Thunderbolts* (2025) | Thunderbolts* is a heartfelt MCU shake-up, more about flawed heroes battling inner demons than saving the world, with stellar cast chemistry and story-driven spectacle. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 7.7/10. Thunderbolts* might just be the breath of fresh air the MCU needed after years of playing it safe with interchangeable cosmic threats and half-baked humor (No, The Marvels, I haven't forgotten about you). It’s not just another team-up movie—it’s a surprisingly heartfelt exploration of loneliness, trauma, and the very human toll that heroism (or anti-heroism, in this case) can take on a person’s psyche.

The plot is straightforward enough: a ragtag bunch of disillusioned misfits and castoffs from past MCU stories are thrown together for a mission that quickly morphs into a death trap. I appreciated how the film used this setup to dive deep into each character’s struggles with fear, isolation, and regret. It’s powerful to see mental health given this kind of spotlight in a major superhero tentpole, especially since Marvel comics have always tackled the psychological scars that come with saving (or sometimes endangering) the world.

This is arguably the first time the MCU has truly leaned into that theme. The villain itself is an embodiment of the darkness that lives inside him and all of them. And let's be honest, this is a message for everyone watching. They are showing how unity and vulnerability become the only way to overcome it. I found it to be less of a spoiler and more of a cinematic thesis.

Don’t worry, though. This introspection doesn’t come at the expense of spectacle. There’s still plenty of mass destruction, eardrum-rattling Atmos-ready BOOMs, and well-staged chaos. The fight choreography is crisp, inventive, and the visual effects are reliably up to Marvel’s blockbuster standard. It’s just that, for once, the action feels like a complement to the story rather than the main course.

The cast is truly the film’s secret weapon. Florence Pugh is magnetic as ever, effortlessly balancing Yelena’s sardonic humor and deep vulnerability. Wyatt Russell does stellar work as John Walker, the MCU’s own dented and off-brand Captain America—complex, damaged, yet strangely sympathetic. The rest of the ensemble shines too, though it does feel like Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen) gets a little lost in the shuffle, which is almost inevitable with so many heavy hitters vying for screentime. Their group dynamic is a joy to watch. Everyone’s trying to pull away, yet somehow gets drawn back together. The film mines this tension for both biting humor and genuine emotion.

In the end, Thunderbolts* is more about these broken people trying to hold each other, and themselves, together than it is about saving the world. It’s refreshing to see a Marvel movie put story and character first. Whether this will be the film that finally snaps the MCU out of its creative slump is hard to say, especially since I believe so much seems to hinge on what happens with Fantastic Four: First Steps (which gets an obvious setup in the mid-credits scene). But for now, it’s safe to say the quality is on the upswing, and Thunderbolts* is a big reason why.

Thunderbolts* (2025)

Just posted for theater at home prices on Amazon, among other streamers.

https://jackmeat.com/thunderbolts-2025/

The Ritual (2025) | The Ritual is exactly what you’d expect a “true exorcism story” to look like, for better AND for worse. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.8/10. The Ritual is a sober, procedural take on exorcism that boasts the true story hook but struggles to rise above the many, many films that have already traversed this terrain. It’s a film that feels almost deliberately plain, offering no cinematic fireworks or shocking revelations—just a careful walk through a case of demonic possession documented in 1928.

Al Pacino stars (though “stars” might be generous) as Father Theophilus Riesinger, a grizzled veteran of exorcisms, whose very presence seems to communicate a tired resignation to the task at hand. Opposite him is Dan Stevens, doing the heavy lifting here as Father Joseph Steiger, a younger priest wrestling with his faith and clearly out of his depth. Together, they are tasked with confronting a suspected possession that turns into a grueling nine-day affair.

