Goodbye Hulu Sprint 👋🏻

 

Goodbye Hulu Sprint 

by Kristin Battestella

I was already working thru my Hulu queue to cancel it at the end of the year thanks to Disney's forthcoming complete takeover and unfortunate absorption of the platform. However, last week I expedited my final viewings and ended my subscription (held since Hulu began!) in response to Jimmy Kimmel's unconstitutional suspension. As Rose says, “I've never liked her,” and despite Disney's walk back on the decision, we must endeavor to do our small part in boycotting morally bankrupt entities. See also Target.

Ironically, these mystery miniseries, eerie documentaries, and Hulu original horror movies are middle of the road anyway – content designed for marathon filler perhaps rightly lost in the catalog instead of standing out by maximizing each's potential subject matter.

A Nasty Piece of Work – Intertitles demand an employee show initiative and adapt to achieve executive solutions because every task is a test in this 2018 Into the Dark Hulu/Blumhouse production. Ironic carols, exasperating attempts to impress the boss, shattered mirrors, and out of breath stress reiterate the corporate competition, desperation over the Christmas bonus, and the relatable, at the end of the cubicle tether. Unfortunately, late boss with the $75k golf clubs Julian Sands (Gothic) is cutting the huge executive bonuses so it's only fair that he give no bonuses to anyone. There is however a chance for promotion hobnobbing at his Christmas party amid jackass rivals, their trophy wives, and drunken innuendo from the boss's domineering spouse. The antique weapons, masks, and passive aggressive pranks are awkward, and the self-aware horror movie jokes about a guy hiding in the house walls are on the nose. The situation moves fast and gun play happens early, but the action comes at the expense of the taut Christmas on edge tension. Waxing on ballistics, security cameras, intruder alibis, or how to bury a body in the backyard are part of the promotion pop quiz, but the classism and corporate extremes driving us to violence should be a deeper commentary than it is. Quoting Dr. King while the Black servant scrubs the blood on the carpet or racism about not knowing the names of the ethnic catering staff are treated as throwaway moments. The decent employee is no longer the good guy once he's decided to stay rather than walk away from this how far are you willing to go horror challenge. Likewise, we don't feel sorry for the jerky rival crying that he's up to his neck in debt to maintain the upward mobile facade as their secrets come back to haunt them. Bathroom jump scares and wives used in the tit for tat lead to twists that our contenders say they aren't falling for again, but the predictable injuries and the lack of willingness to leave this so-called interview mount. Are we supposed to laugh at the boss messing with people because there's still a Schrodinger's chance they might get the job? Of course in the real world, the low man wouldn't be promoted, just blamed for the crimes committed herein, and this strays from the allegorical potential, losing steam despite being only seventy-eight minutes. Shouting, gunshots, and chases descend into back and forths played for illogical sardonic while one person runs away for comic relief and the staff peek around the corner. Cult men in white suits are tossed in for an easy solution with more jokes deflating the horror. This seems content to go for the lowest hanging concept rather than fully execute what the horror is saying, and it's up to the audience to know all the quips, pop culture references, and cliches to extrapolate our own views. I stayed for Julian Sands. I miss him, but despite the self-contained holiday possibilities, this just left me wanting much more.

Shardlake – Angry Cromwell Sean Bean (Sharpe) accents this four episode 2024 Disney/Hulu original based on the C.J. Sansom books. Doublets set the Tudor scene alongside the ecclesiastic mood, however the dark photography and modern digital gradient make this look contemporary and generic rather than period patina. Drone aerial footage is unnecessary as is orchestration that calls attention to itself. Arthur Hughes (The Innocents) is our titular hunchback investigator, but he has a scowling chip on his shoulder and the colorblind casting is reduced to being the murder suspects. Annoying sidekicks and comic relief hamper the case while Shardlake also talks to himself in the mirror. The dialogue is well spoken with fine performances when the ensemble is allowed to sit still and discuss the gory murder, precarious politics, and religious corruption. Unfortunately, such scenes are often spliced with the initial head chopping murder just in case the audience forgot it. Solving the crime should be straightforward; but stolen relics, suspicious hooded figures, sodomite finger pointing, and macho confrontations deviate from Cromwell's ultimate goal to blame the secretive brotherhood and seize the church assets. Already we're spinning tires with suicides, contrived bog perils, and silly chases about the steeples. Captivating moments forcing the viewer to pay attention are few and far between, sacrificed for deliberately cryptic ominous for the sake of it padding and run of the mill contemporary pace. Scenes away from Shardlake are frustrating with fatal toppers just for shock value and no apparent point to the second episode. Our crippled lawyer is put on the rack amid Boleyn twists, boat trips, and instantaneous riding to and fro – detouring when we should never leave the scene of the monastery crime. Clues and evidence the audience saw in the first episode are not deduced until the last hour via ghostly hints, repetitive plot points, and try hard flashbacks. Mounting deaths, uneven filler, and forced romance are as needed before an extremely busy final fifteen minutes tries to wrap up everything tossed at the screen. Even Sean Bean asks how has this murder has not been solved already, and the viewer has long lost interest in what should have been a two hour mystery.

Witches: Truth Behind the Trials – This 2024 six episode National Geographic documentary series begins with forty-five minutes dedicated to Salem before exploring the earlier European persecutions. The hyperbolic female narrator punctuates frenetic re-enactments while ominous, intrusive music emphasizes the sensational punchlines. Shadowed experts are filmed before dark backdrops, intercut with eerie imagery instead of being able to speak in full on the radical ministers. Opening with Salem's hysterical finger pointing at servants of color is meant to grab viewers. However there's nothing new presented and the irony of our current puritanical tailspin is apparent. Episode Two goes back to the German origins of the Malleus Maleficarum laying down the witch hunting rules, but the medieval belief in witches as both harmful outcasts or useful sages remains sensationalized. Innocent women are executed by the territorial theocracy thanks to the lack of scientific understanding. Self-appointed God-fearing committees get tips from conforming villagers about who's in league with the devil, and the invention of the printing press spreads all the torturous details. Naturally the Third Scotland episode sets the scene on Halloween, and despite the regional focus with different persecution extremes, each entry feels repetitive with a misguided tone hitting the viewer over the head on the scandalous accusations. Protestant versus Catholic takeovers against earlier folk practices as a reason for the hysteria is only briefly mentioned, but the Witch Act of 1604 means James VI's divinity guards him against witchcraft plots. Public humiliations gaining confessions are called “pressure” not “torture,” and this true crime style focuses on a few famous names whilst ignoring the massive scale of what happened. Nat Geo used to be quality but this puts shock strobe over history for a banal, crowd-pleasing overview. The short, superficial episodes feel redundant yet six episodes is overlong. This subject is now more important than ever, but I quit halfway through because Wikipedia's Witch Trial article series contains far more detail.

