Film Review: Masters of the Universe (2026)

Lighthearted nostalgic adventure that doesn't take itself too seriously

Saturday mornings in the ‘80s were a sacred time for fantasy loving kids, a time when they could indulge in a range of fantastical animated adventures. Some cartoons were available in the after school hours as well. Long before cable gave us 24-hour kids and cartoon channels, and before streaming services gave us on-demand access to thousands of superhero shows, weekend and after school cartoons were the primary gateway to adventure. Among the curated selection of kids cartoons was He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. The series, based on an existing toy brand, gave kids the animated version of action figures from Mattel’s Masters of the Universe collection. In full disclosure, I will note that I am not a He-Man (or spinoff She-Ra) superfan, although I watched some of both original shows in their original runs and have sometimes watched other iterations of the series, including Netflix’s She-Ra reboot. I mention this because the 2026 Masters of the Universe feels very intentionally grounded in that original sense of childhood nostalgia. Depending on your perspective, you may find this a joyous relief or an irritation. For me, despite the film’s many shortcomings, I mostly found it to be the former: a fun, optimistic surprise in a sea of otherwise perfectly appropriate and timely cinema bleakness and intensity.

In the 2026 adventure, Adam is the young prince of Eternia, a magical kingdom with talking animals and sorcerers. He is small for his age and hesitant to fight. As a result, he is pushed around by the other kids in their weapons training sessions and looked down on by his father the king. Despite this, he is friends with his strong friend Teela and is encouraged by his teacher, Teela’s dad, the head soldier Duncan. Adam’s home is Castle Grayskull, home to a sacred sword of power and protected by a mage known as the Sorceress. When the evil sorcerer Skeletor and his partner Evil-Lyn attack the castle, the king’s forces are overwhelmed. The queen, who is from Earth, is forced to send Adam and the sword to safety through a portal to Earth. But in the fall to Earth, Adam loses the sword. Suddenly (one time skip later), fifteen years have passed and Adam is going on Tinder dates and working in HR in Oklahoma City. Despite his average life, he is obsessed with memories of his home planet (although no one believes him) and is determined to regain his lost sword. When he finally finds it, it triggers an attack by a fantastical creature, which leads to a rescue by his now grown-up friend Teela, who takes him back to Eternia. Adam must use the sword and his own inner strength to rescue his parents, free his people, and retake his kingdom from Skeletor.

The major strength of this film is the lead actors. Nicholas Galitzine is believable and enjoyable as a likeable but insecure everyman who knows he’s destined for more than the drudgery of his day job. Camila Mendes, who did several seasons as Veronica in Riverdale, is excellent as the no-nonsense, sharp, grown-up-in-the-room in all of the scenes. Idris Elba is, as always, perfect as Duncan, who ranges from tough teacher to substitute father figure to defeated and depressed drunk to fierce soldier. Kristen Wiig is also funny as Duncan’s sarcastic robot companion. There is even a Dolph Lundgren cameo, where the former He-Man actor gives Nicholas Galitzine some cryptic advice about the way to be a hero.

There are many funny moments in this film, including the opening scene where Adam is telling his complicated life story to his eyerolling blind date. Although not all of the jokes hit, the story is, for the most part, amusing and very kid-friendly. Unlike other superhero live-action films, Masters of the Universe opts for comedy and camp as its primary tone. The choice is a bit unexpected in this age of edgy superhero interpretations that are either grim or cynical. Masters of the Universe is closer to the tone of the Barbie movie or the live-action One Piece series. But it opts out of Barbie’s cerebral social commentary sarcasm or One Piece’s balance of outrageousness and grim intensity. It’s most similar in tone to the 2017 live-action Power Rangers, a film that tried to balance a modern, edgy aesthetic with classic, campy, kids show nostalgia. Power Rangers was a film that started off edgy/cool in the first half and then jarringly dove into campy kids nerdiness in the second half. However, Masters of the Universe has a clear target audience and vibe in mind, and stays consistent in its tone of lightness, kid-friendly playfulness and self-aware nostalgia.

In fact, the film is very self-aware of its campy nostalgia. Adam reps the old Prince Adam outfit by wearing a pink button-down shirt and jeans in his non-He-Man scenes. He repeatedly acknowledges the goofiness of some of the things he says or does, admitting that many of his choices are based on a child’s worldview and childhood memories he wants to reconnect with. Although he is an adult, it is clear he is emotionally stuck in his childhood trauma, loss, and insecurity. In the original He-Man animated series, Adam’s fearful or lackadaisical attitude was an artificial cover for his alternate identity. In Masters of the Universe, he has genuine hesitation and insecurities. And when he transforms, everyone around him knows he’s the same person with the same insecurities. This evolution of the premise is an asset to the story, to humanize both him and his connection to his friends. And it avoids the always annoying trope of close friends not noticing that the hero and their clearly identical alter ego are the same person.

However, despite the appeal of the story and the fun tone, there are some elements of the film that are confusing. Given the intentional and thoughtful characterization of Adam, it’s odd to leave out any reference to his childhood upbringing on Earth. He talks about life on Eternia as if it is the only thing he knows. In other lost prince/princess stories, we get at least a quick explanation of their survival. Superman was adopted by the Kents; Emma from Once Upon a Time was raised in foster homes in the U.S. The absence of even a passing explanation for his survival was a distracting plot omission that felt like a missed opportunity to give this Oklahoman Adam some personal context. His bestie and roommate Hussein is a likeable but underused character who mostly disappears from the plot without an opportunity to get to know about his connection to Adam. Another strange choice is an extended detour into Adam’s day job at a human relations company where his obsession with swords gets him in trouble. There is a particularly protracted scene of his boss (an excellent Sasheer Zamata) lecturing him on sensitivity in a way that paints her as a semi-villain (she seems almost like a corporate counterpart to Evil-Lyn), and the scene is clearly meant to mock corporate sensitivity lingo. The fact that a consent joke is twice used as a derisive punchline is another strange choice. Later in a crucial moment on Eternia, Adam initially opts for negotiation and empathy when everyone wants him to fight, but he is soon forced to abandon that approach in favor of fighting. This throughline is a confusing theme in a film that is otherwise fun, optimistic, and likeable.

Like many films lately, Masters of the Universe is at least thirty minutes too long, especially for something that is primarily a comedy adventure. It is a film that has plenty of kid-friendly content and doesn’t take itself too seriously. The very last scenes and the first post-credits scene emphasize this lightheartedness with a big homage to the original 1980s cartoon in its final send-off. Although it deals with themes of empathy versus aggression and self-confidence versus insecurity, the overall story is mainly a fun reminder of childhood imagination and adventure. Depending on your mood, that may be just what you need.

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

Highlights:

• Self-aware nostalgia
• Solid acting
• Kid-friendly content and humor

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Film Review: Bugonia

A bleak, biting exploration of human shortcomings that undercuts the dark comedy label

Joining Sinners and Frankenstein on the speculative side of the 2026 Best Picture Oscar race is the psychologically twisty thriller Bugonia. While Frankenstein offers addictive melodrama with fantastical sets, and Sinners delivers a stunning historical allegory on racism, creativity, and exploitation, Bugonia, on the other hand, is a quirky, quietly focused exploration of human shortcomings, especially as a response to grief. Bugonia is categorized as a dark comedy, but that label feels misleading. Despite its outlandish premise, the ultimate execution of the story feels for the most part sharp, direct, and bitter rather than sarcastically humorous. This tonal choice is unexpected but effective due to the excellent performances by the lead actors, who discuss outrageous, fantastical, tragic, and banal issues with equally seething intensity in a way that feels more like an intimate stage play than a feature film.

Bugonia is a remake of the 2003 Korean film Save the Green Planet, in which a conspiracy theorist kidnaps and tortures a corporate CEO who he believes is an extraterrestrial alien bent on destroying our planet. [SPOILERS] In Bugonia, Teddy (Jesse Plemons) is an ordinary warehouse worker and amateur beekeeper who has become obsessed with the idea that aliens known as Andromedans have infiltrated human society and are deliberately destroying the planet. He convinces his gentle-natured cousin Don (Aidan Delbis) to help him kidnap drug company CEO Michelle Fuller (Emma Stone), believing her to be an evil Andromedan.

In a complex scheme, Teddy and Don are able to overpower and kidnap Michelle and chain her in their basement. They demand that she arrange a meeting with the Andromedans, but when Michelle denies being an alien, Teddy tortures her by repeatedly electrocuting her. Despite the dire nature of the situation, Michelle remains calm and intellectually challenges Teddy’s viewpoint. This causes Teddy to physically attack her. Don becomes uncomfortable with Teddy’s physical abuse of Michelle but is devoted to him.

