Director Report Card: Destin Daniel Cretton (2026)

 

7. Spider-Man: Brand New Day

Getting to direct a "Spider-Man" movie must be a real double-edged sword by this point. He's one of those superheroes that nearly everybody has strong feelings about. Thousands more kids grew up watching the cartoons and movies or playing the video games or with the toys than those that ever bothered to read a comic book. You're going to be judged and scrutinized by hardcore nerds and filthy casuals with spider symbol decals on their cars. At the same time, a film actually about Spider-Man – and not one of his villains or a blind lady he talked to a few times – is guaranteed to be a massive success. Also to consider is that the Marvel Cinematic Universe house style is so ingrained at this point that it's unlikely to make any filmmaker a household name. I'm sure Jon Watts and Marc Webb have done just fine for themselves. However, their stints with the web crawler did little to raise their profiles beyond earning the scorn of hyper-online nerds. These types of gigs are surely beneficial to the directors' bank accounts at the cost of any public artistic identity.

So you're Destin Daniel Cretton. You've directed some well regarded indies and two Oscar Bait dramas that didn't win Oscars. Marvel scoops you up to direct a project conceived during the period when every movie they were making, no matter how obscure the source character was, became a huge success... But the movie releases after the pandemic, when the air is fast running out of that balloon. I thought "Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings" was among the best of the studio's post-"Endgame" slate and it did okay at the box office. Nevertheless, a prospective sequel and spin-off series got lost in the corporate shuffle to re-right the ship and your leading man said some kind of weird shit online. You're going to direct the next "Avengers" movie but then you aren't, because that project's leading man got real-deal canceled and took the entire planned direction for the franchise with him. Your prestige mini-series about Japanese-American soldiers in World War II is slow to develop and another Marvel TV project – the shrinking number of people still watching those like it – is the only thing you've actually directed in the last four years. Your Disney corporate overlords offer you the next "Spider-Man," maybe to make up for the "Avengers" fiasco. Do you take the job? Of course, you do. "Spider-Man: Brand New Day" has opened to predictably enormous box office, so I'm betting Cretton is feeling fine about all this. But what of the film itself? Let us investigate further. 

Despite taking its subtitle from a controversial comic story line, "Spider-Man: Brand New Day" is not set in the aftermath of a deal with the devil and Aunt May is still dead. Instead, the new status quo established by "No Way Home's" ending has Peter Parker forgotten by all his friends and loved ones. He has focused his life entirely on being Spider-Man. While this has made the web head New York City's most beloved hero, it's left Peter feeling isolated. His spider powers begin to develop in strange ways, his body producing organic webbing and Peter going into rage fueled black-outs where he acts dangerously. Soon, a new threat emerges: A psychic presence that can inhabit any body and seems determined to break into the Department of Damage Control. This new villain directly targets MJ, who Peter still loves but who no longer remembers him. The Spider-Man is going to have to learn to control his new powers, consider the cost of reconnecting with those who have forgotten him, and unravel the true motive behind this enemy all at once.

Filmmakers keep saying they have a desire to make a "street level" Spider-Man movie. While the character is certainly involved in universe reshuffling shenanigans regularly, most of his villains are of more humble ambitions than world dominance. Of course, every superhero movie has to be an event now, meaning the last several appearance of the character have been crossovers or globe-trotting adventures. At various points in development, it was promised that "Brand New Day" would finally refocus on the neighborhood part of Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. And for about a half-hour in the first half, it actually is that. There's a highly energetic montage devoted to showing encounters with a series of B-list villains, each one patterned directly after a classic cover. This is part of a longer first act, in which Spidey is directly in contact with the chief of police and simply stopping whatever petty super-crime comes along. Even after the mind swapping threat appears to centralize the story, this more casual energy remains for a while. This is, in fact, the pace and tone I've always wanted from a Spider-Man movie. Aside from the thrill of seeing, say, Tombstone on-screen, a Spidey who is always swinging in and out of other adventures works great for me. 

Of course, this is not meant to last for the entire runtime. Each of the MCU Spider-Man movies have been reluctant to let the character stand alone, bringing Iron Man, Nick Fury, or Doctor Strange into the plot. You would think that, of all of Marvel's characters, literally their most popular would be able to stand alone. Whether this is a result of the Byzantine contractual obligations between Disney and Sony that make these movies possible or simply a desire to establish this Spidey as thoroughly part of the cinematic universe, that trend continues in “Brand New Day.” The Punisher appears early in the run time and reoccurs throughout. Dr. Bruce Banner gets a conversation with Peter before his green, angry alter ego is spotlighted in a later action sequence. The mysterious antagonist of the film turns out to be exactly who everyone has speculated they would be, another very well-known  Marvel character re-debuting on-screen. The superhero supporting cast is so prominent throughout “Brand New Day” that it might as well have been called “Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends” or “Marvel Team-Up Featuring Spider-Man.”

The stated goal of wanting to be a lower stakes story simply about the web-slinger, his civilian buddies and love interest, obviously conflicts with high-profile characters showing up. It also creates another tiring feeling, of sitting through a big budget superhero flick that is merely an extended preview of another big budget superhero flick that Marvel Studios' brain trust is presumably hard at work on. Can we not just enjoy a story by itself? Must every tights-wearing motion picture be a part of a massive web of crossovers and brand synergy? Ya know, Peter Parker swinging over to a college campus and getting some advice from Dr. Banner is one thing. That would be a fairly standard event in the pages of the comics. However, here this scene merely proceeds a showdown with the Hulk later on. Devoting the primary villain role to another hotly anticipated character is a more questionable decision, tying Spider-Man to a character he's not that associated with and promising more adventures – more corporate product we must consume – down the line. 

Of all the guest stars, the Punisher is one that gives me the most pause. The blood thirsty vigilante first appeared as a Spider-Man adversary, of course. I've not read every appearance the two characters have made together. I'm sure, at one point or another, they interacted in a more cooperative manner. However, it still feels a little weird to have Spider-Man bantering with a character that has been acknowledged in-universe to be essentially a mass murderer. Jon Bernthal and Tom Holland have some decently amusing chemistry. The contrast between the younger hero's irrelevant style and Frank Castle's gruffness is worth a laugh or two but, by the end, we are meant to have genuinely warm feelings about their relationship. Which feels like a kind of weird thing to do with such a hard-boiled character. The script never quite acknowledges that the Friendly Neighborhood hero is being all buddy-buddy with a brutal killer throughout, one presumably wanted in connection with hundreds of homicides. Perhaps I am simply too much of a nerd to overlook the disconnect here and the average theater-goer will be less bothered by this. 

That “Brand New Day” is so preoccupied with slightly distracting crossovers is all the more frustrating as the premise has an intriguing question behind it. Peter Parker has always been pulled between the duty he feels as a superhero and his devotion to his friends and family. In this film, he's essentially chosen his crime fighting over his love life, in an attempt to keep them safe from the consequences of being connected to Spider-Man. All he can do is watch from afar as his best friend and the girl he loves both easily move on without him. This addresses an anxiety perhaps all of us have felt: How vital are we to other people's lives? If we disappeared suddenly, would the people so important to us find us equally important to them? The push-and-pull between wanting those we love to be happy and move on and what value this assigns to our own existence strikes me as an extremely Spider-Man-like emotion to explore. 

This idea takes center stage in the film's middle section, when the focus turns to Peter and MJ's relationship. Tom Holland and Zendaya continue to have strong chemistry, making these moments even more compelling. The script, at first, seems like its sticking to its guns and isn't going to magically undo past events. The blank slate is indeed blank. Obviously, this is the emotional backbone of the entire movie. Frustratingly, that relationship is entirely sidelined during the actual climax, which basically removes MJ from the story all together. Instead, the script repeatedly focuses in on a much less compelling idea, asking Peter if he truly has to do this all by himself. This moves towards a more generalized struggle against grief and finding the strength to go on after such a loss. This is a much less interesting idea, that never quite squares with the story actually being told here and ultimately feels like a somewhat desperate attempt to connect Peter's story with that of the antagonist's. 

