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WEAPONS horror movie review

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Sleek, stylish, and appears razor-honed, but needs a little sharpening. Zach Cregger’s Weapons takes audiences on a visually arresting and emotionally charged journey that blends suspense, terror, and moments of surrealism. While the film excels in crafting atmosphere through its immersive sound design, haunting imagery, and striking cinematography, its story ultimately collapses under the weight of overwriting and structural ambition. Despite moments of genuine tension and intrigue, the story struggles to cohere into something emotionally resonant or thematically satisfying. In the end, Weapons proves to be more refined in aesthetic than in substance—an experience-driven work that favors tone over storytelling.

When all but one child from the same classroom mysteriously vanish on the same night at exactly the same time, a community is left questioning who or what is behind their disappearance.

Weapons positions itself as a psychological horror anthology-adjacent film that aspires to echo the structural ambition of Trick ‘r Treat and the dread-soaked atmosphere of Hereditary. Each composition is meticulously crafted, echoing the influences of Ari Aster, David Lynch, and Paul Thomas Anderson. The film’s immersive sound design, scored with unnerving precision, deepens the psychological tension, ensuring that audiences feel trapped within the same spiraling unease as its characters. Cregger, best known for the unexpected 2022 breakout Barbarian, attempts something far more sprawling here: a multi-threaded, nonlinear horror tapestry that spans time, location, and character perspectives. On paper, the structure is bold and ambitious. But unlike Barbarian, which grounded its twists in a tightly wound narrative, Weapons ultimately feels thematically scattered and emotionally distant. Characters arrive with weight, but rarely evolve; connections are drawn, but their meaning feels underdeveloped.

What Weapons does exceptionally well is craft an experience. Cregger’s talent for generating sustained suspense, is elevated here to a more mature and stylized level. The tonal consistency, even across multiple timelines and narrative threads, is admirable. Individual sequences build atmosphere masterfully, utilizing silence and suggestion as effectively as sudden, jarring visuals. The sound design alone is enough to make your skin crawl—unsettling, precise, and deeply immersive. The cinematography delivers an unnerving blend of realism and the uncanny, grounding even the most supernatural or surreal moments in believable textures and light.

Weapons boasts an outstanding performative dimension. Each of the lead and key supporting actors deliver performances that are uniformly committed, standing out for their subtle, tortured portrayals of people unraveling in the wake of the trauma of the kids vanishing. After the mostly disappointing Wolf Man earlier this year, I was curious to see if this film would be the vehicle needed for Julia Garner (until the Madonna bio pic that’s calling her name) to showcase her acting chops. The performative quality we witnessed of her in Ozark is what we have in Weapons. Josh Brolin offers stoic gravitas, while Austin Abrams adds a jittery, unpredictable energy. And then there’s Cary Christopher’s unsettling Alex, complete with enough creepy kid energy to fill a whole classroom. Collectively, their efforts lend some gravitas and humanity to a film that often prioritizes vision over narrative.

Without getting in to spoilers, the film takes a turn midway through the second act that completely shifts the experience and even the tone of the picture. One might say that the movie sets up one mystery and eventual payoff, but then deviates onto a different (and ultimately more predictable) path. Once that (unfortunately too obvious) reveal is made midway through the investigation into the disappearance of the classroom of kids–save one (Alex)–then it becomes quite the twisted fairytale. But therein likes one of the most significant problems I have with the film–because of this twist, there are questions that emerge for which we will not be provided answers. We can certainly draw conclusions, that are most likely correct, but this isn’t the type of picture that should require that level of guesswork. When that twist is revealed, explanations of reasons for the motivation and consequences, should the plan fair, are not sufficiently clear.

Horror thrives in that liminal space between order and chaos, but Weapons leans too heavily into the latter. Instead of meticulously peeling back layers to reveal a deeper truth, it obscures character arcs and emotional payoffs beneath narrative experimentation. In striving to be a psychological puzzle-box, the film forgets to provide the audience with enough meaningful pieces to solve it. As a result, Weapons leaves audiences with questions that the film should have answered because it clearly desires to be a genre horror film–it’s not Memento. However, the climax of the picture, while somewhat predictable, is none-the-less satisfyingly bold.

