Little Brother (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: Rudd Landry (played by John Cena) has a thriving real estate career, a wife/kids, a killer physique, and a chance to be on a reality TV show. But he has two problems: Josh (Christopher Meloni), his actual brother, who overshadows him. And Marcus (Eric Andre), his “little brother”, someone he mentored as part of a Big Brother program in college.

I’ll start with performances. I will always love seeing Sherry Cola and John Cena in films. Cena, in particular, has quietly become a really dependable comedic lead. For someone who was known in his wrestling career for showing his work (often shouting instructions so loudly that people in the back row could hear) and for being unable to take things seriously, it’s weird that his film comedy style is based mainly on being the straight man. He’d be great in an action movie parody in the style of Naked Gun. Christina Catechis gives a fun performance, reminds me of Grace Parra. No idea who the woman who is territorial about her window is, but I love her. Eric André can be brilliant, but he can also be exhausting.

That’s definitely the case here. He’s the central part of the emotional story arc, yet his personality makes that emotional arc far less effective than it should be. The audience doesn’t buy into him as someone worth the emotion. He’s not misunderstood, or troubled, or someone who’s a bit rough around the edges but is generally a lovely person. He’s kind of a selfish dick with no idea of societal expectations. Not in a “With multiple options for cutlery, move from the outside in as you go through the meal” way, this is “don’t piss out of a car window, dent someone’s car, or swear at strangers”. This isn’t Jack Black in most films; this is Jack Black in School of Rock. Someone you’re supposed to support, but is too immature and self-destructive to really care about.

That’s ultimately the film’s biggest problem. We’re supposed to care about Marcus, but it never does the work to make him someone you’d actually want to spend time with. Chaotic energy isn’t a substitute for likeability, no matter what the parents of toddlers tell you. You absolutely can build a comedy around an abrasive protagonist, but the audience needs to understand where that abrasiveness comes from. Otherwise, he’s just a dick. I never felt sorry for Marcus. I felt sorry for everyone who had to deal with him.

Rudd’s older brother Josh is a more believable character, but arguably an even less likeable one. He seems completely oblivious to Rudd’s admiration and feelings of inadequacy, yet there are moments where he almost appears to go out of his way to antagonise him. And the voice box gag at the end is simply too stupid for words.

Thankfully, Cena’s Rudd keeps everything grounded. He could easily have become the sort of bland straight man who exists purely to react while everyone else gets the jokes. Instead, the writing gives him enough warmth and frustration that he feels like a real person. The emotional core only works because Rudd behaves like a human being rather than a plot device. He gets annoyed, he occasionally snaps, but he keeps trying. Cena has become surprisingly adept at playing characters whose defining trait is patience rather than charisma, and that’s a much harder job in comedy than simply being the loudest person in the room.

The important question, though, is whether it’s funny.

Yes. It is.

There are plenty of genuine laughs throughout. Nothing groundbreaking or unforgettable, but enough to keep the film entertaining. Although it leans heavily on Eric André’s trademark chaos, it also has the good sense to avoid some of the more obvious, low-hanging dialogue jokes.

The ending, though, is bizarre. I’m used to films continuing the story during the credits, showing where the characters end up. I’m also used to films filling the credits with bloopers and outtakes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a film try to do both simultaneously. Not one after the other, either. Instead, it constantly cuts between story epilogues and behind-the-scenes outtakes, forcing your brain to keep recalibrating whether what you’re watching is part of the narrative or just the cast messing around. It feels oddly amateurish and neatly sums up my biggest issue with the film: the comedy keeps getting in its own way.

That’s a strange criticism to level at a comedy. I’m not saying it shouldn’t have jokes. I’m saying it’s so desperate to remind you it’s a comedy that it often sabotages itself. Whenever the film starts building a genuinely engaging scene, it feels compelled to interrupt it with another improvised tangent or burst of randomness. Sometimes that works. Just as often, it kills the momentum and undercuts whatever emotional weight the scene was beginning to build.

That’s a shame, because there’s a better film buried underneath. The central relationship is strong enough to carry the story without constantly winking at the audience. None of that makes it a bad watch. It’s breezy, consistently entertaining, and never feels like it’s wasting your time. It just never quite figures out when to stop chasing the next laugh and let the ones it’s already earned breathe. Ironically, by trying so hard to be funny, it sometimes undercuts the humour that’s already there.

It’s an enjoyable comedy rather than a memorable one. You’ll laugh, you’ll probably forget most of it by next week, but for nearly one hundred or so minutes it does enough to justify its existence. Plus, it contains more Hoobastank than any other film released this year.

Apex (2025) Review

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Quick Synopsis: Mourning the death of her partner, Sasha travels around the Outback, finding herself being hunted by Ben, a cannibalistic serial killer.

Four years ago, I reviewed Beast, another film by Baltasar Kormákur that was about someone being hunted in a landscape. In that review, I specifically mentioned how great it looked, and how great a cinema experience it was. So I was sceptical that this was released straight to Netflix, doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I mean, it still looks pretty. But that might be due to the landscape doing half the work for him.

I need to open this review by talking about Australian actors. I mean, they must exist otherwise Home and Away wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did, so why cast a Welsh actor to play Ben? To be fair, they do touch on it, making it clear he wasn’t born there. But he tries an accent for most of it, so he’s supposed to be, at the very least, naturalised. It almost feels like the “You’re not from here, are you?” line was added after someone noticed the accent slipping. The only way it works is if it’s his gimmick, that he’s overexaggerating his Australian nature as part of his “public persona” for some reason, I dunno, because it’s “crazy” and wacky? That would suit the rest of his character. He is definitely supposed to be crazy. But it doesn’t work. It’s like the character isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be Heath Ledgers Joker, or the villain from a 90’s Saturday morning kids cartoon, and not even a good one. Every scene has him narratively screaming, “Look at how crazy I am!” rather than simply letting him be frightening. It’s annoying and kind of distracting, feeling like the character itself is going overboard, rather than the actor. The best screen killers don’t need to constantly advertise their insanity. Michael Myers barely emotes. Anton Chigurh speaks almost conversationally. Even Mick Taylor (watching the Kill Count video for Wolf Creek as I write this), another Australian outback killer, is terrifying because he feels like someone who could actually exist. The villain in Apex feels like someone doing an impression of what a movie psychopath is supposed to look like.