Another common enough Spider-Man trope is Parker's personal anxieties effecting his ability to fight crime. “Brand New Days” draws a little from storylines in which his spider side mutates further, this time as a manifestation over his fears of losing MJ for good. The sequel stops short of having Peter sprout extra arms or turn into a full-on human/spider hybrid. Instead, he merely wakes up in his own webs at one point and develops fully black sclera. This is disappointing in its own right, as it feels like this subplot never quite pays off. Further more, the way this is ultimately resolved really (excuse the pun) bug me. Spider-Man continues to struggle with a fear that he's losing control of his own abilities up until a pivotal moment where... He closes his eyes, thinks about it real hard, and seizes control. At which point, he suddenly has access to a whole new plethora of superpowers that give him the boost needed in a big fight scene. This, to me, feels like video game logic infecting Hollywood screenwriting. Peter Parker levels up, simply by progressing through events, and can now control that which he previously couldn't. It does not feel earned, like a proper pay-off to the hero's development, and simply has him being able to do these now because it's that time in the story. 

Writing like this, distressingly becoming more common in big budget cinema of late, undersells the idea that the story's deeper themes mean anything. How can we accept “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” as an actual reflection on grappling with loss, trying to stone-wall our personal pain, or anxieties that our loved ones will be fine without us if it all wraps up with some shonen fighting anime style power-up? That points towards a problem all blockbuster cinema has, in our increasingly corporate age. The last third of “Brand New Day” sees all of New York City rallying around their local hero, cheering for him to make a brave recovery. There's a lengthy montage of the character's distinctive red and blue web pattern appearing in all sorts of public contexts. At this point, the question becomes if the sequel isn't much more than a self-indulgent act of corporate self-promotion. Look upon this hyper-valuble I.P., mere mortal movie goers, and think about how much you love Product. Is the film's script built upon the nostalgic, emotional connection the audience has to the “brand” itself and not to the story its telling? 

It's entirely possible I'm overthinking this. That I've gotten too old and cranky to simply embrace a special effects driven spectacle for its own sake. Maybe my brain is too full of worries about corporate waste as the world faces down threats much more important than costumed villains. Popular films are ostensibly a reflection of the world they are made in. There are hints throughout “Brand New Day” of how fucked-up shit has gotten in America. A scene where a character is abducted off the street by black-clad government agents, shoved into a van, and un-person-ed in broad daylight is a (possibly questionable) reflection of ICE raids and anti-fascist protesters getting dragged off. The story bends towards an easily guessed twist, that the agencies we have designated with protecting us might be more interested in consolidating their own power instead. Of course, these ideas are never seriously confronted. As in past Marvel movies, the abuses of power by the government are dismissed as the acts of bad apples. Spider-Man stops the bad guy and they get arrested by the cops. He doesn't dismantle the architecture of systematic repression and control. Such short-falls are to be expected but it represents the film's unwillingness to actually make us care, to invest its world with the proper amount of reality. 

Which points towards another problem I have with “Brand New Day,” one that necessitates I enter Extremely Obvious Spoilers territory to address: Why is Jean Grey the bad guy in a Spider-Man movie? From the minute up-and-coming redhead actress Sadie Sink was cast in an undisclosed part, fans assumed she was playing the future X-Woman. The script reveals this is the case about half-way through, as if the filmmakers are admitting how obvious this would-be twist must be. While Miss Grey has been possessed by genocidal cosmic consciousnesses from time to time, she's not typically a villain. A viewer with a basic measure of comic book knowledge can anticipate that she's acting this way for a good reason. While the origins we're familiar with have been rearranged, it still presents an underwhelming reveal about what is really going on.

Sink is fine in the role. Her big blue eyes can convey a degree of pain and emotion that suits what her character is going through. I'm sure she'll do fine in the surely forthcoming “X-Men” movie Disney is working on right now. Occasionally, “Brand New Day” utilizes its telepathic villain for some exciting sequence. People rag-dolling for a second as another mind takes over their bodies is inconsistently portrayed, usually being used as visual shorthand to show us who is under Grey's control at that moment. (Which does remove some of what is supposed to make her powers frightening, the idea that this threat can be anyone at any moment.) However, the sequence where Peter has to outrun the body-hopping possessive entity across the streets of New York is well-done. It's certainly better than the CGI infused finale, that turns this into a city-wide threat with lots of explosive special effects also depended on the idea of a character suddenly gaining control over new powers. Again, I'm just left wondering why these events are being focused on over elements of the story that obviously mean a lot more to these characters and everything that came before. 

The answer to that question is obvious: Because it's a Marvel movie. Getting a soratonin spike out of the audience simply by putting a familiar name or face on-screen is what these films have increasingly been designed to do. It's frustrating because, occasionally, “Brand New Day” does prove to be compelling blockbuster film making in its own right. A highlight of Cretton's “Shang-Chi” were action scenes that balanced acrobatic martial arts with the expected CGI spectacle more often. There's some of that in Cretton's “Spider-Man” as well. Not only when Peter is swinging through the city or tossing webbing around to capture opponents. During several clever spots, the point-of-view itself inverts and swings around the action, truly putting the viewer in the center of this thrill ride. When battling a group of acrobatic ninjas or a free-fall struggle with the Hulk, I was able to get caught up in this. If I'm being especially generous, “Brand New Day” is better than most comic book adaptations of putting the visual dynamism of the four-color medium in motion on the big screen. If I'm being more honest with myself, these moments represents brief surprises in-between a lot of far less memorable lighting, blocking, and cinematography. 

And that brings me back around to the question of Destin Daniel Cretton's authorial fingerprint. I'm sad to say that you don't see much of his personality coming through the film. Learning how to square away personal trauma and continue on with your life is certainly a present theme in the film, as it was in his “Wonder Man' series as well. However, like I said, that often takes a back seat to the bombast. Cretton's other pet themes, of daddy issues and cultural integration, simply aren't present at all. In fact, aside from some of those “Shang-Chi”-like action scenes, the only move here that strikes me as indicative of Cretton's previous work is a soundtrack that's heavy on indie rock needle drops, especially during plaintive montages. That gave me some “I Am Not a Hipster” flashbacks. Otherwise, it's hard not to conclude that the “Short Term 12” auteur has been thoroughly swallowed up by the blockbuster machine. 

It is, in other words, just another Marvel movie. “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” has its moments, a splash of color or inventive action work that got my heart pumping. The cast remains likable. That opening act really did give me hope that this would be a proper day-in-the-life-of-Spider-Man adventure and not merely a teaser for the next massive crossover to come. Sadly, that's not the case. The mere sight of my childhood comic book collection being brought to life on-screen is not enough to subsist a whole movie anymore. This lack of novelty, the sense that the product itself has become the point and not whatever thoughts or feelings it might invoke, is what has made superhero cinema a lot less interesting to me lately. “Brand New Day” isn't bad. It's fine. Will I ever feel the need to watch it again? That's a question I have a much less certain answer to. Good luck with that "Naruto" movie, Destin. [Grade: C+]

 

Halloween 2025: September 28th

 

The Strangers: Chapter 2 (2025)
 

When it was announced that Lionsgate was rebooting Bryan Bertino's generally well-liked 2008 home invasion thriller, “The Strangers,” that was standard entertainment news. These days, some old movie or property gets a relaunch announced about every week. When it was revealed that Lionsgate was planning a whole trilogy based off this mildly popular movie from sixteen years ago, it seemed like putting the horse before the cart but that's also hardly unprecedented in Hollywood. Except all three films were already written and would be shot back-to-back. A risky proposition, as the first might flop, sticking the studio with two sequels there's no demand for. Especially since these movies were being directed by Renny Harlin, whose days as a blockbuster hit-maker have long, long since passed. Well, “The Strangers: Chapter 1” made 48 million against an 8 million dollar budget, giving Lionsgate the confidence to release “Chapter 2” in theaters this September. Despite most people having hated the previous one. I thought “Chapter 1” wasn't totally without its merits and so I foolishly give this second part of the trilogy a look. 