2 Too Obvious Horrors

 

Two Too Obvious Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

These recent women in horror films make for an unfortunately obvious duo playing into cliches and doing much too much. Pity.

Hold Your Breath – Sarah Paulson (American Horror Story) anchors this 2024 Hulu original set in 1930s Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl. Coughing and gasping dreams, our mother's prayers to not be evil, and already deceased children giveaway everything upfront along with flashbacks of dad leaving to work on the railroad and daughters locking their door. Dust lingers in streams of light shining between wood planks; the women wipe, sweep, and beat the sheets but dust is everywhere. On edge neighbors trying to escape monstrous storm clouds lead to wagon accidents and burying dead animals. Families must cling to the safety lines or be swept away in the howling winds. Bedtime stories of the previously tall, golden wheat fields don't alleviate the rattling house, creaking wood, and dirt dunes billowing against the door. Promises to join their father when he sends money become notches on the wall counting his absence while the cows quit and a self-proclaimed healing hands minister hides in the barn. Unfortunately, ridiculously loud modern crescendos interfere with the suspense – deflating the innate breathing, nosebleeds, and dirt in their mouths. There should be no music save for the banging shutters, and although they serve the plot, one wonders if all the other townsfolk are truly necessary. Even our deaf daughter is a contrivance rather than a fully developed character serving the masks, sleeping pills, unknown man, women alone, and mailbag warnings. Entertaining angels unaware Lot scripture reiterates the feminine dangers while the superfluous town gossips whisper about what violence goes on behind closed doors. Friendly knocks on the door from those colloquial ninnies are rebuffed as mom practices putting on her smile in the mirror amid congested interior barricades, fires, and sleepwalking. Pretty white dresses are ruined with blood and no one believes there was a man terrorizing them once you say he's a speck of dust that came in under the door. Viewers understand our unfit mother's selfish descent as the family cycle perpetuates with sewing needle mishaps, shooting at voices in the dust, and children in peril. However grieving visions playing at the mental versus horror metaphors become an overlong, predictable excuse when the crazed, everything's fine pretending was enough for a straight isolation thriller. Despite a fine setting, atmosphere, and performances; this is laid on thick and obvious from the opening scene. 

Immaculate – The similarities to The First Omen are indeed apparent, and the obvious title is obvious to everyone but novice Sydney Sweeney (Madame Web) in this 2024 seen it all before nunsploitation yarn. Although questions at customs and searching the suitcase establish the Italian dictionary, Bible, and stuffed animal nervousness about taking the forthcoming vows; the opening runaway nun caught for buried alive screams is unnecessary. I wish the lovely on location filming and scenery were bright enough to actually see and I'm not sure when this is supposed to take place? However the American accent is jarring – an out of place modernity amid the rapid intermixed Italian exposition, diegetic choir chants, and eerie courtyard processions. Suggestive bridal vows, handsome priests, kneeling before the men, and kissing the ring innuendo are laid on thick but the spooky atmosphere and rituals beneath the inner sanctum aren't scary because the audience knows more than our vomiting novitiate. Brief visual distortions and nightmares give way to a happy daylight montage with chores and kitchen quaint even as chickens are killed and old convent patients die. Giggling bathing gossip and questions about if she has been chaste lead to humorous crescendos as they whip the cover off the ultrasound machine. Apparently, she's so faithful the miraculous mom never questions why a convent for dying nuns needs an obstetrician on call. It's tough to support a protagonist that has wine, faints, and wakes up pregnant but isn't suspicious despite Madonna ceremonies, teeth falling out, and jealous drowning attempts. Askew funerary angles, hidden scripture, hair effigies, cross brandings, and a tortured nun getting her tongue cut out attempt medieval touches while mom-to-be in white roams the halls at night with a candle. Chicken ruses, bleeding emergencies, and prayers over said bloody sheets lead to chases and a rough shower scrubbing. The priest puts on black gloves and apologizes if she feels unsafe after being subjected to a rusty nail with 2,000 year old sinews yet it's all so on the nose thanks to egotistical experiments, fetus failures in jars, misused scripture, and secret lab equipment. Questions debating why God hasn't stopped them and Ave Maria choirs feel religion-lite as our woman in labor runs, fights, and climbs the cool catacombs. She damns her water for breaking after bludgeoning the mother superior with hefty a crucifix while Carol of the Bells plays. She strangles the eminence with a rosary when he's smoking and sets the genetics priest on fire, too, as you do. Despite being eighty-odd minutes with lengthy credits eating into the actual runtime, this feels both overlong yet lacking in resolution or consequences. Fortunately our wild, covered in blood mother bites off her umbilical cord and smashes her unseen demon baby with a rock – actions accented by nails on chalkboard screaming and humorous “thump” and “sloshing” closed captions. This is a comedy and I laughed out loud.

When We Rise

 

Why No One Saw When We Rise (and Why You Should)

by Kristin Battestella

Despite a worthy ensemble including Guy Pearce, Mary-Louise Parker (Weeds), and Rachel Griffiths (The Hard Word) with appearances by Whoopi Goldberg (Ghost), Rosie O'Donnell (A League of Their Own), and more; the 2017 LGBT+ docudrama series from Dustin Lance Black (Milk) and Gus Van Sant (My Own Private Idaho) When We Rise came and went quickly on ABC.

