On this week’s Screening Room podcast, Hope & George break down this week’s new releases: How to Make a Killing, Psycho Killer, Paul McCartney: Man on the Run, EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert, The Oscar Nominated Short Films, This Is Not a Test, The Last Sacrifice, The Dreadful, Diabolic, Kokuho, and Ghost Train.
by Hope Madden
Take The Breakfast Club, eliminate the humor and add zombies and you’re headed in the direction of Adam MacDonald’s This Is Not a Test.
Olivia Holt is Sloane, an utterly miserable teenage girl. Her older sister took off, leaving her alone with her abusive dad. And if that’s not enough, the zombies are here. And not that slow, rambling kind. It’s the red-eyed, fast moving, pissed off kind.
MacDonald, working from a script he co-wrote with Courtney Summers, pays tribute to his Z-film inspirations the moment Sloane steps out onto her front porch to take in the suburban carnage.
So, yes, both Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later and Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead remake—among others—get a nod. Which makes you wonder, as you must wonder every time somebody makes another zombie movie, why do it? What new idea can you bring to the genre?
I suppose it’s the teen angst angle that John Hughes exploited for an entire career. And though there are cinematic pauses (human reactions lagging to frustrating slowness so the camera can witness the unfurling action), stupid choices (almost a necessity in most horror flicks), and a lot of shouty drama, somehow it feels likelier given that our protagonists are all high school seniors.
They can be dramatic with their friends, that’s all I’m saying.
Holt is solid and the young cast around her ably handles the melodrama and action. Corteon Moore is particularly impressive in the kind of Alpha male jock character rarely allowed nuance.
Likewise, Luke Macfarlane pops in mid film to be unseemly, desperate and creepy in equal measure.
Sloane’s arc is not with her classmates, though, but with her sister. There’s a simplicity to the arc that allows the carnage to get showy without overpowering it. But that simplicity adds to the film’s relative ordinariness.
There’s nothing bad about This Is Not a Test. Yes, character behavior is often frustrating, but not in a way that makes caricatures out of characters. The problem is that there’s nothing exceptional about the film, either.
by Matt Weiner
A sprawling epic about the orphaned son of a yakuza boss and his single-minded dedication to becoming the greatest kabuki actor of his era is now Japan’s highest grossing live-action movie. After three hours of near total immersion in the kabuki world, it’s easy to see why.
Sang-il Lee’s adaptation of Shuichi Yoshida’s novel Kokuho kicks off with a gripping gangster showdown that leaves Kikuo (Ryo Yoshizawa) without a family or direction in life. An impromptu performance on that fateful night provides a lifeline to a different path when his innate acting talent is recognized by the revered kabuki actor Hanai Hanjiro II (Ken Watanabe).
Hanjiro offers the boy a home—along with a rigorous, even physically abusive apprenticeship—much to the chagrin of Hanjiro’s son, Shunsuke (Ryusei Yokohama). Where Kikuo has the otherworldly talent and dedication of an outsider, Shunsuke is cocky and lazy, his status protected by the conservative traditions of kabuki and family bloodlines.
When Kikuo’s fortunes rise as Hanjiro’s favorite heir, a confrontation with Shunsuke seems inevitable. And so it is, but in ways that end up being far more complex, moving and unexpected than the pair’s rivalry first suggests. The story (adapted by Satoko Okudera) has the length and breathing room to pack in its fair share of rises and falls, but a deftness is always there to defuse the melodrama in favor of a slow burn that the rivals carry with them across decades.
Kokuho is after a more spiritual catharsis, made all the more potent with the demanding strictures of kabuki that fill almost all the time spent with the stage actors. Lee provides only glimpses of a rapidly modernizing country beyond the walls of the stage. And yet the weight of these changes is felt all around, as patrons come and go, living legends die and families grapple with what this artistic pursuit means and whether or not it’s worth it.
Watanabe is born to his role, with an uncanny ability to summon warmth, fear and regret with the briefest of expressions. His sons, both chosen and adopted, are locked into a replay of the sins of the father, and Yoshizawa and Yokohama play off each other to heartbreaking effect.