And so we return to the small town of Venus, Oregon, where Maya and her husband had their AirBNB invaded by a trio of masked murders. Having survived the night of torment, the battered and injured Maya awakens in the nearest hospital. She is questioned by the local sheriff, who strikes her as suspicious. That night, she hears screams from the hallway outside her hospital room. The Strangers have followed her and are determined to finish the job they started. Despite having stitches in her gut from a prior stab wound, Maya is chased all around the hospital and the surrounding area. She takes shelter in the woods, the ceaseless pursuit by the three maniacs on-going. Maya becomes increasingly convinced that the entire town is in on these murders, which seem to have gone back years ago. 

Every slasher movie fan will recognize that portion of the film, when most of the warm bodies have been cleaved through. When it is only the killer and the final girl left, a long fight for survival erupting between the seemingly unstoppable murderer and the one young woman that has escaped their wrath thus far. Ya know, the part of “Halloween” when Laurie Strode is in the house by herself with Michael Myers. “The Strangers: Chapter 2” essentially attempts to build an entire movie around this portion of the slasher formula. The Strangers are stalking and chasing Maya and they won't stop until they've caught her. It's not the worst idea for a movie. The first act of “Chapter 2” recalls “Halloween II” with its hospital setting. Sequences in which the girl hides inside a morgue storage locker or behind big metal jugs in the basement aren't half-bad. While watching these moments, I found myself wondering if perhaps this might actually work. 

That otherwise quite good scene of Maya in the cold storage locker, the lead Stranger lurking inches away from her face, is cut short when an orderly sticks his head in and subsequently gets axed. This, unfortunately, sets up a pattern that nearly the entire movie then follows. Maya will be chased by the killers to a new location: A random horse ranch, a derelict car sitting in the middle of the forest, the AirBNB from the previous movie, an apartment where her nurse and three roommates are living. A person or a few will appear to help her. They will reveal a tiny tidbit of information about the bigger picture here before the Strangers appear again, murdering them and starting the cycle again. By the third time “Chapter 2” is repeating this cycle, when a detective is introduced only to be unceremoniously offed in the very next scene, this blatant repetition has become unintentionally funny. By the fourth time it happens, it has become tedious. The sequel feels the need to throw multiple vehicular chases between these identical set-ups and pay-offs.  

“Chapter 2” essentially repeating the same scenes over and over again until it reaches a feature length run time is not the only sign that this entire trilogy enterprise might have been a misguided affair. Alan R. Cohen and Alan Freedland's script often feels like an obnoxiously drawn-out tease for something more interesting. A random old woman or that aforementioned detective promise to reveal the truth before being silenced. The sequel constantly toys with the possibility that the quartet of shifty weirdos that help Maya out are connected to the murderers. These are narrative red herrings, cut short so the film can have the heroine run and hide and sometimes fight-off the unflappable villains again. It reminds me of all those shitty streaming series. Ya know, the ones that are six or eight hours long but truthfully only had enough real story for two hours, necessitating extensive padding and repeated hints that the plot might genuinely move forward at some point. The script's desperate attempts to stretch this premise out eventually lurches towards unintentional comedy. Would you believe me if I said this sequel to the reboot/remake of “The Strangers” features in the middle of the runtime, for no particular reason, an extended sequence where someone is attacked by a feral hog? It's true and it's stupid and it's also, perhaps not coincidentally, the only time this movie truly reaches any degree of schlocky amusement. 

Since watching “The Strangers: Chapter 2,” I can't decide if this out-of-the-blue homage to “Hogzilla” is made more or less silly by the subsequent reveal that it's also part of the masked killers' master plan. Part of what made Bertino's “The Strangers” effective was that we knew nothing about the titular menace. They struck without explanation, their motives unknowable and their justification totally random. That spooky bit of ambiguity clearly won't do in our era of fan wiki lore dumps and explainer videos. Since some jack-ass exec decided this story had to be three movies, “Chapter 2” can't actually tell us much about the Secret Origins of the Strangers. The brief glimpses we get are not compelling. Some sort of devil-kid little sociopath pact or whatever, with shades of Mormonism, that isn't as creepy as the briefest suggestion of a Manson-like cult from the original. Truly, did even the biggest fan of “The Strangers” actually care about how Tamara is? Or what the greater significance behind Pin-Up Girl's choice in mask? Explaining what these three want and where they come is obviously antithetical to what makes them scary but I guess we shouldn't expect subtle from a lame-brain attempt at brand extension like this. Harlin's trilogy has clearly failed in intriguing us about the story behind the Strangers. When a mask comes off in the final scene, it plays as if this is a shocking revelation. Instead, I found myself asking “who the hell is that?” before vaguely connecting it with a background player in an earlier scene. 

My earlier comparison of these newer “Strangers” to a half-assed streaming show is apt. The movie ends with an on-screen “To Be Continued” ellipses and a preview of the next film, truly following in the footsteps of bad television. What we can expect next time, promises to finally answer how the town's history and Richard Brake as the creepy sheriff tie into all of this, are not exactly promising. “The Strangers: Chapter 2” isn't the most wretched motion picture I've seen this fall. Madelaine Petsch has about twelve lines of dialogue in the entire movie. Instead, she gives a mostly physical performance, her final girl on the run nearly the whole time and taking an improbable amount of punishment. That's kind of interesting. (Though a gratuitous shot of Petsch in her underwear suggest she probably wasn't cast for her acting.) The stalking through the hospital and horse stables aren't bad, before we understand that the sequel has no further tricks up its sleeve. I didn't despise it but it's surely not good. Also not good has been the box office so far, suggesting “The Strangers: Chapter 3” might wind up going straight-to-Tubi. But I guess I'm on the hook for that piece of shit, since I've watched the other two already. They should include a few more feral hog attacks in that one. [5/10]

 

Nazareno Cruz and the Wolf (1975)
Nazareno Cruz y el lobo, las palomas y los gritos

Back in the days before birth control, when infant morality was high and large families were often necessary to operate farms, having seven or more kids was not so uncommon. Nor was the possibility of that seventh son begetting seven sons himself. Where exactly the idea that such an individual was blessed or cursed in some way began, we can't say. The belief likely has its roots in Mesopotamia, where seven was a sacred number, which was reflected in Christian concepts like the seven deadly sins. Whatever the origins, the superstition has spread throughout many different cultures and taken many forms. In England and Ireland, the seventh son of a seventh son was said to be healers or to have psychic visions. Italian folklore speaks of a seventh son able to ward off snakes. Not every example was so lucky. Seventh sons were also often said to be cursed, to become vampires or werewolves. The latter idea would inspire Argentinian director Leonardo Favio to create “Nazareno Cruz and the Wolf.” The film would become very successful in its home country, the most popular locally made film in Argentinian history by some measurements.

