Review: Evil Dead Burn (2026)

Posted on July 13, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

To use a bit of internet verbiage, when a new Evil Dead movie is released, then I am seated. It’s certainly the most consistent horror film franchise and now an exciting revolving door of upcoming talent. However, I could let this preamble pass in the wind without acknowledging the passing of Sam Neill. Whilst being indelible as Dr Alan Grant in various Jurassic films, I remember him most fondly for his gruff performance in Taika Waititi’s Hunt for the Wilderpeople. And besides that picture, he’s been in a lot of famed horror/cult movie such as Possession and In The Mouth of Madness. With that said, what’s your favourite Sam Neill performance? Let me know in the comments below.

Review

The Evil Dead franchise has walked a tightrope between being unrelenting and comedic. Depending on your preference, these twin qualities have varied from B-movie goofiness (Evil Dead 2) to characters amusingly dissecting the nature of their situation (2013’s Evil Dead). In Evil Dead Burn, these core aspects are pushed to the limit with a ruthless and firmly black comedic entry.

After her husband, Will (George Pullar), dies in a freak drunken car accident, Alice (Souhelia Yacoub) decides to stay with her in-laws, as the family mourns the loss of their eldest son. However, what turns out to be an awkward dinner turns into a terrible fight for survival as Alice is forced to confront each relative in Deadite form.

With an opening that plays like an Edgar Wright-directed Final Destination (complete with idiosyncratic insert shots) movie and a bravura one-take scene, where Alice stumbles through the central location during a chaotic fight, Evil Dead Burn is no slouch when it comes to its filmmaking. In fact, it’s one of its great strengths.

The same goes for its creative set pieces, such as an intimate torture scene involving Joseph (Hunter Doohan) and a Deadite version of his girlfriend, Thya (Luciane Buchanan), who has him trapped atop a bunch of knives in a dishwasher. Aside from sequences such as this, Burn also has a stark sense of humour, such as a scene early on where building work is interrupting some heartfelt speeches at a family wake.

In this way, the title feels quite fitting in torching any semblance of sentimentality or slapstick humour that pervaded the early entries. In fact, Burn works overtime in its meaning, not only being a point of trauma for Alice but also a source of the central Deadite’s power and a recurring visual motif.

But above all, it feels like a commentary on a European director taking on a prestige American horror franchise and setting aflame its early spirit in favour of an extreme form of horror that pervades French cinema. A similar thing was done with Alexandre Aja’s remake of Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes. The move is not as bold or subversive as the film thinks it is due to how the franchise has been playing to a similar tune since 2013’s reimagined instalment.

However, I was never put off by the more cruel and nasty tone that engulfed Burn. This is because I got the sense that co-writer/director Sébastien Vaniček had a deep empathy for his characters. In particular, his handling of the central family’s matriarch figure, Susan (Tandi Wright), who has sacrificed all semblance of self to look after her family, so that she sees no wrong in them (especially in regard to her son, Will). This leads to a tragic scene that plays like a vampiric dark fairy tale where she’s seduced by her Deadite husband to join their cause.

And not since Mia in Fede Alvarez’s Evil Dead have I felt such compassion for a female protagonist as I do for Alice. Part of this comes from Yacoub’s central performance that imbues the character with a palpable vulnerability and resilience. Vaniček’s camera also gives us the space to feel Alice’s emotions (almost in real time).

At the same time, Burns’ screenplay plays with the ineffectual male trope that’s been with the franchise since its inception. Introduced in the original Evil Dead and perfected in the 2013 picture, the staple explores males who can’t, for whatever reason, find it within themselves to deal with the central horror going on around them. In Burns’ case, Hunter fits the mould of that trope, namely in how he’s browbeaten as weak by his Dad (in Deadite form) and jokingly by Thya. And in a cruel twist of irony, when he does eventually act, it does not feel heroic but instead horrific, not only from the act itself, but how it parallels with Will’s relationship with Alice.

Despite these virtues, Evil Dead: Burn does suffer from feeling like an instalment that indulges in franchise management. In large part, the franchise has had a loose continuity (mainly due to Sam Raimi and co not owning the rights to the original 1981 movie). As a result, there’s been this commendable choose-your-adventure quality to the series as each film has felt standalone and has a tailor-made tone for all stripes of horror movie fans. Burn tries to marry up with the last film (Evil Dead Rise) in a way that feels quite distracting and jarring. And the introduction of post-credit sequences adds to this feeling. Rather than the ending feeling like a firm and sadistic exclamation point, it pales in the shadow of the bubble seemingly being extended.