Kokuho devotes extensive time to the kabuki performances themselves, not just the rehearsals. The art direction from Yohei Taneda is a stunning highlight of the film, and goes a long way toward explaining even to an audience unfamiliar with kabuki why Kikuo believes the sacrifice to be worth it in the name of art. And that is the question being asked, by Kikuo and those whose lives he alters for better and worse. What if we’ve misunderstood the Faustian bargain all these years? Maybe the devil can have our best interests at heart too, if it means achieving the sublime for even a moment.
by Hope Madden
Gavin Polone’s Psycho Killer had one strike against it going in, for me. The film takes us along for the ride on the Satanic Slasher’s cross-country killing spree.
And while James Preston Rogers cuts an impressive figure as the serial killer at the center of this cat and mouse chase, a Satanic murderer is a conservative straw dog cliché as tired and damaging as witches, maybe worse.
That aside, Polone, working from a script by Andrew Kevin Walker (Se7en, The Killer, Metalocaplyse: Army of the Doomstar), crafts a taut thriller.
Georgina Campbell (Barbarian) is Trooper Jane Archer. After witnessing her husband’s murder, Archer determines to take the shot she missed and put an end to the Satanic Slasher.
Campbell delivers a properly heroic performance. Smart, driven, and with an aggressive lack of cooperation from the FBI and other law enforcement agencies but nothing to divide her attention, Archer figures out the psycho’s trajectory.
And though her story involves one almost inescapable cliché, having a woman play the cop who misses the shot that could save their spouse and then, job be damned, scours the country to kill the bastard—it’s a nice gender role reversal.
The villain’s concept impresses: the hair, the mask, the coats, the voice. His mythology is sometimes clunky, other times lazy, but it’s rarely the backstory that makes a villain memorable. This guy’s creepy.
Logan Miller offers solid support with limited screentime. Likewise, Malcolm McDowell lends his unmistakably infernal voice to great effect, providing the film with a bit of dramatic flourish. But otherwise, Psycho Killer blends police procedural and revenge flick with plenty of tension and not a lot of fanfare.
There’s fairly little onscreen violence. Though an awful lot of grisly carnage is mentioned, there are only a few scenes in the film depicting it. Two of them are grimly subversive and worth the ticket price.
The third act comes seems to come from nowhere, but it’s a big capper to the slow building momentum of the Slasher’s bloody journey. Psycho Killer isn’t perfect, but it’s a tight, entertaining bit of a thrill.
by Hope Madden
Have you ever seen Kaneto Shindô’s1964 masterpiece Onibaba? Dude, you should!
Writer/director Natasha Kermani’s latest film, The Dreadful, reteams Game of Thrones stars Sophie Turner and Kit Harington, alongside the flawless as ever Marcia Gay Harden, in a medieval retelling of the same Buddhist parable that inspired Shindô’s tale.
Turner is Anne, a pious young woman whose husband Seamus (Laurence O’Fuarain) has been called up to fight in 15th Century England. She lives on the outskirts of a tiny hamlet near the sea, in a hovel with her mother-in-law, Morwen (Harden).
Times are tough for the two women, and before too long, Morwen’s exploiting Anne’s naivete with ever darker schemes to earn money. But when Seamus’s friend returns home without him, Morwen sees a future without a son, without Anne, and with very little hope for survival.
Morwen tries to convince Anne that leaving her would be an unforgivable sin, damning Anne to hell. Out of the other side of her mouth, Morwen contends that the increasingly bloody criminal activity the women are involved in is, in fact, entirely forgivable.
Seamus’s friend Jago (Harington), the bearer of bad news, has other plans for Anne and they definitely do not include her mother-in-law. Because Kermani’s take on the parable sees Anne as the protagonist, the battle then is her own fight between piety, devotion and pity, and a second chance at love.