In chronicling the history of the Gay Rights movement and AIDS epidemic from the seventies to the present, When We Rise takes on a bit more than it can chew thanks to faulty framework and unbalanced story telling. Hulu even originally listed the episodes as four “Night I-IV” two-hour parts before changing it to eight forty-four minute parts confusingly billed as “Episode Three Night II Part 1” and online episode guides likewise list both formats. Younger players shrewdly address the racism and sexism in the 1972 start before the elder ensemble tackles marriage equality and all the wonderful performances look the period part. However, this should have been two seasons worth with an episode each per character, and it almost feels like When We Rise may have been cut down from ten or twelve episodes – rushing over critical moments across the nation and the decades. Cheap sound alike cover songs likewise punctuate both unequal make out romps for the rebellious titillation and heavy handed declarations on lesbianism, women's rights, homosexuality as mental illness, and religion both as a solace or harsh master. Archive footage and famous cameos pepper the San Francisco oasis, sailors down low, underground clubs, and protests; but the disjointed montages deflate the impactful moments.

Every story in When We Rise has necessary weight and we are emotionally moved by the personal tenderness when we have a chance to breathe. Unfortunately, the magnitudes are uneven – deaths, interrogations, ostracizing, assaults, and speeches crowd together rather than giving the front line lovers or coming out to parents their full attention. We unfairly hurry through Vietnam, feminism, legislation fights, and violence just so every scene has one stern look from an angry lesbian or powerful words from a gay rebel that instantly, conveniently change some nonbeliever's mind. Lovers, friends, and enemies come and go amid raids, sanctioned hate crimes, and assassinations as Transgender activists and Rainbow Flag creators are glossed over and lost in the busy storytelling. Personal struggles on cruising gone wrong or fears of losing jobs if found out are used to string along the bigger revolution with platitudes and voiceover speeches instead of conversations – compromising intimate reflections on poverty, prostitution, idealism versus action, and who we love. Narrations and letters mean our characters aren't talking to each other, and it's lovely when our separate activists do finally meet during interracial relationships, cover marriages, not being able to inherit or adopt, bath houses, drugs, and increasing illness. Today this past and present would be edited as concurrent rather than chronological – negating the individual stories even further – and When We Rise is noticeably better once the voiceover montages stop and the drama is allowed to play out amid eighties neon, roller skating, and the healthcare crisis of what was then called GRID. Gay backlash, panic, the government's blind eye, and candle vigils need no hyperbole because the viewer realizes almost all the men depicted in When We Rise have died. Moving into the new millennium, unfortunately, loses steam again by falling back on voiceover catch ups and divided storytelling.

Although now understandably persona non grata, Jonathan Majors (Loki) is impressive before the subsequent Michael K. Williams (The Wire) as Ken Jones' self medicating drink and drugs remains largely separate from the rest of our leaders. A daughter of lesbian parents clearly assaulted is also inexplicably never addressed as again When We Rise's uneven structure does a disservice to the younger performers. Thankfully, lovely interview montages of symptoms, fatalities, and fears of being alone and forgotten are well done in the second half before strides in the nineties with the AIDS quilt giving the elder stars more to do. Much more time is spent in the final episodes on the medical give and take and more recent legislation than the initial protests and gay liberation – scripting issues which perhaps stem from Cleve Jones' memoirs as the series' primary source. Pearce's portrayal as Jones is very different than his over the top turn in The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert, petite and effeminate yet with an emotional strength to match the sassy sage for the next generation of activists. There's a tenderness to his hobnobbing for presidential acknowledgment alongside sad adoption attempts and wonderful scenes with David Hyde Pierce (Frasier) as Jones' unwavering, considering electroshock therapy psychologist father. Generations clash amid legal achievements and setbacks before contemporary marital laws come round to embracing the blended nontraditional family.

When We Rise is moving to watch and remember what it was like then. However it's also especially emotional re-watching When We Rise after the not so dissimilar COVID pandemic. To think we only went through a few months of willful spread, misinformation, and turmoil before the expedited COVID vaccine while AIDS victims died en masse in slow, painful decades before the right medical cocktail was available and HIV no longer became a death sentence. Seeing such sociological and scientific parallels only makes me more angry at contemporary bigots and misled anti-vaxxers who are so ungrateful about the privileges we have today – voluntarily ignorant of the high price others have paid to achieve our supposedly better living. Busy, preempted Network television seven years ago at the beginning of the woeful Trump presidency was also not the place for When We Rise and its overdue representation. Although I would buy the video and G-rated Disney parent of ABC could delete your digital purchase at any time, When We Rise is not available on DVD and not always free streaming on Hulu. If it weren't so tough to find, I believe a re-released edition of When We Rise would probably be well received now – a relatable parable since we must fight yet again for women, minorities, and LGBTQIA+ rights in America. When We Rise is a sad, uneasy watch. However despite its structural flaws, this is a necessary historical overview, educational experience, and essential conversation starter.

Maligned 21st Century Horrors

 

Maligned 21st Century Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

Some of these bottom barrel contemporary horrors are not so bad with understandable faults. Others here in, however, are rightfully maligned and avoided.

Didn't Hate It!

Shadow Puppets – Black screens, heavy breathing, and thumps on the wall get right to the waking up screaming, padded white rooms, and eight trapped strangers in this 2007 intriguing if familiar isolation horror from writer and director Michael Winnick (Disquiet) starring Jolene Blalock (Enterprise), James Marsters (Buffy), and Tony Todd (Candyman). Wedding rings are missing from bruised fingers and their identities are unknown, but there's growling at the door, flickering lights, creepy orange tunnels, and industrial hazards. Although it's cold in their underwear, and some fearful, screaming acting is hammy; our unnerved amnesiacs admit this is weird – complaining about their attire and laughing over the naked woman in the swimming pool. Most are scared but others are casual about the ominous stairs, retro machinery, prison gates, beeping monitors, and damaged equipment because they are going to die anyway. Although knowledge and skills are intact, some look for the scientific explanation while others seek weapons. What good is a gun against mists and shadows? Impalement and injuries mount as the lights go out and they are helpless in the dark. Retro phone ringing they can't find and blood smears on the wall but no bodies escalate the finger pointing. Paperwork and computers provide their information, jobs, and connections; however the details on the machinery meant to wipe memories doesn't add up with the number of patients. Is someone suspect among them? The taut isolation is well paced with straight jackets and prisoners chained in a cell deepening the mystery. If they shut off the power to open the electromagnetic door, the lights will be out as well – necessitating a divide and conquer escape plan amid turnabouts in the dark and pool perils. Identity twists and questions on the comatose mind, body, and soul make viewers wonder why there is a monster at all rather than this being about the people betraying each other, for our shadow is merely taking the opportunities presented one by one. The audience may find certain effects hokey the more we see the shadows, but there are no panoramic awe spins or roars at the camera. Much of this is similar to Winnick's Disquiet indeed, and Blalock seems like she's still playing T'Pol when figuring out what's what. Some dialogue is totally laughable, but at least they find their clothes and one flashlight to thwart the monster. The talkative reveal provides some explanation if you don't think about it too much, and this does go on too long in the finale – degrading in to running from the shadow set pieces before a convenient sun rise makes you think how you would have ended it differently. Fortunately, this was better that I expected for a fun late night viewing.

