausen esque stop motion creatures? Well, there’s an elaborate set piece here that greatly refers back to that, except it’s reduced to the novelty of recreating the familiar sight from the original trilogy and employs flavourless CGI to get the job done. Beyond that, nothing new or intriguing is established about the Star Wars universe here, all the locations have a sense of ‘been there, done that’ about them, the narrative is just about the most pedestrian set-up and series of events anyone could’ve conceived for this franchise at this stage. I’m a firm believer that not just the original six-film saga but the original trilogy alone had all the necessary scope and variety to make this universe feel as diverse, lived-in, and memorable as it needed to be, as since then things have mostly just been variations on what was brought to the table there, and it’s become increasingly uninspired with each new iteration. There isn’t even much of the distinct space Western vibe that the first season of the show had here, which only speaks to how far these characters have been functioned into the broader Star Wars mythos that their unique edge no longer shines through. I will admit, the film isn’t quite as bad as I feared it would be. I was bored all the way through for sure, but it wasn’t an infuriating experience as much as it was just an exhausting one. On the plus side, and I really hate to say this, but while Pedro Pascal’s Mando is a character I don’t consider all too exciting or compelling anymore, I do still find Grogu a delightful presence after all these years. It really shouldn’t work, the schtick with him is so one note and basically just a goofy, cutesy puppet doing goofy, cutesy things on-screen, but [...] he still effortlessly puts a smile on my face and makes me chuckle. If that removes any credibility I have as a serious writer in your eyes, so be it. Although, even if I were to try being vulgar in my defence of the little green goofball, he is honestly the closest thing Favreau has to a clear stylistic inspiration as discussed a moment ago. There’s one scene in the film where he and some other small puppet creatures navigate a tunnel, which reminded me of the craft in Jim Henson works like Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal, and that’s something I can appreciate in today’s cinematic scene, even if it has been a facet of Star Wars since its inception and thus isn’t the most striking thing to employ here. However, it cannot be said that adorable Grogu shenanigans are enough to sustain an entire feature, as while they might have kept me from falling asleep altogether, they could only do so much to make the experience truly worthwhile. Ludwig Göransson’s music is also pretty decent, remaining a welcome divergence from the traditional Star Wars fanfare, although some of it was a bit jarring at the same time. I’m all for his unorthodox instrumentation but some of the electronic infused motifs here were more ill-fitting than anything, almost had me thinking I was listening to 90s disco music on some occasions, which was distracting in the context of a Star Wars film to say the least. Whatever way you look at it, Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu emblematises the very issues that have let down the Star Wars brand for years now. It barely stands as an individual piece of work, and little to no creativity seems to have been implemented along the way. Even the title annoys me and speaks to the problem, as it’s literally just popular brand + popular character + other popular character. Excuse me for being pedantic, but what happened to the ‘A Star Wars Story’ subtitle that the anthology films of the 2010s established? It wasn’t much, but it added a neat flair that made the titles more intriguing. Like, which of these sounds better: ‘Solo: A Star Wars Story’, or simply ‘Star Wars: Han Solo’? Why couldn’t this have been called ‘The Mandalorian and Grogu: A Star Wars Story’? In fact, referring to the two of them in those terms doesn’t even make sense together; ‘The Mandalorian’ is more of a title than the character’s name, as his actual name is Din Djarin, right? Meanwhile wouldn’t Grogu’s equivalent be ‘The Child’, which is what he was officially known as before the name Grogu was revealed as the show went on? So if they were just going to name it after the characters and nothing else, wouldn’t ’The Mandalorian and The Child’ have made more sense and been more consistent? That sure sounds more interesting of a title to me at least. Obviously ‘The Mandalorian’ is used here because it’s the most recognisable title for this character, but the great irony of this situation is that Grogu is still colloquially known by most as Baby Yoda, a name I for one still call him by most of the time. Too bad Disney didn’t put that in the title, as maybe this would have attracted more attention from general audiences if they did. Anyway, it doesn’t look like this is changing any time soon as next year we’ve got the equally blandly titled ‘Star Wars: Starfighter’ to look forward to. My expectations are just as low for this one, maybe it’ll fare better as a standalone film in the franchise given that it seems to involve new characters, but with Shawn Levy of all people in the director’s seat, I somehow have even less hope that it will be anything remotely exciting as a piece of filmmaking. Unless I hear people giving it the absolute highest of praise when the time comes, I can safely say it’ll be another one I comfortably skip in cinemas and wait to drop on Disney+. Quite sad that this is where we’re at for what was once the biggest film franchise in the world and one of my main nerdy interests, I really hope it’s not long before it’s finally put on a shelf and left untouched for at least another thirty years, or better yet, for good." 4/10

