Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu (2026) Review

 

The Mandalorian and Grogu take on a bounty that send them on a perilous journey that could be their last!

Although marketed as Star Wars, this is very much The Mandalorian, which isn’t a bad thing.

Jon Favreau’s The Mandalorian and Grogu successfully makes the leap from streaming series to cinematic event without betraying the DNA that made The Mandalorian resonate in the first place. Rather than attempting to imitate the operatic sweep of classic Star Wars, the film wisely plants its boots firmly in the dusty, weathered cityscapes right down to the title text of the series.

Pedro Pascal once again brings warmth and humanity to Din Djarin. Like Vader, the helmeted actors — including Brendan Wayne and Lateef Crowder — give the character the necessary swagger, while Grogu remains an expressive screen presence despite barely uttering a sound.

The action scenes are sharp and well-staged, with Favreau clearly understanding how to scale up the series’ gunfighter sensibilities for the big screen. There is also strong vocal work throughout, particularly from Jeremy Allen White as Rotta the Hutt, alongside welcome appearances from Sigourney Weaver (as Colonel Ward) and returning favourites including Steve Blum as Zeb Orrelios. Even the smaller cameos are handled with restraint rather than becoming distracting applause bait.

Visually, cinematographer David Klein gives the film a textured, widescreen richness that surpasses the series beautifully, while editors Dylan Firshein and Rachel Goodlett Katz keep the pacing lean and propulsive. Ludwig Göransson also deserves enormous praise for resisting the temptation to drown the film in familiar John Williams cues. Instead, he smartly leans into the established Mandalorian themes, motifs, and percussive stings, allowing the film to maintain its own musical identity rather than constantly reminding audiences of older films.

That said, impressive ships, aliens, monsters, and droids aside, the over reliance on CGI occasionally weakens the tactile grit. The Hutt material, in particular, often looks overly digital and lacks the physical presence of the classic creature effects from earlier eras. Ironically, the film works best when it embraces practical textures, worn environments, and grounded character interactions.

Fans should also temper expectations if they are seeking traditional “Star Wars vibes.” Yes, there are countless nods, references, and familiar iconography scattered throughout — not just to the films but to games, toys (like that old INT-4 Interceptor Mini-Rig I had as a kid, which launched from the AT-AT), and other media — but this is unmistakably Mandalorian territory: a frontier-western take on the galaxy rather than mythic space opera.

Thankfully, the film stands on its own ground. In truth, that separation may ultimately benefit the franchise, especially if future installments continue developing Din Djarin and Grogu through theatrical films rather than endlessly stretching the concept back into episodic television.

Normal (2025) Review

 

Ulysses, a temporary sheriff who drifts into the quiet town of Normal only to find something far stranger and uglier beneath the surface.

Normal opens like a slow-burn Midwestern noir-bitter cold, empty frost-covered roads, and a weary small-town atmosphere that feels authentically lived-in. Ben Wheatley leans into the frozen isolation, shooting on location so you can practically feel the wind cutting through the screen.

Directed by Wheatley from a Derek Kolstad screenplay (story co-developed with Bob Odenkirk), the film stars Odenkirk.

While it shares DNA with Nobody (thanks to Odenkirk and Kolstad), Normal carves its own identity. Less adrenaline-fueled escalation, more eccentric neo-Western filtered through deadpan black comedy and icy crime-thriller vibes. Violence hits suddenly and brutally, but the film prioritises atmosphere, odd personalities, and creeping tension over body counts.

Odenkirk is excellent, weaponising understatement as a morally bruised, exhausted lawman who seems one bad day from collapse. His restraint makes the bursts of action hit harder. Lena Headey brings grit as Moira, Henry Winkler adds an oddly warm yet unsettling presence, and the ensemble makes the town feel real.

What makes Normal memorable is its refusal to settle into one genre. It shifts between Coen brothers-style snowbound crime, savage satire, and vicious action. It's not just a straight Nobody clone.