That’s not the only thing harming him as a character. For a serial killer, he doesn’t do much killing. Two people (I think) died in this movie; both died in the exact same way, killed by the protagonist. The antagonist apparently has a history of murdering people, but the audience barely gets to see him do it. We’re told he’s dangerous, but storytelling generally works better when you show these things. By the end, gravity has claimed more victims than the serial killer.

That’s a problem.

It’s like making a Friday The 13th movie where everyone dies in a bus crash. Eventually you stop worrying about the villain and start keeping an eye on the terrain. There’s an obvious rewrite staring the film in the face. Make him an Outback tour guide. It’s perfect. Tourists trust him. He knows the landscape better than anyone else. He can separate people from the group without raising suspicion. Better still, we get to see him operating before the protagonist becomes his target. We understand why he’s dangerous because we’ve watched him be dangerous. So, when he meets someone who refuses to become another victim, we’ve already bought into him as a threat.

Instead, the film spends most of its running time trapped in a hostage scenario rather than delivering the hunt it advertises. The premise promises a predator tracking prey across the Australian wilderness. What we actually get is people being stuck somewhere while the plot periodically remembers there’s supposed to be danger involved.

This is a shame, because buried under the clichés is a genuinely interesting premise. Imagine spending your life preying on easy victims, only to discover this one keeps surviving everything you throw at them. The hunter slowly becomes frustrated. The prey grows more confident. Suddenly the balance of power shifts. That’s a film. Instead, Apex never really commits to that dynamic. Scenes happen, and large stretches of the film simply wash over you. Rather than a tense game of cat and mouse, it often feels like everyone is just waiting for the next location. Also, because the cast is so small, narrative convention tells you neither character is going anywhere until the climax.

The result is a thriller that never quite finds its pulse. It’s never aggressively bad. It’s too well-shot for that, and the scenery genuinely is spectacular. But almost every interesting idea feels like it’s sitting in the draft immediately underneath the one that got filmed.

You can see the better version peeking through the cracks. But I don’t want to spend my time peering at cracks, I risk getting put on a list for that.

Moana (Live-Action) (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: The island of Motunui is struck by blight, leaving the inhabitants at risk of extinction. It’s left to future chief Moana to try to find demigod Maui and get him to restore the heart of Te Fiti. That’s a lot of names thrown at you, trust me, it’s much simpler than it sounds.

It’s rare for a BBFC certificate to fill me with a strong sense of foreboding. It normally happens when I watch a horror film and realise it’s rated 12A. But it’s what happened with this movie. It’s not called Moana; you may think it is because that’s how everyone talks about it, and it’s how it’s listed on the poster and the trailer, etc. It’s not even called Moana (2026). According to the certificate at the start, its official title is actually Moana (Live-Action). So from now on, when I talk about Moana (Live-Action), I will constantly give it its full title of Moana (Live-Action). Yes, it will get annoying and sound clunky the more I talk about my thoughts on Moana (Live-Action), but that just illustrates my point that it’s a terrible title.

I’ll admit, that was a longer discussion about the name of the film than I do in most reviews. I suppose I should talk about the film itself. Which is going to be difficult, because there’s nothing new to talk about. Annoyingly, I didn’t review the original; otherwise I could just copy and paste that review. I could probably get away with copying my How To Train Your Dragon review though. Much like that movie, I had memories of the original, but not enough to recognise subtle differences. But I did pick up on similarities. Of which there are a lot. I get it, Moana is fantastic, and people hold it in high regard, so you don’t want to mess with what worked. But the repetition of scenes, shots, jokes, etc, means that Moana (Live-Action) never feels like its own movie. It feels like what it is; an imitation.

If you haven’t seen the original, then you will love Moana (Live-Action). Okay, I’m gonna stop that running joke now because it’s really annoying me. Plus my editor told me to. What worked about the original still works here. It’s still funny, it’s still stunning to look at, and the music is still incredible. But if you have seen the original, then you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. This movie has a writer who wasn’t involved in the original, which is baffling, as there’s certainly not enough changes to justify paying someone. There’s a new song, and a few tweaks, but nothing major. Now that Moana 2 exists, it could have easily put the characters from that movie into this one. I’m not saying they should be new leads or massively affect the story, but would it have hurt to have them referenced? It also could have fixed a few problems with the original story; it really should have focused more on the island whilst Moana wasn’t there. At the moment, the film is so focused on WHAT she’s doing that it doesn’t demonstrate WHY effectively enough. What has happened on the island whilst she’s gone? Are they worried? Is the food situation getting worse? Do they think she’s dead?

None of these accusations of laziness can be levied at the technical crew and the performers. The Rock is still the perfect casting for his character. Catherine Laga’aia is scarily good considering her lack of big-screen experience. I have faith that her career will survive this; she has an electric presence and can only go up from here. While he wasn’t on screen much, when he was, I couldn’t help but notice how much John Tui resembled professional wrestler/nose-biter offer/mace survivor/all-round very scary man Haku. Turns out he has already played another wrestler; Afa Anoi’a, who was cousins with The Rock’s dad. Huh, small world. Anyway, he’s great in this too. Rena Owen and Frankie Adams also play their parts well. But again, none of the three islanders gets much of a chance to show what their characters are once Moana gets to sea.

It still looks breath-taking. Considering how much of it is blue sky and blue water, it would be easy for the visuals to be muddled and make it difficult to see what happens. That never happens here. Everything is clear, visible, and stunning. There’s almost nothing at all that looks fake; even the dancing tattoo looks real. Nothing about the visuals takes you out of the story.