In the end, Weapons is a film that demands attention but struggles to justify its complexities. It will certainly appeal to fans of the prestige horror aesthetic, but despite the converging narratives it never quite hits the mark of a film that invites multiple viewings in order to fully appreciate the story and the apparatus thereof. But for general audiences, or those seeking a tightly woven narrative, the film’s impact may feel more like a glancing blow than a direct hit. Visually stunning and rich in atmosphere, Weapons captivates the senses but lacks the narrative clarity and cohesion to land its thematic strikes. A bold motion picture outing, it’s a film that’s more experience than story—one that feels sharpened in presentation but blunted in meaning.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio 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

THE NAKED GUN (2025) movie mini review

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Best comedy since SPY! The Naked Gun (2025) is a spectacular noir/detective-comedy that has it all: smart screenplay, sensational cast, and it clocks-in at just under 1.5hrs. This reboot/reimagining of the beloved classic tiptoes along a treacherous tightrope: how to honor a slapstick legacy while avoiding the hollow echo chamber of recycled gags. Remarkably, thanks to a razor-sharp script, a fully committed cast, and a surprisingly fresh narrative, it pulls it off with chutzpah and precision. Directed by Akiva Schaffer, The Naked Gun is a masterclass in tonal balance, threading the needle between absurdity and plot progression, all while leaving room for character beats that land harder than a collapsing filing cabinet. Every setup pays off, every non sequitur doubles as a stealth punchline, and, most critically, the story and characters matter.

At the center of the madness is Liam Neeson, weaponizing his deadpan gravitas in a way that would make Leslie Nielsen nod in approval from the great beyond. As Frank Drebin Jr., he’s not playing his father’s shadow—he’s illuminating a new one. His comedic chops are precision-engineered. Neeson doesn’t mug for the camera or chase punchlines; he commits, deadpanning his way through verbal landmines, visual gags, and escalating mayhem with the kind of straight-faced sincerity that made Leslie Nielsen legendary. The secret ingredient to his delivery? His restraint. Marrying glamour and goofiness is Pamela Anderson, fresh off her outstanding performance in The Last Showgirl. Her tone, cool gaze, and knowing glances lend a classic noir energy to the role, but it’s her self-awareness and comic precision that elevate the performance. She glides through scenes with old-Hollywood poise in the vein of Lauren Macall, only to puncture the atmosphere with a well-timed double entendre or whip-smart aside.

In a cinematic landscape where many reboots are content to wink at the audience and roll credits, The Naked Gun dares to be funny—consistently, inventively, and unapologetically so. It doesn’t just recapture the soul of the original; it gives it a new pair of shoes and sends it running headfirst into traffic. And you’ll be laughing all the way.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio 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

THE FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS movie review

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Fantastic? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Somewhere, Doctor Doom is laughing—because the real villain here is the script. The Fantastic Four: First Steps is a superhero movie that boasts an eye-catching retrofuturistic aesthetic and the welcome return of a classically evil villain, but it stumbles narratively with a lopsided screenplay, fragmented character dynamics, and a superfluous Silver Surfer who’s more prop than presence. With a protracted first act, truncated second act, and anticlimactic third, the swing the screenplay makes results in a foul ball–not a complete miss. Ultimately, it feels like a blueprint more than a building—an origin story more concerned with establishing than enthralling. It may offer the glimmer of potential, but that potential is still waiting for a film that knows how to make the most of these characters and each other. For a franchise reboot that proudly wears its Jet Age design language on its sleeve—from sleek, chrome-laced laboratories to wardrobe choices evocative of a Tomorrowland dreamscape—it’s ironic that the narrative propulsion of First Steps feels so grounded.

Mister Fantastic, Invisible Woman, Human Torch, and the Thing face must defend the Earth against the evil Galactus and his henchman Silver Surfer.

