Tag Archives: Let’s Play

INSIDIOUS: OUT OF THE FURTHER horror movie review

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Should’ve Left the Red Door Locked

The newest installment in the Insidious franchise is a reminder that atmosphere, mythology, and strong individual ideas are only the ingredients of a motion picture—not the motion picture itself. Jacob Chase clearly has several intriguing concepts at work: a story rooted in grief, characters shaped by trauma, supernatural elements designed to expand the mythology of the franchise, and the return of horror icon Lin Shaye. Yet those ideas rarely connect into a cohesive dramatic experience. Instead, the film often feels like a collection of scenes and sequences searching for the narrative that will bind them together.

Insidious: Out of the Further introduces Gemma, a young mother who discovers she possesses the ability to enter the Further—the purgatorial realm of lost souls established throughout the franchise. However, Gemma’s ability comes with a dangerous consequence: she can bring the entities she encounters back into our world.

The simplest description of the film may be Insidious meets Poltergeist, with a little A Nightmare on Elm Street mixed in for good measure. Chase clearly understands the lineage of these films and the horror traditions from which they emerged. There is an appreciation for the genre’s history and an attempt to build upon familiar ideas. Unfortunately, the film’s vision would have benefited from a stronger screenplay—one capable of shaping those influences into a more dramatically compelling narrative.

Horror has always been a genre where atmosphere can compensate for many shortcomings. A haunting location, unsettling sound design, frightening imagery, or a memorable performance can carry an audience through imperfect storytelling. But atmosphere cannot replace character development, and franchise recognition cannot substitute for emotional stakes. Even the presence of Lin Shaye—whose portrayal of Elise Rainier has become one of the defining elements of the Insidious universe—cannot overcome material that struggles to transform its concepts into meaningful drama.

The result is a film containing many of the elements audiences expect from an Insidious installment, but without the dramatic foundation necessary to make those elements resonate. There is simultaneously too much happening and not enough meaningful material to sustain the film’s 105-minute runtime. The story introduces several promising concepts but rarely develops them beyond their initial premise.

At the center of the problem is the screenplay. Allowing the Further’s entities to cross into the physical world is an intriguing expansion of the franchise mythology, but the film never fully explores the possibilities created by that idea. Instead, it becomes another extended attempt to escape the supernatural dangers lurking beyond the red door.

That weakness extends to the characters as well. Outside of Gemma, her daughter Maya, and returning paranormal investigator Elise Rainier, several principal characters function almost like non-player characters in a video game. They appear when the protagonist needs assistance completing a specific task, but they possess little independent dramatic identity or purpose.

What ultimately saves the movie—and makes it watchable—is Lin Shaye.

Shaye remains the heart of this franchise, bringing warmth, credibility, and humanity to its supernatural mythology. Unfortunately, she is given surprisingly little to do. Her presence occasionally feels less like an essential component of the story and more like an acknowledgment that longtime fans expect Elise Rainier to be present.

Atmospherically, however, the film succeeds. The Further remains an effective nightmare landscape, populated by disturbing entities that longtime fans will immediately recognize. In fact, the world created here feels almost perfectly suited for a Halloween Horror Nights attraction—perhaps even a stronger haunted house than a feature film.

The scares themselves are competently staged, although many of the strongest moments appear to have been revealed in the marketing. I generally avoid trailers, but even the limited footage I encountered made several major scare sequences feel familiar before they arrived.

Insidious: Out of the Further contains numerous individually effective ideas, memorable imagery, and another welcome appearance by Lin Shaye. What it lacks is the dramatic structure necessary to connect those elements into a satisfying whole.

It is another example of a fundamental truth about filmmaking: a director’s vision requires a screenplay capable of refining, organizing, and transforming that vision into a complete story. Without that collaboration, even promising concepts risk becoming little more than a stream of ideas.

Fans of the franchise may enjoy another atmospheric journey into the Further. Everyone else can wait until this door opens on streaming.

Ryan is the morning host on WLRH Public Radio in Huntsville, AL and host of the show  ReelTalk  “where you can enjoy the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

PREDATOR: BADLANDS movie review

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Predator: Let’s Play. When streaming content hits the big screen.

Predator: Badlands is the equivalent of a “Let’s Play,” but with bigger explosions. The nonstop action, constant motion offer little to no substantive emotional investment. You’re an observer, not a participant—which might be fine for streaming, but it’s a strange fit for cinema. The latest in the Predator franchise plays like a two-hour sizzle reel with delusions of grandeur. It’s a glossy barrage of explosions, digital dust, and quippy one-liners that evaporate before they even hit the floor. By the time the credits roll–that’s if you haven’t fallen asleep—you’ve seen everything and felt nothing. It’s not that the film is aggressively bad—it’s that it’s aggressively empty–little more than content to pander to short attention spans with shiny movement instead of meaningful momentum.

Cast out from its clan, a Predator and an unlikely synthetic ally embark on a treacherous journey in search of the ultimate adversary.

The screenplay feels like it was written by an algorithm trained on reaction videos and Reddit threads. Every line of dialogue sounds like a placeholder; it’s as if someone said, “We’ll fix it later” or “funny line here,” and neglected to return to the page in order to fix it–before principle photography. There’s no sense of escalation, tension, or rhythm; it’s a series of flashy moments loosely stitched together, like a highlight reel of a game you didn’t play. Even the humor feels synthetic–much like the characters– punching at air instead of connecting with character or tone.

As for the characters, they exist mostly as camera targets. They are little more than digital avatars running, shooting, and shouting for reasons that never feel personal or compelling. The lead could be replaced by a different actor mid-film and you might not notice. This critic isn’t even convinced that Dek (our central Predator character) wasn’t entirely CGI, though it may have only been the facial area. “What’s my motivation?” Difficult to say–there wasn’t much upon which to build. Motivations are paper-thin, arcs nonexistent. The Predator itself, once a symbol of primal fear and unseen menace, now feels like a boss-level NPC waiting to be triggered by the next quick-time event.

Visually, Badlands has all the spectacle money can buy; but its spectacle is divorced from any meaningful purpose. The explosions are massive, the sound mix thunderous, and yet it’s as emotionally engaging as watching someone else play Call of Duty. Every frame screams “look at me!” without ever inviting you to feel something. The editing, too, is manic. And it’s not even as though the narrative demanded it; rather, the dynamic editing was most likely employed because the movie was terrified that you’d look away or down at your watch, which I did several times.

And maybe that’s the point. Predator: Badlands is far less like a movie and more like a cinematic exercise in a large scale “Let’s Play.” For those that are unfamiliar with the term, it’s a type of (usually) YouTube video of someone playing a video game and often their reactions to the game play. Think of it as a passive experience of someone else’s thrill ride. The ultimate, disconnected form of living vicariously. Don’t question anything, because it won’t take long to realize that this movie is hollow. You don’t engage; you just witness. The irony is that the film could’ve been a fascinating critique of screen-mediated experiences, but it never once stops to think.

This is just the latest in a growing trend from Disney’s genre arm: a reliance on brand nostalgia and visual polish in place of storytelling. Ever since the corporate appetite turned to IP recycling, the studio has mistaken familiarity for depth. Badlands is what happens when you try to “optimize engagement” instead of crafting a narrative, resulting in the film equivalent of clickbait dressed in billion-dollar armor.

Predator: Badlands doesn’t so much hunt its audience as it does chase its own tail. A movie that is fast, flashy, and utterly pointless; and desperately wants to go viral but forgets to be cinema. You don’t leave exhilarated; you leave wondering if you accidentally spent $15 to watch a YouTube compilation in IMAX.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media and host of the show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry