
Kong: Skull Island movie review: ape-ocalypse now
Boiled down to its bonkers essence, Skull Island is a Vietnam war movie with monsters, a retro analog vibe, and a dash of both Moby-Dick and The X-Files.

Boiled down to its bonkers essence, Skull Island is a Vietnam war movie with monsters, a retro analog vibe, and a dash of both Moby-Dick and The X-Files.

Ominous signs and psychological detours get tossed out and tossed away on the path to ridiculous gothic nonsense that takes itself far too seriously.

My anger that women filmmakers doing a horror anthology is seen as a novelty almost overshadows my disappointment that these short films aren’t very scary.

Fresh feminist horror of a very welcome taboo-smashing kind. Nasty, hilarious, outraged and outrageous, and as poignant as it is blackly funny.

A sinister tapestry of urban unease and feminist fury that turns an ordinary domestic setting into a place of skulking terror. Original and deeply creepy.

Lurid and squicky, Split treads water and keeps too many secrets on a dull path to the revelation of its self-satisfied cleverness.

One of the most inept films I’ve ever seen. Cheaply made, poorly directed, badly acted, oddly edited, and ultimately insultingly stupid.

A fairy tale of the Grimm sort: no happy ending, no heroes or villains, just hard truths about life and human nature. Important, beautiful, heartbreaking.

After a few quick nods to the profoundly unethical act at its core, it shrugs it off and uses it as the basis for its fairy-tale romance. This is not okay.

Dementedly creepy punk body-horror grossout comedy plays like a padded-out short. But Natasha Lyonne and Chloë Sevigny have a ball as cheerful wastrels.