The heavily pregnant Fidelia prepares for the birth of her seventh child. Her husband and her six previous sons set out to tend to the herd in a thunderstorm. The subsequent flood results in each of them drowning. The local lechiguana warns her that, should the child be a son, he will be cursed to become a werewolf. Fidelia does have a son, whom she names Nazareno Cruz. Despite the hardships of being raised by a single mother and told his whole life that he's cursed, Nazareno grows up to be a boisterous, kind man that is loved by all who meet him. While at a bonfire party one night, he meets the beautiful maiden Griselda. The two immediately fall in love. Afterwards, Nazareno is approached by a mysterious stranger. The man informs him that the curse Cruz has heard about his whole life is real. Now that he's fallen in love, he will become a wolf at the next full moon. The stranger says the curse can be avoided, and he'll receive treasures untold, if Nazareno gives up his love for Griselda. Recognizing the traveler as the devil himself, he refuses the offer. And as the moon rises in the night sky the next night, Nazareno Cruz becomes a bloodthirsty beast.

"Nazareno Cruz y el lobo" is introduced in voice-over by one of the supporting characters, as a story that happened to a friend of his. This presents the film's story as exactly what it is meant to be, a legend told via word-of-mouth and spread down through the generations as oral tradition. The film is obviously informed by concepts from local folklore. The premise of the cursed seventh son of a seventh son, an old witch who speaks of both God and the devil, Satan himself appearing with an impossible trade: All of these are archetypal ideas, older than any one tale itself. Fittingly, the characters and narrative turns in "Nazareno Cruz" are mythic in their broadness. Nazareno is a joyful man, always singing and dancing, a jolly young man accepted anywhere. The old witch, played by a toothless and sunken-eyed Nora Cullen, is the perfect mental image of an old but wise crone. Griselda is an utterly pure maiden, angelic in her beauty and grace. When the two make love, it is depicted as a frolic among the fields and by a waterfall, the young lovers free of sin in their devotion to each other. 

In accordance with this, "Nazareno Cruz and the Wolf" is told as a fairy tale with an operatic emotional range. There are a lot of shouted lines of dialogue or sustained moments of laughing or yelling. When Nazareno first meets Griselda, it results in several minutes of the camera gazing at her while the sweeping romantic theme from Juan José García Caffi and Jorge Candia plays. That cascading choir piece of music plays repeatedly, alongside the score's other oversized leitmotifs. The characters will often repeat their dialogue, as if they are also reoccurring melodies within a song that establishes their simple roles in the story. When Nazareno decides he could never give up his lady love, it results in a long sequence of the two messily kissing in the waves. This kind of bigger-than-life execution can be a bit hard to enjoy but, once you get on its wave-length, it's interesting. 

Like many operas, “Nazareno Cruz and the Wolf” is also a tragedy. From before he was born, the title character was told he was cursed. Despite doing everything in his life to prove these accusations wrong, being the best version of himself he can be, Nazareno is still destined to become a wolf. In comparison to the overwrought emotion of every other scene of the film, the sequence devoted to the wolf stalking a herder is unusually quiet and unsettling. The suggestion seems to be twofold. First off, that any man – no matter how well-liked or virtuous he might be – is still capable of evil acts. After this murder occurs, Griselda reassures her father that her lover is a good man. However, everyone else has already decided from his first breath that he was destined to be this monster. “Nazareno Cruz” could be a rumination on how we are all victims of fate. It could also be read as a story about how what we call “fate” is more the machinations of the society we live in. 

To call “Nazareno Cruz y el lobo” a riff on classical folk lores is an accurate statement. The script – written by Favio and Jorge Zuhair Jury, based on a radio program by Juan Carlos Chiappe – actually seems to hearken back to pre-Christian indigenous mythology in Argentina. This is noticeable in how the old witch is called the Lechiguana, a word taken from the Mapudungun language. Unless most depictions of those who converse with spirits or know of the occult, this witch is not an evil figure. She is a neutral one. She refers to God and the devil in a similar way, saying either can bring bad luck depending on the weather. This holds through with the film's depiction of the devil. He tempts Cruz with gold and asks him to give up his earthly love. At the same time, we later see this same figure – who goes so far as to admit he's the devil – as a benevolent leader of an underground system of other magical beings. This devil is an ultimately sympathetic figure, attempting to take the protagonist out of a world that will never accept him fully. 

If you are like me and are fascinated by all the permutations folklore has taken around the world, “Nazareno Cruz” will probably be to your liking too. The operatic approach to the story is likely to rub some people the wrong way. You might get annoyed hearing the same lines of dialogue repeated or find the music overbearing. However, I was quickly caught up in this one. Juan Jose Stagnaro's cinematography is strong, often providing a smooth sense of movement to many scenes. The performances are all strong. That this story resonated so much with Argentinians in 1975 surely says something about the culture that I, as am outsider, is unable to see. Despite its standing in its home country, the film has been obscure in America. At least it can now be watched with a decent transfer and strong subtitles, thanks once again to the folk horror archivists at Severin. It's well worth seeking out. [7/10]
 

The Twilight Zone (1985): Examination Day

When it first started airing, the 1985 revival of “The Twilight Zone” would feature multiple stories in each episode. Rather than evenly split each hour between two twenty minute narratives, the length of the segments would vary. Some episodes would squeeze in as many as three stories.  This presentation wold eventually be dropped and it's not too hard to see why. When squeezing in multiple scenarios of uneven length, it meant one segment was bound to overshadow the others. This is the case with the sixth episode. Most of the hour is taken up by “A Message from Charity,” a cute but distinctly not macabre tale of telepathic romance between a teenage boy in the eighties and a puritan girl in the 1700s. But nobody remembers that one. Instead, the ten minute short that precedes it, “Examination Day,” made a much stronger impression on audiences. Not long ago at all, I saw a TikTok going on about how shocking its twist ending remains. 

Like “The Obsolete Man” and a few classic “Zone” episodes before it, “Examination Day” takes place in some weird sci-fi future. In this setting, everyone in the country is forced to undertake an intelligence exam when they turn twelve years old. Little Dickie Jordan, a bright and enthusiastic boy, is hoping to do well on the test. His parents, Richard and Ruth, are much more hesitant. Something as them worried. The day after his birthday, Dickie is taken to a government facility and given a truth serum, to make sure he doesn't tell any lies on the test. To say what happens next would take most of the punch out of this one but it's hard to discuss the episode much otherwise. So, look away now if you don't want a forty year old TV show spoiled for you: Dickie's parents are informed that their son scored too high on the intelligence test and, in accordance with government laws to keep the public servile and content, the boy has been executed. 

The sci-fi setting of “Examination Day” seems hopelessly dated to modern eyes. The gift Dickie receives for his birthday, that has him so excited, is a small television that he can talk to his friends on. In addition to that rather analog form of communication, the silver jumpsuits everyone wears and shiny, glowing buildings surely seemed like an example of retro-futurism even in 1985. The same could be said of the golly-gee-aw-shucks attitude of the little boy and that his name is Dickie. Despite these flaws, “Examination Day” does have a timeless message. Namely, that those in power will always frown upon anyone who asks questions. We haven't had a government that regulates IQ yet – give the current administration another year – but it hardly seems like that far of a leap. The death of a kid, especially one as adorably precocious as this one, is still a shocking incident. The way this announcement is coldly delivered to the parents makes the ruthless efficiency of this slaughtering system all the more brutal. “Examination Day” may not be much more than its twist but it is an effective twist. [7/10]

The Addams Family: The Addams Policy

Here's an episode of “The Addams Family” that builds its plot around some of the show's memorably bizarre props. “The Addams Policy” starts with the family playing with their latest acquisition: A hand-held flamethrower. While attempting to light Gomez' cigar, Uncle Fester accidentally sets the stuffed polar bear in the living room ablaze. Distraught, Morticia immediately seeks out their insurance agent. That turns out to be Mr. Digby, last seen living next door and now in the employ of old Mr. Henson. Digby is natural confused and frightened by the Addams' antics. Henson is so enraged by his employee agreeing to insure the eccentric Addams that he immediately fires him. Gomez and Morticia's solution is to simply open up their own insurance office, with Digby's name on the door. Naturally, the family has an equally quirky reaction to such a mercenary business.