Normal stands on its own as an atmospheric, sharply performed action thriller. Bob Odenkirk still has plenty left to offer.

Apex (2026) Review

 

A grieving mountain climber, Sasha retreats to the remote Australian outback for isolation, only to become the prey in a deadly game with a ruthless local predator.

Directed by Baltasar Kormákur and written by Jeremy Robbins, Apex is an acrophobia nightmare of a survival action thriller that is wonderfully shot with Lawrence Sher's cinematography, and delivers sweaty-palm tension through its vertiginous climbing sequences and relentless cat-and-mouse pursuit across the Australian wilderness.

This is a B-premise effort that borders on the likes of Deadly Prey or Surviving the Game-lean, mean, and unapologetically pulpy. While films like The Silence of the Lambs, Shoot to Kill (aka Deadly Pursuit), and The Edge delivered more rounded takes on survival and serial-hunter stories, Apex doesn't pretend to reinvent the wheel. Instead, it perfectly showcases Charlize Theron's screen presence and physical commitment. She gives Jared Leto's publicised climbing skills a serious run for their money.

Eric Bana appears as Tommy, Sasha's husband, adding weight to the early scenes.

Taron Egerton is equally great as antagonist Ben, bringing a chilling, unpredictable energy that makes the pursuit feel personal and terrifying. Jeremy Robbins' script often feels like it's only touching the surface of its characters and themes, but the two leads elevate the material significantly.

The music score by Högni Egilssonand soundtrack give the film a modern edge, particularly during a standout sequence that echoes the intense chase vibe of Blade Runner. That music-infused scene with Go" by The Chemical Brothers featuring Egerton will long be remembered and copied for its visceral thrill, much like Ralph Fiennes in The Bone Temple.

The climbing and pursuit scenes channel the palm-sweating heights of Cliffhanger and Mission: Impossible 2, making excellent use of the rugged Australian locations to crank up the acrophobia and isolation. It's one of Netflix's better more cinematic productions.

It's not the most original or deeply layered thriller, but Apex is slick and knows exactly what it is: a high-stakes survival romp anchored by two excellent lead performances.

Worth a watch primarily for Theron's turn and the set-pieces.

Demonwarp (1988) Review

A group of young travellers heading into the mountains stumbles upon a backwoods nightmare involving Bigfoot, zombies, alien parasites, and cult sacrifice.

Directed by Emmett Alston and written by John Carl Buechler (story) alongside Jim Bertges and Bruce Akiyama, the film opens with clear nods to The Thing and Predator, complete with ominous space imagery and something crashing to Earth. From there it veers into shaggy creature-feature territory before mutating yet again into zombie horror, alien invasion film, and occult nightmare. It's gloriously off-the-wall by the final act. (Not to be confused with Demon Wind) Demonwarp in 80's horror glory refuses to settle for just one horror idea.

The opening Bigfoot attack sequence remains one of the film's strongest elements. The editing is surprisingly tight and energetic, generating genuine momentum and suspense. Unfortunately, the film loses some of that effectiveness by showing too much of the creature too early. Like many low-budget monster movies of the era, suggestion often works better than full exposure.

The cast includes George Kennedy lending welcome gravitas as the eccentric war veteran Bill Crafton, while Billy Jayne (credited in some sources as Billy Jacoby), Hank Stratton, Pamela Gilbert (as Carrie Austin), David Michael O'Neill (as Jack Bergman), and others handle the standard '80s horror victim duties reasonably well. Kennedy, unsurprisingly, gives the production a little extra weight simply by showing up.

Behind the camera, cinematographer R. Michael Stringer (sometimes credited as Thomas L. Callaway in certain references, but primary DP is Stringer) gives the woodland setting a serviceable look, though the broad daylight scenes rob parts of the film of atmosphere, giving sections a slight Friday the 13th imitation vibe without matching that series' creeping dread.

