Rabid (1977) Review

 

After a near-fatal motorcycle accident, Rose undergoes an experimental skin graft procedure that saves her life — but leaves her with a hunger that spreads a rabies-like plague through the city. As the infection grows, panic follows, and civilisation begins to quietly unravel.

Written and directed by David Cronenberg, Rabid is an early, confident statement of intent from a filmmaker already obsessed with the fragile boundary between flesh, science and control. Shot largely on real locations in and around Montreal, the film has a gritty, almost documentary realism that grounds its increasingly nightmarish ideas. Cronenberg lets the story unfold slowly, allowing the rabies outbreak subplot to creep into the narrative in a measured, unsettling way rather than relying on shocks alone. It’s thoughtful, patient genre filmmaking, and remarkably ambitious for its modest budget.

Marilyn Chambers is the undeniable centre of the film and its greatest asset. Her performance as Rose is detached, tragic and strangely sympathetic, anchoring the film even as it descends into societal collapse. Chambers carries the film almost entirely, giving it an eerie emotional consistency that never wavers. Around her, Frank Moore, Joe Silver and Howard Ryshpan provide solid support, but this is very much Chambers’ film from beginning to end.

The kills and make-up effects are impressively effective for the period, restrained but disturbing, reinforcing Cronenberg’s clinical approach to horror rather than undermining it. Gun-happy cops appear throughout, from the police station to the shopping mall, heightening the sense of chaos. Notable sequences include a tense shoot-out where a Santa Claus is accidentally caught in the crossfire, officers drilling through cars, and multiple car crashes as panic spreads. These setups are smartly staged, adding suspense and variety — the film’s impact is not just in the rabid, bloody faces and neck wounds, but in how the infection intersects with human recklessness and urban mayhem.

The music — credited to Ivan Reitman — is simple, spare and memorable, with a recurring piano motif that subtly enhances the film’s creeping dread. Structurally, Rabid almost plays like a road movie at times, drifting from place to place as the outbreak spreads, reinforcing the sense of unstoppable movement and loss of control.

Rabid may be rough around the edges, but what Cronenberg achieves on a limited budget is remarkable. It’s smart, unsettling, and quietly devastating — an early body-horror classic that announces a major filmmaker and gives Marilyn Chambers a performance that defines the film long after the final frame.

Lethal Weapon (1987) Review

In Los Angeles, volatile narcotics cop Martin Riggs is partnered with cautious family man Roger Murtaugh. When a suspicious death exposes a major heroin operation, the mismatched detectives are dragged into a violent conspiracy that forges an unlikely bond under fire.

Lethal Weapon (1987) remains a defining moment in modern action cinema - not because it invented the buddy-cop movie, but because it refined and humanised it. Directed by Richard Donner and written by Shane Black, the film pairs two broken cops at opposite ends of life: Mel Gibson's volatile, grief-stricken Martin Riggs and Danny Glover's world-weary family man Roger Murtaugh. What follows is a tough, funny, emotionally grounded action thriller that still holds its shape nearly four decades on.

The heart of the film is the chemistry between Gibson and Glover, which Donner wisely allows to breathe. Their relationship feels earned - antagonistic, wary, and gradually forged through shared danger rather than forced banter. Gibson brings a raw, self-destructive edge to Riggs that was genuinely unsettling at the time, while Glover grounds the film with warmth, humour and restraint. Around them, the supporting cast is strong: Gary Busey is memorable as the unhinged Mr. Joshua, Mitchell Ryan brings icy authority as the villainous General McAllister, Darlene Love gives the film emotional texture, and Tom Atkins adds grit and credibility. Traci Wolfe leaves an impact. Sven-Ole Thorsen appears. Damon Hines and Ebonie Smith are notable along with familiar faces Steve Kahan, and Mary Ellen Trainer.

Visually, the film is elevated by Stephen Goldblatt's cinematography, particularly the striking aerial shots of Los Angeles, which give the film scale and a sense of lived-in geography. Donner's use of real locations - highways, rooftops, suburban streets - grounds the action and gives weight to the danger. Michael Kamen's score, with its bluesy guitar and mournful sax, is iconic, perfectly matching the film's mix of melancholy and hard-edged action.

If there's a weakness, it lies in the extended final fight, which, while entertaining, drags a little longer than it needs to. In hindsight, Gary Busey's demise, though well performed, might have landed with greater impact had it been sharper and more abrupt. Still, these are minor quibbles in a film that fires on almost every other cylinder.

Whether you watch the tighter theatrical cut or the director's cut, Lethal Weapon remains just as effective - funny, tense, emotional and endlessly watchable. It didn't invent the genre, but it perfected the formula through character, craft and chemistry. A timeless action film, and still one of the very best examples of how blockbuster filmmaking can have soul.

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026) Review

Survivors confront violent factions and evolving infected, forcing hard choices about faith, morality, and what it truly means to stay human in a broken world.

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026) picks up directly after 28 Years Later, continuing the saga in a stark, visceral post-apocalyptic Britain. Written by Alex Garland and directed with precision by Nia DaCosta, the film expands the world of the Rage virus while shifting the focus from pure survival horror into the brutal terrain of human cruelty, cult dynamics and moral fracture. Rather than rehash, it moves forward like Romero’s Dead films.

