atomicpoet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/juzGS-GN79M

@movies@piefed.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/25xDKzytus4

@movies@piefed.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@movies@piefed.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@movies@piefed.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/2rpXHqnGDXo

@movies@piefed.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the worst offense? The sound design.

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/4fw2PIpndnM

@movies@piefed.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/c657R-kL0i4

@movies@piefed.social

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve gotta see this.

https://youtu.be/Vj8pnPdYwWw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/UuxgGHbNT2I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/WMWUC1I9Zbc

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/ZihMeeB-hBU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/GxQy8HotrJw

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