Still, the practical effects, gore, and unapologetic '80s excess help compensate for the shortcomings. There's the expected gratuitous T&A, splattery creature effects, and enough bizarre imagery to maintain interest even when the pacing wobbles. The alien-zombie-cult hybrid material in the latter half feels like the filmmakers simply throwing every genre influence into a blender and hoping for the best, including Creepshow, Return of the Living Dead, Snowbeast, The Shining, Night of the Comet and An American Werewolf in London to name a few.

Composer Dan Slider provides a score that tries hard to elevate the material beyond its budgetary limits. At times the film seems desperate to reach for the cosmic horror grandeur of Lifeforce, despite operating on a minuscule budget. In reality, it sits closer in spirit to films like The Video Dead, eccentric VHS-era horror curiosities that survive more on personality than polish.

And, naturally, it closes with one of those quintessential 1980s horror endings: the obligatory final shock scare suggesting the nightmare may not be over after all.

It never reaches the highs of its influences, but for fans of chaotic late-'80s horror oddities, Demonwarp is absolutely worth checking out.

Michael (2026) Review

 

Michael is a sweeping rise-from-obscurity tale that follows a prodigious child performer's path to global icon, framed by family, pressure and the relentless machinery of fame.

Directed by Antoine Fuqua (Training Day) and written by John Logan, the film is less a definitive portrait than an evocative passage through key moments.

At its centre is Jaafar Jackson, whose performance steadily deepens. It is no instant transformation; Juliano Valdidoes does a great turn as young Michael, but isn't Michael, like Jaafar, instead, you watch him become Michael-his physicality, voice and presence sharpening scene by scene until the illusion is almost complete.

By the later stages, he does not merely portray Jackson; he embodies him. He may not move exactly like the real man, as a professional impersonator might, yet he fully inhabits the character. Becoming the complete package is no small feat.

The supporting cast is equally strong. Colman Domingo is commanding and unsettling as Joe Jackson, Nia Long brings warmth and restraint as Katherine, and Miles Teller offers a sharp industry counterpoint. The focus wisely remains on the family rather than peripheral figures, and the casting feels considered throughout. Actor KeiLyn Durrel Jones is notable as Bill Bray. There's also a lot of people missing as well as blink and you'll miss them characters.

Musically, the film integrates Jackson's catalogue-particularly Off the Wall and Thriller-with care. Songs punctuate emotion rather than dominate, supported by strong sound design. It is not a flawless recreation, but effective for a general audience and never descends into jukebox spectacle.

Tonally, Michael is measured and often understated. Like the countless Elvis a biopics it leaves some emotional and psychological depths only glimpsed rather than fully explored.

As a result, the film feels like the first movement of a larger work-confident, elegant and impressively crafted. It is not definitive, yet undeniably compelling, and leaves room for a sequel of equal discipline.

Scream 7 (2026) Review

 

Sidney Prescott, her husband and their daughter must survive a new cycle of bloodshed from Ghostface.

Even with Kevin Williamson returning to write (with Guy Busick) and direct, Scream 7 (2026) struggles to meet expectations. There is a sense of creative déjà vu running through its veins... it borrows not just from its own legacy but echoes the reinvention seen in the Halloween franchise and many more. Instead of sharpening the formula, it often feels like it is recycling it.

As well as inducing eye rolling, it times it leaves you question character logic. That said, there is genuine appeal in seeing Neve Campbell return as Sidney Prescott (Evans), alongside Courteney Cox as Gale Weathers.

The cameos (including Matthew Lillard as ‘Stu Macher’, and returns from David Arquette and others) are welcome and handled with a degree of restraint, though the much-teased AI angle feels underdeveloped. It is a missed opportunity-not least because it could have plausibly included figures such as Billy Loomis.