Meanwhile, a deputy (Stavros Halkias) investigating the missing CEO is revealed to have repeatedly sexually abused Teddy as a child. Additionally, the drugs made by Michelle’s company are responsible for putting Teddy’s mother (Alicia Silverstone) in a coma. Teddy’s fraught backstory is counterbalanced by his obsessive pseudo-intellectualism and violent behavior. Michelle’s wit and calmness match her corporate persona that is briefly shown before the abduction. As Teddy and Michelle match wits, Don gets overwhelmed by the pressure of the competing extremes, and we see how truly unhinged Teddy is and how ultimately manipulative Michelle is.

Bugonia’s strength lies almost entirely in the addictive performances of Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons. Plemons is well cast as the self-important mastermind who uses his ego to justify his disturbing behavior and cover up his profound inner insecurities. The character is reminiscent of Plemons’s portrayal of the cruel Robert Daly in the “USS Callister” episode of Black Mirror. In both stories he portrays a person who feels beleaguered and intellectually superior and feels justified in hurting others to get his way.

Similarly, Emma Stone owns the scenes as the assertive, unbowed corporate CEO. She spouts corporate doublespeak about employee wellness while manipulating people to work late. We see just enough of her in terms of fitness, intellect, strength, and boldness before diving into her cold, calm performance as a smart captive. The performance is taut, sharp, and calculating, the perfect foil to Plemons’s portrayal of an insecure façade of control that falls apart when challenged. Aidan Delbis is also solid as Don, whose loyalty to Teddy is counterbalanced by practical insight and independent ethical awareness. Despite being presented as naïve and compliant, Don is the true moral center of the story.

The film delves into a diverse but related continuum of issues ranging from environmental damage to human poisoning to the toxic nature of corporate life. On the other hand, we see how abuse leads to rage and to more abuse, how loss and grief fuel anger and violence, and how the echo chamber of online algorithms can fuel extremism. Ultimately, the issue becomes a larger question about humanity itself: why do human beings choose to be toxic and violent, repeatedly and on so many different levels, despite the cost to ourselves, other humans, and our world itself?

Unfortunately, the ending doesn’t land as solidly as the initial tense setup deserves. The low-budget visual effects are meant to be humorous, but undercut the story’s initial intensity. Instead of locking in on the sharp biting commentary, the ending is awkwardly campy in a way that fails to be either actually humorous or truly ironic. The only true poignancy comes in the epilogue, but those final moments feel a bit flat after so much intense emotion.

Bees are a primary symbol in the story; the film’s title refers to a strange ancient theory of spawning a beehive from an animal’s carcass. The concept is bleak call to account to address the reality of who we really are versus who we think we are. However, the strength of the film lies in the acting in this psychological thriller, rather than in the awkward questions it asks about the flawed nature of humanity in both our external choices and in our innate being.

Highlights:

• Excellent acting
• Biting social commentary
• Lackluster ending

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Film Microreview: Anaconda (2025)

The Ouroboros of sequelitis eats its tail

Because every last bit of IP must be undusted for quick profit, this time we have a movie that just doesn’t bother pretending it’s about something more than squeezing another IP, and in the process successfully denounces itself. This “spiritual sequel” to 1997’s Anaconda both acknowledges that the original was ridiculously over the top and strives to beat it by being a hundred times more ridiculously over the top. It’s an impossible beast: a remake that is about how absurd it would be to film that remake. But it doesn’t have a commentary to make on its premise; this is no Charlie Kaufman’s Adaptation. Its gimmick consists in pointing at itself and smirking at the audience: Hey, isn’t it silly that Hollywood keeps remaking everything? Ha ha. Joke’s on all of us for buying the tickets.

Anaconda doesn’t try to comment on the tension inherent in its assignment, on the dual task of telling a story that is about its own inadequacy for telling that story. It doesn’t take the example of its worthier predecessors, like 2005’s Bewitched, a metafictional comedy about rebooting Bewitched, or 2021’s The Matrix: Resurrections, a neat rebuke to the executives who forced it into existence and simultaneously a beautiful case for its own existence. The whole point of the new Anaconda is that there would be no point in a new Anaconda, and when it goes ahead and does it anyway, it doesn’t know how to justify itself.

The in-universe excuse for the reboot is that two childhood friends who always dreamed of making horror movies have a midlife crisis and suddenly decide to fly to the Amazon jungle and film a new Anaconda before they get too old to try things. Not the worst of premises, but it feels strange to watch Jack Black, of all people, play the responsible, mature half of the duo, while the magically ageless Paul Rudd is simply impossible to believe as an unemployable D-lister. These two characters have been stung by the nostalgia bug, and constantly reminisce about their school days, when they made zero-budget films for the pure love of the craft. But their inclination for artistic purity doesn’t extend beyond their lines; the actual plot devotes a lot of attention to who owns the legal rights to remake Anaconda.

(Curiously, the new Anaconda is so disconnected from the plot of the original that you wouldn’t need those rights in order to film this one. It’s the kind of mildly tangential allusion The Asylum gets away with selling all the time.)

Much like the self-serving abomination that was Space Jam 2, the new Anaconda takes care to remind viewers again and again that it’s a Sony property. Accordingly, the defining ethical question that propels the plot is whether you respect Sony’s property. The other themes alluded to in the script (illegal gold mining, cruelty toward animals, substance abuse disorders, the pursuit of happiness) are secondary to the sacred status of corporate ownership rights.

Barely tolerable as a buddy comedy, toothless as a horror thriller, self-defeating as a metafictional exercise, the movie we get feels like something captured by its titular monster: a regurgitated, half-digested lump that is hard to ignore but much harder to look at.

Nerd Coefficient: 3/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Film Review: Lilo & Stitch

If Disney live-action remakes were generally this good, they would still be making them

After the live-action Snow White bombed, Disney announced that it would be halting development on all future live-action remakes of its animated films. These live-action films were transparently cash grabs. Under capitalism, all commercially published art is a cash grab to somebody (not necessarily the artist); we know this, and for that reason, one of the greatest sins a film can make nowadays, in the age of digital reproduction à la Walter Benjamin, is to be an obvious cash grab. In that regard, the live-action remake of Lilo & Stitch is something of a zombie, the last shambling remnant of something that was vaguely abhorrent to begin with, and is clearly about to die. Even so, we are tempted to gawk at its remains, and even so, we go to see Lilo & Stitch in theaters.

When watching the opening scene on the Galactic Federation’s capital ship, the whole thing feels like it was made on a sugar high. It feels cartoonish, more so than the rest of the movie, as it is almost totally CGI, and more gallingly, the editing is extremely rushed. As soon as a line of dialogue ends, with a quip more often than not, the film cuts to the next shot. This is a persistent problem throughout the film, but it is most pronounced in the opening sequence. The camera, and by extension, the viewer, is given very little opportunity to breathe. Later in the movie, some shots could have been allowed to bask in the Hawaiian scenery, or have a moment of intimacy with any number of its characters. The film runs about 01:45, but after seeing this cut, I feel like another 15 to 20 minutes would have been justified so as to not feel like the film is running a sprint.

The plot, in broad strokes, is similar enough to the original for most of its runtime; it is the characters where there have been more substantive tweaks. I really liked Maia Kealoha as Lilo. She has superb comedic timing, without which several jokes simply would have crashed and burned in a manner not unlike the pod Stitch arrived in. She is also capable of great pathos, giving gravitas to the more sensitive moments, while still being a hellion as all children her age are (indeed, the way she gets back at Mertle in this film’s version of the beginning at the hula performance is, if anything, far more vicious than the original). She is a very good foil for this three-dimensional version of Stitch (a returning Chris Sanders, who provided his voice in the original film), who if anything is even more of a walking agent of chaos than before. It reminded me of James Mowry, protagonist of Eric Frank Russell’s 1958 novel Wasp, who is dropped on an alien planet with the express order of being a terrorist. Stitch, designed as a weapon, is something of an unwilling Mowry, but his orders, encoded in his DNA, manifest in his behavior anyway. He is also, fortunately, far more entertaining and far less goddamn irritating than the version of him seen riding a roller coaster in the previews at Regal cinemas.

This film changes the bumbling alien sidekicks Jumba and Pleakley from being obvious extraterrestrials in human clothing hunting for Stitch into technologically aided shapeshifters who don’t exactly understand how human beings behave. This change, I think, was ultimately for the best. There are bits in this movie where antics that would be funny in animation just look cartoonish (and not in a good way) in live action, but making these two characters apparent humans allows a new comedy of manners to enter the picture. I’m not entirely sure what to make of the fact that Pleakley, a male alien, is no longer in drag for his disguise in this film; I’m not sure how it could have been done tastefully to begin with.

Sydney Elizebeth Agudong portrays this film's version of Nani, who of the main characters is perhaps the most faithful to the original. She has the right balance of sharp adolescent wit, caustic fury at injustice, and deep, deep anxiety over her own fate that the role needed. But if her character is much the same, her arc is tinkered with, first subtly, then massively. One very good example of this is when the social worker says that she needs a new job or she will lose custody of her sister; in this incarnation, she finds a job doing something she loves, which is a key bit of support for her broader arc. It also recontextualizes one of the songs from the original movie, and in the best way possible.

