David C. Holcomb

Some useful information here, mostly in the details of what is generally common knowledge about the hyper-capitalistic wreckage of our era (not much on its history though). The failure here is in the filmmakers' baffling allegiance to a really dumb conceit: a Siri stand-in schooling us on how to be evil, with so much techo sound and fury that you can practically smell plastic burning as it plays out, and not in an ironic way. A flop, then, perhaps well-intentioned but ultimately airless and grating to the point of losing the lesson.

It's okay - the monstrosities and violence lean toward the comic, and Fargeat never seems to get a grasp on any larger message (true of Revenge, 2017, as well). Maybe that's by design, with subtext being drowned in arterial spray on purpose. Extra credit for being very consistent with French horror cinema, particularly from the 1980s and 90s: check out Baby Blood (1990) and Jean Rollin's exquisite The Living Dead Girl (1982); there are even hints of the beyond-schlocky Devil Story (1986) and Ogroff/The Mad Mutilator (1983) in its depiction of too, too tender flesh. The scariest element is, of course, Dennis Quaid glut-stuffing his slobbery shrimp hole in close-up: if bankruptcy didn't kill Red Lobster's Endless Shrimp Fest, this would do the trick. The lead actors are quite good, with Margaret Qualley continuing her glorious transformation into the 21st Century Mimsy Farmer. Huzzah then.

Enjoyable in its own schlocky way, but wildly uneven and hilariously over-plotted; also suffers from inconsistently written characters who, as we get to know them better, become less likeable (no lasting worries though - many of them die along the way). Take a drink every time someone impulsively draws a gun and points it at their friends. (No, don't - alcohol poisoning is likely.) Most unintentionally funny element: one of the nighttime demons, in its human form, is a ringer for Gavin, Bruce McCulloch's annoying tween character from Kids in the Hall. "My mom says that if there's a depression, that I'll have to enter a dance marathon." Start dancing, Gavin.

Rough watch, and way too much like my day job to take it as "entertainment." It did have the result of making the recent show The Curse seem like a happy-go-lucky, people-are-wacky jape, something I didn't think was possible. Difficult (impossible?) to like either of the two main characters: feasible, perhaps, to find something approaching empathy for them, but from a substantial distance. At times I found myself wishing for dire revenge against Martha, alternating with loathing for Donny and his jarring, self-destructive draw to someone nakedly out to ruin him and those in his social world. Certainly not unheard of in non-TV life, but wow, so dismal. Not sure there are any lessons here, or anything approaching depth and illumination to aid those affected by stalking and related abuses. More of a slow crawl witnessing of a bloody catastrophe, with attendant feelings of helplessness, and pessimism about humans generally. Who needs that when the news media fills that, um, void on the regular? Approach with caution and avoid trying to binge-watch more than a single episode - consider a binge of this as making it through a single episode without a pause (or three) to dry heave.

Cornball from start to finish, including an earache of a soundtrack. As has been pointed out, no mention of climate change as a driver of the number and scope of the tornadoes, although it was implied (barely). Lots of gas-guzzling vehicles shredding the landscape though, plus a weird fetishization of hardcore red state Oklahoma, and more macho posturing than your psyche can bear. Fun special effects, even if they use them mostly to dispose of women and brown people early on.

Conventional wisdom: Béla Tarr's Friday The 13th. Alternative theory: Terrence Malick's Ogroff, The Mad Mutilator. Or Eli Roth's Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. Or Andy Milligan's The Lord of the Rings. And so forth. Some interesting stuff here, worth the watch for horror fans, but it's half-baked - the filmmaker seemingly couldn't commit to the bit. Too bad, it was RIGHT THERE. Did appreciate the Roadrunner/Coyote approach to the gore though.

Well-crafted, some interesting twists along the way that don't quite fly in the face of the original film, and a dynamic central performance. Otherwise, pretty dour, with an expected dismal climax (the first one; the coda holds some interest, if not hope). Main issue: the gore is extreme and frequently a bit silly in its excess (much like the original); the likely most notorious instance - let's call it gyno-terror - is genuinely off-putting and detracts from the experience of the film. The recent, other nun+devil movie Immaculate - a strikingly similar story - handled the visceral horror in a much more nuanced and less, well, gross way. Warning to the squeamish.

Okay for what it is - a beautifully filmed, impressively tension-filled recycling of a once-novel idea, perpetuated to the point of tiredness. But it's also a catalog of frustrating and profoundly stupid choices by the characters with whom we're presumably supposed to identify. This is true of both seasons; the ultimate implication is that the ocker psycho is the true hero of the story, nod/wink. Yeah, no - if I want to wallow in bad craziness, I'll just turn on CNN: (snarling) "WELCOME TO MICK TAYLOR'S WORLD...."