As I've drawn closer to the conclusion of season two, how formulaic “The Addams Family” could be has become more apparent. I'm not talking about the reliance on running gags or guest stars getting freaked out. Those have always been a part of the show. Instead, a lot of season two episodes seem to be revolving around the set-up of sticking the family into an otherwise routine job or premise. We had “What if the Addams ran a school?” not that long ago and “What if Morticia was a decorator?” before that. This episode is “What if the Addams ran an insurance company?” It leads to the expected bits, of the family insuring only the most uninsurable rejects or Fester dressing up and playing doctor with a disguised Mr. Henson. I'm not saying I didn't chuckle from time to time – Cousin Itt has an amusing cameo in this one – but the repetitive quality of these ideas are beginning to show. 

I do admire the show bringing back various supporting players, despite how interchangeable many of them can be. I mean, how many different roles and jobs has Mr. Henson had at this point? I guess he's back in the insurance game now. Similarly, Digby seems weirdly unfamiliar with the Addams family, despite having lived next door to them fairly recently. Still, the ghoulish family tormenting these stuffed shirts are still easily the best part of “The Addams Policy.” Morticia relentlessly grilling Digby over what other animal a pile of ash might have been besides a bear is a nicely extended joke. Fester repeatedly shocking the man with his electrical powers is surprisingly mean-spirited too. If there's anyone we should be breaking down with stern-eyed interrogations and electrical torture, it's probably insurance salesman. The main cast and their reliably sharp delivery of various cheesy one-liners remain entertaining, despite the show starting to feel a little uninspired in its ideas. [6/10]

Halloween 2025: September 19th

 

The Long Walk (2025)

By 1976, a English teacher from Maine had published two novels. His first, about a bullied teenager with telekinesis, sold slowly in hard cover but became a best seller once published as a mass-market paperback. His second, about vampires emerging in a small town, was an immediate success. As the author prepared his third novel – about a haunted hotel –  he revised a nasty little story he wrote back in high school entitled “Getting It On,” about a homicidal teen shooting his teachers and taking his classroom hostage. At the time, his publisher would only put out one book a year from the same author. At the same time, Steve was starting to wonder if he truly deserved his rapidly growing success or if it was all a fluke. He decided to publish “Getting It On,” now called “Rage,” under a pseudonym and have it released with little publicity. This is how Stephen King became Richard Bachman. The two wrote the same sort of fiction but Bachman was meaner, without happy endings. The second Bachman book, “The Long Walk,” was the first novel King ever wrote and was published in 1979. After the truth about the author was revealed, “The Long Walk” became a favorite among fans of the author. Despite largely being devoted to teenage boys walking and being killed, numerous high-profile filmmakers have attempted to adapt it over the years. After George Romero, Frank Darabont, and André Øvredal couldn't get it made, screenwriter JT Molner and director Francis Lawrence would finally bring “The Long Walk” to theater screens this September.

Following a civil war and economic collapse, America has become a military dictatorship. As part of the new regime, a contest is held every year. The Long Walk is a simple marathon. Teenage boys from all over the country enter the lottery to join. Those that are selected are asked to walk for an undetermined amount of time. Their speed is constantly tracked by machines on their wrists. Should they drop below a specific feet-per-minute pace, they receive a warning from the military convoy trailing alongside. Should it happen again, a second warning. Should it happen a third time, they are executed on the spot. The winner of the Long Walk is the last boy standing and, supposedly, he will receive whatever wish his heart desires. The event is watched over by The Major, who will greet the final survivor at the race's end. Ray Garraty joins the Walk because he has a personal grudge against the Major. He's not the only one in this year's lot. As the walking goes on and on, and more boys die, bonds are formed, wills are tested, and secrets are revealed. 

King would write “The Long Walk” during the waning days of the Vietnam War. It's not too difficult to see the parallels in the story. This is, after all, a tale about America sending explicitly teenage boys off to die for a totally pointless cause. The Major barks out jingoistic phrases and encouragement, telling the boys that they are doing this for America, that their country honors them, that they are the bravest and strongest the U.S. has to offer. As the walk goes on, and the guys talk amongst themselves, it becomes clearly that every son in the country enters into the lottery to join the contest. Economic conditions have gotten so miserable that every sixteen year old male is willing to risk death for the slim chance of escaping it. After all, only one out of fifty young men is going to make it. What kind of odds are that? The system is utterly rigged against the youths, in other words. They are signing up to die, for the slightest chance that they might make it to the end and be able to escape a life of crushing poverty. All while the authority figures that made this gory spectacle go on about what an honor it is, what a brave sacrifice they are making. This was relevant in the late sixties when King first wrote it. It's sure as hell still relevant now, when economic divides are starker than ever in this country and military service – a chance to get your head blown off so the American imperialistic experiment can go on and military contractors can make another cool billion – seems to be a rare escape from collapsing cities and dead-end small towns with no future. 

In such a totally fucked-up situation, what keeps you going? What, befitting the metaphor of an endless foot race, keeps you moving forward? Ray is ultimately seeking revenge on the Major, who executed his father for the crime of distributing banned books and music. Stubbins, among the more mysterious walkers in the race, similarly has his eyes on the military leader. Others among them, such as the loud-mouthed Hank, simply desire to take care of their loved ones. McVries, the closest companion Ray finds on this journey, tries to encourage his new found friend not to pursue the path of violence. To try and make the world a better place, not merely add more bloodshed to it. However, in a place where the cards are stacked against you so severely, what else can you do? “The Long Walk” is partially a film about the value of political violence, if such acts can truly bring about a better tomorrow or if kindness is the only true path forward. It comes at a time when such questions are very much worth asking, here in America. Do you keep walking to make a better tomorrow? For a chance to dent an evil so great you can hardly imagine it? Or do you only hope to protect those you love and ensure a future for them? All troubling, complicated questions that need asking. 

King's book was set in a loosely defined dystopian future that looked a lot like the early seventies. Lawrence's film maintains that setting. There are no cell phones, aerial drone technology, or internet in this story. The image of school age kids being ruthlessly gunned down inevitably brings the epidemic of mass shootings in this country to mind but “The Long Walk” isn't really about that. Minimal allusions are made to the current rise of American fascism. The Major – played by Mark Hamill at his gravelliest, having gone from the fresh-faced young rebel to the faceless voice of cold-blooded authority – makes references to the youngest generation being lazy. How no one wants to work and how these damn kids today are responsible for the economic depression in the country. Certainly not those in power who made the system in the first place. It's the kind of embittered Boomerisms that are practically timeless, as all authoritarians seek to shift the blame to whatever scapegoat is most visible. Such themes are sadly universal. (Further proven by King's novel being a key inspiration for “Battle Royale,” another story about a government creating a system to kill kids and then blaming those kids for things being this way.)

Such political and social concerns aside, “The Long Walk” is simply a relentlessly effective piece of storytelling. The cinematography, from Jo Willems, is both wide and intimate, never getting in its own way. The focus is mostly on the faces of the boys as they walk and the desolate landscape – really, could be any small town, rural part of America – they journey through. The title screen is held off until the first bullet rips through the first victim, a brutal moment that sets up the level of violence and realism on-display here. “The Long Walk” is an often brutal film, full of bodily fluids, that makes every gunshot hurt. When walking uphill during a rain storm, the amount of guns going off recalls a military battle, leaving the same sort of trauma response on the boys as war time would. The titular contest is one designed to break its participants and it does. Minor injuries and unavoidable biological needs become killers. Ankles shatter, faces scrap on concrete, shoes are worn through, lungs strain, blood vessels burst, but mostly minds and wills are broken by the relentless, unending walking. The film follows that same path and the violence within is fittingly brutal, the tone utterly grim. 