One of Fantastic Four: First Steps‘ undeniable triumphs is its commitment to a bold, 1960s retrofuturistic aesthetic that feels lovingly ripped from the pages of a Silver Age comic book or the Saturday morning cartoons of yesteryear. From the clean, curved architecture to the brightly colored jumpsuits and analog-style gadgetry, the film creates a world brimming with mid-century optimism—where science gleams, and adventure is just a rocket launch away. It’s visually delightful, evoking a kind of lost future that’s both nostalgic and fresh. However, the illusion occasionally falters due to jarring technological inconsistencies—most notably, the inexplicable presence of flying police cars in a world where most other vehicles appear rooted in vintage combustion-era design. And, I’d be remiss not to mention the futuristic pregnancy test that doesn’t jive with the world around it. These moments by no means sink the aesthetic, but they do momentarily snap the viewer out of the carefully constructed retro bubble.

Had the screenplay been better developed, then it may have been a “fantastic” superhero movie. The first act overstays its welcome by devoting undue time to setup that borders on exposition overload. By the time the plot remembers to move forward, the second act breezes by in a montage-like sequence of conflicts and discoveries, depriving the audience of organic development. Then, just as stakes are positioned to crescendo, the third act fumbles its own climax—settling for a resolution that feels more contractual than cathartic. While I appreciate the under two-hour runtime, I would not be surprised if there are entire scenes and sequences left on the cutting room floor.

But the most glaring issue isn’t pacing—it’s people. Or rather, the lack of connection between them. The titular quartet never quite gels. Chemistry between Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Ben is virtually nonexistent, with interactions that feel less like family dynamics and more like coworkers meeting on a Monday morning Zoom call. Attempts at humor or sentimentality fall flat, not because the lines are poorly written (though many are), but because the actors rarely feel like they’re occupying the same emotional wavelength. Pescall and Kirby have solid chemistry, and separately Quinn and Moss-Bachrach have fantastic comedic chemistry; but collectively, Marvel’s first family is lacking in sufficient chemistry. However, compared to previous cinematic attempts, seeking to adapt the Fantastic 4 for the big screen, this one is the strongest attempt.

Silver Surfer’s inclusion is more puzzling than pivotal. A character of mythic stature reduced here to a glorified Uber driver with a shiny board. She floats in and out of scenes with little impact on the plot, contributing neither urgency nor depth. Her presence suggests a franchise desperate to expand its cosmic CV but unsure of how to weave her meaningfully into the narrative tapestry. In fact, Silver Surfer could be removed from the story, and pretty much everything plat out much in the same way. No mistaking it, there IS an interesting backstory there, but it was barely tapped and even less developed. I am not suggesting Silver Surfer needs a movie or TV series, but a few more minutes of development in this movie, wouldn’t have hurt anything.

I did enjoy the refreshing return of a classic villain in Galactus. So often, modern cinema and television go to great lengths to demonstrate how villains are merely misunderstood or solely formed by societal factors–not Galactus. He’s neither misunderstood nor sympathetic. Just evil. In an era where antagonists are often softened by tragic backstories or moral ambiguity, the choice to lean into a classically malevolent foe is surprisingly refreshing. The character brings weight and threat to the film, standing as a stark reminder that sometimes the best villains are the ones who like being bad.

To the movie’s credit, audiences can watch it without having to know much about the Fantastic 4 and there is little need to watch any preceding movies or TV series. That said, I’ve been told that there are TV series and movies that will help to better understand or appreciate certain elements–but not required. When it’s all said and done, The Fantastic Four: the First Steps is sufficiently enjoyable and doesn’t overstay its welcome. Feels like a late summer movie, and there’s nothing innately wrong with that.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio 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

SUPERMAN (2025) movie review

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SuperFULL. James Gunn’s Superman is bursting at the seams with plots and characters, resulting in an overwhelming experience. But, the lead characters and hero’s journey are truly super. While weak on narrative, Gunn’s take on the man of steel sticks the landing on the lead characters. And it’s the characters that will keep you sufficiently enough vested in the movie.