Some characters are either added or changed in a substantial manner that moves them out of the way. Gantu is, regrettably, gone. There is a new social worker (Tia Carrere), who gets some good lines and makes the authority of the state seem not quite so horribly bleak. Fortunately, a version of Cobra Bubbles is here (Courtney Vance doing a pretty good Leslie Nielsen impression). One of the great writing missteps was giving this film’s version of David (Kaipo Dudoit) not much to do beyond saying funny things at the designated times; the banter and flirting between him and Nani in the original is much reduced here. He is made up for, fortunately, by a new character: David’s grandmother Tūtū (Amy Hill), who is established as an old family friend and neighbor of Nani and Lilo.

Now, I am going to spoil the ending, because there has been a lot of discourse about it, and it is worth discussing in some depth. In the original movie, Nani succeeds in keeping custody of Lilo, and overall Nani’s arc is primarily about being a caregiver and secondly about David. Here, she is given more depth as to her aspirations for her future, such as initially turning down a full ride to a prominent university on the American mainland so she can take care of Lilo. This is what sets up the change that has ultimately been the most controversial, for at the end, Nani ends up forfeiting custody of Lilo to Tūtū, leaving Tūtū, Lilo, and David to share a house while Nani goes to the mainland for college to study marine biology.

This has understandably made many fans of the original upset. Much of the original’s thematic skeleton is the Hawaiian idea of 'ohana, where families stick together and nobody is left behind. The new sequence of events does, on its surface, look like an abandonment, but I think that is a simplistic reading. Much of the social media discourse around the ending frames it as the state government ‘taking’ Lilo away from Nani, but the film portrays it as a far more mutual process that is built up to, through a new thematic emphasis as well as through Nani’s new narrative arc.

Much of the new film’s thematic work is about the crushing weight of poverty. After their parents died, Nani and Lilo live in a dilapidated shack where the former has to work several dead-end, degrading jobs not just to survive, but to raise a child. You see near the beginning that their house does not have a lot of food, for one, and few luxuries, so nothing like tea (as a joke in that sequence calls attention to). To be poor in America is to have your life interfered with in a million small ways by society and the state; the social worker is consistently an irritant, but she rarely brings with her anything that could actually alleviate this family’s poverty. You can see the pain in Nani’s eyes as she throws her full-ride scholarship letter in the garbage, knowing that a potential way out of poverty will have to slip from her grasp because of the immediate demands of childcare.

This is where I will risk sounding callous: the ending of the original movie was essentially a sentence of lifelong poverty for both Lilo and Nani, if we are being realistic. As native Hawaiians, they are more likely to be impoverished by other inhabitants of that archipelago. The demands of childcare would mean Nani would not have many opportunities to upskill for several years at least, and any path to do so may risk crushing debt. Furthermore, it did what a lot of Disney animated films have unintentionally done by encouraging a sort of martyr complex among young girls, telling them that their only value is in the care they give to others. Care is good and valuable, yes, but girls and women can, and should be encouraged to, have their own passions and their own ambitions for their lives beyond the domestic.

Much of Nani’s new arc is about just how taxing her life is, having to deal with the travails of poverty, of raising a child, and of dealing with the new arrival in her life, namely a furry blue alien terror weapon (as well as those who would like to take him away, and will hurt her and those people she loves to do so). Her entire bearing through this film is one of exasperation and of downright exhaustion. She, rationally, wants a better life than this, and she is almost denied, quite cruelly, a way to a better life. This is why I object to the characterization of the state ‘taking’ Lilo, for it is more accurately described as Nani realizing, correctly, that as a nineteen-year-old orphan, she is in far over her head in her current situation, and that she can do better for Lilo in the long run.

The reason why this new ending works is partially due to Nani’s new arc, but also due to the new character of Tūtū. The latter is a grandmother figure to both Nani and Lilo, as well as being a literal grandmother to David. She is already a member of the broader chosen family by the beginning of the movie, and so there is now another person who could naturally (by narrative logic) take stewardship of Lilo. She is what a lot of online conversation in this film ignores, for she is really the character who makes the whole thing plausible. She is trusted and loved by Nani and Lilo and is blood family with their friend David. As the saying goes, it takes a village to raise a child, and Lilo accepting Tūtū’s help ultimately comes off to me as a very mature decision, as much as it hurts in the moment. As a message to a young audience, it shows that it is okay, good even, to ask for help, and to accept help, and to know when you are being overwhelmed, for that is kinder to both yourself and the people around you.

In the long run, I can’t help but think that the ending is the kinder one for Lilo. Sure, they may be physically separated, but with modern telecommunications they can talk regularly. Like many Hawaiians, Nani is going to the mainland to better her future, and with her new education she may well get a job where she can not only afford to live comfortably, but also care for Lilo far more effectively. If Lilo is six in this film, Nani will graduate when she is ten or eleven, which means that it is very possible that Nani will be able to provide her younger sister with an adolescence far more comfortable than her childhood. This is not nothing, given the brutality of poverty, as well as Hawaii’s current housing crisis. It is, I dare say, a great kindness.

I expected to write a brutally negative review of this movie. Walking out of the theater, I was surprised I didn’t hate it. The film ultimately ends up justifying its existence artistically (financially, I’m certain Disney is very happy right now, as this has already outgrossed Thunderbolts*) in a way many remakes simply don’t. Thematically, I would argue it is more adult. Visually, it takes advantage of both live-action and CGI to make Hawaii absolutely beautiful, and its performances provide an energy of their own. If all remakes Disney made were as good as this, they would still be making more of them, which is both great praise for this film, and great condemnation of Disney for getting into this mess in the first place.

POSTED BY: Alex Wallace, alternate history buff who reads more than is healthy.

Film Review: Snow White

A mix of promising moments and distracting production choices.

Long before Disney Princesses were a corporate trademark, fans flocked to Disney’s fairy tale adaptations on the big screen. Over the decades viewers enjoyed the musical adventures, often with a strong, girl-power protagonist and likeable allies who triumph over cruelty to find happiness. But, of all of the Disney princess films, the 1937 Snow White and the Seven Dwarves was the hardest for me to connect to. That adaptation of the classic Grimms’ fairy tale was the oldest in the catalogue and the story was iconic in its simplicity. Later versions of the tale were more intense in their explanation of the desperate princess on the run from a murderous queen. The first season of the television series Once Upon a Time, gave us the fugitive princess Snow White as a fierce, smart-mouthed archer who has an enemies-to-lovers adventure with a rogue prince she sarcastically nicknames “Charming.” Snow White and the Huntsman offered a dramatic and complicated relationship between the two lead characters. But if you have interpretations like Snow White and the Huntsman or Once Upon a Time in mind, the 2025 live action film is nothing like those. The newest version of Snow White takes us all the way back to 1937, complete with the iconic blue and yellow poufy dress and kid-friendly, music-filled storytelling.

In a happy kingdom, a benevolent king and queen have a daughter born during a snowstorm. They name her Snow White in honor of her surviving the storm. The king remarries when his wife dies and Snow White’s cruel stepmother (Gal Gadot) takes control of the kingdom when the king disappears. The evil queen hoards food (unclear why) and orders the kingdom’s farmers to be her soldiers. Surprisingly, they fall in line and become very dedicated to their new jobs as oppression enforcers. Meanwhile, Snow White (Rachel Zegler) is kept inside the palace and forced to work scrubbing floors, etc. This continues for years and she becomes isolated from what’s happening in the kingdom. The queen has a magic talking mirror which she consults to confirm that she is the fairest person of them all. One day Snow White catches a thief, Jonathan (Andrew Burnap), stealing potatoes from the palace, allegedly to feed starving people in the woods. Snow White scolds him for stealing but when he inevitably gets caught, she unsuccessfully appeals to the queen for leniency. Around the same time, the queen gets the bad news that Snow White is now fairer than the queen. The queen sends a guard to kill the princess and Snow White ends up having to run for her life. She is sheltered by seven miners a/k/a “the seven dwarves” from the original film. Snow White decides to team up with her new roommates and with Jonathan and his band of bandits as they all figure out how to win the kingdom back from the queen. 

The 2025 film is not trying to be new or clever and will be more enjoyable if you calibrate your expectations accordingly. However, despite the simplistic set up and the decidedly grade school vibes, the film has several promising moments. Rachel Zegler’s portrayal is appealingly earnest and her singing voice is gorgeous and perfect for the film’s childlike mood. The film has a relatable central theme of oppression versus kindness. The magic mirror uses a double meaning for the word “fair” noting that Snow White is more than pretty, but is just and fair-minded, unlike the queen. It’s a fun element of symbolism and moral commentary. Additionally, Snow White’s interactions with “Dopey” are sweet as she supports him in moving from being a victim of bullying to finding his voice. The idea of finding your voice to stand up to oppression is an overall theme in the story. It’s fun that Snow White’s name refers to overcoming the cold snow rather than aspiring to be like it. If you are in the mood for allegory, the film does a nice job of weaving in uplifting concepts throughout.