The music still slaps. New song Along The Way slips so perfectly into it that you’d be forgiven for not realising it’s a new song. That sounds harsher than I intend it to. The Rock has improved his vocals slightly from the original film, but not enough to justify the internet becoming obsessed with You’re Welcome again.

Moana is not a bad film. On its own merits, in a vacuum, it’s superb. But it’s not released in a vacuum, is it? It’s released not only with the original existing, but with the entire success of this movie depending on people remembering the original existing and wanting to see it again.

In summary, it’s not bad, but it is disappointing. Disney need to stop remaking films like this. Either remake films which were badly received (and improve them), or remake films from decades ago which people will want to see live action versions of. Basically, Disney need to do a live-action remake of 1973’s Robin Hood (1973? Really? Wow. I assumed it was 80s). Not only will it look different from the original (the original Moana looked so life-like already, which is another reason a live-action remake is pointless), it will also make a shitload of money for two reasons:

  1. People LOVE the original.
  2. Furries.

Evil Dead Burn (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: After the loss of her husband, a grieving widow seeks solace with her in-laws in their remote family home, only to find them possessed one by one by Deadites, forcing her into a blood-soaked fight for survival against demonic evil.

I’ve not watched an Evil Dead film since Army Of Darkness. I like to watch series in order, and I didn’t see the original until Halloween 2024. So I’m two movies and a three-season television show behind. There’s quite a fair bit of lore in this franchise, so there was a chance I’d be lost.I was, briefly. At the start, I found myself wondering who certain people were, but truthfully, it didn’t actually matter. I didn’t need to know who it was; the important thing was WHAT they were: deadites.

The franchise is weirdly regarded as comedic, despite that comedy only really coming to the forefront in Army Of Darkness; the rest have had moments of comedy, but first and foremost, they have always been horror (unless you find the idea of a tree sexually assaulting a young woman funny, in which case, ew). In that sense, EDB (EBD, pronounced Ee-deeb) is a huge success. It’s incredibly disturbing. I worried it would mistake cruelty for horror in the same way some horror films have (hello Thanksgiving, and the work of Rob Zombie), but thankfully it doesn’t. For one thing, you never get the sense that you’re supposed to cheer or revel in the violence. It fills you with fear, which is what a horror film should do.

EDB isn’t just violence; it also brings tension to the table, specifically the dinner table, where one of the year’s most tense scenes takes place. I’ve not exactly been quiet in my love of dinner scenes in movies, and EDB has a great one. The tension builds beautifully. You know something will happen. There are too many shots of heavy and/or sharp objects for something not to happen. But what it will do is it will get close, then draw back. So you’re relieved; the nightmare is over. But then it starts again, getting more tense this time, then quiets down. It repeats this until your nerves are at their breaking point. By the time the inevitable explosion of violence arrives, the film has earned every second of it.

It’s helped by having believable characters. These aren’t characters; they feel like real people. You could easily imagine them existing outside of a horror movie. They clearly have a history together. This is great as it means there’s an emotional resonance to the actions. You’re not just watching people die and be physically harmed. You’re watching family relationships get broken, trust be shattered, moments where the emotional pain cuts almost as deep as the physical. When Alice (played brilliantly by Souheilia Yacoub) is being hunted at the end, you’re not bored; you’re nervous. You want her to stop suffering, you want her to survive, not just because she’s the protagonist and that’s what’s supposed to happen, but because you’ve grown so attached to her that she feels like a friend. That’s the case for everybody in this film. Even if you don’t like them (and some are truly despicable), you understand their motivations. They’re all played by good actors too. There’s not a single weak link; everybody is on top form. EDB benefits from an unusually small central cast. Yes, technically the cast list is much larger, but most of those characters only appear in the opening and closing scenes. The overwhelming majority of the film unfolds with just six people trapped inside a single house, giving it an intimate, claustrophobic quality that suits the story perfectly.

In fact, I think you could have set almost the entire film within the grounds of the house. You’d need a few flashbacks and some narrative adjustments to cover what happens around the funeral, but it would work. It would also strengthen the parallels with the original, replacing the isolated cabin with the isolated lakehouse.

Not everything works, though. Susan’s capitulation to Edgar doesn’t quite feel real. By that point, she’s already seen what he’s become, so she has every reason not to open the door. I understand what the film is trying to achieve dramatically, but it makes her seem inexplicably foolish. Narratively, she threw a bag full of knives out a window and expects us to believe she’s shocked that those knives stabbed someone.

That’s not my only criticism. I mentioned earlier how the dinner party kept pulling back the tension only to build it up further. It tries that again near the end of the film, but pushes it a bit too far. There are multiple times where we’re given the film language of “this will end soon”, only to have another scene start. The ending is not bad, but it does definitely feel like the end of a rollercoaster where the thrills are over, and you can feel the brakes being put on.

I was also less enthusiastic about some of the visual choices. None of them looks bad (in fact, the film is consistently gorgeous), but there are moments where it feels as though individual shots were designed to look striking in a trailer rather than serve the story as effectively as they could.

The score is similarly effective without ever becoming particularly memorable. The sound design, however, is exceptional. It works hand in hand with the visuals to make every injury feel revoltingly tangible. Weapons don’t pass silently through flesh; you hear skin tearing, bones cracking and bodies breaking. It’s deeply unpleasant in exactly the way the film intends.

Those are minor quibbles. It’s otherwise a damn solid horror movie. It’s not quite as good as Backrooms, which remains my horror film of the year, but it’s comfortably one of the best genre offerings I’ve seen in 2026. More importantly, it understands what horror is actually supposed to do. Too many modern horror films mistake cruelty for fear, or assume gallons of blood automatically make something intense. EDB knows that gore without context is just noise. Every gruesome moment works because it’s rooted in believable characters and emotionally grounded situations, however supernatural they become. The violence isn’t there to earn applause; it’s there to make you flinch.