More than anything else, “The Long Walk” is an ensemble piece. It's easy to see why so many talented filmmakers have found themselves unable to crack it over the years. Fifty kids walking in a straight line and talking to each other doesn't sound very cinematic. The book was previously adapted to the stage, which probably seems like an easier fit. However, Lawrence's film focuses on the compelling performers bringing these surprisingly fleshed-out figures ot life. Cooper Hoffman plays Ray and is given a choice monologue about his dead dad, a moment unavoidably rich with real life subtext. A lot like his father, the younger Hoffman has a practical and relatable presence paired with a willingness to expose deep emotions on-screen. He pairs well with David Jonsson, Tut Nyuot, and Ben Wang as the other central boys. All of whom gift their characters with a surprising amount of quirks and details, that typically colorful King-ian dialogue and gift for backstory truly triumphing here. I was also impressed with Charlie Plummer and Thamela Mpumlwana as Barkovitch and Pearson, parts that could've been one-note that these actors manage to make colorful and fully formed. 

That's a good example of what a textured film “The Good Walk” is. It never burdens itself with the background of its setting. However, this dystopian alternate universe – really not that different from the one we have now – feels alive and detailed, people having lived sad and desperate lives in this crumbling empire. The philosophical discussion of the material border on the melodramatic at times. With a less talented cast, it easily could've been. Thankfully, the film has assembled a hell of a group of young performers. It's a serious downer of a film but a powerful one. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised the movie got made at all, during the time that it did. Lawrence and Mollner certainly impress with this one on a level far above their previous output. It's an excellent adaptation – the ending is actually better than King's – and a strong film in its own right, distressing and thought-provoking in all the right ways. So get used to it cause Trump is probably going to introduce the real thing in like six months. [9/10]

Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice? (1969)
 

Robert Aldrich had us questioning what ever happened to Baby Jane in 1962 and telling Sweet Charlotte to hush, hush shortly after that. Theater audiences were then bombarded with a whole succession of aging actresses doing horrible things to each other, being tormented by the next generation, gaslit by their companions, or occasionally going on axe murdering sprees. We said die die to my darling, pictured Mommy dead, told Pretty Peggy to scream, wondered what's the matter with Helen, asked whoever slew Auntie Roo, observed that Aunt Martha sometimes does dreadful things, and proclaimed Dear Delilah dead. Most of these so-called hagsploitation flicks came along nearly a decade after the progenitor, kicked off by Aldrich's much later capper to his quasi-trilogy. Which he would only produce but the connection to his earlier hit was evident in the equally salacious title. That would be "Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice?," which actually opened at number one at the box office in July of 1969. 

Claire Marrable used to be the wife of a very rich man. "Used to be" being the key phrase there. She is informed that her late husband's estate has had all its assets seized, leaving her with nothing but a moldy old stamp collection. She moves out to the Arizona desert, next door to a single mom and her nosy kid. After an argument with Rose, her housekeeper, she beats the other woman to death and buries her body underneath a palm tree. Shortly afterwards, she hires another live-in maid. After learning old Edna actually has some money in the bank, Claire kills her as well and empties her account. While at a party her nephew is throwing, Claire meets Alice, a retired nurse and widow to a stock broker. Claire hires Alice to be her next companion... But Alice is not all she seems. She's actually there to investigate the disappearance of an old friend, Claire's previous victim. The two women sneak around each other's backs, plotting against one another, and trying to uncover the truth. It won't be long before Claire is compelled to kill again.

The psycho-biddy trend gave a number of actresses unexpected last acts of their career, usually giving them one more chance to ham it up to high heavens in frequently campy material. Geraldine Page was only 44 at the time she filmed “Aunt Alice” but that did not stop her from absolutely devouring the scenery. While most films patterned after “Baby Jane” made some attempt to make their unhinged old ladies at least a tiny bit sympathetic, Page as Mrs. Marrable is utterly unforgivable. She begins the film harassing the estate agent. She spends most scenes belittling everyone around her. She is, in a sense that I would consider complimentary, a bitch. Page attacks the role with such irresistible venom. Claire is a wicked woman, an unrepentant murderer who never acts anyway but selfishly. Yet she's so entertaining while doing it. That makes her exactly the kind of cinematic villain that we love to watch, no matter how devious she might be.

Starring opposite Page is Ruth Gordon, fresh off “Rosemary's Baby.” Before the film reveals that Alice has a secret of her own, the audience can tell something is up with her already. When the reveal arrives, it sets a nicely suspenseful premise. We the viewer know Alice is there to uncover Claire's murderous tendencies. It's also evident that Claire has her suspicions about the new maid, while also intending to disguise her homicidal habit. That means there are multiple layers of suspense at work, the audience constantly left to wonder who knows what and how much they know. Director Lee H. Katzin knows how to tighten the screws too. There's a fantastically framed sequence where Alice is digging through her employer's papers, before Claire arrives unexpectedly and nearly catches. That suspenseful undercurrent builds towards a nicely lurid last act, where the old ladies seem to genuinely beat the crap out of each other. A moment in a car, Page wearing a distinctive red wig, goes in a similarly wild direction. 

“Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice?” has a lot going for it, in other words. Gordon gives a naturalistic performance as Alice, in contrast to Page's theatricality. The southwest setting provides a good sense of isolation, the home standing out in the flat landscape. Joseph Biroc's cinematography – second time that name has cropped up this September – further emphasizes this. However, “Aunt Alice” is kept out of the top-tier of hag horror standards by an unnecessarily junked up screenplay. The film simply has too many subplots, a number of supporting characters that never quite come into focus. A romantic story line is especially unneeded. It distracts from the central dynamic between the two women. Still, Theodore Apstein's screenplay does pack in some fabulously ironic swerves. The role of a stray dog comes around nicely while the final scene features an amusing twist.

The film definitely has some major flaws. However, an deliciously evil performance from Geraldine Page easily keeps the film afloat. Moreover, the film shows a fine understanding of Hitchcockian suspense, often putting bombs under tables and letting them tick away while the characters go about their bloody business. Page would continue to have a fine career for the next twenty years, popping up in a few other horror related projects here and there. (Three episodes of “Night Gallery” and “The Bride.”) Director Katzin would make a few other notable films – a Steve McQueen race car movie, a wacky sci-fi flick with Bruce Dern – but would mostly work in television. That's a shame, as this film suggests he certainly had some talent for thrillers. Assuming we can give him credit for this one and not attribute the whole movie to Aldrich. Anyway, “Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice?” is a pretty good example of this type of thing. [7/10]
 

 

 

Tales of the Unexpected: A Harmless Vanity

Though I'm rather fond of Roald Dahl's fireside host segments, the author only hosted the episodes of “Tales of the Unexpected” based on his own writing. This amounted to about 26 installments, mostly in the first two seasons. Some of the later “Tales” are also well regarded though. Such as “A Harmless Vanity,” from the fifth series. The episode follows Mary, a dowdy married woman who suspects that her husband, a boat salesman, is having an affair. After talking with Liz, a friend and co-workers of George's, she learns this is true. Her husband is sleeping with a younger, sexier woman named Carol. Mary wants to meet the woman. Despite Liz' objections, she talks Carol into going to the beach with Mary. First, Mary dyes her hair blonde and buys a revealing bikini, to make herself feel younger. A tense afternoon follows, the younger woman unaware of her connection to Mary. All of the women are also unaware of a man in a scuba suit, sitting on the hill and watching When Carol goes for a swim in the sea, the diver attacks and drowns her. This is not exactly what Mary wanted and she feels a sense of guilt over the death... Until she goes back home.