Unfortunately, the promising moments are undercut by other story elements. The new film gives us a Snow White who has slightly more self-determination than the original film but who always reins it in before she gets too fierce. Her love interest Jonathan (not a prince) is a quirky combination of Han Solo, Rapunzel’s Flynn Ryder, and a comic version of Robin Hood but with a rom-com vibe that seems a bit too flippant in dire situations. The evil queen is visually striking but is, more or less, two dimensional with no personal backstory or substantive motivation. The opening narration sums her up by simply stating, “She was evil.” And apparently that’s all we need to know. But, most distracting, were the non-stop CGI effects, not only of the forest animals but also of the seven miners who take in Snow White. Despite being a live action film, the seven characters are creepily cartoonish with distorted, giant faces. The fun of a live action adaptation is to see the characters as real people not merely three dimensional cartoons. All of these elements lead to a mix of promising moments and distracting production choices. 

Overall, Snow White will appeal to very young viewers but the film’s reluctance to flesh out the characters, literally and figuratively, may leave more mature viewers wanting something a bit more real.

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The Math   

Nerd Coefficient: 6/10

Highlights:

• Appealing lead actress
• Distracting CGI
• Simplistic storytelling

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction-writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Review: Nosferatu (2024)

Robert Eggers delivers a terrifying, graphic, and atmospheric take on the classic vampire tale, managing to inject fresh horror back into a story that has spent decades being sanitized by sedutive pop culture bloodsuckers.

Remaking a film that is the progenitor of modern vampire cinema is an interesting undertaking; it's also been done before (Herzog's 1979 Nosferatu). So why did Robert Eggers —director of The Witch and The Lighthouse— feel compelled to put his own spin on the story?

Because he loves it. Like, really loves it. As a kid, he saw an image of Max Shreck's Orlok and became infatuated. As a teenager, he directed a stage version of it, and has been consumed by the tale ever since. If there was anyone going to develop a new (and different enough) film version of Nosferatu, it could have only been Eggers. His production design, especially, as well as immaculate choice in casting, are two primary reasons why this film works, and they're superb. Seeing a Depp in a desaturated and gothic town hasn't been this fun since 1999's Sleepy Hollow, which is a master class in horror vibes (Eggers is the heir apparent to Tim Burton, harnessing all of the atmospheric darkness of Gothic ambience without the tweeness).

I won't recount the plot bit by bit as literally everyone knows the story, but I do want to focus this review on what's different and great about this new version.

Depicting Orlok as a gruff, disgusting, and aggressive Transylvanian folk vampire

While Max Shreck originated the concept of the tall, lanky, creepy and quiet vampire, Hollywood in the intervening years has gotten really into sexy and dashing anti-heroes with its Gary Oldmans and Robert Pattinsons. Eggers bucks both of these and goes in an opposite direction with a festering, (literally) maggot-ridden, butch, and mustachioed Orlok. He is cloaked in shadow for the vast majority of the film, and you never get a really good look at him, which perhaps adds to his unsettling countenance. This Orlok is more Vlad the Impaler and Nandor the Relentless than Bela Lugosi.

In an interview with Eggers, he talks about all the research he did prior to making Nosferatu, and how he wanted to move away from more contemporary and well-known details that people are familiar with. A perfect example of this is the way Nosferatu feeds in his version —instead of the picture-perfect two fang marks on the soft part of a neck (the "I vant to suck your blood" marks), we get a viscerally disturbing scene of Orlok crouched over his victims and sucking the blood straight from their chest. The lore of vampires and cool and seductive sexiness is not here— it is crude copulation and a bodily hunger that results in death.

Placing all the agency in Ellen's story and giving her a powerful physical presence

Eggers makes a great choice and starts the film off with a young Ellen Hutter, who we learn is psychically connected to Orlok from the very beginning. This simple decision not only better bookends the narrative, it also makes the story make more sense. Why does everything transpire as it does? Because of the unearthly power of Orlok and the power of their horrible bond. But Ellen, as an upper-class woman in a repressive German Victorian society, literally has no power. Throughout the film, Ellen reveals her feelings multiple times to her husband and to Friedrich, and each time is rebuffed. Her seizures and literal possessions don't serve to showcase that she's telling the truth—instead she is ignored, tied to beds, and silenced with ether. Ellen knows that Orlok can only be destroyed by a fair maiden who offers herself to him willingly, and she does so. While the 1922 version originated this sacrifice requirement, it doesn't really make sense to the story because we know nothing about her. Eggers' version sets it up from the beginning, and the payoff works.

Showcasing the plague narrative in a way that shows the utter devastation Orlok brings

My issue with the prior two Nosferatus (Nosferati?) is that they feel so claustrophobically self-contained. The first, of course, because it's more than 100 years old and the technology simply wasn't there to tell an expansive, wide-ranging story. When Orlok boards the ship and brings forth the plague —both to the ship's crew and the people of Wisberg— you really see how horrible the disease is and its effects on society. The oozing and infected rat bites, the hysterically screaming patients in the hospital hallways, and the frightened populace hiding behind shuttered doors paint a picture of depravity and emergency that build to the climax. Ellen must put an end to this plague (both the literal one killing people and the figurative one stalking her) and only she can do it.

Finally, to return to the question of whether another Nosferatu needed to be made—I pose you this question: Do we need more Spider-Man movies? Is another Superman reboot wanted? This year, for the first time in history, the top ten grossing movies were all sequels. No film is ever truly needed. But if a filmmaker can expand on a story that's known and loved, resulting in you liking both the new one and the inspiration a little bit more, then it's successful. I dug this version, and look forward to seeing it again to really revel in the set design and the characters a bit more.

The Math

Baseline Score: 8/10.

Bonuses: Bill Skarsgard as Orlok is a novel and terrifying take on Dracula; Lily-Rose Depp's physical acting is captivating; the cinematography stuns you shot after shot.

POSTED BY: Haley Zapal, new NoaF contributor and lawyer-turned-copywriter living in Atlanta, Georgia. A co-host of Hugo Award-winning podcast Hugo, Girl!, she posts on Instagram as @cestlahaley. She loves nautical fiction, growing corn and giving them pun names like Timothee Chalamaize, and thinking about fried chicken.

Film Review: Wicked, Part 1

Real world social commentary wrapped in memorable show tunes and a classic, fantastical setting.

First came L. Frank Baum’s classic children’s book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the story of Dorothy, a girl who gets blown from Kansas by a cyclone into the fantasy world of Oz. The book was made into the classic film, the Wizard of Oz starring Judy Garland as Dorothy. In Oz, Dorothy meets the beautiful witch Glinda who sends her to Wizard of Oz so that he can get her back to Kansas. In her quest to get home, she defeats the wicked witch of the West and forms friendships with three allies, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. However [spoiler alert] the wizard turns out to be a fraud with no magical powers and in an ironic twist, her companions who consider themselves to be defective and lacking, all turn out to be strong and capable despite their external deficits.

After The Wizard of Oz, came various musical versions of the story including, The Wiz, a primarily Black cast retelling of the story featuring R&B songs like When I Think of Home and Ease on Down the Road. The hit film version of The Wiz starred Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, Nipsey Russell, and other superstars. Later came the Gregory Maguire’s novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. This time the story of Oz is told from the point of view of the story’s original villain, Elphaba. In this version, Elphaba is mistreated, well-meaning, exploited, framed, and ultimately understandably angry. She also has a fraught friendship with Glinda the good witch in the original version of the story.  The novel inspired the musical, Wicked, featuring a tragic hero, tortured friendships, and iconic songs that never quite leave your mind. The Tony winning Broadway musical is the inspiration for the 2024 feature film musical starring Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande as Elphaba and Glinda, respectively. After more than a century into existence, Oz has been through many interpretations.

What contemporary audiences often want is a complex character study. People are seldom just bad or good. They are the products of their experiences and they act based on the reality of their world view and their lived experiences. Wicked, Part 1, tells us the story of a child, Elphaba, who is unloved because of her skin color (green) and feared because of her strength (magic). Despite this she grows to be resilient with a mix of compassion and cynicism. While escorting her younger sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) to the wizard school, Shiz University, Elphaba’s magic skills catch the eye of a professor (Michelle Yeoh), so Elphaba also ends up enrolling in Shiz to develop her powers in the hopes of one day meeting the magical Wizard, the powerful leader of the land who can grant any wish. Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is stuck rooming with the self-absorbed and intensely popular, Glinda (Ariana Grande) who is the opposite of Elphaba’s reticent, outcast vibe. The two initially dislike each other but over time they become friends after each offers the other an unexpected act of kindness. The arrival of the handsome and charismatic prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey) creates a love triangle with Glinda and Elphaba. Meanwhile Elphaba’s younger sister Nessarose is attracted to the Munchin student Boq (Ethan Slater) who is not-so-secretly in love with Glinda. But the main external conflict is the oppression and racism against the talking animals who have been part of society for ages. Elphaba discovers a plot to wrongfully imprison them, cut them off from their homes and employment, and take away their ability to speak. Her determination to speak out against the injustice puts her in conflict with those in power and strains her friendship with Glinda. The film is only part one of the musical so it ends with much of the conflict unresolved. However, the story ends on an inspiring note as Elphaba and Glinda struggle with their respective choices.