Unfortunately, Anne is an impossible character. There is no conceivable logic to a choice to stay with Morwen, so no real conflict of any kind. While she seems to feel pity and some fear for her mother-in-law, she doesn’t seem to harbor any guilt for her own complicity in the crimes, or worry over punishment of any sort, criminal or spiritual.
If Turner never manages to convey a clear character, Kermani seems equally mystified. The final act of the film is unearned and unsatisfying.
It might be too much to hope for some of the visual majesty and honest to God horror of Shindô’s film, but Kermani can’t find her own way through the parable well enough to leave an impression.
You should definitely watch Onibaba, though.
by Rachel Willis
Several strange incidents at a subway station spark the curiosity of a YouTube content creator in director Se-woong Tak’s film Ghost Train.
To understand the real issues surrounding the rash of bizarre occurrences, Horror Queen Da-kyeong (Joo Hyun-young) bribes tales from a station master (Jeon Bae-soo) with fancy spirits (some of which I wouldn’t mind trying).
As the station master spins each yarn, we’re privy to what really happens to each person at the center of the individual tales. At times, what we’re shown during the movie is not what appears on the surveillance tapes the station master shows to Da-kyeong.
There are several unsettling concepts at work to help unnerve the viewer. A woman who repetitively bangs her head against the train door sends passengers scurrying to another car. This is a motif that pops up at different moments, helping to create an atmosphere of dread.
Each of the station master’s stories has a uniqueness that makes the movie flow like an anthology horror. However, the style and atmosphere remain consistent, setting a creepy tone throughout.
The framing story is the movie’s weak link. The Horror Queen herself isn’t nearly as compelling as the individuals in the station master’s tales. Da-kyeong’s nemesis at work is a stereotypical mean girl, and her work love interest is about as interesting as a blank sheet of paper. It’s with impatience that we wait for the next of the station master’s tales.
However, as the film enters the final act, the framing story picks up steam. As Da-kyeong learns more about the station and its history, her story starts to get its teeth.
Unfortunately, those teeth are never quite sharp enough to explain the overall mystery around the ghost train. While there are a lot of memorable and interesting parts, they never quite come together as single narrative. That said, the movie is creepy enough to remain interesting, and overall, an intriguing series of ghost stories.
by George Wolf
A seasoned filmmaker like Morgan Neville is smart enough to know that with Paul McCartney as your documentary subject, you gotta pick a lane and focus.
For Man of the Run, Neville picks a good one: how on Earth do you approach following up your stint in the most culturally significant band of all time?
Think about it. If you count Pete Best (first drummer), plus Stu Sutcliffe (original bassist) and even Jimmy Nicol (temporary tour replacement for a sick Ringo), they’ve been only seven souls in history who faced life as a “former Beatle.”
And McCartney is the most commercially successful, by far. Man on the Run takes us inside Paul’s strategy for that second act.
Neville (Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, Piece by Piece, Steve! and the Oscar-winning 20 Feet From Stardom) keeps mainly to the ten year period after Paul’s first solo album in 1970 officially signaled the end of the Beatles. Using archival photos, videos, interview clips and animation, Neville plays with an engaging audio/visual style that often mirrors a mixed-media scrapbook.
He also keeps a tight reign on the time stamp, limiting more recent interview clips (from Mick Jagger, Chrissie Hynde, Paul’s adult kids and others) to audio only, so as not to break the immersive spell that keeps us close to McCartney’s head space at the time.
And we hear and see much from the man himself. His thoughts on forming Wings with first wife Linda are endearing and self-reflective. He was seeking to combat his crushing fame by surrounding himself with bandmates, but couldn’t completely quell the ego and drive that made many of them feel like mere sidemen.
Home movies from down on his farm are warm and loving, much like the sentiments on John Lennon and some very early days with the Fab Four.
And you’ll probably learn a thing or two you didn’t know about the infamous pot bust in Japan.
But above all, Man on the Run succeeds in its mission to reconsider an important decade in the life of an icon. We see a man seeking a new kind of contentment at home and on the run, making music that only became more impactful and influential as the bands played on.