When Superman gets drawn into conflicts at home and abroad, his actions are questioned, giving tech billionaire Lex Luthor the opportunity to get the Man of Steel out of the way for good. Will intrepid reporter Lois Lane and Superman’s four-legged companion, Krypto, be able to help him before it’s too late?

While the plotting and many characters lack fine-tuning, David Corenswet’s Clark/Superman and Nicholas Hoult’s Lex Luthor feel like extensions of their comic book origins–in all the best ways possible. Corenswet delivers a Superman that displays the strength and powers that are synonymous with the character, but Gunn adds in a discernible human dimension that has long-since been missing in Superman to make him more human, more relatable. Hoult’s Lex Luthor is nightmarishly deplorable and demonstrates the power of greed. Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane strikes a fantastic balance between hard-hitting journalist and romantic; the chemistry between Corenswet and Brosnahan land on an ideal formula for character development and an old-fashioned romance.

Gunn underscores the movie with some thoughtful social commentary on the fickleness of society, terrifying power of social media, and fickle nature of broadcast media. He cleverly embeds this timely commentary beneath the movie’s spectacle, offering a pointed critique of our shallow, performative culture. Through Clark’s interactions with a world obsessed with optics and outrage, the film holds a mirror to the hollow validation of social media, where sincerity is traded for virality and truth becomes secondary to trend. Gunn also confronts the fickle nature of society itself — how easily the public elevates heroes only to tear them down at the slightest misstep, revealing more about our own insecurities than the hero’s flaws. Even broadcast media doesn’t escape unscathed; the film paints it as a machine of half-truths and spectacle, perpetuating narratives that distort rather than illuminate. In these ways, Superman emerges not just as a story of a man learning to save the world, but as a subtle indictment of a world that seems increasingly uninterested in being saved — at least, not sincerely.

James Gunn’s choice to craft a more human, more relatable Superman is not just a bold creative pivot — it’s an overdue course correction for a character who, for decades, has too often felt like a distant monument rather than a man. Traditionally, Superman has been written and portrayed as a flawless demigod: morally unassailable, physically unstoppable, and emotionally impenetrable — admirable, yes, but also alienating and, frankly, boring. Gunn understands that audiences connect most deeply not with perfection but with struggle, doubt, and vulnerability. By leaning into Clark Kent’s humanity — his insecurities, his quiet kindness, his yearning to belong — Gunn breathes new life into a character long encased in marble. In doing so, he not only makes Superman interesting again but also reminds us that heroism is not about being invincible; it’s about being profoundly, recognizably human.

For all its noble intentions and flashes of brilliance, Gunn’s Superman suffers from a narrative that simply has far too much going on — and not in a way that feels rich or layered, but cluttered and exhausting. In trying to weave together a pantheon of ancillary characters, subplots, and Easter eggs, the film forgets that its emotional core should be Clark Kent’s journey, not a checklist of cameos and teases for future installments. The supporting players, while individually intriguing on paper, pile up to such an extent that they suffocate the story rather than enrich it, leaving audiences with a nagging sense of being overwhelmed rather than immersed. Instead of honing in on what makes Superman compelling, the movie disperses its energy in too many directions, diluting its impact and leaving the viewer wishing it had trusted more in simplicity — and in its titular hero.

Definitely not your dad or grandfather’s Superman; however, this is a Superman that remains super yet connects with audiences through the human dimension.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio 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

JURASSIC WORLD: REBIRTH movie review

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Possesses dino DNA, but missing strands and sequences, leaving an uneven and forgettable movie. Jurassic World: Rebirth begins with an intriguing enough premise, but the characters are poorly written, which is then amplified by way of a subplot that only serves to clutter the story. After a rough first two acts–except for a thrilling and fantastically written T-Rex chase scene (that was part of Crichton’s original novel and script for Jurassic Park)–the third act is surprisingly exciting and suspenseful, and at times terrifying.

Zora Bennett (Scarlet Johansson) leads a team of skilled operatives to the most dangerous place on Earth, an island research facility for Jurassic World. Their mission is to secure genetic material from dinosaurs whose DNA can provide life-saving benefits to mankind. As the top-secret expedition becomes more and more risky, they soon make a sinister, shocking discovery that’s been hidden from the world for decades.

Perhaps Koepp’s screenwriting works best when the original version of a script is written by the novel’s author (which, I know wasn’t possible for this movie in more ways than one), and he then crafts the original version to be more effective for the screen. To put it simply, no one knows what is going on or when/where they are. Harsh? Not really, when the movie opens with lazy exposition through on screen text describing an event that happened 17 years ago…keep that in mind, 17 years (placing it in line with Jurassic World not Jurassic Park). But then the characters talk about the research and development facility as if it was connected to the original park–not possible. Even popcorn movies should adhere to the logic of their own world building. It’s as if no one thought about the events that unfold in this movie, and how they relate to the previous movies. Kind of basic storytelling logic.

There are many elements of this movie that fail to make any logical sense (and again, that is the logic setup by the movie itself) or are setup, and never developed or connected to any motivation or stakes. To go into them, would take too much time.

Aside from logic problems, the movie is plagued by poorly written characters, an extraneous, shoehorned subplot, and weak first and second acts (with one exception in the second act that was thrilling). While I appreciate the minimalistic cast of characters compared to the cast of characters in all the Jurassic World movies, there are two competing groups that are pretty much independent of one another and could have each been in their own movie altogether. Yet, somehow, they are sloppily fused together in this movie. For argument’s sake, we’ll call them the Mercenaries and the Family. The Mercenaries and their outside/action plot are fine–I’d even go so far as to say ‘that’ story is sufficiently interesting. The Family and their plot felt extraneous and ultimately of little importance to anything that happened. It’s as if there were two different movie ideas (1) centered on the Harvesters and (2) the Family. And I think either by itself would have made for a better movie than putting them together. These decisions left the movie feeling muddled and crowded.

There is a T-Rex sequence in the second act that is fantastic! It very much harkens back to the sci-fi horror-adjacency of the original movie. Of course it helps that Crichton’s original Jurassic Park novel and screenplay thereof contained a similar sequence. Fun fact: this sequence in the novel and original Crichton screenplay served as the inspiration for Jurassic Park: The Ride at Universal Studios parks. It plays out wonderfully in this movie, like a short film in and of itself, because it’s setup well, developed strategically, and resolved thrillingly.

Even though there are a couple of characters that are almost fun or compelling to watch (almost), the rest are more disposable than a red solo cup at a frat party. You’ll find yourself rooting for the dinosaurs to win. Of all the characters, there is one particularly so annoying and deplorably behaved, that you’ll want the first dinosaur you see to pick him off, (and question why on earth his girlfriend would be with him and why the dad would let the boyfriend walk all over him–answer, bad writing). Other characters are one-dimensional or the casting choice never sells the character. All around, there are many character and casting problems, resulting in a movie wherein you’ll hope the next dino attack happens soon–and preferably ends with one less character.

Where the movie “finds a way” to leave you on a high note, is in the third act. Despite the slapdash screenwriting throughout the first and second acts, the third act is wildly entertaining and even at times, terrifying! It almost compensates for the first hour and forty-five minutes. The (weird) dinos are “monsters” again, and the various chase sequences each offer something different (even though one is a recreation of the Kitchen Scene from the original movie). The stakes are raised and the level of terror leaps off the screen. So often, movies start well and fail to stick the landing; with this one, it fails to stick the launch but definitely sticks the landing.

SUffice it to say, if you took the first two acts from The Lost World: Jurassic Park, and paired them with the third act from Jurassic World: Rebirth, then you’d actually have a pretty good, memorable movie.

As an OG Jurassic Park fan (and Lost World apologist, except for the third act), I hate having to write reviews such as this one for a franchise installment. But, the more I thought about this movie, the more stupid it became. I suppose it’ll make for a fun enough 4th of July weekend watch, but doesn’t do much beyond that.

Perhaps, these movies will “find a way” back to greatness one day–doubtful as it seems.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio 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