If you are familiar with the musical, none of this is new material. But, while the film manages to stay true to the stage show, it also brings startlingly sharp observations of current issues of racism, social oppression, and political manipulation. When Elphaba is stared at because she is green, Glinda expresses hope that they can solve her skin color problem. Elphaba irritatedly rebuffs the suggestion and a man in Glinda’s entourage defensively declares that “I don’t see color.” The fact that Elphaba is played by a Black actress, particularly makes the message resonate.

As the story progresses, Elphaba and Glinda uncover political intrigue involving the innocent talking animals as pawns. Later the talking goat history professor, Dr. Dillamond (voiced by Peter Dinklage) warns that “you ignore the past at your own peril.” When you see Wicked, you can easily talk for hours about the current societal references in the story. The film has sharp content and excellent acting from Cynthia Erivo as the determined Elphaba and Ariana Grande as the good-hearted, but hesitant to act, Glinda.

In addition to the unexpectedly thoughtful and timely plot, Wicked delivers exactly what audiences want in a musical: stunning sets, gorgeous dance numbers (and costumes), and iconic songs (Popular, One Short Day, and Defying Gravity) that will make you want to play the soundtrack the entire way home from the theater. Cynthia Erivo is perfect as Elphaba, playing the character in an understated but bitingly cynical way. Ariana Grande is adorable as an onscreen embodiment of Barbie from Barbie and Elle from Legally Blonde, as she moves from confident and self-absorbed to compassionate, conflicted, and ultimately overwhelmed. The film also has nods to Wednesday and Enid from the Netflix series Wednesday. The only real problem with this film is that it is Wicked, Part 1, which means that we only get through the first half of the story in this rendition. However, it is so well done and ends on such a high note (literally and figuratively) that this story of the rise of an unlikely hero ultimately feels satisfying.

--

The Math

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10

Highlights:

• Sharp social commentary
• Stunning sets and performances
• Poignant, sing-a-long fun

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction-writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

First Scare: Dracula (1979)

The one that was color-graded with extreme prejudice

With this being the fourth Dracula adaptation I watch for this series, I start to wonder: is it humanly possible to tell a Dracula story where women actually make choices of their own? Even in this unabashedly horny version, directed by John Badham, Lucy's vehement wish to spent eternity with the Count can be attributed to magical coercion. It's as if there were no such thing as freely desiring your predator; with Dracula there must always be a pinch of deception thrown in the mix, a hidden hand pushing the will that believes itself free. Where human seduction depends on mutual offering and suggesting, vampiric seduction is all about control. The trick is to hide that control under a charming façade, to convince you that your surrender was your own idea. The vampire is one of those predator species that prefer a docile prey. Like an anglerfish, but hot.

The trope of the vampire as a sexual threat has been present since the very earliest vampire fiction: both Polidori's The Vampyre and Le Fanu's Carmilla revolve around serial seducers of unsuspecting maidens. It became a perennial trait in fiction even until the early years of the 21st century to handle the topic of desire with a certain deliberate ambiguity where vampires were involved. Those stories look very different now through the lens of our contemporary notion of consent: for us, upholders of bodily autonomy and personal agency, any degree of coercion is unacceptable, no matter how sugarcoated. And it's a sign of the progress we've made that the authors of classic vampire tales would have found our perspective odd, maybe too reductive. So if you're going to dive into the literary tradition of sexy vampires, you need to keep in mind two conflicting stances: that of today, according to which anything less than free consent is inarguably assault; and that of the authors, whose understanding of seduction was most likely less egalitarian.

Badham casts a handsome Dracula, removing part of the character's mystique. While it makes the movie's romantic storyline more digestible to the audience, I find that it alters the character too much. Dracula is supposed to be a master manipulator; a key component of his scare factor is that, even if he presented himself in public like the stinking, rotten corpse he actually is, his victims would still be incapable of resisting his embrace. Dracula pulls the strings of human desire in the service of his own desire, which is what makes Nosferatu so effective. If Dracula is good-looking, it doesn't strike us as horrifying that someone would desire him—even if he's using his mind control powers. With the air of effortless charm that Frank Langella gives to this character, it's entirely believable that someone would want to be possessed by him—even if he's not using his mind control powers.

Here your mileage may vary. For a segment of the audience, the fact that he's already attractive before he starts controlling you will make him feel more dangerous. In my case, I'm fascinated by the idea of an inhuman monstrosity that can nonetheless reach into your most intimate feelings and twist them against you. And here we need to invoke cultural attitudes around lookism. By making Dracula handsome, this movie joins the long tradition of folk tales that question the idea of a link between external and internal beauty. Think of the Greek siren, or the medieval succubus, or the Japanese jorōgumo: extremely beautiful, equally evil.

For this version of Dracula, the reshuffling of characters goes like this: Jonathan is engaged to Lucy, who is the daughter of Dr. Seward. There's no Arthur, no brides of Dracula, no earlier visit by Renfield, and no ruse from Dracula: he readily admits that he's visiting England as a consumer. Of more consequence is the rewrite that turns Mina into Dr. Van Helsing's daughter. This time, he isn't an established vampire hunter; he learns about vampires along with the audience. This change allows for a scenario I like to see: Dracula infiltrating human society. Langella plays the Count as a worldly hedonist who enraptures people with his vast talent for conversation. Instead of keeping to the formalities of high society, like Lugosi's Count, Langella's is almost scandalous in how openly he seeks and enjoys female attention.

Thick volumes could be written on the Freudian symbolism of the vampire as a dual object of the erotic impulse and the death impulse, on the alarmingly easy way our basic desires can be warped toward our own destruction. Badham's Dracula aims to present a believable scenario of such distorted passions. Much like desire itself, your response to this piece of art will be uniquely yours. Maybe you'll fall under the spell. Maybe you'll remain unmoved. Taste is a mystery, like life and death.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

First Scare: Dracula (1974)

The one with the excess of close-ups and the perpetually constipated grimace

Ideally, Jack Palance should have been a great choice for the role of Count Dracula. His suitability for the role was so widely acknowledged that Marvel Comics used his likeness for the series Tomb of Dracula years before Dan Curtis cast him in the role. This was the same Dan Curtis who created the TV series Dark Shadows. Add Richard I Am Legend Matheson writing the script, and this movie had the right pedigree to be spectacular. Unfortunately, someone must have given Palance the wrong acting instructions, because from the start to the end of the movie, he only knows how to make one face: that of the unlucky vampire who forgot to add some fiber to his all-blood diet, and is now in urgent need of a laxative.

It's not like Palance is wasted on the role. When he speaks, you believe that he's the right actor. He says his lines in an unnervingly calm, low voice, in the tone of an immortal who has seen everything and can no longer be surprised. His acting choices resemble those of Bela Lugosi in his manner of staring, standing, and carrying himself. However, where Lugosi could own a scene by raising an eyebrow, Palance invariably contorts every muscle on his face, as if the director were pressuring him to choose which emotion to show.

The director himself is no help on this matter, with his strange habit of resorting to a zoom-in to mark every emotional beat. He does make effective use of low angles and the occasional Dutch angle to underline a character's interaction with the realm of the occult, but his overreliance on close-ups becomes a form of self-sabotage against the serious tone he's clearly going for. Matheson's script keeps a tight rein on the pacing of events, an essential skill to have when the audience already knows the plot by heart, and the directing style falls short of what this script deserves.

This time, the reshuffling of characters is less drastic than in previous adaptations, but there's one key detail to pay attention to: the addition of the subplot about the Count's long-dead wife whose likeness he randomly encounters in the present. Coppola would use the same subplot in his 1992 version. This is another way of solving the eternal question about the Count's reason for moving to England: in this case, it's because he's a hopeless romantic. From his dialogues (and bizarrely melodramatic flashbacks) it can be inferred that he'd be happy to remain in his castle if it weren't for the armies that have continuously come to pillage his land and/or murder his wife. If you will just let him keep his wife, he won't have to come to kill you. This version of the Count is no less a seducer than previous ones, but here the story emphasizes his sexual needs instead of Lucy's or Mina's. In fact, the female characters in this version perform the function of hypnotizable MacGuffins rather than people. They're there for the Count to pursue and for Arthur and Van Helsing to chivalrously defend.

It's funny how the space left open by removing Jonathan Harker from the action in London raises Arthur Holmwood to an almost protagonistic position, yet the script keeps him restricted to serving as an appendix of Dr. Van Helsing. They do everything together, go everywhere together, investigate each clue together—you could remove Arthur from this movie and the only change you'd notice would be that Van Helsing would have to recite his infodumps to himself. Even Mina is almost an afterthought: her close friendship with Lucy is more told than shown, and what little autonomy she has in the plot is gone once she's fed Dracula's blood.

