There are things about Nia DaCosta’s Candyman that I will not talk about.

The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It is a rather forgettable entry in the ever-expanding Conjuring universe and the only film featuring Ed and Lorraine Warren as the central characters I’ll never willingly choose to return to.

The Night House grabbed me by the throat and slowly squeezed.

Tailgate introduces a villainous stalker for the ages, and the next time I’m behind the wheel I’ll be on my best behavior just to play it safe.

scape Room: Tournament of Champions isn’t exactly victorious, but it doesn’t lose the game, either.

Old says something about life that’s as profound as it is frightening, the nebulous, beauteously unfathomable peculiarities a human life is born to navigate from first breath to last ambitiously displayed in all their monstrous ambiguity.

Mortal Kombat never delivers on any of its promise, and I’m honestly not sure that if a sequel ends up getting made I’d want to take the time to watch it.

“I hope that Hollywood will take a page out of Netflix’s book and take more of these kinds of risks of telling stories for broad audiences that center Queer characters. I’ll never get tired of hearing stories about kids who watch these movies and feel like they’re less alone.”
– Phil Graziadei

With Fear Street Part 3: 1666, one of the most ambitious motion picture horror trilogies I’ve ever seen comes to a thrilling conclusion.