Budget Clearly an Issue

The Ghosts of Borley Rectory – At eighty-three minutes, this 2021 investigative haunt doesn't have three minutes of opening credits to spare, however I appreciate the vintage black and white cast photographs setting the thirties mood. Although the period styles are fine, the generic music advertises this is low budget fare – as do the stilted dialogue, wooden jolly goods, and exaggerated pip pip cheerios. Paranormal investigator Harry Price has rented the eponymous estate, yet those budget constraints mean we don't see the hear tell gadgetry or cameras set up to prove our haunting. Fortunately, it's spooky as we follow the young assistant going from room to room with nothing but a lantern and a notebook. Sure, rattling objects, old rosaries, and eerie trees are cheap; but we're waiting for something to go bump in the night along with the frightened scientists. Vicar Julian Sands (Tale of a Vampire) must tell his god-fearing parishioners that the deceased move on, but his wife demands he disclose the horrors they've encountered. Local officials question the lack of credible evidence from prior experiments, and arguments on seeking to debunk versus proving paranormal activity lead to flashback witness testimony and warnings that something else is in the room. Feeling cold spots and hysterical screaming become inadvertently humorous, but a bemusing psychic and hokey séance turn eerie when the scared medium asks the unseen ancient energy its name. Neighbors claim there have been wild bells and lights at the rectory when of course there have been none, and the weakest assistant is singled out with phantom tapping and flinging books. Ghostly appearances are shrewd when we see them – a silent hand touching the arm or leaving maggots in the food – but the chilling scenes cut away to people talking and talking some more. Even our disappointed investigators say they aren't getting anywhere as weeks go by before Price steps up their tactics with flour sprinkled for ghostly touches and a surprisingly late preparations montage now that it's suddenly the final week of the six month rental. Bloody nuns, croaking voices, creaking ghost movements, and a spirit stepping into the frame and shushing people are freaky enough, yet this inexplicably ditches any slow burn build for a time jump and redundant speeches. Flashbacks telling us what happened pad the runtime and change the investigation from proving the haunting to freeing the nun's spirit. Every ghostly encounter ends with a person waking up (some even with double false wake ups), negating if there was any progress in the stereotypical self-sacrifice of it all. There's no resolution to the freaky goblin in the mirror saying but wait, there's more – only a few black and white reels about a fire six months after they leave and four minutes of closing credits. Financial constraints meaning there is no big shock and awe is okay; I like the idea of seeing as little as possible. Unfortunately this needed a tight structure to balance the choice creepy moments and talkative heavy lifting. There should have been more Julian Sands, too. Even if you can take the low budget make do fun here, it's all a lot of late night nothing. Watch The Banishing instead.

Skip It

The Small Hand – A Ghost Story – Scottish graveyards, creepy woods, and ominous garden paths set off this 2019 tale based on the titular novel as our antique book dealer hears child laughter alongside the rustling leaves and humming woman by the pond. Although I appreciate the lack of in your face boo shocks amid the scenic water perils, suspicious reflections in the window, and spooky encounters; there's a lot of driving to and fro with no idea what's happening almost a half hour into the picture. Rather than beginning with the creepy real estate inquiry – that he only wants to buy so he can live next door to his married paramour – this is very slow to start. Time is wasted on minutiae while dropping blink and you miss it important newspaper clippings, photos, and mentions of having visiting the house and gardens as kids. They tour the manor and then tour the manor some more but nothing comes of the weird stains on the ceiling, fire damage, or video of the tour. The waterbed is likewise just an excuse for some ghostly movements and an eerie dream that doesn't show anything. Despite a low budget production, the mystery and atmosphere have potential with not so innocent little ghosts knocking at the door and perilous falls down the stairs. Freaky mirrors and orange candle glows accent the ghostly women singing, shouting, and carrying pictures of dead sons. Unfortunately the illicit romance doesn't seem like that passionate a love story if they barely even kiss. The Mrs. enjoys the sneaking around only to aggravate her husband – telling her lover to invest in this tremendous undertaking when no romantic impetus for buying the manor would have been better. Our book dealer becomes even more unlikable when he is willing to risk his brother's mental health by asking him about the history of this new love shack. Living with the supernatural acerbating his past metaphors should have been the main plot, and the you-can-read-this-but-not-watch-it weak screenplay is apparent. The tension is not cinematic, deflating with too many characters and detours instead of building spooky momentum with the bloody bathtubs and chilling strangulation. Rather than state of mind versus escalating supernatural, the ghosts just seem to be messing with him, delaying the story being told before rushing important details, affair dialogue, and hectic fatal encounters with too dark to see action and sudden crescendos. More driving scenes begat a highway fake out, and a brief exorcism leads to childhood selves battling ghostly little shits with remote control cars, and the invisible fighting becomes humorous. The suppressed memories of past saucy, violence, and drowning are obvious to the viewer yet our passive protagonist is unaware what's haunting him – even bringing his brother and pregnant sister-in-law to the house because not enough people have died already. Carrying rolled up blueprints and new, puckering wallpaper implies he's been working on the house the entire time, yet all we ever see him do is ask questions of others instead of getting answers from the ghost himself. Flashbacks spell everything out before a holiday sacrifice that does nothing to appease the spirits. This is neither a midnight movie full of scares nor a casual mystery, so not knowing its audience and the poor pacing leave viewers wonder what the point was.

WTF did I just watch?