Changing Count Dracula from a predator to a heartbroken widower isn't enough to arouse sympathy for this character. There are still good reasons why the common folk who live near his castle shudder at his name. And on a more pragmatic level, the rough, hyperangular features of Jack Palance's face are a bad fit for a romantic lead. But the movie wants to present the Count as a suffering, tragic man who has endured loneliness for too long and just hopes for a second chance at happiness. Again, this is the same angle Coppola would try some years later, but Coppola succeeds at it because his Dracula is legible to us, because his flashback actually does the job of explaining the part of the story we need to understand instead of giving us mere hints as in this movie.

Dracula's manner of death in this version is overacted as all hell. Once the curtains are ripped open to let the sunlight in, the Count staggers and pauses multiple times to make sure you see him pose in pain from all sides. Then he helpfully gets himself in position for Van Helsing to impale him, a process that takes way more camera cuts than it needs. Overall, this movie is not without enjoyable moments, if your idea of enjoyment allows for frequent, abrupt shifts in PoV and a plot structured like a game of cat and mouse.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

First Scare: Dracula (1958)

The one sadly afflicted with pink eye

A few years ago, I did the experiment of watching all three film versions of Carrie on one day. It taught me a lot about the minutiae of adaptational choices: what effect it has if a certain dialogue scene is moved to a different moment in the story, what actions need to be condensed if a location is removed, how far an emotional setup needs to be from its eventual payoff. (My verdict is that 2013 has the best Margaret, 1976 has the best Carrie, and 2002 has the best prom massacre.) Watching various adaptations of Dracula is turning out to be a similar learning experience, with Terence Fisher's 1958 film a fascinating example of how drastically you can strip down a story while keeping its core intact.

If I was surprised by how much the 1931 film shuffled around the novel's characters, this version goes even further: Renfield and the sanatorium are entirely removed, as is Dracula's journey by ship, while Dr. Seward is reduced to a very minor role. Arthur is now Lucy's brother instead of suitor, and he's married to Mina. The bulk of the action is moved from England to Germany so that trips to and from Transylvania are less impractical. The most consequential change is that Jonathan Harker doesn't visit Castle Dracula as an innocent clerk bringing paperwork, but as a sort of secret agent already tasked with killing the vampire. This means that it's not the Count who lures Jonathan to his land, but Jonathan who takes the initiative to seek the Count. It also means that the Count's evil nature is known all along, so he doesn't get to mingle with human society.

Removing the Count's pretense of being a normal human massively reduces the contact he can have with the rest of the cast, which forces the director to make the most of his very few on-screen appearances. The tradeoff works: this is one of those monster movies where we get to see the monster very rarely, but each time we do, it lands with full impact.

The changes to the whole Jonathan/Mina/Lucy axis help provide a practical solution to the biggest loose thread in the novel: why did Count Dracula want to leave Transylvania in the first place? In this interpretation, Jonathan sneaks into the castle crypt in the first act and kills the Count's bride, who may or may not be desperate to be rid of the vampiric curse. This event gives the Count a clear motivation: you take my bride, I take yours. And that's why he goes after Lucy, who in this version is Jonathan's fiancée.

Jonathan doesn't make it past the first act alive (for which I was thankful, what with actor John Van Eyssen being rather mediocre in the role), so the film promptly shifts to introducing Dr. Van Helsing, who ends up being the true protagonist. As Van Helsing, Peter Cushing does a stellar job. He's helped by the script, which cleverly remolds the novel's crusader/pest exterminator into a detective-esque figure. He's apparently been on Dracula's trail for a while, and he frames his mission in terms of protecting the world from what could become a plague of vampirism.

However, precisely because the story has been stripped down to the basics, this whole talk of a threat to the world sounds incongruous. The action is confined to about half a dozen sets, beyond which the rest of society might as well not exist. Van Helsing does visit a customs officer and an undertaker in the course of his investigation, but those spaces just play their part and are quickly done with. If not for the dialogues, we wouldn't even know that Arthur and Mina are living in Germany instead of England. And the Count doesn't help sell his menace factor either; he's more interested in replacing his dead bride than in going on a biting rampage. The main conflict in this film is a strictly private affair, but the dialogues insist that Dracula sits at the head of a "reign of terror" that must be defeated yet is nowhere to be seen.

So instead of the usual dynamic in a Dracula story of the foreign Other quietly invading the civilized metropolis, here we have the civilized heroes going out into the land of the foreign Other to stamp down the threat it represents. Not a very subtle sentiment for a film produced while the Cold War was getting started (it doesn't escape the viewer that the undertaker's shop where the Count first goes to hide has the last name Marx, of all things).

This version of the vampire doesn't bother with theatrics. No beastly transformation, no fog cloud, no magical stares. His power is raw, brutal hunger (and his female victims welcome his assault with equal hunger). When he finally meets Van Helsing, he doesn't try to control his mind, as in the 1931 movie; here he goes straight for the jugular, and is only thwarted because he lets himself grow overconfident.

For a limited special effects budget, Dracula's death in this movie is impressive. Instead of erupting in flames when exposed to the sun, he simply crumbles down into a pile of ashes. It's very simple, very repulsive, and very effective. Unfortunately, the Technicolor process left many scenes more illuminated than they're implied to be, which makes it look like Dracula is walking outdoors under more sunlight than he should, so the dramatic shock of having the sun hit his face at the end is somewhat less effective. Still, this is a enjoyable watch. It's like going to the doctor's office for a needle jab: just the briefest glimpse of blood, and it's over before you feel any pain.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Review: Salem's Lot (2024)

This movie rushes through its vampire-infested, small Maine town, eschewing exposition in favor of trying desperately to come off as a Mike Flanagan project

Spooky season is upon us! And Max has finally released its modern retelling of Stephen King's classic vampire novel. Interestingly, this movie was shot in 2021, but it's only just now being released. Something definitely happened in the interim, as there are glaringly huge holes in the storytelling—release the 3-hour director's cut now, cowards! After all, the novel on which Salem's Lot is based is incredibly dense, and the 1979 TV-movie version (directed by Tobe Hooper of Texas Chainsaw Massacre) was 2 episodes long and 183 total minutes.

The plot

Ben Sears, a famous writer, has returned to his hometown in Maine to get inspiration for a new book—specifically the old spooky Marsten House. Vampires start showing up, however, and quickly the locals all begin to get turned into bloodsucking, ghoulish creatures of the night. Ben teams up with a shockingly competent child, a local woman, a doctor, and a high school teacher, and together they battle the undead and try to convince the cops to do something.

What works

This movie is slick, and it definitely has some very cool practical effects re: vampire faces. The overall vibe is fun and spooky, and the way crosses light up when vampires are near is very cool. Lewis Pullman—most recognizable as Bob from Top Gun: Maverick—anchors the film very well. Fun note: While watching, I was like, "Man, he looks like Bill Pullman! Wait...Pullman..." then I checked Wikipedia and sure enough, Lewis is his son!

What doesn't

Unfortunately, this new retelling is almost all style and no substance. It wants desperately to be as engaging as any one of the recent Mike Flanagan Netflix shows—think Haunting of Hill House, Bly Manor, and Fall of the House of Usher—but it doesn't quite hit the mark.

The main issue with this movie is that when you adapt a Stephen King novel, you have to spend some time with characters. King creates characters not out of thin air, but out of pages upon pages of fully realized backstory. Either you love it or hate it, of course, but you'll never be able to say that he doesn't make a fully lived-in feeling in his worlds. The parts they do keep tend to be King's rather dated, somewhat clunky dialogue. They should have updated that, too, since they changed other parts.

Salem's Lot (2024) doesn't do this. The film sacrifices tons of much-needed exposition for basically just spooky vampire moments. And even though I hadn't read the book in a few years, I could tell that missing links between characters were just glossed over. Ben and his romantic interest, Susan, have maybe one date and then they're just together. (Interestingly, I was transfixed by the actress who played her, Makenzie Leigh, because she has the most intense case of iPhone Face I've ever seen. (What's iPhone Face, you ask? It's when a modern actor looks a little too modern—as if you're unable to believe they've never not seen a smartphone and are thus out of place in films set in more analog times. The exact of opposite of iPhone Face? Jon Hamm, Eva Green, Keira Knightly).

Reader, even national treasure Alfre Woodard (with a Maine accent) couldn't save this movie.

It's not horrible—you'll have fun on a cool October night if you just want some spooky vibes. But don't expect a lot of backstory or depth. Think surface-level vampire frights that won't keep you up at night.

Nerd Coefficient: 6/10.

POSTED BY: Haley Zapal is a lawyer-turned-copywriter living in Atlanta, Georgia. A co-host of Hugo Award-winning podcast Hugo, Girl!, she posts on Instagram as @cestlahaley. She loves nautical fiction, growing corn and giving them pun names like Timothee Chalamaize, and thinking about fried chicken.