Jasmin Savoy Brown as Mindy Meeks-Martin steals every scene. Michelle Randolph as Madison, McKenna Grace and Asa Germann (as Lucas Bowden) are all memorable. Sidney's daughter Tatum Evans, played by Isabel May-feels miscast. A switch with Grace might have worked better.

Williamson's directing along some hard hitting violence and bloody effects for the most part hits the mark. Marco Beltrami's score and Ramsey Nickell's cinematography help elevate the film.

Where the film falters most is in its final act. The reveal and resolution feel rushed and flat. That said, there are flashes of wit, some solid set-pieces, and a clear affection for the franchise throughout-but it never quite lands the killer blow.

If an eighth instalment happens, it would do well to move forward with conviction rather than reflection. The pieces are still there-it just needs the groundbreaking nerve to use them.Rushed and flat. 

A Return to Salem's Lot (1987) Review

 

An anthropologist returns to his inherited home in Salem's Lot with his estranged, troubled son, only to uncover a hidden vampire society masquerading as a quiet New England community.

Co-written and directed by Larry Cohen, this 1987 theatrical release is a notable departure from the excellent 1979 miniseries directed by Tobe Hooper. Deceptive poster aside, although released in cinemas, it often feels like a television movie and looks considerably older than its years-whether by design or accident.

The film is violent in places, featuring head bashings, stakes through the heart, and some effective practical effects, with plenty of blood and fangs on display. However, the unlikable Joe Weber (Michael Moriarty) proves almost as bratty as his son Jeremy (Ricky Addison Reed).

The real issue lies in the film's uneven tone, which shifts awkwardly between horror and broad humour/satire. Films such as John Carpenter's Vampires (1998), The Lost Boys (1987), and Fright Night (1985) handle that balance far more successfully.

The acting is a mixed bag. That said, veteran performers Andrew Duggan, Samuel Fuller, June Havoc, and Evelyn Keyes bring some much-needed weight to the production.

Moriarty, fresh from Pale Rider (1985), makes for a solid everyman lead and does his best to hold the film together. Interestingly, a very young Tara Reid appears as Amanda Fenton - a role that retrospectively echoes Kirsten Dunst's performance in Interview with the Vampire (1994). Jill Gatsby is also memorable as Sherry. Director Samuel Fuller nearly steals the show as the obsessive vampire hunter Van Meer.

Michael Minard's score is inconsistent, as is Daniel Pearl's cinematography; neither possesses much cinematic refinement. While the town itself looks lush, it fails to generate any real sense of dread. The sets and locations are strong, but the pacing and staging throughout are questionable. Cohen does, however, take clear aim at the American Dream, layering the film with satire, allegory, and moral ambiguity.

While Return to Salem's Lot remains an interesting watch, it ultimately doesn't hold a candle to the Hooper-directed 1979 version starring David Soul.

To get the best out of Cohen's rough, clunky outing, the film is best viewed as a standalone piece, separate from the 1979 adaptation.

Salem's Lot (2024) Review

 

When author Ben Mears comes back to his childhood home, he discovers that people in his home town are mysteriously turning into vampires.

Gary Dauberman's Salem's Lot returns to familiar ground, but with a modern horror edge that favours shock over slow-burn dread. Set in the 1970s, it strives to recapture the period texture of King's novel. The intention is clear and often effective, though the era sometimes feels like polished recreation rather than something fully lived-in.

The film's real strength is atmosphere with Cinematography from Michael Burgess. Dauberman sustains a consistent unease. An on location feel and meticulously dressed sets sell the town's creeping infection.

The cast is reliably solid. All the youngsters actors do a great job. Lewis Pullman brings a measured gravity to Ben Mears, while Alfre Woodard and memorable Bill Camp lend weight in support. Pilou Asbæk adds controlled menace as Straker. Alexander Ward is great as classic Nosferatu-like Kurt Barlow, and Spencer Treat Clark holds his own in the ensemble. Notable is William Sadler as Parkins Gillespie and Spencer Treat Clark as Ryerson. Yet it's Makenzie Leigh who commands the screen. Sharp, magnetic, and utterly assured, she cuts through the surrounding mechanics and steals every scene. Both Jordan Preston Carter and Alfre Woodard deserve a mention for their likeable performances.

