Kshitij Rawat

I wanted to like Mike Flanagan’s Carrie. I really did. I’m fond of Flanagan’s work in general. And in particular, I adore his takes on Stephen King’s stories. If somebody was going to convince me that Carrie needed eight episodes, he seemed a good bet. Having watched them, however, I’m still wondering why this needed to be a series. It is packed with good performances across the board. The series departs from the novel in ways that are at lest worth discussing. And overall, it is a competent retelling. But the longer it goes on, the more its achievements feel like reasons to admire individual scenes rather than recommend the whole thing.

East of Eden broke my heart more often through its supposedly good father than its murderous mother. That’s where this uneven adaptation finds its strongest drama. Zoe Kazan’s departure from John Steinbeck’s treatment of Cathy is welcome, but the series spends too much time explaining cruelty that Florence Pugh makes compelling enough. It’s more affecting when it follows the damage parents pass to their children. Those family conflicts give its ideas about choice a force the explanations often lack. Let’s dive in.

The Gentlemen season 2 finds Guy Ritchie leaning harder into his enduring theme: men who mistake owning something with being someone. This season, Eddie (Theo James) leans into this even harder than ever. Among other things, he spends this run muscling into Italian mafia territory, even as he is chasing a seat in the House of Lords. And at the same time, the Netflix series, which is a spinoff of 2019’s action comedy movie of the same name, drops the zany energy that made season 1 so much fun. It’s a riskier season than the first. It is also colder and darker and, for my money, it is a better one, even when its reach outpaces its grip.

There’s a specific cruelty in asking an audience to hold Robert De Niro‘s memory in their head while watching anything. Scorsese’s 1991 Cape Fear is one of the most viscerally unpleasant American studio films ever greenlit. It was a picture so brutally disturbing that it feels like it physically assaults you. De Niro’s Max Cady showed that when the id snaps and has a grudge, it’s almost like unleashing raw fury from God. Nick Antosca’s ten-episode Apple TV limited series (executive-produced, with some degree of irony, by both Martin Scorsese himself and Steven Spielberg) has the considerable audacity to set up shop in that shadow and try to grow something in the dark. Remarkably, it partly succeeds.

Daldal opens in a Mumbai that you rarely get to see. We are thrust into this psychological crime thriller, where a stoic female cop character hunts for a serial killer with a penchant for gallows humour. The series itself is grim and serious, with nary a moment of levity. Let’s dive into Daldal, its plot and ending, which will be explained here.

When hell itself is unable to stop its villain from calling collect, you know a horror franchise just got even more interesting. The Grabber calls back from the afterlife this time, and now he is even more dangerous. Did you think Ethan Hawke’s mask and mallet-clad serial killer was terrifying? Wait till you see what he can do now that he’s dead. This is a callback that we didn’t particularly want addressed, but here we are. Let’s dive into Black Phone 2 story and ending, both of which are explained here.

Rahul Sadasivan’s newest horror film, Dies Irae, portrays itself as more than just a haunted house exercise. In addition to jump scares and well-executed visual fright-craft, the title Dies Irae (Latin for “Day of Wrath”) alludes to a reckoning, something ominous. Let’s dive into the story of the Dies Irae movie and ending, explained here. Our hero is called Rohan, and he is the rich-brat-mega-mansion-owner type. Played by actor and Mohanlal‘s son Pranav Mohanlal, he has the house, the money, the parties, the friends. He also has a casual indifference toward those he considers inferior to him, which is pretty much everyone.

Ever found yourself watching a horror movie and thinking: “Man, the dog knows something we don’t”? If so, then the Good Boy horror movie is tailor-made for you. Helmed by debutant Ben Leonberg, it’s a genuinely fresh spin on the genre. It is told from a narrator who barks (well, mostly whines) instead of speaking and wags instead of walking away. (And yes, your dog will now stare at random corners for entirely justified reasons.) Let’s dive into the Good Boy horror movie story and ending, which are both explained here.