Reviews

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Good

is very nice

..

Ass

Much like "Shivers," David Cronenberg revisits familiar territory, transplanting the contagion from a claustrophobic apartment complex to an open urban sprawl. Yet despite the expanded scale, the characters remain underdeveloped, and the narrative still avoids probing deeper questions about human nature or the role of institutions in managing crises. Instead, it stays content delivering surface-level visceral thrills.

Watching "Rabid" after living through the COVID era lends its infectious outbreak premise an eerie resonance. While the film takes creative liberties with medical plausibility and the performances often veer into exaggeration—particularly from the leading man—it still maintains a complete, if somewhat unremarkable, narrative. Beneath the body horror lies a faint but deliberate thread of female resistance and quiet defiance against patriarchal control.

Distinctive and thought-provoking, the film contemplates mortality with serenity. It reminds us that a human life is a fleeting moment within the vast timeline of the universe, and accepting death can bring freedom rather than despair. The third act stands out in particular—while initially puzzling, it became stunning in its clarity, and offers a visual embodiment of a worldview in which embracing impermanence becomes an act of grace.

Deeply affecting and quietly profound, "The Life of Chuck" begins with the declaration, “We will always remember Chuck,” yet leaves us questioning who Chuck is. Through a reverse narrative structure, the film gradually reveals that Chuck isn’t extraordinary at all—he’s a cheerful, sometimes timid, sometimes brave, dance-loving ordinary man. The film is a quiet hymn to everyday existence, celebrating the beauty of normalcy.

"Eddington" is an ambitious mosaic of contemporary anxieties, weaving together themes of pandemics, conspiracy theories, racial tensions, sexual assault, political corruption, and social fragmentation. Through the microcosm of a small American town, the film portrays how misinformation and personal vendettas thrive in an age of fractured trust, painting a sobering portrait of a society teetering on the edge of chaos.

The final sequence is staged with remarkable precision. After Joe becomes mayor, he finds himself locked in the crosshairs of Michael, whose simmering resentment mirrors Joe’s own past obsession with dethroning Ted. When Michael raises his gun, we see his own reflection in the barrel—a haunting visual metaphor suggesting that this endless cycle of rivalry and revenge is destined to repeat itself.

Among the characters, Kenny—the protagonist’s brother—stands out as the film’s emotional anchor. Far from being a burden, he represents stability and safety for his mother and sister. His honesty and steadfastness make him the one person they can trust, a living reminder that despite the chaos around them, there are still pockets of goodness worth holding on to and reasons to keep moving forward.

At its core, "Night Always Comes" is not just about money or family—it’s an exploration of systemic traps and personal fate. When rigid societal structures and individual agency collide, can an ordinary person ever truly change their outcome? The film refuses to offer easy answers. Rather than comforting the audience with triumph, it lets the protagonist’s struggle linger unresolved, staying true to its bleak, uncompromising tone.

There’s an undeniable fairy-tale beauty to the film’s imagery, and its visuals are captivating despite the narrative gaps. There are moments of frustration, such as the winged creatures mysteriously failing to fly when it matters most—a detail that undercuts the story’s own internal logic.

The film struggles under the weight of its own ambition, with disjointed storytelling, abrupt tonal shifts, and chaotic pacing. Its over-reliance on spectacle—flashy set pieces, rushed edits, and overwrought music—leaves little room for it to be mysterious. Inconsistencies abound, from incoherent geography to illogical plot twists, making it difficult to stay immersed in its world.

Liam Neeson’s performance is one of the film’s strongest assets. With his perfectly deadpan delivery, he channels Leslie Nielsen’s spirit without simply imitating him, giving absurd situations an unexpected gravitas. This balance between homage and reinvention highlights Neeson’s surprising comedic instincts while keeping the reboot fresh and self-aware.

This reboot of "The Naked Gun" finds the sweet spot between honoring its slapstick roots and updating its humor for modern audiences. While it lampoons classic ’80s action tropes, it also skewers contemporary culture—poking fun at drones, social media, and blockbuster filmmaking itself—ensuring both longtime fans and newcomers have plenty to laugh at.

Bob Odenkirk returns as Hutch Mansell, the seemingly unassuming family man with deadly precision, now anchored by the tagline: “No one ruins his vacation.” The sequel ups the ante with fiercer violence and deeper emotional stakes, weaving in social critiques on systemic corruption, trial by social media, and the failures of justice—all without losing the kinetic, bone-crunching intensity that defined the first film.