 

NEW: Coyote vs. Acme (Dave Green, 2026) - reviewed 08/09/2026

    "[I] Cannot believe this almost didn’t get to be shown on the big screen, this is easily the best film of its kind since none other than Who Framed Roger Rabbit. It goes beyond relying on the basic novelty of featuring animated characters in a live action setting, and also dials down the more corporate self-reflexivity that has often let down the Looney Tunes in their cinematic outings (which reached a new low with 2021’s Space Jam: A New Legacy). Instead it has a well refined story with plenty of heart and charm, taking the characters that have always been my personal favourite part of the Looney Tunes and lovingly deconstructing them and their dynamic in a modern, real-world setting. What can also be seen here is probably the closest any film has come to replicating the practical awe of the 1988 film, constructing a compelling depiction of heightened 2D characters navigating an everyday space with lots of inventive camerawork and memorable sets / environments. From the opening sequence that enthrallingly realises a traditional Coyote / Road Runner encounter within this updated framework, it becomes instantly apparent just how truly cinematic things are here compared to how we’ve come to know these matters on the small screen. There’s plenty of delightful slapstick throughout, as well as some savvy commentary on the corruption of large corporations thrown in for good measure. All in all, a terrific time at the movies that anyone who cares about the art ought to go out and show their support to. It’s also quite funny that that this is a courtroom film set in Albuquerque and they even gave Will Forte’s lawyer character the Jimmy McGill haircut. John Cena was hilarious as ever too." 8/10

 

NEW / THROWBACK: Avengers: Endgame Encore (Anthony Russo / Joe Russo, 2019) - reviewed 27/09/2026

    "Nothing new to be said about Endgame itself; it’s still a spectacular, sincere, moving, patient, and cohesive masterpiece that remains one of my all-time favourites. It was a pleasure seeing it on the big screen again despite having seen it twice in cinemas during its original theatrical run, one of the most formative and memorable times in my entire life looking back [...] As for the additions of this particular rerelease, however, I’m a bit more apprehensive. The way Marvel has opted to actively alter the film for the sake of fitting more closely alongside their forthcoming projects is honestly a little insulting, especially since they do so by way of completely undermining some of its best aspects, namely the beautiful final moments and overarching sense of closure. It’s not anything drastic, but the broader impact is nonetheless strongly felt for the worse. If Disney proceeds to push for this revisionist take to become the definitive version of Endgame in the manner of George Lucas with the Star Wars Special Editions from now on, that is major cause for concern in my eyes. Obviously we’re yet to see exactly how things are going to pan out in line with these changes, but I firmly believe retcons of any kind should always be limited to subsequent texts rather than distorting what has already been made for their own benefit, regardless of how thoughtful they may turn out to be. Not doing so is a harmful way of approaching art, and in this case really left me feeling sour. When it comes to Avengers: Doomsday, my feelings are complicated. In an ideal world I would love to be really excited for it, and there was definitely a part of me feeling giddy while watching the thrilling trailer for it shown prior to today’s film, yet at the same time, the cynic in me is all too loud and there are far too many red flags I simply can’t look past as of now, thus preventing me from wholeheartedly getting swept up in the anticipation. If it ends up being as great as the likes of Infinity War and Endgame, that would honestly be a joy to see as I’d love this franchise to find its way again after some rough years. Conversely, if it falls on the other end of the spectrum, while that would be a shame, I am also morbidly curious to see exactly just how much of a mess it may turn out to be, so there is something to be gained either way. My fingers are crossed, but it’s looking like an uphill battle at this stage, especially after today and seeing the questionable lengths they’ve gone to in order to set the stage. There’s some serious justifying to be done when it comes to the return of a certain someone at the partial cost of what made Endgame so special." 10/10

 

NEW: Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom (Steve Cox / Matthew Walker, 2026) - reviewed 27/09/2026

