Despite having watched the Alien franchise multiple times through (except for the Alien vs Predator crossovers), including the recent and disappointing Alien: Romulus (2024), I'm realizing something strange while revisiting Alien: Resurrection (1997) as part of another complete franchise watch—I don't think I've ever actually seen this one before.
Certain elements would have stuck with me: Ripley suspended in that netted cocoon during the early scenes, the obvious parallels to Jurassic Park with its cloning plot, and the stark difference in production value compared to the first three films. No, this is definitely new territory for me.
What probably happened is that after finishing Alien3 (1992), with both Ripley and the xenomorph definitively dead, I felt satisfied enough to stop. The recurring plot lines and familiar tropes had run their course. Of course, Hollywood had other ideas—bringing both back through the magic of cloning.
There's not much to say about this one other than—I would have been better off having not watched it. The only thing making this film worth mentioning is the ensemble cast of Sigourney Weaver, Winona Ryder, and Ron Perlman. It's like a weird, alternate dimension version of Three's Company.
I settled in for my first holiday season watch of 2024 with Black Christmas (1974). Having never seen it before, and being someone who typically steers clear of both slasher films and horror flicks, this was definitely outside my usual viewing comfort zone. Even watching it alone felt like a departure from the norm.
What prompted me to give it a shot? Well, it's got this cult following, spawned two remakes (2006 and 2019), and carries some interesting Canadian heritage—being loosely based on a series of Montreal holiday murders. Seemed like enough reasons to press play.
The verdict? Not awful, but definitely not my thing. Between its unmistakably Canadian production value (you know exactly what I mean if you've seen enough Canadian films) and the whole slasher element, I found my attention drifting more than once. The plot felt like what I imagine most slasher films deliver, with Christmas serving as nothing more than window dressing. As for the ending—well, if you're paying even minimal attention, you'll see where it's heading long before it gets there.
But hey, I went into this with basement-level expectations, so I can't say I was disappointed. The film delivered exactly what I anticipated—no more, no less. Sometimes that's all you can ask for.
I had a hunch going into Centurion (2010) that is was going to be a bad movie, but I didn't realize how bad it would actually be.
Shallow dialog connected to a plot that lacked meaning. Two actors that should stick to playing either drunk cops or futuristic androids, roles where failing to deliver your lines with any sort of skill is part of the role itself. Special effects that appeared to be an afterthought, and cheap at that.
I knew I was going to regret watching this flick. My expectations were easily met.
It had been a while since I sat down at home, alone, to watch a new movie. With a few hours to myself last night, I decided to put on a film I’d bookmarked and see what it had to offer.
I hadn’t watched the trailer or come across much about it online before pressing play. I’d likely saved it based on a compelling description and a solid cast lineup.
But— what can I say? I abandoned it halfway through.
The storyline moved at a crawl, but not in the way that lends itself to a slow-burn thriller. The dialogue felt shallow and unconvincing, and the portrayal of "cyber-attack" scenarios left much to be desired. Perhaps the subtle commentary on race relations was too understated to resonate in that moment.
In the end, there was nothing to hold my attention.
So, I hit STOP and switched to a comfort film—a reliable choice I’ve seen before, predictable and uncomplicated. Last Knights (2015) isn’t a great movie; it’s not even a good one. But that’s alright, because it doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is.
Last night, as part of our family Halloween tradition whereby: my sister-in-law comes over for dinner, we make pizza, collectively hand out candy, and watch a movie— we decided to watch The Black Phone (2022).
In the past five years, we've struck out on movie picks more often than we've won. The selections have been so bad that I can't recall any of the titles, except Hocus Pocus (1993), which remains as disappointing now as it was when first released.
Needless to say, I wasn't feeling too optimistic about The Black Phone. But when it comes to horror films, I'm willing to give anything a go just to see if a 'diamond in the rough' can be found.
The film centered on a typical trope— someone is kidnapped and tries multiple different ways to escape. The delivery was okay, though I would have preferred Wes Craven's approach in The People Under the Stairs (1991). However, I wouldn't have much luck convincing my family to take in that classic.
As someone who likes to live in reality most of the time, the idea of random phone calls coming through a disconnected landline phone is a stretch, but I was willing to play along. I figured any movie centered on phone conversations couldn't be as bad as Cellular (2004) or The Call (2013)— both films so forgettable they don't deserve mention.
What I enjoyed most was Ethan Hawke's portrayal of the antagonist, The Grabber, and to a lesser extent, James Ransone's performance as The Grabber's brother. These characters brought entertainment value while building some foundation for understanding what drives people to kidnap and abuse. While their screen time wasn't nearly enough compared to that of the protagonist, Finney (Mason Thames), they brought humor and complexity to what felt like an otherwise blasé cast of characters.
Had I been able to get behind the supernatural elements, I likely would have enjoyed it much more. Additionally, fewer interruptions from candy-seeking trick-or-treaters might have helped me invest more deeply in the characters and their interactions.
With all that said, I wasn't completely disappointed.