TV Review: Batman: Caped Crusader

A clever reinvention of the costumed crimefighter for the Defund the Police era

If you loved Bruce Timm's legendary Batman: The Animated Series (and since you're human and alive, you definitely did), his new show Batman: Caped Crusader scratches the persistent itch you've carried all these years. The series adopts a retro look similar to the earlier one, although sometimes it looks too clean in digital animation compared to the grainy, almost tactile surfaces that could be achieved by drawing by hand. What does remain unchanged from the original show is the grounded, human-sized evil that Batman fights every night (while occasionally venturing into the occult). Far from the intergalactic conquerors and alien/mutant/robot/demigods that are the staple of Justice League plots, Caped Crusader explores instead the thorny struggle to redeem the soul of Gotham City while the powers that rule it and are supposed to protect it become hard to distinguish from its colorful gallery of rogues.

The terms of Batman's relationship with the Gotham City Police Department are remarkably variable across incarnations. From a chummy partnership in the Adam West era to bloody hostility in the Ben Affleck one, this element of Batman's mythology has served, whether intentionally or not, as indirect commentary on the assumed effectiveness and desirability of a police force. In the 2016 animated film Return of the Caped Crusaders, the dynamic of the 1966 live action TV show is deconstructed to hilarious effect as it lampshades the fact that Adam West's Bruce Wayne exists in a Gotham City where the police is mind-bogglingly inept. At the other end of the scale of cynicism, Christian Bale's Bruce Wayne becomes a vigilante in part because the criminal justice system is no longer trustworthy. In this kind of story, e.g. the Nolanverse or the Gotham show, Jim Gordon is typically singled out as the only honorable cop in a corrupt institution. This "good apple in a spoiled barrel" approach has the advantage of being a tiny bit more believable than the standard bad apples in a good barrel. But sometimes the intended message gets muddled: Jim Gordon is fundamentally decent, but the police department is fundamentally rotten, but the people of Gotham City are fundamentally decent, but the streets of Gotham City tend to make you rotten. In a way, the Dark Knight trilogy is about whether Gothamites are even worthy of being saved. The question sounds scandalous, but the thing with the Batman franchise is that its moral stance hasn't been able to escape the shadow of The Killing Joke and its thesis that every decent person hides a barely contained sinister side.

Which leads us to the character of Harvey Dent and the interesting twist on his villain origin story in Batman: Caped Crusader. In several versions of Dent's arc, it's been a common trope that the trauma of his disfigurement was what gave rise to his split personality. Caped Crusader proposes something less sensationalist: he's always had a sinister side. His all too flexible morals have led him to become a two-faced hypocrite for whom disfigurement is merely incidental; it only makes evident a duplicity that was already there. To reinforce this point, Caped Crusader has him suffer his accident on the right side of his face, whereas the standard versions of Dent have traditionally been scarred on the left side. By subtle use of camera angles, the show implies that the left, intact side is the evil one, and the right, scarred one is his true self.

Cape Crusader's choice to make Dent's pretty face be the false one provides a useful mirror (heh) of Bruce Wayne's situation. A running subplot has him attending court-mandated therapy sessions with Dr. Harleen Quinzel, who is quick to notice the flimsy façade that hides Wayne's unprocessed pain. Their scenes together are fascinating to watch: two characters pretending to seek total openness while guarding the most important truth about themselves.

With so much focus on Batman's psyche and the moral stakes involved in saving Gotham, it's a welcome surprise that the show doesn't avoid the issue of how Bruce Wayne's immense economic privilege is a sign of what's wrong with the city. In one episode, the ritual that exorcizes an undead landlord requires performing a sacrifice of aristocratic blood and burning the original deed to his property; in another, corrupt policemen let a pyromaniac loose in a poor neighborhood as expendable bait to capture Batman. In a later episode, a planned snoburb being built by Wayne Enterprises becomes the literal battleground for control of the city.

You'd think it would be self-defeating for a Batman story to address the frequent criticism that Batman spends his time kicking working-class henchmen instead of challenging robber barons, but somehow Caped Crusader succeeds at it. Underneath that discussion is the unstated question: What would you have Batman do? Terrorize the rich into giving away their fortune? Because that's what this version of Dr. Quinzel does in her spare time, dressed up as the jester who mocks kings, and her brutal methods don't bring Gotham any closer to justice. Sorry, Joker movie, but breaking things is a terrible way of fixing things.

Still, Caped Crusader is honest about the complicity of law enforcement. The mayor of Gotham wants to Serve and Protect only himself, and even in this retro setting without online media, public perception overrules reality. On top of keeping tabs on mob bosses, child kidnappers and hired assassins, Batman also has to fight police brutality, extrajudicial punishment and institutional decay. But he especially has to fight the darkness within himself, the insatiable rage that keeps his inner child from maturing. It's the same darkness that he perceives in Harvey Dent after his accident, and his failure to save Dent from succumbing to his demons is the turning point in the show's emotional journey. There's no inherent heroic destiny in Bruce Wayne; with his horrific origin story, he could easily have become another one of Gotham City's murderous madmen. What makes him heroic is that he wakes up every morning night and chooses not to.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Video Game Remakes/Remasters: Loving Restorations of Beloved Classics or Lazy Cash-ins?

G - Joe D. and I are back to talk more video games! This time our topic is a divisive one in the gaming community: remakes. Before we get to the impact of remakes on the gaming industry, have you been playing any remakes recently? And if so, how was the experience?

Joe D. - Yes. The main game in my rotation right now is indeed a remake. Final Fantasy VII Rebirth is the sequel to Final Fantasy VII Remake, and it’s the second game of a planned trilogy. With this project, Square Enix’s Creative Business Unit 1 has split the original title into three separate games. You’ll have to play them all to experience the total experience that the original had to offer. I know this may be sacrilege as someone who has enjoyed multiple FF games in the past, but I’ve never played more than a few hours of the original VII (due to lack of funds as a kid, and as an adult finding the game didn’t age well). This is a whole new experience for me, but the buzz in the industry says that these games are doing the title justice. As a new player, I think they’re great and I look forward to seeing the story unfold. This is one of those excellent examples of how remakes can be used to bring in a new audience. How about you, any recooked releases on your plate?

G - Funny you mention that…I’ve never played FFVII, or any of the other 3D Final Fantasy games, so this is a chance for me to make up for that. And I think that’s one major benefit to remakes - in practical terms, these are new games to a lot of people. 

As for me, well, I’ve actually been playing a lot of remakes lately - but of games I did play when they were first released. I recently finished the Dead Space remake and am now about halfway through the Mass Effect Legendary Edition, which is a remastered version of the original trilogy (released on the Xbox 360). 

These are games I loved when they came out. But it’s also been a while - 16 years in the case of both Dead Space and the original Mass Effect. One interesting thing to chew on is how these games play today. Dead Space still feel current, as do Mass Effect 2 and 3. But the original Mass Effect feels like a relic from a bygone era. It was fun to revisit, the way it’s still fun to play NES games. But it also feels dated - and in that sense, I think it’s mainly going to appeal to older gamers looking for a trip down memory lane. ME2 and ME3, on the other hand, really don't feel dated at all. There are even some gameplay mechanics that other RPGs should - but haven’t - adopted. 

Here’s another thing…memory isn’t necessarily that accurate. Dead Space played almost exactly the way I remember it playing, but that hasn’t been the case at all for Mass Effect 2 or 3. I remember thinking it was the best installment in the trilogy, but didn’t even remember that there were new companions. They feel like brand new games to me in a lot of ways. 

So let’s shift to the controversy. Studios are releasing more and more remakes, but not all gamers like this trend. Are remakes a healthy or unhealthy trend?

Joe D. - Your reply to my question ties into the overall issue people are having with this new industry habit (which was heavily inspired by Sony). The dichotomy is drawn between remake and remaster. For instance, Dead Space is a complete remake, which is why it feels so good to play (so I’ve heard, it’s on my list of games to buy since I loved the original), but the original may not be so smooth. If it were just a remaster, then you may feel a bit of the clunk from the 2008 game. With the Mass Effect Trilogy remaster, you have the base 2007 game in Mass Effect, just with updated visuals and the ability to play on a modern platform. Without many updates to gameplay, it makes the game feel like a relic. You’re probably not having the same experience with Mass Effect 2 because it came out three years later when 3rd person shooters were ubiquitous in the industry and had many successful examples to learn from (Uncharted, Gears of War, inFamous, Dead Space, Resident Evil 5, etc.).

When you look at a studio like Rockstar Games, which was prolific in the PS2 era, people feel a wistfulness for the golden days of game releases from their favorite studios. In the PS2 era, Rockstar put out three Grand Theft Auto games. Since 2013, they’ve rereleased GTA V three times (the original, the PS4/XBO remaster, and the PS5/XS remaster), which has led to the creation of the meme below (ignore the punctuation). 