    "Just when I thought I’d seen it all in 2026, we now have a Shaun the Sheep movie that looks as though it was directed by Dario Argento (in other words, cinema is alive and well). This does borrow a bit too heavily from Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, one of the greatest animated works of all time, but the innate charm of the Aardman style and approach means it’s practically impossible to not be charmed by any of their output in spite of how derivative it may be. The comedy is firing on all cylinders here, whether it’s the front-and-centre slapstick or the blink-and-you’ll-miss background gags, it’s safe to say I chuckled a great many times throughout. As a soft horror piece in the manner of Were-Rabbit, it’s also pretty solid; ironic as my opening remark may seem, this genuinely at times has the flair and expression of a classic Giallo production if you can believe it, perhaps allowing it to serve as an entry point for younger audiences to the tone of that area and horror at large. The kids in my audience seemed to be enjoying themselves a ton, which was encouraging to say the least! While Aardman productions are always very visual in their sensibilities, the Shaun the Sheep movies are especially outstanding for their outright rejection of dialogue-driven storytelling, something I’ve only become more entranced by after developing a huge affinity for silent cinema. It’s so wonderful to see a film with so much faith in the purity and universality of the image in an age of short attention spans demanding everything be verbally spelled out to audiences. Let’s just say that seeing the trailers for the Bluey and Cocomelon movies beforehand sufficiently reminded me just how important this sort of thing is now more than ever. Obviously the tactility and detail of the stop motion animation is a delight too, I really hope Aardman backtrack on their comments regarding embracing AI as the handmade, decidedly human quality about their work is among its best features. And even if they do eventually succumb to the AI-pocalypse, the trailer for Wildwood also shown at the screening, which consisted entirely of behind-the-scenes footage showcasing the painstaking craft that went into the sets and puppets for that film, at least suggests that other companies such as Laika will stay true to their roots. Overall, a lovely time at the movies." 7/10

Review Roundup - June & July 2026

For the second time in a row, it's been two months since the last edition of review roundup. As for why, the reasons are mostly the same. Throughout the summer up to now, however, it really has occurred to me that I just don't watch as many films as I once did. I've recently been aiming for one every other day, around fifteen a month, and even that goal has proven a little tough to reach. It's not even because I don't have much time for film watching, while I do work most days of the week now, film is one of my few main hobbies and so I'll always be able to make time for it somewhere, there just hasn't been an awful lot of stuff calling out to me of late, and so I naturally haven't sat down to watch much. With that in mind, if you think the number of films I've watched overall seems low, the amount that I've then written reviews for has been even lower, hence why we had to go another two months before there was anything substantial to roundup.

As you might imagine, I'm not happy with this, so going forward I'm most definitely going to try and change my viewing patterns for the better, and I've already come up with some goals for the forseeable future. In particular, according to my Letterboxd stats, I am roughly seventy films away from having logged two thousand over the years, which is a major milestone that I am intent on reaching by the end of 2026 at least. It may not be easy, at my current rate I would almost certainly fall short, especially if we take into account how for every two or three first-time watches there is at least one rewatch too, but I'm keen to try and make up for the recent lack of activity as I would love nothing more than to not only have seen as many films as possible but to alsot have many bits of writing about such that I can share with the world!

But, that's a matter for the future; as for what we do have, one front that I wasn't slacking on in June and July was consistently checking out new releases at the cinema, not just because I regularly sought a pleasant escape from the awful summer heat we've been experiencing here in the UK, but also because both months had plenty of exciting new pieces to offer, and practically all of what I saw in the end was pretty good. As a result, this is what almost all of the reviews here will be about, except for one which technically isn't for a film but is still worth discussing nonetheless. Let's get right to it!

 

NEW: Disclosure Day (Steven Spielberg, 2026) - reviewed 19/06/2026

    "Late career Spielberg optimism and sincerity, a film that insists on the good in humanity and the idea that awe and empathy are what will define us over fear and hostility even in the face of great revelation, something only he would be willing to release in such a cynical world. It goes all out with its Spielberg-isms, be it in neatly drawing upon iconography from pieces such as Close Encounters [of the Third Kind], Raiders [of the Lost Ark], Duel, and even [Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the] Crystal Skull, or having regular collaborators [Janusz] Kaminski and [John] Williams go above and beyond with their equally enchanting visuals and music, respectively. It will always be a pleasure to have a new Steven Spielberg film to see at the cinema, but I feel as though Disclosure Day marks a point where that honour will only become ever greater, as the reliable sensibilities of the iconic director find themselves increasingly welcome and pertinent while also being thoughtfully negotiated with more than ever before." 8/10

 