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Brief Consideration: Obsession (2026)

Posted on July 3, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

Culture moves at the speed of lightning these days, so when I walked into Obsession, I had the wave of its success in mind (and what that means for YouTubers turned filmmakers). But I also had the fact that its director has been tapped to helm a new Texas Chain Saw Massacre movie. Talk about a bucketload of expectation. With that said, have you seen Obsession and given its themes, how many times? Let me know in the comments below.

Brief Consideration

Since finally catching up with Obsession last night, I’ve been noodling on its true horror. On the surface, its story of a twenty-something, Baron (Michael Johnston), who wishes for his crush, Nikki (Inde Navarrette), to love him more than anyone in the world is horrific for its ironic nature. This stems from Nikki becoming a toxic co-dependent person who makes Baron (aka Bear) feel trapped in a never-ending cycle of erratic behaviour.

However, Obsession’s real horror comes from the suppression of Nikki’s character. She’s no longer the confident and biting woman that Bear fell for, but instead a husk that unstably deals with her overwhelming feelings. In fact, the film’s most insidious moments give us the sense that the real Nikki is trapped and watching as someone takes control of her body and mind. In light of that, a very good case can be made that Bear is the true antagonist, not only from the perspective of what he turns Nikki into, but ultimately the situation he leaves her in.

On the face of it, Curry Barker’s direction is not subtle insofar as how it draws attention to itself. But a large part of my enjoyment of Obsession was seeing Barker’s camerawork. He often employs long shots and push-ins to immerse the viewer in the intimacy of his characters and Bear’s infatuation with Nikki. Plus, the 1.50:1 aspect ratio provides a sense of the characters feeling larger than life, which results in their struggles and dilemmas seeming all-consuming, as we’re confined within this tighter screen format.

Whilst Inde Navarrette is the headline performance, easily shifting states that range from heartbreaking to demonic, I was also really taken by Megan Lawless. Her portrayal of longing and warmth was really appealing and neatly juxtaposed with Bear’s initial romantic pining. And in his first feature film, composer Rock Burwell’s score is a melancholic synth treat that effectively jars the audience in erotic scenes and provides a comforting sense of romantic bliss.

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Brief Consideration: Disclosure Day (2026)

Posted on July 1, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

As the great Randy Quaid said in Independence Day, “Hello boys, I’m back!” It’s good to come back to a film that has caused a lot of debate. I’ve come to Disclosure Day late, but nevertheless, been intrigued by Steven Spielberg’s return to science fiction cinema in over twenty years. Have you seen Disclosure Day? Let me know in the comments below.

Brief Consideration

Even as I sit here and type this, I’m still not entirely sure about Disclosure Day. Steven Spielberg’s latest (who also has a story credit) depicts the race against time to expose classified videos of aliens to the world at large. The whistleblower, Dr Daniel Kellner (Josh O’Connor), battles his former employer, Noah Scanlon (Colin Firth), whose company, Wardex, is hell-bent on suppressing the top-secret information. Meanwhile, a local weather girl, Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt), goes viral for speaking an alien language while on air, but soon discovers the conspiracy may hold personal implications for her past.

Much like Spielberg’s previous alien efforts, Disclosure Day is a Rorschach test for humanity. The existence of said creatures says more about us and our concerns than it does about them. In this instance, Day attempts to debate how the knowledge of life out there will affect humanity, our relationship with God and how we deal with awe and wonder. All these debates feel meaningfully handled, with often a good amount of balance from both sides as opposed to trite one-sided nonsense.

However, Day’s problems come from its emotional aspects. Whilst the set-up for these emotional arcs is commendable, they feel really muddled in their execution. Take Margaret, whose aim is to be taken seriously as a journalist who delivers hard-hitting and serious news. I don’t see how her ultimate recollection of the aliens in her childhood reinforces that arc or story. If anything, her abilities that unlock empathy and knowledge of people feel more like an ironic spin on being a news anchor that I wish the film leaned more into.

This aspect is compounded by a nebulous sense of the world. There’s lip service given to the world being on the brink, but this feels superficially sketched out, including murmurs of World War III. This takes the tension out of the closing events as emotions such as anger and fear are replaced with passivity.