Unlike the 2004 version of Barlow that sticks closer to the novel, like the 1979 version, this adaptation opts for a traditional, monstrous take on the vampire-predatory and unromanticised.

Where it diverges is emphasis, it leans into modern horror conventions, with a younger cast, deploying frequent jump scares in a manner closer to the It films. The shocks land, but often at the expense of deeper character work and lingering dread.

Oddly Mark seems to feel second fiddle to young Ben, and last act feels more like Stakeland, Monstersquad, and 30 Days of Night.

That imbalance is the film's limitation. Momentum frequently overrides emotional weight, leaving the story feeling slightly surface-level despite its craft.

The sound design and score by Nathan Barr and Lisbeth Scott enhance tension without overwhelming it, and the visuals remain clean, controlled, and often striking.

It's not the definitive Salem's Lot, but an atmospheric retelling that knows how to unsettle-even if it sometimes forgets to breathe and run for the finishing line.

Salem's Lot (1979) Review

 

Author Ben Mears returns to his childhood home of Salem's Lot, only to find something ancient and predatory taking root in the town.

Director Tobe Hooper (Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Poltergeist) unfolds a less conventional vampire tale and more a creeping collapse of an entire community-one soul at a time. A quiet town. Empty streets. Curtains twitching just a little too late. Hooper wastes no time in drawing you into its slow-burn nightmare-and, crucially, it never overstays its welcome.

Stephen King adaptations have a reputation for being long-winded, sometimes buckling under the weight of their own detail. Not here. This adaptation of his 1975 novel moves with purpose. The pacing is tight, almost deceptively so, and it flies by while still giving the story room to breathe.

The cast do a tremendous amount of heavy lifting with Paul Monash's screenplay. David Soul anchors the piece with a grounded, believable performance as Mears, while the brilliant James Mason brings a refined, almost theatrical menace as Straker. Kurt Barlow's character is a full-on Nosferatu-style vampire with excellent makeup, played by Reggie Nalder to chilling effect.

Young Lance Kerwin and Bonnie Bedelia (Die Hard) add emotional weight, while Lew Ayres and Ed Flanders (The Exorcist III) round out a cast that makes the town feel lived-in-human-before it all starts to rot. Kerwin's character Mark clearly influenced horror fans and films such as Friday the 13th's Tommy Jarvis and The Monster Squad, to name a few.

Standout is Geoffrey Lewis as the gravedigger Mike. Kenneth McMillan (Dune) appears along with a whole slew of familiar faces.

Technically, yes, it shows its age in places. There are a few zoom-heavy close-ups and the occasional paused transition that firmly date it. But those are surface details. What really matters is how effectively the production sells its world. The sets, the locations, the texture of the town itself-they all contribute to a creeping sense of dread that feels authentic rather than staged.

Harry Sukman's music deserves special mention. It's not just effective-it's essential. It creeps in, lingers, and tightens around scenes in a way that amplifies the horror without overwhelming it. It understands restraint, which is exactly why it works.

There's also a strong case to be made for its influence. You can see its DNA in later genre staples like The Lost Boys and Fright Night-that blend of small-town familiarity colliding with something inhuman.

The original television miniseries is the better version. The theatrical edit trims character beats and connective tissue for a more streamlined, faster-paced experience, but it inevitably loses some of the atmosphere and gradual escalation that the TV version builds so well. The full broadcast version is the one that lets the dread properly take hold.

I didn't catch the 1981 BBC broadcast, but I did watch a VHS recording of the 22 August 1985 repeat (10:10pm). That grain, that late-night atmosphere only added to the unease.