NEW: Toy Story 5 (Andrew Stanton, 2026) - reviewed 28/06/2026

    "Didn’t have high hopes for this as I’m not a big Toy Story 4 fan and generally didn’t feel like I needed to spend any more time in this world with these characters, but I ended up finding it quite good all things considered. The introduction of technology designed for children is definitely a suitable angle to take on for another instalment in this series, and I’d say it’s handled pretty well on the whole. It avoids the predictable, safe ‘old man shaking his cane’ approach that I feared it may have gone for, addressing what damaging effects child-friendly technologies (namely smart devices and the social medias accessed through them) can have on children given how the presentation of such juxtaposes the depictions of childhood joy and whimsy in the previous films, yet it ultimately accepts that these things are just a part of contemporary everyday life and recognises that they can have positive impacts in places. It’s a constructive resolution that feels in line with how maturely and thoughtfully the Toy Story films generally opt to resolve their various conflicts, so I was glad to see the same spirit carried over here. Furthermore, this also contributes to another quality that adds some poignancy to how much time has passed since the first Toy Story. While I did find this entry a bit repetitive in how it rehashes certain sentiments from across the franchise, the notion of toys fearing being replaced resurfacing here amounted to a solid depiction of how every generation sees its own developments that result in the same experiences of those who came before being relived. It brought to mind that excellent scene in 2023’s The Holdovers where the suggestion that “every generation thinks it invented…” is raised, and I think that’s relevant in terms of the Toy Story series and how long it has lasted. After children of the 90s will have understood the aforementioned notion via the first film’s plot involving a new, flashy toy threatening the place of simple, more archaic ones, children of today will be able register it by way of this film’s rendition with technological innovations doing the same to toys as a whole, all the while any adults in the audience that have seen upfront the series unfolding over time will in turn pick up on the further meaning at hand. I will say that the film does feel a bit behind the curve on the technological matter - as someone in their twenties, I can distinctly recall the onset of smart tablets for one thing during my childhood when my Dad brought home the first iPad around 2012 and my siblings and I quickly became obsessed - but I suppose the impacts of such technologies have only become properly understood in the years since then, so now seems like an adequate time to delve into such on film. Although, I do feel like this commentary could’ve probably been done back in 2019 when Toy Story 4 released. In fact, this film does kind of make that one feel a bit pointless, where outside of neatly incorporating Woody and Bo’s devotion to helping lost toys established there, I do think this could’ve been the fourth entry without much difficulty. Speaking of which, I also appreciate how this feels like the most plain and simple Toy Story film since, well, probably the second one back in 1999. It doesn’t get bogged down in serving as an amalgamation of everything the series stands for nor attempting to reach a grand emotional catharsis like in the last two instalments, something that was certainly welcome as I find those aspects of the latter films a tad egregious the older I get, even though I still really like [Toy Story] 3 overall and think it sufficiently disguises its manipulative mechanics, meanwhile 4 is just wholly artificial and unsatisfying on that front. This one instead focuses on telling a strong self-contained story above all else, and all the better for it. That’s not to say it doesn’t have any emotional moments whatsoever as it absolutely does; I did cry on one occasion but really only because the film refers quite heavily back to Jessie’s backstory as shown in Toy Story 2, which I consider to be perhaps the single most devastating scene in the entire Pixar library. In that sense, it is kind of cheating its way to tug at the heart strings, but I’d say how exactly it utilises that area is mostly quite tasteful and satisfying, the one moment that got me in particular providing some pay off I never knew I needed. Otherwise, this generally has all the usual Toy Story charm. I love most of these characters, Woody is thankfully course-corrected after how annoying he was in the previous film, and he gets the chance to squabble with an equally amended Buzz for the first time in ages, which was a joy to see even if it didn’t match the brilliance of that dynamic in the 1995 original. Jessie being the protagonist felt like a natural choice and worked decently, although Joan Cusack definitely seemed the most strained of the returning voice actors which wasn’t so nice to hear. It is a shame to once again see the likes of Mr Potato Head, Slinky, Hamm, and Rex get sidelined as they are such a big part of the first three films’ identities and are responsible for many of their best and most memorable moments, but I suppose there’s not much more that can be done with them after a point as they don’t really have as much depth or nuanced arcs in the same way the main trio do. Plus, the new cast of supporting characters carrying the torch were perfectly fine additions that each had their moments, unlike the tooth-grating supporting cast introduced in Toy Story 4 (sorry to sound like a broken record but so much of that film just does not work for me, even after numerous reevaluations). While the visuals broadly retain the bland hyper-realistic surfaces and environments from some recent Pixar films, the character designs and their animations are very memorable and playful. I especially loved how the Lilypad tablet was personified, there’s one visual in particular of it bouncing around the bed with big googly eyes that had me properly chuckling away. I also really liked how the playtime / imagination sequences were created with a unique 2D pastel aesthetic to distinguish them from the main diegesis, it really took Pixar long enough to jump on board with the trend of wonderfully expressive and inventive art styles that Western animation has been obsessing over in the post-Spider-Verse landscape, and the trailer for their upcoming film Gatto shown beforehand indicating more of that to come on a primary basis is maybe something worth getting excited about. So all in all, pretty good going for the fifth entry in a series that had every right to stop around sixteen years ago. I don’t know if I’ll watch it again as much as I have the others, but I know there will be plenty to enjoy if I ever do." 7/10

 