Overall, I love it. Even coming into the film without all the intervening lore, EDB reminded me why Evil Dead has endured for over forty years: beneath all the blood and possession is an understanding that horror only works when you care who’s suffering. I’m already excited for the next one (and to catch up on the ones I’ve missed).

Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: When a mobster uses a time machine to save his best friend from a deadly night, two versions of himself, a dangerous criminal conspiracy, and the woman they both love collide in a chaotic race to rewrite fate.

Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice (or M&N&N&A, pronounced *deep breath* Mandnandnanda) is a weird movie. Mainly because of how normal it is. You’d expect an action-comedy based around time travel would be weird and feature set-pieces and moments which you’ve never seen before, but it doesn’t. So whilst it is original, it does feel kind of like it’s wasted the premise. 90% of what happens in M&N&N&A could happen in any other film, and most of the remaining 10% could be very quickly rewritten to make sense in a standard film. I mean, this is a time travel action movie, and my first draft didn’t even mention the time travel aspects; that’s how little they actually matter. There’s very little discussion of paradoxes or any of the other stuff you expect from movies about the subject.

Wasted potential aside, it is fun. Vince Vaughn is clearly having a blast, but he is hampered by there only being a six-month gap between the two Nicks, so in terms of personality they’re very similar. I also have another issue with Nick’s character. The film states that he and Mike used to be really close. But the way they interact before we’re told that wouldn’t lead you to think that. They interact almost like strangers, and not in a “we have nothing to say to each other anymore, and it’s awkward” way.

On the subject of cast, James Marsden is good at what he does, but he does need to start adding a few more tools to his arsenal, or at the very least take on more diverse roles than what he’s currently doing. He’s not helped by how bland Mike is as a character. Nick, you can imagine Nick outside of this movie; there’s enough there to base a short story around him. Mike? You’ve got nothing to go on. He’s so bland he feels like the default protagonist in a poorly made GTA clone. Eiza González is good (but Alice is sorely underused, often treated more as a prop than a character), with great chemistry with Marsden and Vaughn. Keith David? Well, it’s always nice to see Keith David in things. He elevates everything he’s in.

Using Sheena Easton to soundtrack a fight scene is a great touch. It’s playful, unexpected, and fits the film’s offbeat sense of humour perfectly. That being said, the “action scene set to a country song” has become a bit of a cliché. It feels like every other crime film or action comedy has one now, and the novelty has definitely worn off. It’s the action version of “Horror film trailer set to a slowed-down female vocal cover of a pop song”. At this point, I’d happily support a moratorium on country-song action montages for a few years until they start feeling fresh again.

One thing that stood out was the conversation about Gilmore Girls. It’s such an oddly specific topic for characters to get into in the middle of a dangerous situation, and that’s exactly why it works. It’s almost Tarantino-esque; all it’s missing is superfluous n-words and shots of the actresses’ bare feet. I can understand why some viewers might find scenes like this frustrating, arguing that the characters are too nonchalant considering there’s a mob boss actively trying to kill them. But I never got that impression. The threat is always lingering beneath the surface, influencing their decisions even when they’re talking about something completely mundane (well, as mundane as the end of a relationship can be). It feels less like they’re ignoring the danger and more like they’re coping with it however they can. These are also characters who’ve spent a lot of time around violence and death, so the possibility of being murdered isn’t exactly a new concept to them. Their casual conversations feel like a believable defence mechanism rather than a lapse in the writing.

The playful dialogue doesn’t always work, though. There’s a scene in a convenience store that’s ridiculously dumb, featuring a store clerk dismissing the very notion of “sugar-free candy”. Even if, technically, candy has sugar, you’d know what they meant. It’s like saying, “Vegan sausage rolls can’t exist because sausage is meat. Idiot”, technically right, but overly pedantic, and you’d have to be an idiot to argue it. Mike not being aware of what chloroform is also feels like something that a real person wouldn’t say, especially considering his line of work.

The action scenes are fine, occasionally bloody, sometimes fun. But there’s nothing that stands out, nothing that you’d look at and think “oh, now that’s cool”. Not everything has to be John Wick, but I saw this film less than a week ago, and no action scenes have stuck with me.

The emotional high point is the group singing Oasis to a dying Nick. It’s an unexpectedly sincere moment in a film that’s otherwise full of jokes and criminal chaos, and it’s genuinely quite touching. Unfortunately, the scene slightly undercuts itself because Nick’s death takes just a little too long. The emotional impact starts to fade as the moment stretches on, and what begins as heartfelt edges towards awkward. Had it been trimmed, it probably would have landed much more effectively.

That sums up this movie. It keeps showing glimpses of greatness. With clever dialogue, flashes of invention, and occasional bursts of inspired action. But then it walks back that greatness with jokes that rely on inexplicable stupidity, or scenes that take one good idea and stretch it just a little too far (again, the sugar-free candy bit). Ultimately, it feels like a blockbuster. By which I mean, a movie you’d rent from Blockbuster back when they were still a thing.

Minions And Monsters (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: Those annoying little yellow shits that you may know from memes your relatives post on Facebook decide to make a movie.

As I sometimes do with sequels, I’m going to post a segment from my review of the previous movie, this time, 2022’s Minions: The Rise Of Gru:

I was ready to slate this; I was ready to come down on this harder than the next UK Prime Minister comes down on an unemployed person not applying for jobs in their sleep. I was going to use every insult that exists, and a few that I made up just to express my anger at this film.

But then it ruined my plans by having the audacity, the sheer gall, to actually be okay. How very dare you! I mean, it’s not going to end up on my “best of 2021” list, mainly because it’s 2022, but also because the best it ever gets is “okay”. I’ll admit, I’m not a huge fan of the franchise; I think it’s because it’s basically old Buster Keaton skits, but in animation so there’s no sense of danger or risk. There’s also always the sneaking suspicion that it’s a merchandise-driven series rather than a creative one. It’s strange as it’s when this film links to the others in the franchise that it’s at its weakest. The timeline doesn’t line up AT ALL with the first Minions film, and when it makes references to the other films it falls flat, and like every prequel ever made has moments where the audience reacts with “what a useful skill/gadget, that would have been useful in [scene in a film made earlier but chronologically takes place later]”.