In his direction, Spielberg channels M Night Shyamalan insofar as using interesting camera angles, framing and lenses to depict the aliens with a sense of uncanny and emotional weight. And Emily Blunt gives an oddly Brechtian-style performance that’s able to paint the picture of a person who is frantic and confused about the nature of their mind.

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Review: Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu (2026)

Posted on May 24, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

I write this preamble with a heavy heart, not because of my absence (that’s almost a recurring joke at this point), but because I’ve really not been looking forward to The Mandalorian and Grogu. And that’s weird to admit for a Star Wars film (the only franchise where I would treat IMAX tickets like a ticket for a Taylor Swift concert). But I won’t go into why, suffice to say, it’s jarring and odd. With that said, will you be watching The Mandalorian and Grogu this weekend? Let me know in the comments below.

Review

Star Wars is no stranger to television, taking the leap to the silver screen. In 2008, The Clone Wars movie played like a loosely stitched-together pilot for the animated series. On the face of it, The Mandalorian and Grogu can be seen as a more cynical exercise insofar as pushing the Disney era’s most popular offshoot as a reminder of the franchise’s big screen prestige. However, the pair’s cinematic outing proves to be a surprisingly heartfelt effort that delivers on the space fantasy’s most appealing elements.

The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) and Grogu are about the central pair’s newest mission to rescue Jabba’s son, Rotta (Jeremy Allen White), in exchange for information about a mysterious Imperial commander.

In contrast to its streaming visual roots, The Mandalorian and Grogu feel as though it’s been scaled up for the big screen. This mostly comes from how director Jon Favreau uses scale and perspective. There are many uses of low-angle shots that are captured via Grogu or a mobile mouse droid (in the opening sequence) that make the world seem bigger and wondrous. The volume being ditched in favour of real-world locations and proper set design adds to this quality, too. The use of long shots in Jabba’s palace and shallow focus on the streets of Shakari gives the environments a sense of place. This was also helped by shooting certain sequences in IMAX that were apparent at my conventional screening via the changing aspect ratio.

If there is a downside to the visuals, then it’s the tendency for certain scenes to become quite muddy and pointlessly dark to the point of tedium. It became so problematic at times that it took away from the film’s unique aspect, insofar as arguably being the most gnarly Star Wars picture, thanks to its many creature sequences. In this way, the film had a base and pulpy quality with its creature feature focus.

Likewise, Ludwig Göransson’s score steps up from its streaming roots via a full-bodied score featuring a larger orchestra and experimental elements such as an electronic bass motif that pervades the Shakari sequences.

Whilst simple in its plotting, The Mandalorian and Grogu do deliver in certain aspects of its storytelling. For one, Rotta’s central plight of wanting to define himself outside of his father, Jabba, felt in keeping with the franchise’s spirit of destiny and choice as well as the familial strive that can come from navigating that tightrope. Rotta sits along previous franchise protagonists like Rey and Anakin, whose internal strife has to do with finding their place in the world amid expectations and family roots. At the same time, Rotta is a mirror for Grogu insofar as seeing how the latter could possibly define himself outside of his reputed bounty-hunting father figure. Jeremy Allen White’s vocal performance is determined and genuine as someone who wants to escape their family’s nefarious legacy.

At its core, the movie engages in the same subtextual waters that have pervaded previous movies in the franchise, in a way that felt engaging and heartfelt. When Rotta says, “Life is messy, but we try anyway”, I was reminded of how Star Wars, at its core, can be a potent parable about how we navigate certain elements of life. This 2026 effort is no different, with the central contention about parents realising their mortality and how their kids will survive without their guidance.

And even though I wanted a bit more finessing in the storytelling, whereby particular characters could have been elegant parallels as opposed to functional plot points, I was still impressed by this cinematic outing. The force is still strong with Star Wars on the big screen.

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Brief Consideration: Michael (2026)

Posted on April 26, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

At this point, it seems multiple generations have a yarn or two about Michael Jackson. For me, it was the repeated play of ‘Billie Jean’ and ‘Thriller’ at various parties, as well as the discovery of obscure songs such as ‘Who is it?’ and ‘The Girl Is Mine.’ The former of which was used as an intro for a radio adaptation of one of my fan fiction scripts. Needless to say, Jackson can class up any joint, including adolescent fanboy Batman material. But the pop star’s legacy is checkered by controversy that’s hard to ignore. It’s for this reason that I was on the fence about this movie. However, here are my brief thoughts on the picture. Have you seen Michael? Let me know in the comments below.