Tentacles – Desperate packing in a dim lit house and pleas for time apart open this Into the Dark Blumhouse/Hulu Original before time wasting credits, modern ballads, desert driving, burying cash, and open houses. There are a lot of cliches and none of this makes sense so far thanks to incidental dialogue, interior panning, distorted up close angles, and cameras peering around corners that don't reveal much about our nondescript white girl or the drunken photographer who's doing a photo essay on gentrification, lol. He's inherited his parents' big house and offers its renovation to this girl who refuses to share her background? The flirtations and furrowed brows over their mutual adulting is hard are weak. Having sex at an open house comes off trashy, and every scene makes things worse with deflections, cutaways, bangs, screams, and booms. Now she is a house flipping expert ready to paint, tear up carpets, and salvage the vintage fixtures – but also knows how to kill and where to dump the bodies, too! He wants to photograph her “seam” abdomen scar, but she feigns fearfulness amid black water in the bathtub and high pitched ringing in his ears. Nothing here is compelling, and a building a dark room montage followed by a comically sped up and blurred sex montage leads to months passing and a melodramatic proposal. We've seen no love, just unnecessary masturbation, bad sex, and poorly disguised mermaid/siren/succubus duplicity. Black out eyes, skin suits, BJs, and alluring powers of persuasion drag on alongside meetings between the used and abused dude bros – who think all women are lookalike bitches who corrupt, drain the life from a man, move on, and ruin him. Renovation revelations throw which chick is which questions into the mix, and the attempted commentary on codependency or mixed messages on reverse empowerment metaphors with women taking over men's bodies and stealing their ideas do not come across thanks to doppelganger stabbings and morphing into one another. The yawn-worthy final battles with not so clever twists just keep going on and on, and all I could do was keep checking the time because this is absolutely the wrong way to do sex and horror.

Divisive 2020s Horror

 

Divisive 2020s Horror

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of recent scary movies caters to a specific contemporary viewer, and I'm late to the party in watching these horror movies that were not meant for me. This doesn't make them all terrible, just misrepresented and thus a split viewing experience.

Not Meant for My Age Group

Bodies Bodies Bodies – Interracial chicks necking, dominant declarations of love, cool music cues, and texting while driving to the hurricane party horrors open director Halina Reijn's (Instinct) 2022 satire from A24. Crisscrossing flirtations, warnings, nervous chitchat, and awkward facades pepper the poolside manor, matching robes, and champagne. Fake compliments, judgmental introductions, weird old dude Lee Pace (The Hobbit), and who didn't text their RSVP but shows up late anyway provide attitude. Supposed friends mock one for being sober amid the intoxicated revelry, and it's immediately apparent we would not like these people in real life. The drugged up dancing, videoing, and Pete Davidson (Saturday Night Live) punching people gets old fast, dragging the first half hour. Nobody really wants to be here, and this social circle doesn't actually seem like friends at all. Such oversharing frienemy exposure of personal details, sex, history, and relationships is part of the social commentary satire, certainly. However everyone is so unlikable that it interferes with enjoying the movie. A man declares “gaslighting” as an overused word while he yet gaslights, and the script lays on annoying bait words to make these insufferable people sound smarter than they are. Fortunately, things improve when they decide to play the titular game and actual deaths occur. Flashlights and point of view spotlights lead to the power going out for real, but the search for the generator or attempts to leave (while selfishly leaving those you claim to love behind) are abandoned because our hysterical chicks don't know what to do in an emergency. Red lights, neon glows, kitchen knives, thunder, and blood accent conflicts about Xanax, who's not respecting who's boundaries, or making everything about themselves. Arguments about whether a man they knew for a few weeks was a vet as in veteran or veterinarian also reveal how our lifelong friends don't really know or even like each other. Standoffs and backstabbing remove the ineffectual men early, and the old white rich demean the new Black wealthy as merely upper middle class. Everyone is a follower, feigning allegiance while claiming enabler triggers and para-social toxicity as the conversation goes round and round over who's lying, screwing behind who's back, in therapy, or rolling their eyes. It's no surprise when they snap, shoot each other, and insist the others made them do it before denying they fired at all. The realistic filming is well directed and not over edited with well done angles and attention to lighting schemes complimenting the confrontations. The cast does the emo seriousness well, but even at ninety-three minutes, the pointing fingers me me me round and round deflection becomes damn unbearable. Four credited writers seems like too many as the meta nuggets stray. The horror label is also misleading – this is a black comedy that isn't scary but rather a midnight chuckle you watch while you scroll through your phone.

This is a Comedy

Malignant – 1993 hospitals, electrical buzzing, and doctors resorting to the tranquilizer gun against bone cracking violence open this 2021 film that should have been clearly marketed as the parody it is. Edgy time wasting credits, overly ambitious music, and a silly script initially appear to be just another bad horror movie as we move to the present day with a stereotypical spooky old house, retro shabby style, too much fog, and an excessive nighttime blue gradient. Our pregnant nurse repeatedly sees blood from her head injury thanks to an abusive husband but does nothing about it. Shadow monster things attack before sirens, police, and two weeks later disjointed restarts take too long to tell what's happening. That may be part of the satire but it's too easy to tune out in the first half hour. There's noticeable attention to peephole visuals, sideways distortions, and overhead camera angles amid blenders that come on by themselves, boo crescendos, flickering street lamps, and dark figures that send our protagonist running through the house closing the curtains like that will stop all the horror. Cool cityscape transitions begat pointless Seattle Underground tour jokes about Nirvana – just in case that shot of the Space Needle wasn't enough. It's tough to tell what is an in scene bang or an ominous score boom, and more music cues come from a strategically placed old fashioned radio. The distorted killer voice and the monster's leaps are silly, and blood splatter hits the screen before morphing panoramic set spins and screams merge the point of view and crime scene. By this point it should be obvious that this is a deliberate parody as the psychic bond, sketch artist picture of a hairy monster, and trophy for surgery excellence turned murder weapon cannot be taken seriously. The angry Black woman cop, ditsy sister, and quirky, lovelorn coroner are typical female cliches on top of convenient photo evidence and easy deductions. It's not halfway thru the movie and the parasitic twist is as obvious as the Slivercup sign spoof. Not so hidden hidden jump drives and all in her head winks – it's a good thing her imaginary friend killer calls with what's what on mom, hypnosis, spooky flashbacks, and the home video scoop. Adoption secrets, abandoned hospitals, a man in the attic, and VHS a la found footage lead to preposterous fire escape leaps, a laughable puppet monster, medical inexplicable, nonsensical shootouts, and mental showdowns that ultimately wear too thin to sustain the lark. If you want straight, superior, self-aware horror stick with New Nightmare or Scream. However, it's bemusing that today's so-called prestige television shows are guilty of seriously presenting these exact same cliches, and Annabelle Wallis (The Tudors) sending up her previous bad horror movie roles ironically makes for one of her best performances. This would have been genius if it was labeled a comedy and came in under ninety minutes. Unfortunately, going into this expecting a decent horror movie puts it off on the wrong foot and the overlong playing at clever runs into the ground by repeating the repeated gags too many times. Honestly though, I can't believe anyone thought this was a real horror movie.