The Ritual opens with that now-familiar trope: a tense scene pulled from somewhere near the climax, which we’ll loop back to after a “nine days earlier” title card drops us into quieter beginnings. From there, it’s a slow, almost clinical unraveling of the ritual. The Latin incantations, the skin lesions, the psychological terror. It’s all here, but done with a restrained, almost documentary-like approach. There’s no spinning heads or bodies launched across rooms; instead, it leans into how an exorcism might truly look, rooted in discomfort and the fear etched on every face in the room.

While there’s something respectable about its dedication to realism, it also becomes the film’s biggest liability. We’ve seen so many of these tropes before, often with far more style or gut-wrenching horror. The possessed patient rants in foreign tongues, the clergy question their faith, ominous figures lurk in candlelit hallways—it’s all executed competently, but without any new spark. You’re left feeling like you’re checking off a list of expected beats.

Pacino is hardly recognizable under a mop of white hair and a raspy whisper that does just enough to remind you he’s still got it, but even he seems mostly to be shuffling through the motions. It’s Stevens who stands out, delivering a nuanced performance that captures both the fear and reluctant resolve of a man trying desperately to hold on to his beliefs in the face of something he barely understands.

In the end, The Ritual isn’t a bad movie; it’s just uninspired. It’s exactly what you’d expect a “true exorcism story” to look like, for better and for worse. If you’re looking for sensational scares or a fresh spin on possession, you won’t find it here. Without Pacino and Stevens, I would've let this slip right into the basement. As it stands, it’s a passable but ultimately bland entry in a genre that’s already overflowing with more memorable takes.

The Ritual (2025)

Amazon and a few other streamers have this at matinee prices as of 06.30.25.

https://jackmeat.com/the-ritual-2025/

Open (2025) | To put this poor student horror film in a way the makers will understand, I give this one a "D" #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 2.2/10. Well, it seems the perfect summer is over, and so is my patience. Open promises an isolated camp slasher, but apparently forgot to check Google Maps first. In several scenes, you can quite literally see neighboring houses, lawn chairs, and the faint glow of suburban porch lights. So much for “isolated camp.”

From the jump, this has student film scribbled across every iPhone frame. The dialogue is so stiff you could use the script pages to build a scaffold. I suspect the cast was poached directly from a high school drama class still learning the difference between “emotion” and “blank stare.” Also, what kind of camp is this supposed to be? Everyone is the same age. Are they counselors, campers, or did someone’s parents just let them all hang out unsupervised with craft supplies and a GoPro?

Speaking of questionable filmmaking choices, they rely on the old “blue filter = night” trick, except it’s so heavy-handed it looks like the Smurfs took over the lighting department. I’m guessing they weren’t allowed to film after 8 pm—bedtimes are serious business when your entire cast still gets dropped off by Mom.

The first big kill? A stabbing that looks like it was done with an After Effects plug-in found on a free trial. Then there’s a decapitation that would flunk a physics class—heads don’t just hover in midair without rolling off. Although credit where it’s due: someone tried. With a budget of roughly zero, they still managed creative gore, even if it all looks like it was shot in someone’s backyard pool (probably was).

Open (2025)

And let’s not skip the important social issues—because in this breezy 64-minute runtime, David Saban decided it was absolutely critical to wedge in a coming-out talk. The two characters sit on a log discussing being gay while their buddy’s freshly severed head sits three feet away, silently judging them. It’s almost profound in how tone-deaf it is. If you miss it, they'll repeat the same convo a few moments later.

Random nature cutaways abound—maybe filler because they didn’t have enough plot or coverage, or maybe someone just really loves local wildlife. Either way, it’s pointless. As for the supernatural rift in space? The actors try so hard not to laugh, you’d think they were being tickled off-camera.

Saban leaves Open with a plot twist—“everyone is a killer!”—which falls flat because there’s no groundwork for it. Plus, when literally everyone looks the same age (grandparents, kids, local shopkeepers?), it just feels like one big curfew-busting sleepover gone homicidal.