That’s not to say that we don’t have tons of games to play, but that’s due to there being more developers out there, especially indie devs. But the years of your favorite studio putting out four or five games in a generation are gone. Naughty Dog put out four original high-quality games on PS3, three of which were critically acclaimed; Uncharted 1-3, and The Last of Us. On PS4, that number went down to three games and two remasters; Uncharted 4 and Lost Legacy, The Last of Us Part II, and Uncharted 1-3 Remasters/The Last of Us Remastered. With PS5 we have received the incredibly well-done The Last of Us Part I remake (completely remade with stunning visuals and updated gameplay) and a remaster of TLoU Part II and Uncharted 4/Lost Legacy. No original game, and no announcement for one.

This is a signal that costs are rising and time for development is getting out of control. GTA VI is supposedly going to cost over one billion dollars to develop. To keep some of these devs afloat, they reduce the risk by releasing games they’ve already made and know sold well. Ghost of Tsushima Director’s Cut, Halo: MCC, God of War 1-3 Remastered, Gears of War Ultimate, and GTA V are just a handful of examples of this. In the case of Halo, the games had some time to stew, but Ghost of Tsushima just came out one year prior. It seems like a cash-in that could be ameliorated by adding an update to the game file, and not charging full price for each release. Some studios completely butcher their remaster, like the re-release of Grand Theft Auto: The Trilogy - Definitive Edition, which was released to a 54 Metascore, despite each individual game releasing with an over 90 meta.

On the other hand, we have faithful remakes that recapture the imagination of fans and reintroduce the original with contemporary polish. These games are usually lauded for their ability to bring the past to the present as a respectful ode to some of gaming’s favorites. These games have the budget of a new title and it shows. The Last of Us Part 1, Dead Space, Shadow of the Colossus, Demon’s Souls, and the recent Resident Evil Remakes are just a few examples.

I think the issue here is twofold. There has to be a balance between a remastered release and it’s cost to the consumer vs the release of original content. The more resources placed in these remasters (unless they’re fully outsourced), the fewer placed on new titles. Also, it doesn’t cost the developer as much to remaster something, so don’t charge us full price. The other issue is the irreverent nature of some of these re-releases. If you’re not going to do the original justice (as in the case of GTA and others), then don’t do it at all. It doesn’t help that they only keep reprinting money machines (yay bad side of  capitalism) instead of dredging up some old classics that may have done well critically, but not commercially, and bringing new life to them.

I've personally stopped buying remasters and will only get remakes. So G, have you felt like any studio has let you down or frustrated you from a lack of modern releases in favor of a re-release? Do you see this as harmful for the industry?

G - I’m probably not enough of a volume gamer to feel it personally, at least not yet - and given how long development cycles are for AAA games, it’s hard for me to truly understand the degree to which remakes distract from new titles. That said, it’s easy to see how that could be a problem; even in a best case scenario, a remake or remaster is going to take time, money and human resources that otherwise could be allocated to a new property.

But let’s look at it from the publisher’s perspective: games are just too damned expensive to make, which makes it very hard to turn a profit. Paul Tassi has written extensively about how AAA budgets are unsustainable - Sony, for example, spent $300m to make a Spiderman 2 game that was limited to PS consoles. It has apparently sold 10m copies, which is about $700m in revenue - but the margin is slimmer than it appears at first glance, because you have to consider marketing and distribution costs. Marketing alone can cost $150m for a AAA game. 

So that’s the stick. The carrot? Well, we now have almost 30 years of 3D console games to mine for quick wins. EA hasn’t released sale figures for Mass Effect: Legendary Edition, but did say it has been played by more than 20 million people. A good chunk of those are likely on Gamepass, so you have to imagine that Microsoft paid them a boatload of money to put the remastered trilogy on their subscription service. But you also have to figure that sales have been strong too. So why wouldn’t publishers want to go this route? Lower cost, faster release time - and games that have retro appeal to old gamers like ourselves and feel like new releases to the kids. 

Now, that’s a separate issue from whether this is good for the industry. My personal take is that it depends on how often publishers go to the well. Right now we are talking about a handful of beloved classics, with more on the way (including the first game I played on PS2, Max Payne). But not every game from 1997-2015 needs to be remade in 2024. 

The worry is that games will end up where film and TV already are - awash in mediocre remakes that no one asked for or wants. There will be more game remakes, guaranteed - because the incentives are too strong and because corporations have a herd mentality. And yeah, that could create a situation where new IPs get crowded out. For now, though, I’m enjoying the experience of revisiting some of my favorites from days gone by.

Joe D - Could you imagine if Mass Effect Legendary Edition completely remade the original Mass Effect game instead of simply polishing it up and bringing it to modern platforms? I think I would have moved that right to the top of my list, full cost or not. I will say though, I’m glad that Mass Effect is getting all that playtime, it certainly deserves it.

Upon reflection, I believe this to be a bigger issue for PlayStation fans specifically. As you said, it doesn’t become too much of an issue unless the companies begin dipping into the well too frequently. While most publishers seem to have a solid balance of new IP, sequels, and re-releases, Sony is relying heavily on polishing their high-quality heavy hitters for republication. The balance that PlayStation consumers had become accustomed to has been skewed significantly, making it feel like as many (or more) remakes/remasters are releasing as much as new content.

I will admit that I am pleased to see certain titles get new light shed upon them, some of which I am eager to try. Persona 3 Reload is in my sights right now. If it weren’t for Final Fantasy VII Rebirth’s cultural significance and critical performance, I would probably be playing Reload right now. Two remade games (though Rebirth is more of a modern reimagining than a 1:1 remake) are at the top of my list. Persona 3 from 2006 and Final Fantasy VII from 1997, twenty to thirty years, respectively, from their original releases, is an acceptable time frame. Unfortunately, I'm not one for nostalgia and the old days of gaming. I love cutting-edge graphics and storytelling and it's difficult for me to get into an old game I have no connection to. That's why I was never able to get through the original Final Fantasy VII when I tried to play it eight years ago (sacrilege, I know). I am thankful for the remakes with which care and respect have been afforded to the IP, they've allowed me to experience worlds I would not have otherwise.

With modern console and PC backward compatibility, anything released within the last ten years should receive a free update for a remaster. Remakes are a different story, but shouldn’t be brought out of the well unless they’ve had some time in the dark. Christopher Dring of Game Industry Biz says ten to twenty years is the sweet spot for a remake. On the flip side, in the same article, he says under five years is the best time for a remaster, especially when a new hardware platform is released. They want to catch the hype of the original game while it’s still relevant and bring it to a new audience with higher polish. It makes sense financially, but I don’t care for it.

All in all, I vote a hard yes for remakes. For remasters, just make them a free update (like they frequently do on Steam)  and only charge if there is brand-new playable content alongside the update. If someone wants a new copy, it should come at a steep discount to the original price. I’m not against the practice one hundred percent, and there are people who benefit who have never played the remastered game/franchise, but I don’t want every other announcement to be a remaster. Thoughts?

G - That would be the ideal situation for fans. But I don’t see it going that way because everyone right now needs steady revenues. Plus Mass Effect: Legendary Edition did require a lot of work - not only are the graphics optimized, but there have been some pretty significant changes to ME2 and ME3. It’s true - we are not talking remake on the scale of Dead Space, let alone Final Fantasy VII. But things have been tightened up nicely.

What I could see is Microsoft (and most likely Sony at some later date) paying for remasters that go exclusively on their streaming services. If you buy into the idea that the subscription/streaming model is going to replace physical media and perpetual licenses, which I do, this solves a big problem - making sure gamers continue to see value in the service over time.

Okay, final question - since we both like the idea of remakes, what are three 3D-era games you’d like to see remade? Here are a few that spring to mind:

1. Splinter Cell Trilogy - the best stealth games of all time. For the remake I suggest turning them into one game a la Mass Effect: Legendary Edition

2. Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay - probably the best movie spinoff game I’ve ever played

3. Deus Ex - I’ve played through this one at least 4x. Now, this would have to be a major remake, as there’s no way to remaster a game from 2000

Joe D - Great question. I’m going to give you three that I’d like to see from a nostalgic standpoint, and then a quick three that I never had the chance to play and would love to see brought to the present.

1.  Breath of Fire (especially BoF III) series by Capcom - Great turn based JRPG series with memorable stories and characters.

2. Persona 4 Golden - Completely overhauled like Persona 3 Reload.

3. Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind and IV: Oblivion - Updated visuals, combat, and waypoint systems would be fantastic.

And for three I’ve never played that I’d love to; Chrono Trigger series, Final Fantasy VI, and The Legend of Dragoon. 

Regardless of whichever remakes we get, I hope that the love and respect that went into the original titles is present on their re-release. I’d love to feel some of that magic that the original developers intended.

G - it’s funny, I almost included Skyrim in my 3, as it’s my favorite game of all time. But it did get a recent remaster, which I believe is just a graphical update - no major changes to gameplay that I’m aware of. So I’m not sure that one will be in the cards for a good decade. But who knows - maybe I’m wrong! By then we might even have a new Elder Scrolls game. 

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POSTED BY: The G--purveyor of nerdliness, genre fanatic and Nerds of a Feather founder/administrator, since 2012.