Brief Consideration

Michael is akin to a well-crafted novelty bobblehead. It’s been shaped to achieve one primary function, and that’s to provide a heartfelt portrayal of its titular character. But much like said nodding head curiosity, there’s only so much enjoyment you can get out of that. The 2026 biopic charts the influential pop star’s rise from his early days in the Jackson 5 to his solo tour for ‘Bad.’

Whilst on the one hand, you could argue that Michael moonwalks around the controversial aspects of Jackson’s character due to its focus on how he gains his musical independence from his abusive father, Joseph Jackson (Colman Domingo), there’s something to be said of how one-note that premise is. 

The musical biopic borders on evangelising its central character to the point of tedium, with his more questionable behaviour being handwaved as quirky at best and tolerable at worst. The problematic portrayal is so all consuming that it takes away from Jackson’s virtues as an artist. 

His striving for perfection is confined to montage, and auther vision of his music videos is given a few scenes. It’s here where the film seems the most interesting (even in its direction). Whilst director Antoine Furqua is suitably showy with the camera, particularly during the use of a top and tracking shot in the aftermath of Michael’s first nose surgery, his best moment comes from the making of the Thriller music video. 

The camera subtly captures Jackson not fully in frame, then shows his whole body as he dances (as the camera slowly tilts upwards). It’s the most self-conscious and postmodern moment of the film, as I came to a dawning realisation (in real time) of why that music video is so thrilling (pun intended). I could have used more moments like that. Instead, Michael coast on its live music sequences. 

Newcomer Jaafar Jackson is electrifying as the titular character, particularly in his physicality that effortlessly portrays his uncle’s dance moves in their infancy and peak. The performance is so impressive that it’s akin to seeing Jackson live. On the eve of an AI age, there’s something heartening about seeing this type of recreation via human performance. It’s just a shame that the rest of the film feels AI-generated in its writing and portrayal of its complex central figure.

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Review: The Drama (2026)

Posted on April 5, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

Unlike the film under discussion today, there’s no great drama to my recent blogging absence. It’s just the regular work being busy and feeling a little under the weather. This is a particular shame as I felt I was on a good writing streak with my recent cinema release reviews.

However, that’s all water under the bridge now. For now, it’s great to be back and tackling a movie I don’t typically go for, but have certain films I value within the broader definition of the genre. So, with that said, have you been caught up in the Drama this weekend? Let me know in the comments below.

Review

Boy meets girl, falls in love, loses girl via contrivance and eventually gets the girl (whilst running against the clock in a fast moving environment). Whether you gender bend these narrative elements or add a slight variant, these are by and large the plot points of romance movies. 

The best ones often go deeper with penetrating questions about the nature of a relationship or the ugly dimensions of love and what it means to fully embrace it. The Drama falls squarely in the realm of interesting romance movies with its unflinching and multi faceted approach to its premise.

The film is about the fallout after a confession that Emma (Zendaya) makes about her past to her friends and fiancé- Charlie (Robert Pattinson). To make matters worse, the central pair are due to married in a few days.

The Drama uses its irksome and yikes inducing premise to ask how we handle and live with difficult truths about our partners. It does this by placing Charlie in sequences where he sees a younger version of Emma. The film already plays with time as the opening depicts the meeting of the central couple through Charlie looking back as he writes a wedding speech. 

But these sequences that evoke the spirit of Rye Lane, (whereby the characters entered each other’s spaces and memories) have a much more jarring quality. They’re akin to a form of cinematic empathy bonding that plays to the conflict of understanding and paranoia that plagues one of the main players. 

In fact, much of the Drama’s source of black comedy comes from the typical wedding preparations having a newfound edge. The prolonged sequence involving the event photographer is a particular highlight.

At the same time, the direction has the intimacy of ballet dance as it closely examines the central couple through extreme close-ups and patiently calibrated medium shots where behaviour is observed. 