In theaters 2/19 and on Prime Video 2/27.
by Hope Madden
The 2026 program of Oscar nominated animated shorts is characteristically brilliant. Artistic styles range from brushstrokes to stop motion to simple, hand-drawn animation and the tales told run an even wider gamut. Gorgeous, heartwarming, clever and endlessly watchable, the shorts celebrate the boundless talent and creativity in human artistry.
14 minutes, directed by Konstantin Bonzit
Konstantin Bonzit enlists spare but effective animation and no dialog at all to tell the most uproarious and delightful film of the lot. Three sisters life side by side by side on a tiny island until one day, a sole sailor docks looking for a place to stay. It’s a clever bit of fun, slyly told.
13 minutes/ directed by Nathan Englehardt and Jeremy Spears
Stirring, gorgeous, dear, clever, joyous, heartbreaking, funny—Evergreen delivers it all, and in just 13 minutes. The story follows an orphaned bear cub who finds shelter and safety in the limbs of a loving evergreen tree. The animation is stunning, as is the film’s ability to draw so much emotion.
7 minutes, directed by John Kelly
Co-writer/director John Kelly (scripting with Tara Lawall) animates a clever, witty, delightful wish list from an unprepared middle-aged man (voiced to perfection by Domhnall Gleeson) listing all the things he will do once he’s retired and has the time. An utter joy.
15 minutes, directed by Florence Miailhe
The brushstroke painting technique Miailhe uses is such a perfect medium for this tale of the water. The animation flows and moves, as Alfred Nakache’s life swims before our eyes. His youth, afraid of the water. His adolescence, a remarkable swimmer. His young adulthood, an Algerian-born Jewish Olympian in 1936’s German games. Memories of love, loss, and survival, all told from the water, leave a stirring impression.
17 minutes; directed by Chris Lavis and Maciek Szczerbowski
This enchanting, almost spooky stop-motion tale sees a wealthy grandfather spinning the tale of his most precious possession to his curious granddaughter. His tale is of his youth of poverty, his love for a sorrowful girl, and the tears of pearls that she shed. The unforgettable animation and Colm Feore’s beautiful voicework make this an unforgettable fable.
The Oscar Nominated Short Films are presented in three separate feature-length programs (Live Action, Animated, Documentary) at theaters beginning this weekend.
by Rachel Willis
This year’s collection of Oscar-nominated documentary shorts offers a mix of subjects, but each film displays a wealth of passion and talent.
15 minutes. Directed by Alison McAlpine.
As first light breaks on the horizon, three donkeys wander into the frame. These companionate creatures continue to roam as the camera follows them. Additional animals pop up on screen as the donkeys wander. A wary fox contemplates running but ultimately stands its ground. As the donkeys come upon an observatory, the mechanics of human ingenuity are juxtaposed with the donkeys’ simple rambling. This short is a serene, lovely piece of filmmaking.
31 minutes. Directed by Christalyn Hampton and Geeta Gandbhir.
At an abortion clinic in Atlanta, GA, the first person to arrive is the head of security. The protestors aren’t far behind. A man with a bullhorn belts out condemnation for abortion seekers before the sun has even risen. The short makes clear from the beginning the dangers the staff at the clinic face every day. It’s an appalling situation that the women seeking care find themselves in, as it is for the men and women who seek to serve them. “This is health care, period.” It’s a powerful testimony to the providers of women’s care.
37 minutes. Directed by Brent Renaud and Craig Renaud.
Brent Renaud and his brother Craig spent their adult lives documenting some of the world’s most dangerous places. From war torn neighborhoods to families hiding from gangs, the brothers captured the stories of people whose lives were upended by violence. The film does not shy away from brutal realities, often choosing to show very graphic and gruesome footage. When Brent is killed covering the war in Ukraine, Craig seeks to tell his brother’s story in the way he thinks Brent would have wanted. While at its heart, the film is a tribute from one brother to another, it’s also a testament to the importance and power of journalists.
34 minutes. Directed by Joshua Seftel.
Steve Hartman began reporting on school shootings in the United States in 1997. With each incident, he realized people were moving on more and more quickly. How could he do things differently, to keep people from accepting what’s unacceptable? Hartman refocused his efforts by visiting the bedrooms of the children who were taken too soon. Photographer Lou Bopp assists Hartman by trying to capture the souls of the children whose bedrooms he visits. It’s a profoundly moving effort, and director Joshua Seftel captures the final three visits with tenderness and compassion.
36 minutes. Directed by Hilla Medalia.
Every Saturday in Tel Aviv, Israel, a group of activists stand vigil, each displaying the photo of a child killed in the war in Gaza (children killed in Israel and the West Bank are included, too). The demonstrators don’t always agree on the best way forward, but their dedication is undeniable. Watching some of the hate directed their way is almost too hard to bear. But the importance of these quiet vigils is depicted vividly in Medalia’s extraordinary short film.
The Oscar Nominated Short Films are presented in three separate feature-length programs (Live Action, Animated, Documentary) at theaters beginning this weekend.
We’re looking at heartbreak in horror for Valentine’s Day! Not unrequited love turned to stalkerism, because that’s been done to death and it’s not romantic. But the heartbreak and longing of love and loneliness. And blood.
5. The Fly (1986)
It was not just David Cronenberg’s disturbed genius for images and ideas that madeThe Fly fly. It was the performance he drew from Jeff Goldblum.
Goldblum is an absolute gift to this film, so endearing in his pre-Brundlefly nerdiness. He’s the picture’s heartbeat, and it’s more than the fact that we like his character so much. The actor also performs heroically under all those prosthetics.
He and Geena Davis make the perfect pair, with their matching height and mullets, and their onscreen chemistry does give the film a level of human drama traditionally lacking from the Cronenberg canon. You root for Seth, and your heart breaks for him too.
4. Candyman (1992)
Has it really been Helen all along? Was she once, long ago, Daniel Robitaille’s forbidden lover? The reason for his suffering and murder?
Tony Todd makes Candyman a seductive, heartbroken phantasm with no choice but to shed blood to continue to exist. When he whispers to Helen, “Be my victim,” how could she say no?
3. Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)
Francis Ford Coppola and screenwriter James V. Hart mined Stoker’s text for as much romance and heartbreak as they could find, and if it wasn’t there, they made it up. The Count pines for his tragically lost love, crossing oceans of time for her. That, of course, leaves poor Jonathan heartbroken. But wait, there’s more! Because Lucy chooses Arthur, leaving Quincy and Dr. Jack both heartbroken, and then breaks Arthur’s heart with her own tragic death.
Coppola’s is the hottest, most gorgeous and heartbroken version of the ancient bloodsucker’s story you’re likely to find.
2. Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein
Guillermo del Toro is a big ol’ softy. In many ways, that’s what makes Frankenstein a perfect property for him. His heart has always been with the monster, so why not tell the most heartbreaking and terrifying monster story?
Oscar Isaac is a marvel of angry arrogance made humble. As his creature, the long and limby Jacob Elordi offers a monster who’s more sensitive son than wounded manchild. The creature’s heartbreaking relationship with the eternally misunderstood Elizabeth (Mia Goth) is so full of tenderness and longing that the inevitable heartbreak crushes.
You don’t wander into a Guillermo del Toro film expecting less anything than glorious excess—another reason why Frankenstein and he were meant for one another.
1. May (2002)
Oh, May. Oh, Angela Bettis. No one – not even Sissy Spacek – captured the crushing awkwardness of trying to fit in when you are, deep down, cripplingly odd as well as Bettis.
Her May aches for a friend. Maybe even a lover? She has some heartbreaking trouble finding that in Adam (Jeremy Sisto) and Polly (Anna Faris – brilliant). But if you can’t find a friend, you might just have to make one.
Bettis’s performance is all awkward pauses, embarrassing gestures and longing. It’s beautiful, tender, sweet and – eventually – forgivably bloody. We love May.