“A Harmless Vanity” is based on a story by Theda O'Henle, an author I am otherwise unfamiliar with. However, the episode does grapple with a surprising amount of themes. The title suggests this is a story about a woman feeling insecure in her appearance. That she wants to compete with the younger woman by getting a brighter hair color and putting on a sexy suit. Upon seeing Carol on the beach, however, it becomes apparent that she can't compete with the perky breasts and fresh-faced youth of her competition. This moves the story into more of a melancholy direction, the wife left to wonder about how she's wasted so much time on a man that would trade up like this. Or that the man she loves is exactly that shallow. Sheila Gish conveys a lot of those stormy and complicated emotions on just her face and with the sad undercurrent she adds to her dialogue. 

This is one of the “Tales of the Unexpected” that does fall into the thriller genre though. There's a definite tension in the air between Mary and the other woman, who remains totally unaware of what's at stake here. Into this already tense situation enters the unnamed third party. Director Giles Foster introduces the stalker through binocular point-of-view shots, with some heavy breathing underneath too. That introduces some “Halloween”-style disturbance of the norm here. It creates a sense of seasick – excuse the pun – unease as the story moves towards its homicidal plot point. Which is surprisingly graphic. The ending, as unexpected as advertised, is an ironic trap for the philandering husband but doesn't let the wife off entirely either. Almost as if she subconsciously willed this to happened. Maybe not fair to her but bleakly compelling never the less. [8/10]

 

The Addams Family: The Great Treasure Hunt

“The Addams Family” would not often be described as a plot heavy series but this episode is an exception. “The Great Treasure Hunt” begins with Morticia and Gomez having a romantic evening up in the attic during a thunderstorm. After a dripping leak ruins the mood, they discover a chest that once belonged to Peg-Leg Addams, a pirate descendant. Included is half a map supposedly leading to his greatest fortune. The family goes searching through the home for the other half, Gomez soon discovering it. Afterwards, it is decided that they will charter a boat to the Caribbean and find the treasure as a family trip. First they need a boat though. Unfortunately, the duo they hire for the job – Captain Grimby and his pal, Mr. Brack – are more interested in the amount of cash the family has laying around than the treasure. They return in the middle of the night with the intention of robbing the place, Fester becoming their most uncooperative hostage. 

“The Great Treasure Hunt” sees the “Addams Family” returning to the central joke of the program, that the series has mostly been avoiding in season two: Outsiders arriving at the Addams' abode and being freaked out by all the weird shit they see. Shortly after the would-be boaters arrive, Fester drives his motorcycle through the living room while wearing a diving helmet, Morticia makes kissy-faces at the pet piranhas, and Cousin Itt emerges from an iron maiden. (You would think a guy named Brack would be more accustomed to wacky shit.) Otherwise, this episode does feature stronger sight gags than that. A bit involving an anchor and life-saver Fester has prepared for the trip got a chuckle out of me. As did the family vault being hidden behind a series of googly-eyed portraits. A nice silly moment has the gong usually used to summon Lurch being out-of-order, causing Gomez to rely on a more sensitive back-up. There are good, weird bits involving a wine bottle cork and a piggy bank. This episode also features an instance of antagonistic outsiders attempting to torture a member of the Addams family, with them responding with delight. A scene that benefits from Jackie Coogan's odd-ball comedic timing.

That last point isn't the only element from “The Great Treasure Hunt” that makes me wonder if this episode wasn't a direct influence on the beloved duo of live-action films. The opening scene of Morticia and Gomez getting romantic in the attic is quite reminiscent of many of Raul Julia and Angelica Huston's scenes together. As is the dead-pan reaction to a the water dripping on her forehead. Carolyn Jones' line upon pulling a sextant from Peg-Leg Addams' box is a surprisingly direct innuendo. I also like the conversation Wednesday has with her dad about what the kids are learning in history, or the nonchalant way he disposes of a live stick of dynamite. That is a little darker, a little edgier than the jokes on your average episode. The subplot about the sailors trying to rob the house is a bit of a dud. The twist endings about the true nature of the hidden treasure is even more obvious. Once the characters start talking about going on an exotic cruise, the viewer can't help but assume it will get delayed. There's no way a tropical vacation was in this show's budget. Not a bad episode otherwise though. [7/10]

Director Report Card: Leigh Whannell (2025)

4. Wolf Man

After the success of Whannell's "Invisible Man," Universal would announce a whole slate of new films based around their classic monster movies. In the five years since then, only a few of these have made it in front of audiences and none have been especially successful at the box office. One of those proposed projects was a new remake of "The Wolf Man," to be written and directed by the guy who started this new wave of remakes, Leigh Whannell. Scheduling conflicts intervened. Ryan Gosling, of all people, pitched his own idea to Universal and invited along his "Blue Valentine" director, Derek Cianfrance. While a big star like Gosling and an acclaimed filmmaker like Cianfrance surely had an interesting take on the material, this version also fell through. With a new theme park to promote, Universal quickly sought Leigh Whannell back out. I guess his "Wolf Man" was always destined to be the next one. It's the first big horror release of 2025 and, for old monster-heads like myself, a source of major curiosity. 

Blake grew up in the isolated Oregon woods with his survivalist father. While on a hunting trip, the two had a frightening encounter with something inhuman. Thirty years later, Blake is living in the city with his journalist wife, Charlotte, and their precocious daughter, Ginger. He receives a letter informing him that his dad, missing for some time, has been declared dead. Hoping a trip to the country will ease some tension in the marriage, the three head out for Oregon to clean out the property. While driving to the house, Blake swerves off the road to avoid a man-like figure. The family barely escapes being attacked by the creature after fleeing the crash site. Holed up in Blake's childhood home, the three spend the night in fear of what's outside... But what's inside is just as dangerous, as Blake is slowly undergoing a similar transformation, becoming a monster out of legend. 

I suspect that, when tasked to write a new take on "The Wolf Man," Whannell and his co-writer – his wife, Corbett Tuck – searched for a fresh take on the werewolf concept. Most lycanthropy stories go the supernatural route, following in the footsteps of the rules mostly created by Curt Siodmak for the original "Wolf Man." Maybe reality did the inspiring for them though, as the script was supposedly conceived during the COVID-19 pandemic. Whannell presents the idea of the werewolf curse as an infectious disease. It's a bloodborne virus that spreads through cuts and bites, slowly changing the infected's body and neurological state. It's characterized repeatedly as a fever, dispelling most every paranormal association with the werewolf concept. This "Wolf Man" contains no full moons, pentagrams, or blooming wolfsbane. It's as grounded a werewolf movie as you're likely to get, as bold a reinvention of a classic monster as Whannell's "Invisible Man" was.

However, a fear of disease is not what this "Wolf Man" is truly about. Instead, the anxieties that motivate the story are much more personal. The glimpses we get of Blake's childhood shows him frightened of his own father, a strict and paranoid man that clearly kept his son under tight control. Now a parent himself, Blake never wants to be like his dad. He reminds his daughter Ginger, on a daily basis, how much he loves her. When she does something foolish, the way kids are prone to do, he yells at her before immediately apologizing. He wants to be a caring, loving, emotionally understanding and available dad. His rejection of traditional macho tactics are signaled by him allowing his daughter to put make-up on his face or being a stay-at-home dad while his wife is at work. The opening flashback is set in 1995, putting Blake right in the millennial demographic, and he clearly has the common anxieties of that age group: Traumatized by his asshole boomer parent and desperate not to repeat those same mistakes.