In his performance as Charlie, Robert Pattinson does channel the nebbish charm that Hugh Grant brought to a lot of his early roles. But he also injects the character with an affable kookiness that hints at a stranger side. Perhaps more than any of her previous performances, Zendaya proves how much talent she has as a silent actor. In fact, some of her best moments come in the tail end of the film where she carries the weight of anger and empathy via her facial expressions. And Alana Haim is a melodramatic treat as Emma’s fiery maid of honour- Rachel.

Above all, the emotional truth of the movie comes from how much we do to ourselves to live with our partner’s baggage. It’s almost as though we try to lessen ourselves, so that knowledge that we previously bristled at, suddenly seems permissible compared to what we’ve just done. In this regard, I was reminded of Eyes Wide Shut and its depiction of how an emotional equilibrium is reached between its married characters. The same thing could be said of Emma and Charlie in reconciling the past and the present.

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Brief Thoughts on a Trailer: Dune Part Three (2026)

Posted on March 17, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

Perhaps it’s a product of getting older or how swift the internet age is, but this time yesterday, Dune Part 3 was but a faint whisper. And now it’s full onslaught mode, complete with several posters and a brand new trailer. With that said, what did you make of the first trailer for the upcoming 2026 sequel? Let me know in the comments below.

Brief Thoughts on a Trailer

By and large, the Dune trailers have been quite generous in what they’ve given us. The teaser for the 2021 film split the difference between arresting imagery and sound design that signalled an earnest science fiction spirit. The preview for Part Two was a barrage of images that illustrated its titular planet and the relationship the people had with it. On the other hand, the first trailer for Part Three presents its tricky elements in the wrapper of a tense war epic.

Some of these include the return of a certain sword master, a more foreboding tone and a few visual choices for certain players. This is not a bad thing. Dune Messiah (Frank Herbert’s second novel in his series of six Dune-based novels) was always tougher material to chew on, compared to its predecessor.

The best elements of the first preview for Part Three demonstrate a firm understanding of these more difficult concepts. For one, the music (starting with soothing humming and culminating in Paul’s intense, warlike chant) illustrates that the external forces (such as the Harkonnens and Sardaukars) and Arrakis itself are no longer threats. The heroes and their supremacy of Dune are the tyrants they previously fought against. The above two shots demonstrate this in spades, whether it’s the first one in its evoking of Rabban overlooking spice production at the beginning of part one or Alia Atreides being like a literal siren for her brother’s rule.

At the same time, it was excellent to see certain important aspects of the Messiah novel, given visual life, such as two shots that depict the coming together of the various conspirators to take down Paul (including a hint to a certain Guild Navigator called Edric). For as much as I’ve appreciated Denis Villeneuve’s minimalistic perspective on Herbert’s material, I’m excited to see him embrace the odder aspects of the Dune universe. But above all, it’s been quite heartening to see him describe this upcoming sequel as his most personal film to date. With that and everything else in mind, December 18th can’t come soon enough.

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Review: The Bride! (2026)

Posted on March 7, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

Its funny after writing a review that you feel there’s not enough powder (so to speak) for a premable. But the truth is, I’m really proud of my last post about Bride of Frankenstein, and I felt that following it up with another one great shot post (that I was not even sure about) did not seem right. So, I dived straight into The Bride! With that said, have you seen Maggie Gyllenhaal’s new interpretation of the Frankenstein story? Let me know in the comments below.

Review

From the Bride of Frankenstein to Poor Things, the female perspective of the Frankenstein story has been a large part of the fabric of cinema as much as the male one. It’s with this in mind that Maggie Gyllenhaal’s new version comes bellowing onto the stage, armed with an exclamation point. However, despite its brash exterior, the new vision proves to be frustratingly muddled and lacking in the courage of its storytelling convictions.

Taking place in 1930s America, the Bride posits that Mary Shelley (the original author of Frankenstein) is in the afterlife and is seeking to continue her Frankenstein story, arguing that her death prevented her from doing so. So, she possesses a young American woman, whom she calls Ida (Jessie Buckley), to carry out her will. However, this is complicated when Ida falls from a great height and is killed. Meanwhile, the Creature (Christian Bale) seeks a mate for companionship and love. He comes across a renowned doctor, Cornelia Euphonious (Annette Bening), who reluctantly brings Ida back to life.

The fascinating thing about the female perspectives in the Frankenstein stories is that there’s a dichotomy between the author and the creation. Bride of Frankenstein depicted Mary Shelley and the Bride as Id and Superegos creations that worked in tandem with the German expressionist trappings of the picture. Even in Poor Things, there was a conflict between the civilised and the uncivilised, as Bella’s (Emma Stone) lives are contrasted. 