NEW: The Invite (Olivia Wilde, 2026) - reviewed 12/07/2026

    "A wonderfully hilarious and profound course-correction for Olivia Wilde in the director’s seat. Seemingly [Ernst] Lubitsch-coded as a take on the romantic comedy drama, which I can only appreciate enough as a massive fan of his. Issues surrounding marriage and sex are at the forefront and explored in a way that is equal parts playful and sharp, and both the men and women involved get the chance to be delightfully bumbling yet genuinely endearing presences, with Wilde in particular channeling the same energy as some of the best Lubitsch leading ladies such as Ossi Oswalda and Pola Negri in both her body language and facial expressions, a pitch-perfect performance for sure. Even down to the composition you can see further traces of the director; it’s a wholly visual piece, where despite being heavily dialogue-driven, it’s all captured in a way that is consistently exciting, with varied shot lengths to signify fluctuations in intimacy throughout, and enough careful movements to keep the restricted, generally mundane apartment space feeling alive and bustling. I was a bit disappointed that the unorthodox aspect ratios alluringly featured in the trailer weren’t a facet of the language in the film itself, but I was impressed with how the camera was able to emulate almost the same effect through how certain shots are framed within the set, with an extensive use of such diegetic elements as windows and doorways as a means of cleverly altering the audience’s view into the action. Beyond this overarching point of intrigue, what struck me most about The Invite was how effectively it went beyond the conventional dynamics of the awkward comedy it initially presents itself as - it’s a film that’s firmly critical of everyday human interaction and communication, namely the presence of irony as a defence mechanism in those unwilling to properly engaging with the problems they face. Not only does it explicitly highlight this in a negative light, with Seth Rogen’s character being someone who feels an instinctive need to lighten the mood of a conversation when things get a little too deep for their liking, something that prevents not only himself but everyone around him from constructively getting to the bottom of their issues and feeling welcomed in doing so, but it demonstrates the necessity of honest confrontation as an object of its own. After beginning with a largely irreverent tone that, amid being extremely fun, doesn’t cut particularly deep as a take on the given themes, it slowly becomes far more sombre and dramatic as it goes on, and in turn decreasingly afraid to be confrontational as heavy sentiments are raised and, most crucially, allowed to sink in. It doesn’t for one minute smugly call attention to manner in which this progression unfolds as a lesser piece may opt to do, rather it elegantly and unashamedly develops into a frankly scathing commentary on relationships and how small acts of everyday complacency can have a profound long-term impact, so far removed from the frivolous atmosphere that commenced matters that it’s almost uncomfortable, yet at the same time just a little bit satisfying too. The note that it ends on is not one designed to be the most comfortable for these characters (and by extension the audience), but it’s one that they undoubtedly need to be faced with, and there’s something that just feels right about that. We all want to be able to communicate openly and sincerely about what’s going on in our lives with those around us, I for one find that the ironic undercutting of harsh realities can make for some of the most soul-crushing and vapid forms of interaction even if it is just a formality, so while I enjoyed chuckling and cringing at the brisk chaos of the opening movements, such only made the gradual transition to something far more upfront and meaningful all the more resonant. Easily one of my favourites of 2026 so far!" 8/10

 

NEW: The Odyssey (Christopher Nolan, 2026) - reviewed 20/07/2026

    "An outrageously spectacular epic, a direct and worthy successor to the seminal works of the 1950s and 60s. Moreover, a take on ancient mythology that sees Nolan use his signature hallmarks to provide a rich and distinctive take on the matter. His gritty and grounded style of storytelling enables a worldview that often times only suggests the larger-than-life qualities about the heightened myths we are all familiar with, and his non-linear approach emphasises how the tales of the figures involved tend to leans towards the excitement and awe of their achievements and experiences more than it does their potentially harsh reality. It’s a reckoning with the essence of mythology as perhaps nothing more than people rationalising on the natural phenomena of the world around them in their own ways, and there’s something to be said about how this may pertain to cinema as it’s own form of myth-making, one devised by seemingly mythic figures such as Nolan yet ultimately reducible to a series of mechanical components. Lots to think about and lots that will be sticking with me for a while, it’s always a treat when this guy has something new to offer, and I’m ever so glad I was fortunate enough to witness its entirely IMAX 70mm presentation." 8/10

 

CATCH-UP: Dear England (Rupert Goold / Paul Whittington, 2026) - reviewed 25/07/2026

