The Woman (review)
A film that gnaws at our notions of what’s proper and what’s improper, dredging up unexpected horrors from the most banal of ordinariness.
A film that gnaws at our notions of what’s proper and what’s improper, dredging up unexpected horrors from the most banal of ordinariness.
When the only mildly creepy thing a horror film trailer has to offer doesn’t appear in the actual film, that’s bad.
I’ve heard this from many a film lover: “Oh, Pedro Almodóvar! He’s such a feminist! He loves women!” I don’t see that. At all.
It’s entirely possible that nothing that happens after the first twenty minutes or so is taking place anywhere outside the protagonist’s head. But that’s not a really satisfying out for what is an equally intriguing and frustrating cinematic experience…
There’s tons of delicious suspense of the horror-flick variety to be had in writer-director André Øvredal’s mockumentary, and plenty of Spielbergian shock-awe, but what makes it one of the most satisfying examples of found-footage flicks yet is its observational, journalistic ethos.
Apollo 18 is not scary. It’s not intense. It’s not surprising. It’s supposed to be all these things and fails completely.

It’s a rare thing, but sometimes digging up the past and giving it another spin is a good thing.
This is simply a great flick: powerfully emotional, profoundly resonant, scary and funny and intense and wholly enrapturing.
Hey! It’s a supernatural horror flick about the clash between the power of the institution of The Church and the power of personal faith and belief. Oh, and also about kicking vampire ass.
I can’t help but recall Eddie Murphy’s standup bit in which he suggested — this is decades ago now — that when a scary voice in your haunted house tells you to “Gettttt outtttt!” the best thing to do is leave…