I try to keep politics out of reviews unnecessarily, but I have to commend Minions and Monsters (MAM) for allowing me to use less energy by recycling my own review. Hashtag, we only have one planet. Really, the only thing I would change from that review to make it applicable to this is remove the year 2022. Everything else is still accurate. It’s still a franchise that feels like it was conceived as a series of Happy Meal toys rather than a movie, with all the continuity of a drunk person explaining the Halloween franchise. In my review of Black Phone 2, I said: “As a stand-alone film, it’s pretty good, as a sequel, it’s a mess”. MAM is similar; the weakest parts are when it remembers it’s a Minions movie.

One sentence from that earlier review rings a lot more true this time: the Buster Keaton comparisons. Parts of MAM don’t just resemble a Keaton short; there are a few parts where it grabs you by the shoulders and tries to sell you a box set of his greatest hits, so much so that it feels like he should appear in the credits under “special thanks”. I watch a lot of films that people would describe as pretentious, and I can’t remember the last time I saw any film (let alone a mainstream animated film featuring yellow kidney beans) craft such a heartfelt love letter to silent movies. I’m used to animated films putting in references for adults, but even the parents would be too young for a lot of these references. Is there a crossover between “people who watch Minions” and “People who would recognise a reference to the 1902 Georges Méliès A Trip To The Moon”? That fills me with hope. Because it means that there’s a chance a kid will watch those scenes and then catch a glimpse of one of the original works, and be inspired to look into it, and find themselves falling in love with silent cinema.

Don’t worry, though. It doesn’t stay classy for too long.

Much like the introduction of talkies killed silent cinema, the introduction of them into the plot of MAM also kills any sense of originality, and it quickly becomes more of the same. Goomi, the tiny Cthulhu from the trailer, is introduced more than halfway through the movie. So he’s the villain? Nope, after more shtick than you shake a stick at, he gets them to free two sea monsters who are intent on taking over the world and destroying everything. So they’re the big villain? Nope. After more narrative faffing around, the three monsters summon Irene, a large orange blob monster with more eyes than a narcissist’s diary (that joke only works when you say it out loud, but I’m sticking with it). She appears, has one moment of chaos, then is destroyed by an alien who’s flanked by minions in a spacecraft. There are throwaway jokes longer than the villain’s appearance in this movie.

It’s like watching a relay race where every runner immediately hands the baton to someone else because none of them actually want the responsibility of being the antagonist. Every time the film introduces what you think is going to be the threat, it immediately goes, “Actually, no, THIS is the threat.” By the end, it’s burned through more villains than an arsonist superhero; you half expect the closing credits to reveal there was another one waiting in the car park.

I will say this: Minions is very rarely boring. Something is always happening, even if that something doesn’t advance the plot at all and is just the narrative equivalent of jingling keys around. It never builds towards anything; there’s no natural progression, it’s just a series of stuff happening. The closing section is not just bad; it’s disappointing. Worse than that, it’s generic. None of it is unique or memorable.

Which is why the silent cinema sections stand out even more. They feel like they belong to a different film entirely, one made by people passionately paying tribute to the history of cinema rather than fulfilling a contractual obligation to set up the next line of plush toys. If the entire film had committed to that style, this could have been one of Illumination’s most interesting projects. Instead, it eventually remembers it’s supposed to be a Minions movie, panics, and throws every monster, spaceship and glowing MacGuffin it can find at the screen until the credits arrive.

Now onto the closing scene and the credits. The closing scene reveals that the entire movie (including the framing device) is actually a film-within-a-film, directed by James and Henry, two of the minions from this movie. Oh yeah, the minions in this are different from the ones in the previous movies. Same species, different characters, that all happen to look exactly the same, have similar mannerisms, and wear similar clothes. So, none of the events of this movie happened? Fine, I’ll go along with that. But then the closing credits reveal that the magic book is real. It’s less “twist”, and more “different writers took a scene each and didn’t collaborate to make sure their visions lined up”. So did the events happen or not? The film seems to want to have it both ways: if you point out that at no point in this franchise has anybody realised that Gru’s minions look like a similar species that appeared in multiple films from the 20’s, then “it didn’t happen, it’s just a movie”, but for the sake of some mid-credits jokes, it definitely happened.

There’s another small problem I have, not just with this movie, but the franchise as a whole. It doesn’t really feel like they want to help villains. They say they do; they act as if their main motivation is to help evil and enslave humanity. But most of the time their actions don’t align with that. For one thing, they stop the runaway train from running people over. If they were truly evil, wouldn’t they have welcomed it? The franchise never treats them as the villains it tells us they are; they are only ever heroic.

Ultimately, Pierre Coffin’s biggest mistake with this Minions movie was making it a Minions movie. If it belonged to an original franchise, then it wouldn’t have needed to fall apart in the final third to live up to expectations, and it wouldn’t have needed to tie itself in knots to stay in continuity.

I suppose that’s enough about the writing. How about the technical aspects? They’re more difficult to judge. The lighting, colours and character animation are perfectly competent, but there’s never a shot that makes you stop and admire it. There’s nothing visually exciting about it. Also, the music doesn’t stand out at all. It’s not that the visuals or the score are bad, but they both feel as if they had no love put into them. There’s no flair, no style, and no substance. Ironically, the only sections with any visual personality are the ones borrowing techniques from filmmakers working over a century ago. That’s a shame, because the film leaves so much on the table. If it had committed to the silent movie motif, the score could have become one of its strongest assets. There’s a moment where a shark attacks the minions; imagine how much more memorable that sequence would have been with an old-fashioned reimagining of the Jaws theme.

Fans of the franchise will enjoy it, and the section set in old Hollywood is something worth not just admiring, but studying. But it doesn’t matter how delicious a steak meal is if the dessert is a literal steaming pile of shit.