    "As someone who fell in love with the England football squad during Gareth Southgate’s time as manager, I really enjoyed seeing an artistic take on the matter when it was adapted for the stage back in 2023, and this was generally a worthy adaptation for the screen. I’m not a fan of real-life stories being dramatised when they’re still quite recent history, I think it’s better to let the impact of things sit for a while and have all the facts come to light before attempting to devise a narrative from within them, which can in turn allow the story at hand to be relayed to an audience that perhaps wasn’t there at the time, and this is the one area where Dear England on stage suffered for me. It emerged at a point where the subject matter was still ongoing and as a result felt a bit clunky in how it executed certain things, as while its depictions of the 2018 World Cup and 2021 Euros were very strong, the events of Qatar in 2022 felt extremely rushed and shoehorned in, very clearly not elegantly fitting into what narrative writer James Graham had extracted. This is most likely because it wasn’t clear at the time just what significance it had in the grand scheme of things, which evidently wasn’t so much the case for the aforementioned tournaments that preceded, since it was instantly obvious that England’s achievements in 2018 were a striking far cry from how they’d done up to that point and that what unfolded in 2021 possessed a blatant, resonant connection to what Southgate became known for after playing for England in 1996. This isn’t even to mention the obvious fact that the 2024 Euros, which proved to be the end of the road for Southgate, hadn’t even happened at the time of the show’s inception. Consequently, Dear England as it is constructed here at this point in time has an advantage, as now that Southgate’s time as manager has concluded and there is a more complete story to be told, it does well accounting for what let down the source material all the while retaining what already worked. I still think it might be a bit too soon to make this sort of thing, especially since the idea of legacy is such a key theme throughout and we can’t say with complete certainty how Southgate will be remembered at this point, but it’s still perfectly functional and devises a suitably compelling arc from the comparatively more complete events at hand. Additionally, as someone who was there for most of what was depicted, I can’t deny that this was a fun trip down memory lane that transported me right back to the many places I followed this journey from, recreating all the highs and lows experienced throughout very effectively, something the episodic format was able to enhance given how the episodes each revolved around one of the major tournaments. Joseph Fiennes is just as good here as he was when I saw him in the role on stage, even if he does perhaps overdo some of the Southgate-isms a lot of time. The casting director definitely deserves a raise elsewhere too because most of these lads were absolutely spot on in portraying their real-life counterparts, especially the actors for Harry Kane and Bukayo Saka. While the overall formal approach is a lot more grounded and naturalistic this time around given the nature of the new medium, I did appreciate how the series kept some of the liminality that defined how the stage presented things, especially with its rendition of the penalty shootouts occurring in blacked out environments with nothing but the individual players and the haunting pitch space visible. So, overall, there’s a great deal to enjoy here, and I’d say it absolutely beat the post-World Cup blues by reminding me just how much there is the be proud about my country’s national football team of late amid all the heartbreak we’ve faced. Bring on the 2028 Euros, it’s coming home!" 7/10

Review Roundup: April & May 2026

Welcome to the next round of Review Roundup, once again a bit later than I would have liked. Over the past two months, I haven't written a great deal of reviews, and I also haven't watched as many films as I'd have wanted, especially compared to my March numbers. Between such factors as more time working and dealing with household renovations, it's been another slow period. However, there are still some pieces worth sharing, so today will focus on just that.

 

THROWBACK: Lancelot of the Lake (Robert Bresson, 1974) - reviewed 09/04/2026

    "A mythology drenched in shadows and articulated for what it is or may have really been beneath all the legends. I’m a big fan of these sorts of deconstructions on film, and it’s very curious here to see a French approach to Arthurian figures, that distinct cultural context perhaps explaining the largely cynical and unorthodox presentation at hand. The scope is mainly confined to contained locations that deny the possibility of sweeping spectacle, mostly unfolding in enclosed rooms and consisting of conversations between people who are, at the end of the day, just people. The soundscape is defined by the relentless, egregious sounds of clanking metal armour as the men wearing such awkwardly stomp around, unable to even get on a horse unassisted and also barely concealing the colourful and frankly goofy clothes they have on underneath. All throughout, everything is dim and dark, with scarce cracks of light through a window or lonesome flames from candles serving as the primary light sources much of the time, and exterior sequences overwhelmed by cloudy skies and muted tones, even in a lush forest such as the one that surrounds the lifeless grey castle and courtyard. There are times where Bresson breaks away from this unique depiction, but not without signifying how such isn’t faithful to the reality in question and ultimately just a construction, not unlike the myths that comprise the legacies of many Arthurian characters in our own world. The tournament sequence would be the most blatant example, with a sunny sky beaming down on the sight of brave knights on horseback engaging in an exciting match, which is then undermined as we frequently cut back to the musicians setting the mood and the reactions of those in the audience, as well as only getting fragmented images of the spectacle they are witnessing. The film also does well to reinforce how simple word of mouth is key to the significance of all those involved and how they’re understood, the titular Lancelot being absent for a good chunk of the narrative and our main insight into him throughout that time being what is said by others. While I’m not entirely certain that Bresson is completely self aware or knowing in executing this thesis, what he has achieved here is nonetheless able to function well as the unconventional take on this material that it broadly is and, as I take it, has a lot going for it in many potential other ways." 7/10