The Bride posits a similar dichotomy, with Mary Shelley as the rational Superego and Ida as the adolescent embodiment of the Id. However, in execution, it comes across as more of a gimmick than a genuine path of exploration. Aside from the beginning and a few dream sequences, Shelley’s voice and will are conveniently left at the door in favour of Ida’s perspective. This would not matter if the movie did not front-load her intention and role onto the story. 

What remains is some of Shelley’s social intentions coming to fruition, but with not much connective tissue. To compound matters, Ida in the third act suggests a debate between her and Shelley, but we’ve not seen much if any conflict up until that point. 

And that’s not to mention the huge grain of “Death of the Author” to ingest for the premise to even work. From my reading of the original text, Shelley grappled with male loneliness, making her seminal science fiction novel quite ahead of its time. 

But above all, the film suggests that it’s moving to a point of “conscious uncoupling” between Frank and Ida. The exclamation point signals a new way that this archetypal character is defined. However, this is undone five minutes later by Ida, who now suddenly wants Frank again (after stating she does not want to be his bride). In this way, Gyllenhaal’s screenplay suggests it does not want to subvert or redefine the Frankenstein story with a bold new female perspective, but rather colour outside of the lines of the story very aggressively. 

Instead, Gyllenhaal’s heart seems to be in the cinematic allusions she can cast with the story. The cinematography (courtesy of Lawrence Sher) uses natural lighting to paint the American-based setting with a murky and seedy edge. However, the true colour only comes from the films that Frank sees. It’s in these scenes where the director feels at home that splits the difference between the golden age musical and the Universal monster movie. Gyllenhaal’s choice to blur the lines between what we’re seeing and how the central couple project themselves is truly inspired and thankfully does not descend into a pastiche.

Likewise, the performances are committed and solid. Despite sounding a bit like a drunk Joanna Lumley in an episode of Absolutely Fabulous, Jesse Buckley proves to be a livewire in her dual role, balancing the character shifts with ease and grace. Christian Bale is a bundle of humility in a portrait of the creature who struggles with his lonely, base instincts. And Jake Gyllenhaal splits the difference between idealised and smarmy as an actor that Frank idolises. 

There’s so much more I could say about the Bride! For one, the subplot involving two detectives is much better at articulating the picture’s gender politics and point than the central plot with the main players. And Hildur Guðnadóttir’s score is suitably brass in its Jazz and rock roots. However, for all the allusions to Bonnie and Clyde and a conceptually transgressive approach, the Bride is nothing more than a blowing raspberry experience. 

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One Great Shot: The Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

Posted on March 4, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

The Bride! hits UK cinemas this Friday, and in the build-up to that, I thought I would discuss some related movies via the one great shot format. Despite alluding to them in my longer pieces, I’ve not really dedicated an entire post to any of the Universal Monster Movies. This is an exciting opening salvo to remedy that. So, with that said, what’s your favourite shot from The Bride of Frankenstein? Let me know in the comments below.

One Great Shot

From Young Frankenstein to comic cons and music videos, Elsa Lancaster’s titular Bride has become a staple in pop culture and horror circles. But like many revered figures, we just remember the heightened image of her, namely the shot of her with a confident stance and lightening-streaked hair (after being proudly announced as “The Bride of Frankenstein” by Dr Pretorius, with swelling music).

However, for much of her screen time, there’s a tangible fear in her character. Lancaster’s physicality suggests she may be a dancer, as she almost gives the impression of gliding across the screen. But in reality, she’s being dragged by her creator, Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive).

The disconnect between these two states feels in keeping with how women were portrayed insofar as they had a purpose to serve without much agency or say in the matter. In this case, the Bride was created as a mate for Frankenstein’s creature. However, she roundly rejects him by articulating her fear in piercing shrieks. The affirmative action does have echoes of some of Henrik Ibsen’s female characters, insofar as rejecting some of the social norms of their time by making a bold choice.

At the same time, it’s interesting to consider Elsa Lancaster’s other performance as the writer of Frankenstein, Mary Shelley, in the movie’s intro. Our conception of actors taking on dual roles comes from 1939’s The Wizard of Oz. But I’d argue the groundwork of that comes from this film.