The Invite (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: A struggling married couple’s dinner with their free-spirited neighbours spirals into a provocative night of awkward revelations that forces them to confront the cracks in their relationship.

I love dinner parties in movies. They’re so fun to watch because they naturally allow group conversation, and there are certain unspoken etiquette rules that are always entertaining to watch get broken. If you want to expose your characters’ conflicts, put them around a dinner table and let what happens happen. The Invite takes that idea and makes it the entire concept.

It’s an English-language adaptation of the 2020 Spanish film The People Upstairs. It’s fairly obvious this is a remake of a non-American film. There’s something about it that feels slightly unconventional. It’s not just that it’s a summer movie driven by characters and dialogue rather than big action setpieces. It kind of feels like the cinematic equivalent of ordering food in a foreign country by speaking English with an accent. Familiar enough to understand, but just different enough to feel a little strange.

That sense of oddness is backed up by Olivia Wilde’s directing style. It’s incredibly static, with some weird blocking choices. Sometimes it feels like a play that we’re watching from the audience, sometimes it feels like someone just plonked a camera down randomly with no thought or care, and other times there’s a voyeuristic quality, as if we’ve wandered into a private argument we shouldn’t be witnessing. With that in mind, it’s difficult to criticise the film too harshly on a technical level because it’s clearly not trying to impress with flashy filmmaking. It’s aiming for a naturalistic style that occasionally feels awkward, but intentionally so.

What will chiefly inform your opinion on The Invite is the characters and the dialogue. The audience I saw it with loved it, and it’s easy to see why: it’s incredibly funny at times, with some truly incredible dialogue, and a cast who clearly enjoy bouncing off one another. The conversations have an energy that keeps scenes engaging even when very little is happening. That’s the issue, though: very little does happen. There’s almost no narrative progression for most of the runtime. Rather than pushing the characters into new emotional territory, the film spends much of its time having them elaborate on feelings they’ve already expressed. To be honest, it spends most of it catching up with the trailer. I’ve seen the trailer; I know this film involves the neighbours proposing group sex. I assumed that would be the inciting incident and it would lead to things. Instead, it’s the destination, and it’s a destination the film takes far too long getting to.

That lack of progression also affects the central relationship. Joe and Angela don’t feel like real people so much as vehicles for clever dialogue. Every conversation is packed with witty observations, but it rarely feels spontaneous or lived-in. Also, there was no warmth to the relationship between the two main characters. I understand that the point is they’re trapped in a loveless marriage fuelled by resentment, too afraid to admit it’s over. That doesn’t mean spending nearly two hours with them becomes any easier. I kept waiting for just one moment of genuine warmth, some glimpse of why these two people fell in love in the first place. There’s a brief moment where it seems they might unite against the bickering of the other couple, but it disappears almost as quickly as it arrives.

That lack of warmth really hampers the ending. Joe finally returns to the piano, Angela joins him, and they seem to reconcile. It’s a sweet scene in isolation, but after nearly two hours of anger, bitterness and emotional distance, it feels too small to justify such a dramatic shift. It’s like trying to fix a leg amputation with a piece of sellotape.

For all my issues, there is still a lot to enjoy about The Invite. Beneath all the bitterness is an impactful look at people and keeping the spark alive in long-term relationships. For a film that’s so bitter, it just may save the relationship of someone watching. They may see it and be inspired to try more, to treat their partner with love, to keep wooing them and trying to impress them instead of confusing stability for fulfilment. The ensemble also works well as a true four-hander, with every actor getting plenty to do. Although, interestingly, despite having a female director and co-writer, the film subtly privileges Joe’s perspective. He’s the only character we spend meaningful time with alone, and the only one we follow outside the apartment. It’s a small imbalance, but one that makes the supposedly shared story feel slightly weighted towards him.

I won’t begrudge anybody enjoying this. Mainly because being annoyed at someone for their film opinions would be weird. Maybe a younger, more cynical me would have loved this. It will find its audience, of that I’m certain. But I’m not part of that audience. I appreciate what it’s trying to do, but it never quite invited me in.

Supergirl (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: A villain paralyses a superhero’s dog. Comes to regret it.

There’s a certain section of the internet that hates this movie. According to them, Supergirl is misandrist, implying that men are simple creatures who only see women as sex objects. They also think the film should have had Sydney Sweeney as the lead because she’s got nicer tits. I don’t see how you can view this as anti-men; it’s anti-child sex traffickers. If you see a movie be against sex trafficking and your first thought is “this movie hates men”, then you need to rethink your definition of masculinity.

It’s weird, especially since there are legitimate reasons to dislike Supergirl (from now on, when I say Supergirl, assume I’m talking about the movie; I’ll refer to the character as Kara for clarity’s sake). The plot is muddled, the villain is underwhelming, the visuals are inconsistent, characters often behave in ways that contradict what we’re told about them, and the soundtrack isn’t quite as memorable as it clearly thinks it is.

In terms of the directing, James Gunn is overseeing DC movies now, and that’s VERY evident in Supergirl. The film is so indebted to Gunn’s style that it barely feels like a Craig Gillespie movie at all. Instead, it feels like someone trying to make a James Gunn movie (but not at the same level as 2024’s Borderlands). It’s dark, not in tone, in terms of visuals. There are more than a few scenes where it’s difficult to work out what’s happening. This really harms the action sequences, as everything is so difficult to see that it’s impossible to be either impressed or emotionally affected by the action.

I actually liked the soundtrack overall, but there are too many moments where it feels desperate to seem cool or underline the film’s message. It’s never quite as heavy-handed as Captain Marvel dropping “Just a Girl,” but it comes close a few times. And yes, this is something I complain about constantly, but it desperately needed a killer cover song. The acoustic version of “The Middle” is fantastic, but to distinguish Kara’s ethos from Superman’s, an angry female-led cover of a classic American song could have been genuinely inspired.

