Primate (2025) Review

 

A remote estate becomes a pressure cooker when a group of women find themselves hunted by a lethal primate, descending their weekend into brutal survival horror.

Directed by Johannes Roberts and written by Roberts and Ernest Riera, Primate leans firmly into slasher territory. It wears its influences openly, with flashes of Cujo (1983), The Shining (1980) in its isolating atmosphere, Halloween (1978) in its stalking rhythms, while structurally it replaces the masked killer with a rampaging ape. There are also shades of aquatic entrapment thrillers like The Pool (2018), 12 Feet Deep (2017) and Night Swim (2024), particularly in its confined set-pieces and tension-driven staging. And a touch of animal communication that was seen in Congo (1995).

Visually, the film impresses. Director of photography Stephen Murphy lights the estate with moody precision, evoking the sleek menace of The Invisible Man (2020) and the nocturnal unease of The Night House (2020). The score by Adrian Johnston is a standout - its synth-driven pulse clearly echoing John Carpenter's Halloween (1978) themes without feeling derivative. The sound design is equally sharp, amplifying every scrape, breath and distant movement to unnerving effect.

Performance-wise, Johnny Sequoyah delivers a memorable turn as Lucy. Victoria Wyant is also notable, while Miguel Torres Umba gives Ben real presence, the character realised convincingly through a blend of practical effects and digital augmentation. The dialogue is solid throughout, and the ensemble commit fully to the escalating carnage.

The gore and special effects are strong and impressive, the kills are particularly brutal, though the film works best in its tense, stalking sequences rather than its broader action beats. It echoes animal-attack predecessors like Monkey Shines (1988), Shakma (1990), Nope (2022) and especially Link (1986), though it lacks the emotional weight of the aforementioned and the likes of Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes (1984) or The Ape Man (1988). There's even an opportunity missed with a "good ape versus bad ape" dynamic or twist that (it wasn't Ben at all, but a second ape) which might have elevated it beyond straightforward slasher mechanics.

Ultimately, Primate plays as a modern, gorier, sharper riff on the killer-animal template - more slasher horror than psychological exploration. It's worth checking out if you favour brutal creature features, though the on-screen animal 'cruelty' and violence may prove too much for some especially in the closing, which denies it an emotional connection or pay off.

Return to Silent Hill (2026) Review ​

James Sunderland returns to the fog-drenched town of Silent Hill, drawn back by memory, grief and the promise of lost love, only to descend once more into psychological and physical torment.

Watching Return to Silent Hill felt like I’d slipped a DVD into a player in 1996. I admire what Christophe Gans achieved with Silent Hill (2006), bleak, visually committed, and genuinely unsettling. That film embraced despair and strangeness with conviction.

This, however, is something else entirely.

The costumes feel synthetic, the hair and make-up distracting, and the CGI distractingly artificial. The setting lacks texture; the voice-over narration overexplains rather than deepens; the flashbacks drain momentum instead of enriching character. Where the earlier film felt oppressive and immersive, this feels assembled, not conjured.

It’s frustrating because the foundations are there. Silent Hill thrives on mood, ambiguity and dread. Instead, the film stumbles through hollow recreations of imagery without the weight behind them. One keeps asking: did Gans really direct this? The confidence, the atmosphere, the control that defined his earlier effort seem absent.

A bitter disappointment, not merely flawed, but strangely lifeless.

Killer Whale (2026) Review

 

Maddie and Trish seek solace in a remote Thai atoll-like lagoon. Their escape becomes a nightmare when Ceto—a vengeful, mistreated orca freshly freed from captivity at a water park—invades the trapped waters. Stranded on a rock with no food or rescue, the women battle a brilliant, merciless predator.

Directed by Jo-Anne Brechin and starring Virginia Gardner as Maddie, Killer Whale leans into a tried-and-tested survival template familiar from 47 Metres Down, The Shallows, Open Water and many other shark survival films. Opening with a great kill setup, there’s nothing inherently wrong with the staging or even the premise. An apex predator remains a solid foundation for tension. Gardner, in particular, gives the film credibility. Her performance is committed, physical and emotionally grounded. She carries the narrative through sheer screen presence, making Maddie – alongside Mel Jarnson’s Trish – resourceful, vulnerable and watchable throughout.

Where the film falters is in its execution: the special effects, sadly, let it down. In a subgenre that depends heavily on believability, the visual renderings – including the backgrounds – often pull the audience out of the moment rather than immersing them in it. What could have rivalled the tight suspense of its aquatic predecessors instead becomes overshadowed by effects that lack weight and realism.

It’s especially frustrating because Jo-Anne Brechin and Katharine McPhee’s writing rightly gives the orca its emotional intelligence and rich thematic potential. There are hints of something more layered beneath the surface, a suggestion that the creature is more than a simple monster. And if it weren’t for the special effects, the film had clout which may have elevated it beyond standard predator fare.
The final act, too, feels like a missed opportunity. A more satisfying resolution – something closer in spirit to a Free Willy-style but grounded ending – may have provided emotional payoff rather than what we were given.

Killer Whale is not without merit. Virginia Gardner’s performance deserves praise, and the core concept remains strong. But in a genre where atmosphere and credibility are everything, the weak effects ultimately hold it back from the gripping survival thriller it might have been.

We Bury the Dead (2024, wide release 2026) Review

After a devastating viral outbreak leaves parts of the population infected yet not entirely gone, a fractured group of survivors navigate grief, suspicion and the lingering question of what it truly means to be alive — or buried.

Directed and written by Zak Hilditch, We Bury the Dead takes a creepy slow-burning, introspective approach to the zombie-virus subgenre. Rather than leaning solely on carnage, it focuses on broken relationships and unresolved trauma. At times, however, the film becomes bogged down in flashbacks and emotional backstory that dilute the forward momentum of an otherwise compelling premise.

Daisy Ridley leads the film with quiet intensity, delivering a great performance that anchors the film. She knocks it out of the park, carrying the emotional weight with conviction. Alongside her, Brenton Thwaites and Mark Coles Smith provide strong support. Their tensions often prove more engaging than the infected threat itself.

Technically, the film impresses. The make-up effects are excellent, restrained but unnerving, and several eerie set-ups linger in the mind long after. There are genuine jolts and a creeping dread that recalls the more contemplative end of the genre. The film also toys with interesting ideas about infection, memory and identity, though some of these themes are never fully explored.

If anything, a tighter edit, trimming some of the subtext-heavy relationship exposition and focusing more directly on Ridley’s journey, might have elevated it further. As it stands, We Bury the Dead is thoughtful, atmospheric and worth a watch. With a few sharper tweaks, it could have been something truly special.

The Muppet Show (2026 TV special) Review

Kermit the Frog gathers the gang to celebrate fifty years of The Muppet Show, revisiting classic sketches, musical numbers and behind-the-scenes memories while reflecting on what made the Muppets such a cultural fixture in the first place.

It’s genuinely fantastic to see Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie, Gonzo and the wider Muppet family (and newer characters) back together under one banner, celebrating half a century of felt, chaos and heart. Streaming on Disney+, the special leans heavily into nostalgia — and rightly so — reminding us just how sharp, anarchic and oddly sincere Jim Henson’s creations always were at their best.

There is, however, a slight caveat. Some of the voice work feels a little off, which is a shame given how many talented performers can replicate the originals almost spot-on. It never derails the experience, but longtime fans will notice the tonal shifts more than casual viewers.

That said, the warmth, humour and legacy carry it through. This is a loving tribute rather than a reinvention — a celebration of characters who still matter, still charm, and still know how to put on a show. For fans old and new, it’s a welcome reminder of why the Muppets endure.