Some films simmer slowly, while others, like this one, serve their poison from the very first bite. The Menu hooks you with its blend of thriller, dark comedy, and social satire, unfolding course by course until the viewer is left both uncomfortable and fascinated. The theatrical atmosphere in the staging is a key ingredient. Everything moves with choreographed precision, as if we were watching a performance where each gesture, silence, and look is part of a greater design. That sense of ritual makes it even more engaging. Ralph Fiennes inhabits the role of the chef as a true master of ceremonies, hypnotic and disturbing. His command of the room is absolute, and the tension becomes as tangible as one of the dishes being served. Opposite him, Anya Taylor-Joy embodies the lone voice of defiance at this banquet of pretension, and the chemistry between them is magnetic, driving the story forward. The film pokes fun at haute cuisine and the obsession with luxury, but it never loses its sharp edge of suspense and unease, turning each dish into a social commentary disguised as a culinary experience. There are moments of absurdity, sinister touches, and even laughable extremes, but all of it fits into a carefully orchestrated discomfort. It may not be the deepest social critique or the sharpest thriller, but as a spectacle it works from start to finish. This is a menu that doesn’t leave you indifferent: grotesque, elegant, and cruel in equal measure. An experience that, like a great dinner, is savored more for the journey than for the final bite.

After Past Lives, the bar for Celine Song was incredibly high, and perhaps for that reason Materialists doesn’t quite reach the same level of mastery. Even so, it’s a remarkable film that confirms the director as one of the most compelling voices in contemporary cinema. The story treads familiar ground: a romantic triangle, doubts about true love, and the human need not to be alone. But Song reshapes the genre with a sentimental, reflective tone that goes beyond conventional romantic comedy. It’s not just about who ends up with whom, but about what it means to seek affection in a world where everything seems measured by perceived value. The script is full of sharp dialogue, the kind that leaves you with more questions than answers. The characters, convincingly portrayed, feel real in their vulnerability and contradictions, making it easy for the audience to see themselves in them. The central trio—Chris Evans, Pedro Pascal, and Dakota Johnson—works beautifully, giving the story balance. Johnson in particular stands out, once again proving her growing strength as an actress, bringing both sensitivity and power to her role. Visually, the film maintains the elegance shown in Song’s debut, with a restrained but carefully crafted style. The inclusion of Cat Power songs adds to the melancholic atmosphere. In the end, Materialists may not be as flawless as Past Lives, but it has heart, ideas, and moments of genuine beauty. A film worth seeing, about love, desire, and the eternal need not to be alone.

What stands out most about In the Shadow of the Moon is its fearless mix of genres. Police thriller, science fiction, family drama, and even hints of horror come together in a story that, while somewhat chaotic, keeps your attention for most of its runtime. The premise is strong: a detective who encounters a mysterious killer appearing every few years in ways that defy logic. That hook pulls the viewer in, even if the script can’t always sustain so much ambition. At times, the film feels like it’s trying to cover more than it can handle. Boyd Holbrook does an adequate job in the lead role, though at times he lacks the charisma needed to fully connect with his personal struggles. Still, the supporting cast provides enough weight to keep the story afloat, supported by solid production values that enhance its unsettling tone. Visually, it delivers striking imagery and moments of tension, but also leans on familiar clichés that lessen its freshness. The pacing is uneven: bursts of intensity are followed by slower stretches that sap some of the momentum. All in all, In the Shadow of the Moon isn’t flawless, but it’s entertaining and intriguing. An imperfect film that takes risks, blends genres freely, and, even when it stumbles, manages to leave you with the sense of having seen something different.

Sometimes a film that gets too much hype loses its ability to surprise. With Weapons, the opposite happened: after all the buzz, I expected to be tired of it, yet it kept me glued to the screen until the very end. That doesn’t happen often, especially with a horror film that dares to break the mold. What Zach Cregger sets up is bold: an original idea pushed to the limit, told in chapters that gradually come together like a twisted, absorbing puzzle. Not everyone will enjoy the bloodier side—there are gore scenes that could have been toned down without weakening the story—but that rawness is part of the experience. The cast is another strength. Josh Brolin and Julia Garner, along with a solid ensemble, carry a story that blends horror, drama, and even dark humor. The mix might sound odd, but on screen it works, keeping the tension alive at all times. Visually, the film has real personality. It plays with the macabre and the poetic, with atmospheres that feel like a dark fairytale. The direction knows when to tighten the rope and when to release it, making each twist land like a punch. In the end, Weapons is one of this year’s standout films. It may be too much for some, but it’s as unsettling as it is fascinating. A wild, disturbing, and surprising ride that cements Cregger as one of today’s most interesting horror voices.

Mixing a hijacking thriller with a vampire horror film isn’t common, and that’s where Blood Red Sky scores its first point. The premise is intriguing: a plane taken over by terrorists, a seemingly fragile mother hiding a dark secret, and a story that soon erupts into violence and blood. The film plays with suspense in its opening, but once the fangs come out it turns into a full-on display of action and gore. At times it feels exaggerated or even a bit silly, but it keeps the viewer hooked with its genre mash-up. If you’re looking for refined horror you might be disappointed; if you want chaotic fun, you’ll get it. Comparisons to Train to Busan are inevitable: the same confined space, the same tension, except here it’s vampires instead of zombies. It also recalls the frantic tone of Guillermo del Toro’s The Strain. It doesn’t reach the heights of either, but it navigates that middle ground fairly well. Special effects do their job, the bloody scenes don’t hold back, and the cast delivers the intensity the story requires. Narratively it could have been sharper—some stretches feel too long—but as entertainment it works. In the end, Blood Red Sky is an original twist within a genre that rarely dares to blend this much. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a wild, entertaining ride that shows there’s still room for fresh takes on vampire stories.