An Uneven Execution

No Exit – Familiar faces and diverse newcomers anchor this 2022 Hulu Original as phone calls from ill family and group therapy hogwash lead to escapes from rehab, a perilous blizzard, and a highway visitor center with no Wi-Fi for our stranded strangers. Hazardous white outs, whipping wipers, and blustery winds acerbate relapse temptations. However, dream fake outs and slow, redundant moments create unnecessary padding before we get to the discovery of a van in the parking lot with a bound victim in the back. Playing cards should be a great way to get to know everyone and suss out the kidnapper but time is again wasted on the rules of the game. Characters pointing out the bluffs denies viewers the chance to observe the poker faces and deduce clues regarding origins, military history, license plates, and destinations for ourselves. The suspect is also apparent, almost as if it's the audience that's being played, and the women's bathroom being under construction means there are tools that will obviously come in handy later. In the van close calls, food necessities, illness complications, footprints in the snow, and confiding in some but not others about what to do provide suspense. Unfortunately, adults sit inside and wonder if something is wrong as if this is taut, one location intense. Then others who never sit still roam outside without coats and fall down ravines to create unnecessary up a minute detours and stupid encounters because the script says so. The back and forth intercutting deflates any tension, and even the well lit interiors contrasting the tough to see dark snow scenes is harsh on the audience eye. This is based on a novel, and the left field twists and sudden flashbacks can be read but become entirely too convenient and poorly paced for a ninety minute horror movie. Past connections, financial revelations, Mace, cat-fishing, trafficking, gunshots, and nail guns get preposterous as the on and on mediocrity bends all logic. Bad guys with guns negotiate through a blockaded front rather than enter through the back construction exit? Cops don't radio the place is on fire upon arrival? Today this is a serviceable midwinter scary movie because viewers have been lulled into accepting the thrown at the screen flaws as entertaining, but the potential versus execution unravels here.

Goodbye Netflix and More Streamers

 

Getting Rid of Netflix and More Streamers

by Kristin Battestella

At the beginning of 2023, I took some Hot Takes on our Streaming Channels. Now, in another round of cost cutting and family viewing choice, we have finally said goodbye to Netflix and more thanks to rising prices and lack of content interest. Many households can't afford big streaming bucks anymore, and the saturated market makes it easy to bid adieu.

Going, Going, Gone

AMC + – This is a actually a decent service with potentially worthwhile programming across AMC, Shudder, IFC, BBC America, and Sundance. We pick it up every time there is an add on sale. However we always end up feeling guilty carrying it if we aren't actively watching or worse, forget about it and don't even notice when it expires. I also wonder how much their livestream channels on other free services eat into their subscriptions, for unless you are following their exclusives, this isn't an always must have streamer.

STARZ – Likewise, Starz is great as an add on sale for their back catalog of retro movies stemming from their Encore channels. Unfortunately, we don't watch much of their original programming – Dangerous Liaisons seemed decent but was canceled and disappeared. Rather than being an independent service, Starz seems to forget that they are best as a premium channel package licensing a lot of movies that aren't available elsewhere.

Disney + – Disney also shot itself in the foot by becoming its own service rather than partnering with an existing platform. We've seen everything vault we wanted to see. New Star Wars and Marvel shows don't appeal to us anymore. The price is getting higher despite the subscriber and content plateau. Even The Mouse realizes they over extended themselves by making series and sequels on in no exaggeration every IP ever, then canceled and disappeared many of them when no one watched. Disney should have made it's content a la carte Hubs on Hulu, and I'm sure there will be more shake ups between the two to come.

Paramount + with Showtime – Even with the lure of Star Trek originals, there's not enough for us to justify the rising costs here. Showtime alone was never worth the price, and their few horror exclusives aren't worth the extra pay point. For what should be a vast library of classic content, Paramount seems to have very little retro catalog material. Most of the shows they offer are available elsewhere – including the fellow CBS owned Pluto TV where Paramount+ is desperately advertising themselves nonstop. When we canceled, they did offer us two months free, but then I didn't even notice once it was gone.

FIOS Cable – We dropped most of our cable package years ago, but I completely forgot we didn't actually cut the cord because I don't know when I actually watched our cable last. It's a far cry from the decades of yore tying us to our television same bat time, same bat channel, yet streamers are trying to keep viewers via the same exclusivity. We were really only hanging on for local sports coverage, but the Flyers stunk last year and it was the first time I haven't watched them since they were only available on the radio in the eighties. Although I used to actively DVR shows and we'd need Max again for the TCM content, I've instead sought to sure up my physical media collection.

Netflix – After twenty years, we finally accepted there is no point in carrying the granddaddy of streaming as the price goes up and the quality of the content goes south. It feels like 95% originals I'm not watching pad their catalog – all meant to lookalike, autoplay, and chill. When there were only a handful of streamers, one could contently watch everything Netflix had to offer, but today it's impossible to keep up with everything thrown at the screen. I don't care about what is trending, most viewed, new, or popular, and retro content before the 1980s is all but nonexistent. With the DVD disc queue where one could find something unavailable elsewhere now a thing of the past, Netflix just doesn't have what we want to watch.

Keeping for Now

Prime Video – Amazon unfortunately has viewers over barrel. We won't get rid of Prime Video regardless of pricing or commercial changes because of other Prime and Amazon shopping benefits. We don't really watch any of their original content, and they already have their own ad bumpers before movies or between episodes despite the Prime commercial free claim compared to their FAST FreeVee. It's probably just a matter of time before there are no commercial free options altogether. Amazon's interface can be very frustrating and you really have to hunt for their quality content thanks to the clunky search options. However as a service it has enough catalog choices and add on options to keep us watching.