The movie’s introduction provides a reason as to why Shelley wrote the famous science fiction novel. As she states in the tail end of the scene- “The publishers did not see that my purpose was to write a moral lesson. The punishment that befell a mortal man who dared to emulate God.”

Much like The Bride, Shelley has to live up to a projected societal image (in this case, being stuck writing romance novels rather than anything to do with horror). As her husband says to her, “You’ll have much to answer for.”

The choice of a dual role feels in keeping with the cinematic inspiration that pervades much of the Universal Monster Movies. This comes in the form of German Expressionism, which depicted dreamlike imagery and elaborate set design to illustrate characters’ innermost thoughts and feelings.

With that in mind, Shelley and the Bride can be interpreted in many ways. However, for my money, they are the Superego and the Id, respectively. In light of Shelley’s earlier quote, it’s quite clear that she’s the Superego, as she wishes her readers to take away a moral message from her work. The Bride is the Id as she expresses her unconscious thoughts in very primal terms. In fact, her reaction to her male counterpart could be seen as a simple flight response within the ingrained fight-or-flight response we all have.

Regardless of your take on what Shelley and the Bride represent, the 1935 film’s one great shot asks us to engage beyond the monumental, iconic image we have of the title character and instead consider her vulnerability.

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Review: Scream 7 (2026)

Posted on February 28, 2026 by Sartaj Govind Singh

Preamble

When it rains, it pours. And that’s not just current English weather. Scream 7 has come out at a similar time to the new Resident Evil game- Requiem. And as curious as I’ve been to see the new slasher instalment, it’s felt like a slight pull away from that experience. But in all honesty, I’ve had a lot of fun writing this review. With that said, what did you think of Scream 7? Let me know in the comments below.

Review

From its tagline alone- “Burn it all down”, Scream 7 suggests a violent and bold reinvention that’s befitting of its central slasher. However, this proves to be anything but the case, with an instalment that circles the wagon of its central heroine’s place in the Scream franchise, in a way that feels oddly reactionary.

The new instalment sees Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) caught up in a new series of Ghostface murders, who are using the image of Stu Macher (Matthew Lillard) to taunt her and her daughter, Tatum (Isabel May).

Aside from the new interpretation of the “Rules” scene and an opening immortalising the events of the first movie via a grisly, true-crime-inspired Airbnb, Scream 7 drops its meta-textual voice of the horror genre.

What remains is a commendable commitment to the drama and angst between Prescott and her daughter, Tatum. Whilst some of this lands (particularly the pair’s final scene), most moments are in service to the movie’s misguided subtext.

Scream 7 feels incensed at the fact that Sidney was not present for the events of the last movie, so it goes out of its way to create a plot for her to come to the conclusion that she should not have missed them.

This approach comes across as one-note and quite egotistical, as previous instalments have illustrated how Sidney is a unique final girl, whilst also not being afraid to critique the concept itself. The result is tantamount to a franchise circling in a way that takes the teeth out of its AI and deepfake plot points.

In fact, the film does not seem remotely interested in exploring the implications of these aspects, insofar as they affect the genre at large or the psyche of those targeted. Sure, we wonder if Stu is alive, but given the franchise’s propensity for swapping killers, it never leaves us in suspense.

Scream 7 marks the return of Kevin Williamson, who does double duty as co-writer and director. On the fringes of the screenplay are touches that made his influence on earlier movies unique and welcome. This mostly comes from Tatum questioning her status as Sidney’s daughter and Mindy’s euphoric suspect dissection. But these exist on the sidelines of a screenplay that’s designed to justify Sidney’s existence.

This is a shame, as Neve Campbell’s performance does illustrate a domesticated, no-nonsense Sidney who feels authentic (despite where the screenplay ultimately takes her). Courtney Cox is cheerworthy in a performance that retains her biting edge and humour. Likewise, Anna Camp lives up to her surname in a performance that plays to the rafters in its depiction of fervent fangirl rage. And Jasmine Savoy Brown proves to be as formidable as Jamie Kennedy in her postmodern deliveries.

As for Williamson’s direction, it’s playful insofar as how he places Ghostface in the frame, which actually makes the character the most spectral he’s ever appeared in the series. And some use of low-angle shots and dolly zooms results in a dreamy flair that typifies the series. However, much like the movie’s ultimate meaning, the direction is in service to placate, not much else.

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