 

THROWBACK: Apocalypto (Mel Gibson, 2006) - reviewed 18/04/2026

    "A civilisation guided by beliefs from generations past and obsessed with the spectacle of such manifesting before their own eyes, collapsing from within only to eventually be met with an altogether new threat to its ways of life, aptly brought to life by a medium experiencing its own transition as hyper-realism and visceral authenticity collide with a unique digital artifice and gloss here. Hollywood was once an empire of its own, and for decades saw numerous forms of internal self-destruction and interrogation before such factors as technological shifts of the new millennium essentially shattered the industry as we once knew it. Apocalypto is therefore something of a cinematic prophet, arising in the midst of great uncertainty and looking to the distant empires of old as a means of understanding where the world to which it belongs may have been headed. Just as Jaguar Paw may have been the last of his people to stand and fight for the world he has always known and believed in, it may also be somewhat conclusive for works of its kind." 8/10

 

NEW: The Drama (Kristoffer Borgli, 2026) - reviewed 19/04/2026

    "I’m starting to think that this current wave of stressful drama / comedy films is one of my favourite genres at the moment; works like Anora, Marty Supreme, and now The Drama have provided some of the most memorable cinema trips for me over the last year or so. This one was ESPECIALLY painful to sit through, and in the best possible way. So many awkward and anxiety-inducing interactions combined with clever writing and direction that constantly keeps you guessing and consistently feeling uncomfortable makes for an all round enthralling bit of moviegoing. It helps that I like Robert Pattinson and Zendaya as much as I do, both being excellent presences here and continuing to display their adaptability and versatility as performers, something that definitely makes the regular appearances we see from both of them (this being one of many for each in 2026) feel welcome rather than exhausting. This is definitely one where a rewatch will no doubt reveal tons of new details I missed the first time, even if it will likely never top the unpredictability of the first viewing, which I’m so glad I was able to have without the central revelation being spoiled to me beforehand. All in all a real bizarre delight." 8/10 

 

THROWBACK: The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (Francis Lawrence, 2023) - reviewed 01/05/2026

    "Conceptually intriguing but ultimately [a] very messy and kinda boring prequel. I like the original Hunger Games films just fine but their gradual shift from exploring the unique and interesting titular facet of their universe to just consisting of generic overthrowing an authoritarian government antics over the course of some very stretched out sequels makes them on the whole an inelegant bunch. I liked the sound of this one on the basis that it was seemingly placing the focus back on the games and their history, yet the form it ends up taking finds itself on the complete opposite end of the spectrum compared to the pair of Mockingjay films, that is to say, it’s extremely overstuffed and rather unfocused. It feels like there’s a few too many characters here, too many disjointed narrative arcs, and a structure lacking an organic flow between the various strands and not providing adequate depth for any of such. I don’t feel like any real noteworthy in-universe insight was gained here, and formally it’s about as bland as you’d expect a modern digital production to be, really the only thing I can say is that the aesthetic was mildly inventive at times, taking the grey mush of it’s predecessors and swapping it out for… old-fashioned grey mush? Nothing here really caught my attention otherwise, and I found myself mostly sat checking how much time was left while it was on. A bit of a shame considering the intrigue I had going in but maybe I’m just not into this franchise as much as one ought to be to get something out of this, never having read the books and only seen the previous films a handful of times, so take that as you will." 5/10

 

THROWBACK: A Canterbury Tale (Micheal Powell / Emeric Pressburger, 1944) - reviewed 14/05/2026