Britbox – We always have Britbox as a Prime add on subscription. We love the back catalog of British shows, and the price remains reasonably right. Having what we want to watch for the price of admission? Honestly, that's all we ask of a streamer.

Hulu – My husband watches Hulu original series and me their sitcom classics. We don't care about a lot of recent shows or reality crap and never used the ESPN option in our previous bundle, but we may return to the Hulu Live option in the future if those bum Flyers win some games. We like Hulu as a service with a quality catalog, some original perks, and customizable add on options. I only worry how Disney may run Hulu into the ground rather than realize they need this platform. There is more streaming content than consumers can ever watch, and sadly Hulu might not survive the ongoing industry upheavals.

FAST – The guilt of paying for services with exclusives we aren't watching mainly stems from our watching the free ad supported services like Tubi, Pluto TV, FreeVee, and YouTube more. Although, we are watching The Roku Channel less thanks to their absolutely obnoxious self promotion commercial loops. It's bothersome being peppered with all ads hard selling the streamer itself or it's premium parent, rather than you know, dish soap or laundry detergent. The random algorithm timed ads on FreeVee can cut in mid-sentence, too. Each interface certainly has its problems, and pop up ads now adorn the screen even when you pause. However for free catalog content with plenty of new movies and old shows to keep us entertained, we don't mind short commercials with timed notifications counting down onscreen – it's soft marketing and a chance for a bathroom break. Hot diggity.

Physical Media – What do I do when I can't find what I want streaming? I pop in the DVD or Blu-ray or even in desperation, the VHS. The continued giveth and taketh expansion and excess greed of streaming platforms are only going to drive consumers back to alternative viewing means and personal media ownership.

Contemporary Mothers in Horror

 

Contemporary Mothers in Horror

by Kristin Battestella

There's a difference between depicting scared mothers and daughters facing horror versus just showing the horrors to the audience. Two international tales here placing characterization above scary visuals make for effective familial scares. Unfortunately, the over-stylized American production is more interested in making viewers jump then telling the household horrors.

Matriarch – Creepy creeks and murky swamps begat the concrete city, jogging, and minuscule peaches for Jemima Rooper (Hex) in this 2022 Hulu Original. The first finite sound we hear is the bulimic bitter over the toilet before alcohol and the Monday morning business suit barely hides the drug fueled hookups and unstable drinking alone. A bloody nose, smeared lipstick, an overdose collapse, and black ooze encroaching into the mouth make for a fine mix of realistic consequences and a reaching out from beyond death chilling. Awkward phone calls from her “evil narcissistic bitch” mother Kate Dickie (Prometheus) remind each why they're estranged, and the villagers are frank about never having liked Laura when she returns to her mother's redecorated home. All things pink Mom is looking fancy, too, and their painful history comes out in the shattered tea cups, crushed pills in the pancakes, and recollections of how she called Laura a pig and threatened to tape her mouth shut. One on one conversations layer the character drama while eerie moonlit silhouettes, bruises, and black goo on the pillow and in the panties keep the horror simmering beneath the surface. Mom tells her to drink her water and watches her sleep before dragging the unconscious Laura out to the greenhouse. Rather than some shocking revelation withheld from the viewer, the fountain of youth suspicious is upfront thanks to whispering neighbors, effigies tied to trees, and a spooky book with weird sex symbols. The supple beauty that a woman sacrifices for an ungrateful daughter interferes with the village quid pro quo, and the drunken old minister – part of the lone biracial family going against the spooky happenings – argues with the obsessed townsfolk over these misused old ways. Who's dying, why cancer takes one but not another, and parents gone willing versus those taken too soon anchor the twofer debates. Our daughter wonders if spirits of the deceased still in the black bog revived her while her increasingly adamant mother tries to hit Laura on the head with a plant. The mother nature life, death, worms imagery and earlier, corrupted goddess worship are shrewdly withheld until the finale as smeared, dirty goo and gory rituals reveal how this mother's milk that goes against nature cannot last. Greedy charlatans in any religion are the same – poisoning the hymns, kneeling, and communion with nudity, suckling, flesh, blood, and “squelching” closed captions. Those expecting American horror cliches will be disappointed at this slow burn. However the realistic contemporary characterizations and well paced throwback British folk horror herein deserve more audience attention.

Surrogate – Making sure there are no monsters in the closet opens this 2022 Australian parable. Of course the fun uncle jumps out from under the bed, and it's the best genuine jump scare I've seen in a long time. Unfortunately, our single mother nurse Kestie Morassi (Wolf Creek) helps a freaky retching lady in the car park, and now Natalie's the one in pain, vomiting, and bleeding in bed. Her daughter has to do a video for school on her family tree – an interesting new way to introduce mom, uncle, grandma, dog, cat. There's no dad but the emergency stirrups and bloody gauze point to not just a recent pregnancy but a delivery and family services caseworker Jane Badler (V) wants to know what Natalie has done with the newborn. Rather than wasting time on gory labor horrors, the dialogue gets to what's what. Our nine year old daughter Rose wants to sleep in mom's bed because a girl keeps pinching her and the caseworker spots the bruises – adding real world complications amid the supernatural without any stereotypical ghostly roars coming at the camera. Cutting away rather than showing preposterous action adds to the mystery, and realistic conversations anchor the fears that something else is in the house as their dog is poisoned and someone pushes Rose down the stairs. They spend a few nights with grandma, but more pet perils and ladder mishaps lead to eerie, quiet scares and a tearful funeral where our daughter hides under the tablecloth because “she came with us.” A psychic little girl at the playground interacts with their now phantom, invisible dog. She uses mirrors to see a spirit's true nature, and the audience waits for something to appear as the camera pans across our innocent medium and her flanking reflections. Ava asks our ghost if she will be friends or hurt her and make her look where she shouldn't, and the in camera tension is palpable– no extra shaky shocks or special effects laden filming required. We as audience voyeur have no choice but to see the clinging reflection that makes them scream. Viewers are left to notice her increasing gray hair without any scary emphasizing moment, and we see Natalie watching the news video of a missing girl instead of the footage playing for us. It's creepy how she knocks on the real mother's door feigning car trouble and casually snoops around before being caught in another natural jump scare. Inquiries on if she's a true crime podcaster add horror self-awareness as the foolish investigation realistically fails. Natalie returns to the research, deducing and using her nurse connections – leading to the morgue, an abandoned house, the dark basement, and graffiti answers. Our caseworker says Natalie needs help, but she knows that child services aren't the ones to help her now. Whether it was a low budget necessity or an old school choice, the ghostly hand reaching out and leaving deadly little fingerprints is simple, scary, and effective compared to today's invisible whooshes and womp womp crescendos. Well done foreshadowing recalls where we started as creepy resolutions and warnings to never turn your back on your child escalate to the sacrifices mothers make for their daughters once they promise to never leave them. Several times I thought I had this figured, and it's refreshing that I didn't.