In other words, Blake's greatest fear is becoming his dad. The werewolf archetype has often been interpreted as about the duality of man. Whether it is repressed sexual urges or a deeper savage nature, the wolf has always represented the parts of ourselves we are most afraid of showing. Naturally, once he's bitten, this means Blake immediately begins to yell at his wife and kid, causing them to stare in confusion. He's not himself, a twitching and temperamental man who literally can no longer communicate with those dearest to him. By the time he's a hairy, growling beast, his transformation into an abusive parent and husband is complete. The lingering fear that he's just as capable as his dad was of being a beast has come true. 

Which suggest another question: Are we all doomed to become our parents eventually? Being in roughly the same age group as the film's protagonist, it's a neurotic worry I've had too. Have all the flaws of my father that made my childhood difficult been bred into me? Upon returning to the Oregon woods, Blake and family meet a childhood friend of his, who carries a rifle around as an everyday accessory. This concerns city girl Charlotte but Blake reassures her that, in the country, everybody has a gun. The place he comes from is still indebted to older ideas about manly men killing and hunting to protect their own. In other words, this world is still a part of Blake, no matter how hard he's worked to disguise that. Whannell's "Wolf Man" most connects to the Lon Chaney classic and subsequent adaptations with these Daddy Issues themes. Blake is nearly dragged back into the wild by another wolf man whose true identity is no surprise, the need to behave a certain way and do certain things calling to him.

If we are all doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past, perhaps it's a somewhat inevitable fate. The first proper shot of the movie is of a wasp being torn apart by a horde of ants. Stefan Duscio's sweeping cinematography draws attention to the natural beauty of the Oregon woods. There are multiple shots of the mountains in the distance, the fogs creeping around the trees and peaks. It's beautiful but, as Blake's dad reminds him early on, it's also dangerous. A key shot shows the moving van winding through the country roads, surrounded by trees on all sides. Compared to their urban apartment, the country home is without comfort, with rotten meat hung up in the freezer and a rickety generator providing fickle electricity. The opening flashback could be a short film in its own regard, father and son pinned down by some sort of cryptozoological threat deep in the woods. That Blake has a daughter, instead of a son, that he ultimately becomes a threat too seems important. Not only does he fear becoming his dad, he fears becoming a wild man, embracing the savagery of the natural world and inflicting it on the women in his life. 

The conflict between men and women represents probably the most underwritten part of the movie. Whannell's "Wolf Man" is ambitious, about disease and parenthood and marriage, meaning one of its themes was always going to be underserved. Charlotte expresses a concern that she can't relate to her daughter anymore, while clearly referencing some growing tension with her husband. Why Charlotte and Blake are having problems is never exactly addressed. Clearly, however, we are meant to believe that they love each other anyway. The characters say as much. Julia Garner, while believable as a mother determined to protect her kid, never sells the idea that she is in love with this man. A key moment involves Charlotte attempting to communicate with a bedridden Blake, who is already undergoing his transformation, recalling many examples of people desperate to talk with loved one's on a ventilator during the pandemic. Blake can't hear her though. The film will periodically give us glimpses into his head. He's seeing and hearing things like a wolf now, with extra-sensitive hearing and smell, seeing fields of light and color invisible to a normal human's eyes. Notably, he can see the veins under the skin of his wife and daughter, the blood his wolf side craves right there. 

This is paired with a heavy dose of body horror, Blake's teeth falling out, his fingernails being torn off and replaced with talons, his jaw cracking into a new location. Like all modern body horror stories, "Wolf Man" owes something to Cronenberg. To learn "The Fly" is one of the films Whannell had his crew watch before filming began is not surprising, as you can see it's a clear influence. (Especially in the climax, which clearly recalls the 1986 remake.) However, "The Fly" works because it's a believable love story. The bond between Blake and Charlotte never seems to come to life. That his transformation happens over the course of an entire night seems to rush the characters' through their emotional arc. That the film will take us inside Blake's head suggests a story split in two. Whannell wanted to make a Cronenbergian story of a man changing into something else. He also wanted to tell the tale of the man's wife and daughter surviving this change. The split in focus damages both elements of the film, the love story and the sense of what is being lost never quite coming across. 

The half of "Wolf Man" that's a tragic story of a marriage falling apart, amid a virus-induced wolf out, doesn't totally succeed. The half that is a siege picture, about a trio trying to keep a werewolf out of the strange house they're locked inside, works a lot better. Something incredibly smart the movie does is quickly establish the settings that most of the story will take place in. There's a deer blind that bookends the film. On the property is a triangular, quietly foreboding farm house, a barn, and a simple green house with vinyl walling. Each of these locations are used in a suspense sequence, with the green house setting up a rather clever way. Limiting most of the movie to so few locations was both a smart budgetary decision. It also allows the audience to be more aware of the limited resources the characters have at their disposal. These are the only places they have to hide and all of them have few defenses for a clawed beast eager to get inside.

The mastery of fright and suspense sequences that Whannell showed off in his previous monster reboot is still on display here. The director has a good eye for when to keep stuff off-screen and when to viscerally thrust it into our face. This is very true of the opening scene, in which we get nothing but brief glimpses of a hairy humanoid and see its breath over the edge of a tree house wall, a rather tense sequence. The scene where the family is locked in the crashed truck, as the creature approaches, builds fantastically, also only giving us small peeks at the monster. A later moment is built around Charlotte desperately trying to start up a truck. It's a drawn out scene, a series of mundane actions, that builds towards an excellently revealed shocked and the first proper look we get at the title monster. From that point on, “Wolf Man” is an in-your-face monster movie, featuring some disturbingly gory gags. Including a bit that plays as both a homage to the 1944 “Wolfman” and Whannell's first horror hit.

Keeping the cast so limited is another example of how economical the film's writing is. There's truly only about five characters in the film, with most of the scenes only being concerned with the central trio of Blake, Charlotte, and Ginger. Christopher Abbott, quickly becoming the go-to leading man for genre projects in need of a neurotic star, projects Blake's anxieties as he succumbs to this sickness. He also has strong chemistry with Matilda Firth as Ginger, an adorable little moppet that you immediately want to see protected. That the script lets Julia Garner down a bit is no fault of her's, as she certainly shows off a strong spirit whenever facing down a werewolf, wielding a rifle, or trying to get an engine to turn over. One imagines, if given a more proactive role like the heroine in Whannell's last monster movie, she would have gotten far more chances to shine. 

I'm already seeing reviews from classic monster movie fans expressing disappointment with this new “Wolf Man,” for being such a radical reinvention of the classic character. When a glimpse at a costume of the new make-up was revealed at one of the Universal theme parks last year, many people were disappointed. Indeed, by taking such a grounded approach to the idea, Whannell has delivered a beast that is far more man than wolf. The make-up is, as far as these things go, fairly low-key. It's the kind of physical transformation that, if not for the speed with which it occurs, would probably be quite plausible. However, within the context of this approach, I believe it works. The subtle shifting of Abbott's face is nicely uncanny, implying a wolf-like state through the shape of the bones under the skins. It might not hurt if you go in expecting something that looks a little more Henry Hull than Lon Chaney Jr. though. 

Having a lot of ideas on its mind at once is not the worst sin a horror movie can commit. Whannell's “Wolf Man” would probably be a better movie if it was only about disease, or parental anxieties, or childhood trauma, or a dissolving marriage, or simply a siege picture about trying to keep a monster out. The film does performs some of these ideas better than others. However, the reboot still has a committed cast in its corner, several impressively tense moments, and some fine cinematography and make-up. If nothing else, it's a new take on a familiar concept. Unlike the last “Wolfman” Universal made, hopelessly scrambled by executive meddling, it's clear that Whannell made exactly the movie he wanted here. This classic monster nerd found this one to have more positive than negative traits. [Grade: B]