Those issues would be more forgivable if the film wasn’t hamstrung by such a lacklustre villain. Krem has some good moments; the fact that he steals food from everyone he meets is a nice touch, and his actions truly are despicable. But it constantly feels like he’s not the big bad, but someone who reports to the big bad. Throughout the film, I kept expecting him to meet a superior who’d berate him before killing him for his failures. The film also seems intent on presenting Krem as Kara’s ideological opposite, but that idea never really lands because he doesn’t appear to have much of an ideology. There’s an implication that he’s trying to preserve his species through horrific means, yet the script barely explores that motivation. He rarely talks about his people, so instead he simply comes across as someone who would have been a sex trafficker regardless of circumstance. There’s no moral complexity to wrestle with. He’s not a villain whose worldview makes you pause and think. He’s just a dick.

The film also has a habit of telling rather than showing when it comes to Kara’s character. We’re repeatedly told she’s selfish, reckless, and directionless, yet the story rarely demonstrates those qualities. She only meets Ruthye because of a selfless act, and she beats up a stranger just to recover Ruthye’s sword. Her emotional core is built around survivor’s guilt, the trauma of losing her family, and her determination to save her dog. That’s someone with a strong moral compass, not someone who’s fundamentally selfish. Likewise, Ruthye is presented as an innocent child, yet she often speaks with wisdom far beyond her years, creating a disconnect between how she’s described and how she’s actually written.

That said, there’s still a lot to like here. Kara immediately establishes herself as a distinct character rather than simply being Superman with blonde hair. She’s angry, rebellious, impulsive, and deeply traumatised. Her past informs every decision she makes, and she’s refreshingly messy. She’s just as likely to smash a stereo as she is to break a villain’s back. Milly Alcock captures that contradiction beautifully, balancing confidence with vulnerability. She has the physicality for the action scenes, but she’s at her best in the quieter moments, when Kara’s bravado slips and we catch a glimpse of the frightened person beneath it.

The relationship between Kara and Ruthye is very sweet and helps elevate the somewhat conventional revenge narrative. It’s not exactly subtle, but it doesn’t need to be. There are times where sincerity works better than subtlety. Supergirl is very sincere; I’ll give it that. It wears its heart and message on its sleeve, and I love that about it.

Despite its flaws, Supergirl succeeds because it gives Kara a distinct identity and wears its heart on its sleeve. It isn’t the strongest superhero film in recent years, but it lays a promising foundation for DC’s future.

Pizza Movie (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: Two friends need food to counteract the drugs they’ve just taken. All they need to do is get downstairs.

Sometimes you see a synopsis and the only thought in your head is “Wait, doesn’t that movie already exist?” Usually it’s because a movie is incredibly popular, so studios rush to release something similar. With that in mind, it’s hard to read the plot for this and not think “wait, isn’t that basically 2004’s Harold And Kumar Go To White Castle/Get The Munchies?” It’s an easy comparison to make. Two friends take drugs and try to find food. One of them is a nervous guy working up the courage to talk to a woman, the other being more impulsive, encouraging adventures and drug-taking. I thought that too; that was actually the first line I wrote in my notes while watching it.

But then the film revealed itself, and it’s more than the comparisons would suggest. For one thing, the female characters have more agency. They’re no longer just prizes or props; they’re fully formed characters with their own flaws and weirdness. The main characters have more depth too. Unlike Harold and Kumar, whose defining trait is essentially “they smoke weed”, Jack and Montgomery feel like people who happen to take drugs rather than characters entirely built around them.

Sadly, adept character writing doesn’t always make a good film. The drug trips themselves are superb: imaginative, creative, and a lot of fun. By comparison, the bits between them aren’t quite as good. There are also a few moments where it seems to suggest the drugs are not just affecting the characters, but are changing reality itself, with time loops, levitation, etc. There’s a cute moment at the end where we see the hallucination from an outsider’s perspective: the characters believe they’ve formed into Juan giant person (not a typo, an in-movie joke). From their point of view, they’re seamlessly moving as one person. From the viewpoint of others, it’s just the three characters tightly hugging each other and struggling to move. That’s fun. But then you have the time loop sequence, where there’s no obvious real-world explanation. Are bystanders genuinely watching these people scream, run back down a corridor, and repeat the process? If so, why does nobody react?

That being said, the time loop section is one of my favourite parts, so it’s not really a criticism. It’s more of a warning that to enjoy this film there’s a lot of “don’t think about it too hard, just go with it”. It’s not just the story, the comedy is like that too. The jokes don’t come quite as thick and fast as they do in something like Fackham Hall or The Naked Gun, but there’s certainly a variety. Some are quite smart, some are among the dumbest things you’ll see all week (even if you watch the trailer for the new Minions movie), and some exist purely because some guy thought “wouldn’t it be funny if….”

The willingness to embrace absurdity helps sell some of the weirder concepts. How many other films would have the villain be defeated by overdosing on drugs and realising they’re part of a low-budget indie movie? Or feature one of the writers joking that “my granddad wants to be in this movie”, only for a suspiciously elderly student to appear a few minutes later, played with deliberately amateurish enthusiasm? For such a gloriously stupid film, it’s surprisingly smart.

The visuals, however, are merely fine. A premise like this should give its directors licence to get truly weird, to push the visuals as far as their imagination will allow. Instead, everything feels rather restrained. There’s nothing wrong with how the film looks, but it rarely feels ambitious. The modest budget undoubtedly imposed limitations, yet there’s little here to suggest what these filmmakers might paint with a larger canvas.

The performances? They’re fine. Gaten Matarazzo does just enough to distinguish himself from his Stranger Things character. Sean Giambrone is slightly closer to his television role (Adam in The Goldbergs), but that’s more due to writing than performance. The two share a chemistry that makes you believe they’re actually friends. On the downside, the two are so good together that the traditional third-act split doesn’t land because you don’t truly believe these two would drift apart so easily. Lulu Wilson is the third part of the friendship group, and if there’s a third Ready Or Not movie, she wouldn’t be the worst choice as another relative to Kathryn Newton and Samara Weaving (she’d actually be the second best choice, first being Margot Robbie, obviously). Peyton Elizabeth Lee also leaves a strong impression despite limited material, and I’d happily watch her in a larger role.