The lead performances are a high point. Ralph Fiennes as Dr. Ian Kelson again brings depth and quiet intensity to every frame to a story packed with brutality.

Alfie Williams's Spike, whose journey through devastation and exploitation anchors the film's human stakes. Jack O'Connell is chilling as Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, sadistic leader of a vicious gang - his screen presence heightening the film's tension at every turn. Erin Kellyman as Ink (Kellie) and Chi Lewis-Parry as Samson deliver strong supporting work, rounding out a cast that turns this bleak world into something vivid and lived-in.

The direction from DaCosta is assured and unflinching, guiding a story that is linear in its continuation of Danny Boyle's previous film. With great special effects, and gory setups, the cinematography by Sean Bobbitt gives the film a gritty, documentary-like feel, tangible, on-location realism that makes its violence and terror feel immediate and raw.

While the gang's cruelty can be hard to watch, it serves the story's examination of humanity's darker instincts far more potently than the infected themselves.

The score by Hildur Guðnadóttir anchors the film's mood perfectly and the subtle callbacks to the original 28 Days Later theme, especially in the closing moments, give this sequel a sense of thematic continuity. The soundtrack's integration including Duran Duran and Iron Maiden strengthens the narrative's pulse.

Although the story doesn't return the to the island setting of the previous film, thanks to Fiennes it never loses emotional clout. The Bone Temple grapples with questions of morality, survival, faith and loss, giving weight to every blow and every choice. It sets itself up for the next chapter, pleasing 28 Days Later fans while expanding the franchise's emotional and thematic range. Taken together with 28 Years Later, these two films function as one evolving saga - and this instalment stands as a powerful, terrifying, and unexpectedly thoughtful entry in the series.

Recommended.

One Battle After Another (2025) Review

 

An ex-revolutionary forced back into conflict when a long-buried enemy resurfaces.

Written by Paul Thomas Anderson and Thomas Pynchon. Anderson also directs, One Battle After Another blending crime, politics and personal stakes into an intriguing, constantly unfolding narrative. Delivering a gripping, character-driven action thriller.

Leonardo DiCaprio is memorable as Bob Ferguson with a mix of humour, exhaustion and resolve, supported by an excellent ensemble: Teyana Taylor, Sean Penn, Benicio del Toro, Regina Hall, and Chase Infiniti. The cast gives the story weight, allowing Anderson's layered storytelling to unfold naturally rather than through exposition. Although Del Toro is excellent, he feels underutilised, while Penn gives one of his best performances todate. That said, Taylor steals every scene.

Anderson's direction is grounded, with a strong on-location feel that gives the film a realistic, lived-in texture. The music by Jonny Greenwood can be a little insistent at times, but it ultimately adds to the gritty crime-thriller atmosphere, reminiscent of 1970s hard boiled films reinforcing tension and momentum.

Overall, intriguing, well-paced and sharply performed, One Battle After Another succeeds through strong storytelling, assured direction and a great cast. It's immersive genre filmmaking - recommended.

Tron: Ares (2025) Review

 

A highly advanced program called Ares crosses from the digital world into the real one on a dangerous mission that tests the boundary between AI and humanity. 

Directed by Joachim Rønning and written by Jesse Wigutow (story by Wigutow and David DiGilio), the film leans into sleek sci-fi action while honouring the legacy of the original. Tron: Ares takes the Tron franchise in a bold new direction mostly out of the Grid.

Jared Leto brings an intense, cool presence to Ares, and though the film doesn’t dig as deep as it could into the “fish-out-of-water” or higher-intelligence themes it hints at, his performance consistently heightens the mood and gives the story a centre of gravity. Greta Lee as Eve Kim and Evan Peters as Julian Dillinger also deliver strong turns, while Gillian Anderson adds gravitas in a key role. Jodie Turner-Smith add some pizzazz and intensity. There’s a nod to David Warner’s Edward/Sark, Jeff Bridges’ appearance, a nod to his original Tron role as Kevin Flynn, is brief but welcome, grounding Ares within the broader franchise and giving longtime fans a moment to savour.  

Tonally, Tron: Ares is a little more linear and grounded in real-world stakes than Tron: Legacy, and that can make the narrative feel less daring at times. Evan Peters, in particular, feels slightly underused, with much of his character’s arc confined to one location rather than fully expanding. That said, the stunts and effects are excellent — crisp, kinetic sequences that deliver visual thrill and energy — and the film’s real-world segments build logically on the ending of Legacy even if you find yourself wishing for more time exploring the luminous digital world of the Grid.  

The score and soundtrack by Nine Inch Nails (Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross) is fitting, it propels the action and mood even though it doesn’t reach the heights of Daft Punk’s work on Legacy. 

Tron: Ares may not fully realise every thematic ambition it gestures toward, but it is surprisingly the most rounded of the series so far, confident in its design, strong in its performances, and thoroughly worthwhile. 

Both the ending and the end-credits scene tease of a fourth instalment, which I’d welcome. Recommended.