    "Over the last few years, I’ve tried my damn hardest to get on with the works of Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger. As a British film fan, I’d love nothing more than to appreciate the output of perhaps the most acclaimed filmmakers from my country, yet after sitting through five of their films now, I can’t say I’m anywhere close to being won over. Only one has struck me as anything more than middling, that being The Red Shoes, which I’d feel comfortable saying is one of the best films I’ve ever seen. Aside from that, it’s mostly been quite a tiresome bunch, with such pieces as Black Narcissus and The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp really testing my patience. Arriving at A Canterbury Tale, it’s easily the best of the non-Red Shoes selection that I’ve seen, not a remarkable feat given how low I consider the bar to be on that front, but still a somewhat deserving title as there is quite a bit about it that I enjoyed. To begin with, I was really on board with what was going on here; laying out the foundations of the narrative by way of iconic British heritage and mythology in the form of religious pilgrimages to cultural landmarks in the Middle Ages, only to seamlessly shift matters to the present and establish the central theme of changing times and the threat to preserving national values as the Second World War context emerges, and eventually introducing the primary fictitious setting of Chillingbourne in a gorgeous nighttime scene with lighting reminiscent of 1920s German expressionism as we meet our characters in medias res. This all gave me so much hope for what I was about to witness, as it seemed like Powell & Pressburger were cleverly drawing upon decidedly British culture and heritage to articulate concerns about the contemporary national moment and all in a way that appeared indulgent in the heightened landscape of cinema, something they thrived with in The Red Shoes and had all the potential to make its themes even richer and more playful on exploring them here. Despite this, as things progressed, I became increasingly disinterested. What began as so moody and sweeping quickly became rather tepid and myopic, as so much of that curious formalism in the opening was exchanged for a never ending stream of stagnant dialogue scenes with so little of a visual identity that really anyone could’ve assembled them. There were a couple moments every now and then that upheld that initial magic, with some shadowy scenes around Chillingbourne that stood out, but they were few and far between on the whole. It became apparent that the film was less interested in rigorously using the setting / space it constructed to communicate its ideas and more so just settled for spelling things out to the audience, which was disappointing. One key angle of the film is the idea of a modern-day pilgrimage to Canterbury, and as I was watching the film, I was a bit bothered about how this never seemed to come to fruition. Most of the events are limited to Chillingbourne, thus undermining the potential for the film to realise the journey as I had expected and hoped to see. By the end, however, I realised precisely why it was structured this way and found it to be very deliberate and meaningful, and on reflection, much about how the film pans out has some thoughtful elements to it. All throughout, there is talk of the old path taken by pilgrims on their way to Canterbury, but we never actually see such for ourselves and are even informed that what blessings the journey was once thought to provide are no longer apparent in the present day. At the same time, Canterbury is set up as this almost mythical site, its cathedral dominating the countryside skyline and seeming almost too heavenly to continue standing. It would be expected that the journey to reach such would be long and testing, and the film regularly reinforces that face based on the age-old tales we hear spoken of. It’s quite powerful and subversive therefore when all it takes our characters to eventually get there is a quick train journey, and despite the cathedral’s exterior continuing to signify all the glory and awe associated with the landmark, its interior is empty and hollow, the mighty organ within being operated by a man who once worked as a cinema organist, which connotes a sense of fakery around the promises of the pilgrimage. The surrounding area is also clearly shown to have suffered greatly during the war, with many other centuries-old sites being reduced to broken remains or covered in scaffolding for repairs. This is great stuff, where despite retaining the bland realist style in the majority of the film elsewhere, it is communicated what toll the war, as well as the inevitable passing of time at large, has taken on the given aspect of British heritage. All that being said, the way A Canterbury Tale ultimately resolves things is indicative of what I think might be Powell & Pressburger’s biggest weakness as filmmakers, at least at this point in their career. I really like the ironic undertones about their take on this side of their home country, but it’s let down by what strikes me as a requirement to not go too far in interrogating where the nation stands, specifically in the face of war. Of course, it’s perfectly reasonable for wartime art to preoccupy itself with boosting morale and national pride, but at the same time, regardless of how admirably earnest it may be, this sort of traditional British nationalist sentimentality is something I do regretfully find a bit one note and exhausting after a point, perhaps due to my own sense of national pride being at an all-time low these days. In the context of Powell & Pressburger, I find this aspect often comes directly at the cost of what could be far more artistically inventive and acerbic pieces; it’s how Colonel Blimp left me feeling, and it’s similarly the case here. Instead of committing to creating a sense of irony surrounding fulfilling an age-old pilgrimage in a time when the power of myth and legend are second to rationality and reason, the film opts to demonstrate the enduring nature of the core values encapsulated by the legends of old, providing its central characters with blessings in some form and in turn translating to the film’s way of assuring that there is always hope in the darkest of times. It’s not that I don’t want to see something like this happens to these characters, it’s just that there seemed to be potential for something for more unorthodox, and far more interesting, at first. As it stands, A Canterbury Tale is perfectly functional. It didn’t bore me like other Powell & Pressburger outings have done, but I might consider it more frustrating than any other as it seemed to exemplify and confirm much of what I’d been cautiously suspecting about them up to now. As I continue to progress through their filmography in a semi-chronological order from now, I’m looking forward to seeing more of what they produce in the postwar landscape when hopefully their films will be less bogged down in appeasing national demands of the moment. But, I can’t say I’ll be quick to get on with getting around to those any time soon." 6/10