Skip It

Umma – Mom Sandra Oh (Grey's Anatomy) does the best she can in this 2022 supernatural tale with time wasting credits eating into the eighty-three minute runtime and disjointed montages showing the happy beekeeping, no electricity life on the farm. Flashes of past electrical torture have relegated old lamps and microwaves to the cellar, leaving only candles during the storms when something ghostly might be sitting in the chair. The nighttime blue saturation, however, is too difficult to see, even deliberately obtuse for the viewer. Rather than really meeting our family in conversation, the forced exposition is cryptic for the sake of it with confusing character motivations. Our clingy daughter is secretly inquiring about going away to college, and Mom has denied teaching her about their Korean heritage because of her claimed allergy to electronics. She's upset when a car approaches – we know because up close cuts to ominous objects and fist clenches hit the audience over the head. Her uncle has brought her recently deceased abusive mother's ashes, but the bumps in the night and past painful pleas were already there before the tainted effigies. The isolated house setting is almost immediately broken with redundant exposition as the handyman arrives to sell their honey online and our daughter rides her bike to his general store so they can again talk about honey and meet his visiting niece. Such outside points of view asking if she really thought her daughter was going to stay there forever are unnecessary, and voiceover echoes repeat dialogue we heard moments before – underestimating viewers while trying to distract us with eerie slow motion and ominous crescendos. We don't need more electrical torture flashes and echoes at every encounter, either. The titular apparitions are just fake outs for the audience, and the overemphasis on beekeeping, honey, and not even actually liking bees never factors into the horror. More incidental spooky vignettes happen just so our mother can tell her daughter nothing is wrong, yet she tells the white man handyman her suspicions while our daughter snoops anyway. It's impossible to tell what is actually part of the story or just a spooky effect, making for an extremely frustrating viewing. By time the daughter demands to be told, her mother just repeats everything the uncle said as if there is no story to the past abuse and her lying all this time. Our daughter turns on the electricity once she realizes her friend had a smartphone that never bothered her mother, but mom insists she doesn't believe in all their cultural robes, ceremonies, and superstitions yet reacts weirdly just as an excuse for more ghostly echoes and eerie zooms. I was ready to tune out in the first half hour and started fast forwarding over the invisible whooshes through the crops before the angry spirit is somehow easily quelled in the final fifteen minutes. The fears of growing old alone and becoming our parents and the strain of the solitary rural living would have been horror metaphors enough without anything ghostly at all. Unfortunately, this does a disservice to the intriguing Korean motifs because it's more interested in being a stereotypical scary movie.

The Streaming Bubble Has Already Burst

 

The Streaming Bubble has Already Burst

by Kristin Battestella

There's much discourse on when the streaming bubble will burst, but it already has and we didn't even realize it.

Let's be honest. Exclusive content meant to lure viewers to individual platforms is out of control. Each streamer rushes to release new films that no one sees. Shows that don't trend are immediately canceled in favor of the next program. Where premium networks used to rotate four shows a year, today streamers release exclusives monthly, weekly, or even faster. Prestige names and networks flounder with projects falling through, selling off properties, pulling under watched content, or writing off completed projects. There is no content security, yet streamers are chasing audiences week to week to make sure we don't unsubscribe. Viewers, however, have gotten wise, tuning in for free trials or bundle sales to watch what we want before ditching a platform as needed. In today's post pandemic world, it's unrealistic to expedite content as if households can have every streaming service all at once. With such a topsy turvy supply and demand, the industry simply cannot sustain so many streaming services. It's not as dire as the Big Three networks in the pre-digital decades of old, but many streaming services won't survive in the current a la cart but may as well be cable model.

This lack of longevity is also not a recent problem. For all the millions invested in chasing content, no streamer has found the perfect interface style, structure, or support. How many apps have you ditched because the outdated navigation sucked and it repeatedly crashed? Technological troubleshooting makes viewers leave just as fast as the omnipresent price hikes whether we desire the latest hot content or not. Combining or die streamers repeatedly shuffle free tiers, ad tiers, and premiums in increasingly frustrating packages with unjustifiable fees compared to all the confusion. Besides, what are no ad viewers really paying for when every provider shows their own commercials before a movie and automated over the end credits anyway? Hundreds of free ad supported livestream channels have blank logo countdowns and two minute animations because they have allotted advertising space that no one has filled. When there aren't even enough commercials to keep up with our streaming demands, it really shows how out of control our 24/7 content has become.

Unfortunately, it is the niche markets that suffer most – buried in merged catalogs or disappeared altogether. Not because there wasn't an audience for it, but because the cost, technology, and limited timing leaves audiences jumping through hoops to find it. Around 10 streaming platforms is really all viewers can sustain. Even long steady platforms like Hulu or prestige networks like HBO are in jeopardy thanks to corporate wheeling and dealing that is what's business best for Disney or Warners not for what their customers want. It would be foolish for any new streamer with no name recognition or larger backing to enter the arena in 2023. Platforms thinking their original content makes them stand apart or conglomerates that pull their legacy IPs from other services for their own exclusivity are in for a consolidating collapse.

No one wants to be an add on to someone else's storefront, but can any one platform stand alone?

Amazon? Interface and originals are all over the place.

Netflix? For the price their originals are ridiculous.

Who only has ESPN+ because it's included with Disney?

Roku has original shows and Apple TV has their own hardware, but for all the Walking Dead hype, the AMC package has less than 1 million subscribers!

Who can afford the cable-like bill for all of these? You?

Who has the time to watch it all? Not I.

The dust needs to settle on who combines, falls, or survives, but right now the air is thick.