Moments linger. The full-circle Guatemala scenes bookending the series’ impactful epilogue. The vampire kitchen attack, stuff of nightmares. David Soul fashioning a makeshift cross from tongue depressors-simple, desperate, brilliant. Everyone talks about the kid at the bedroom window, and rightly so. It's iconic. But the real nightmare comes later-when he appears again at the hospital window. Face distorted, hair standing on end. That's the moment that genuinely chills. That's the image that stays with you.

This is Salem's Lot distilled with precision. It respects the source without becoming bogged down by it, delivering a lean, atmospheric piece of television horror that still holds its power. An interesting 1987 sequel followed, but it doesn't match this.

A product of its time, yes-but more importantly, a reminder of how effective that time could be when everything aligned.

A TV classic.

The Phantom (1996) Review

 

Kit Walker, the latest in a long line of masked protectors known as The Phantom, battles to stop a megalomaniac from acquiring ancient skulls of power tied to a lost legend.

The Phantom (1996) is one of those mid-90s comic-book adaptations that was too quickly filed away in the "also-ran" drawer. On revisiting, it deserves a fairer shake than it originally received.

At the time, I wrote it off as a Batman and Indiana Jones imitation, especially in a crowded market that already featured more stylised and cynical takes such as The Shadow and Darkman. There was also a growing sense of superhero saturation even before the internet era, with films like Dick Tracy, The Crow, The Mask, and The Rocketeer all competing for tonal space and audience attention. In that environment, The Phantom struggled to carve out its own identity.

It is pulpy, straight-faced adventure storytelling with a clear lineage back to Saturday matinee serials, rather than the darker reinventions that dominated the era. The comic predates both Superman and Batman, and the film captures that bygone era wonderfully. The locations and sets are impressive, the majority of the effects hold up well, and its reliance on practical effects rather than solely CGI works strongly in its favour.

There is a refreshing sincerity to the film that plays to its strengths. It leans unapologetically into its comic-strip roots instead of deconstructing them. The deliberately old-fashioned tone, which I initially misread as a weakness, is now one of its most appealing qualities.

Created by Lee Falk, the legendary writer who introduced the iconic comic-strip hero in 1936, the film features a faithful and spirited screenplay by Jeffrey Boam that captures the pulp essence perfectly. Simon Wincer directs with energetic, old-fashioned adventure flair, while David Burr's lush cinematography brings the exotic locations and striking visuals to life. David Newman's rousing, orchestral score further elevates the proceedings with memorable heroic themes that perfectly suit the film's sincere, swashbuckling spirit.

At the centre is Billy Zane's committed performance as the Phantom. He plays the role straight, almost stubbornly so, which suits the material perfectly. There is no ironic detachment, just a clean, earnest embodiment of the character's mythic weight.

Treat Williams brings solid 1930s menace and swagger as the villain Xander Drax, grounding the character in something physical rather than purely cartoonish. James Remar adds a harder edge in support, reinforcing the film's pulp-adventure DNA without tipping into parody.

Notable Catherine Zeta-Jones is striking as Sala, given action-forward material and holding her own with a confidence that hinted at the major career ahead of her. Memorable Kristy Swanson provides a more traditional romantic counterbalance as Diana Palmer, anchoring the emotional thread effectively. Both Swanson and Jones leaves a mark giving some good turns in the action sequences.

Patrick McGoohan's presence as the previous Phantom lends the film an unexpected gravitas, giving the mythology a sense of continuity and weight that the script only partially earns. Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa adds sharp, controlled intensity in his supporting role - another reminder of how often he elevated genre material of this era through sheer screen presence.

In hindsight, what's most interesting is how The Phantom sits just outside the major tonal shift that would soon reshape superhero cinema. It belongs to a pre-fracture moment - before irony and postmodern deconstruction became the default.

The film does not fully transcend its limitations, but it certainly doesn't deserve the dismissiveness it received on release. It is a straight, earnest pulp adventure, and there is real value in that clarity.