The standout, though, is Sarah Sherman. She barely appears, yet completely owns every scene she’s in. She’s wonderfully odd, but never in a way that feels forced or performative. Instead, she gives the impression of someone who would happily spend an evening sitting alone in a dark room doing weird things regardless of whether anyone else was watching. It’s a fascinating performance, and one that makes me even more excited for Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, which is rapidly becoming one of my most anticipated films of the year.

This won’t finish near the top of anyone’s Best Films of the Year list. But it’s well worth seeking out. It starts off looking like a Harold & Kumar clone (Harold and Two-mar?) before carving out its own identity through inventive ideas, likeable characters and an appealing willingness to embrace utter nonsense. At the very least, it’s funny, imaginative, and exactly the kind of film you’d have rented from a video shop back in the day, then ended up watching two or three times over the same weekend.

Toy Story 5 (2026) Review

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Quick Synopsis: Old-fashioned toys teach us the dangers of technology in a film that will soon be released on Disney+ and made available to watch online.

I don’t care about this movie.

I don’t care that it’s missing one of the main voice actors due to him sadly passing on. I don’t care that it seems like a cash-grab. And I don’t care that it kind of overrides the perfect ending of Toy Story 3. I don’t care about any of this, because I fucking loved this movie.

Sorry, did I say it overrides the ending of Toy Story 3? I meant Toy Story 4. That’s embarrassing on my part. It’s easy to see how I made that mistake, though; I just copy-and-pasted the opening to my Toy Story 4 review. I think if you liked the first four, you’ll like this too. It’s more of the same, in a good way. It features the same characters, going through the same lessons. At this point Woody and friends have had to learn that children are their own people so many times that I genuinely think they should see a doctor (although they are American, so they probably can’t afford it). The toys appear to suffer from a condition where every life lesson evaporates from their minds after about eighteen months

That sounds overly negative. It’s not meant like it. I did love this movie. I love it BECAUSE I know what to expect. I know I’m going to laugh. I know it’s going to break my heart a little bit. I know that Pixar will somehow convince me that what happens to some pieces of plastic is the most important thing in the world. I also know it’s going to look fantastic. Toy Story 5 (TS5) is probably the best-looking one of the series. It actually tries something new. When Bonnie is playing with the toys, it animates them in a way that it looks like, well, the only way to say it is watercolour CGI. The backgrounds become softer, colours blend together differently, and everything feels slightly dreamlike. It’s a surprisingly bold visual choice for the fifth entry in a franchise that could easily coast on familiarity. It doesn’t last throughout the film, but the brief moments that it does really stand out.

My issues are very small; it repeats points the franchise has already made. That’s a pretty big one, and I’ve already gone into it. One of the kids is animated in a way that she looks older than she is supposed to be, so she comes off as slightly immature. Really, it’s just her height, and the fact that until we see her interact with the toys, she does seem more of a teen than a child. There are also a few moments where the “humans never notice the toys” rule gets stretched to breaking point. The scenes involving multiple Buzz Lightyears are the biggest example. While that subplot pays off later, opening the movie with it felt like a mistake. It’s one of those ideas that’s fun once you understand where it’s going, but not necessarily the strongest foot to start on. Similarly, the film introduces a toy capable of sending messages that people don’t remember writing. Not one adult involved seems remotely alarmed by this. If my phone started sending texts that I had no recollection of sending, my first assumption would not be “lol, I am a silly billy”, mainly because my name isn’t Billy.

Besides those very minor points? It works. There’s a slight change in narrative focus. For perhaps the first time since the original movie, Toy Story feels genuinely interested in the human side of the story again. Bonnie isn’t just the kid the toys belong to. She’s an actual character with wants, fears and problems of her own. The film spends more time examining her perspective than previous entries did, and it’s stronger for it. There’s also an increased focus on Jessie. It’s hard to believe she wasn’t in the original movie. There was a 4-year period where Jessie wasn’t a part of the Toy Story universe at all. But she slotted in perfectly. I love how much more Joan Cusack is given to do in this. She may not be the top-listed, but she’s arguably the main character. The transition is handled well. It never feels like the film is forcing her into the spotlight. If anything, it feels like a natural evolution. Bonnie would realistically gravitate more towards Jessie than Woody, and the story simply follows that logic.

One thing I particularly enjoyed was the film quietly shutting down the long-running fan theory that Jessie originally belonged to Andy’s mother. I was never the biggest fan of that. Not because it was impossible or stupid, but because it makes the world feel smaller if EVERYBODY is connected. Also, if your childhood toy suddenly reappeared in your house decades later, you’d probably notice. At the very least, you’d spend a few minutes wondering whether you’d stumbled into a Child’s Play sequel (hopefully not Seed).

As for the newcomers? They work well. Lilypad will inevitably get most of the attention, and for good reason. She’s built around an interesting contradiction. The film needs children within the story to find her appealing, while simultaneously making sure real children don’t immediately demand one for Christmas and accidentally prove the villain’s point. It’s a difficult balancing act, but the film mostly pulls it off. There is a toy made of her, but it’s a VERY basic educational one, with none of the social and addictive capabilities that are in the film. The other tech-based toys are fine, but if they weren’t in the inevitable Toy Story 6, you wouldn’t miss them. Blaze, meanwhile, ended up being one of the more interesting additions. Believable as a child projecting an air of confidence whilst simultaneously having an inner personality that’s mostly anxiety. Mykal-Michelle Harris does a great job, and I do hope Blaze and Bonnie are an integral part of the franchise going forward.

In summary: it’s another Toy Story movie. Whether that’s a glowing recommendation or a dire warning is up to you. For me, it’s the former. Also the case apparently for the woman at work who spent six minutes very passionately telling me how much she loved TS5 before I’d even seen it.

Looking back, that should probably have been a clue as to how good this is.