In the spirit of generosity (and since they’ll still get a participation ribbon in the festival circuit), I’ll put this in terms the cast and crew will understand: I give it a solid D. Hopefully they do still hand out grades at their school—because this could serve as a cautionary tale in Film 101. Another part of that class they may have missed, Marketing. There is no trailer for Open to be found.

As far as the creator leaving a glowing 10/10 review on IMDB, "Campy, Funny, Also I made the movie so I'm bias," clearly they didn't pay any attention in English class. (It is "biased" in case you read this.) This is why you need a scathing review. Learn from it, but next time, learn BEFORE uploading it to Amazon. Take the time and watch it all the way through first. If you did, well, re-read the above. As summer nightmares go, this one is less Jason Voorhees and more awkward pool party that someone’s mom interrupts with juice boxes. Better luck next semester.

Amazon is your only choice to watch this gem.

https://jackmeat.com/open-2025/

Imaginary (2024) | If you’re brave enough to face predictable scares, flat exposition, and a bear that’s somehow both cute and aggressively underwhelming, hit play #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.4/10. I probably should have left Imaginary right where it was, languishing on my watchlist, gathering digital dust. Instead, I pressed play, and Chauncey the murderous Build-A-Bear is now seared into my brain for all the wrong reasons.

Let’s start with that promising title: Imaginary. You’d think, “Hey, maybe they’ll get clever with psychological horror, blur the lines of reality, give us something fresh.” Nope. Turns out the only thing imaginary here is the script’s creativity. This is about as generic as your standard off-brand breakfast cereal: we get the haunted house with a conveniently tragic backstory, a kid with complex family baggage, and a stuffed bear that occasionally creaks its neck like it needs a chiropractor.

The plot waddles along slower than Chauncey’s little plush legs. It takes forever to get anywhere even remotely interesting. We spend half the movie watching Jessica (DeWanda Wise) fret over her stepdaughter Alice’s new imaginary BFF, while everyone else stands around delivering painfully explanatory dialogue. You know, in case you’re incapable of piecing together that a demonic teddy might be a bad sign.

When the scares finally arrive, they’re mostly loud noises designed to make you spill your popcorn. True dread? Actual horror? Not so much. The “big” twists broadcast themselves like they’re holding neon signs. If you couldn’t predict where this was headed by minute 25, congrats, you probably are Chauncey.

I’ll give the filmmakers a reluctant gold star for trying something visually fun with the Escher-style nightmare realm. Those impossible staircases and weird geometric corridors were legitimately cool for about 90 seconds. Unfortunately, the film’s tiny effects budget becomes glaringly obvious, like it was all spent on renting a fog machine and buying that one CGI model of twisting hallways off a discount asset site.

By the time the climax limps across the finish line, it’s clear nobody in the editing bay had the energy left to give us a memorable ending. It’s the cinematic equivalent of leaving a “To be continued…” sign on a story you never planned to revisit. The credits roll, and you’re left sitting there thinking, “Wait, that’s it? Chauncey doesn’t even get a final menacing wave goodbye?”

Imaginary (2024)

Look, there are worse ways to waste 100 minutes—like attending a motivational seminar hosted by your weird uncle, but Imaginary is still a soft 4.4/10 from me. If you’re brave enough to face predictable scares, flat exposition, and a bear that’s somehow both cute and aggressively underwhelming, by all means, hit play. Otherwise, let Chauncey hibernate at the bottom of your queue where he belongs.

Amazon is one of many streaming options to choose from if interested in watching.

https://jackmeat.com/imaginary-2024/

Huesera: The Bone Woman (2023) | My watchlist is littered with foreign flix such as this moody meditation on motherhood and identity, dressed up with occasional skeletal cracking. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.2/10. Huesera: The Bone Woman starts with a genuinely intriguing idea: motherhood wrapped in dark folklore, with sinister forces creeping at the edges. Unfortunately, the final product is more about uncomfortable self-discovery than it is about actual horror, leaving me just asking, “Is that it?”

Natalia Solián plays Valeria, a woman who’s either haunted by a supernatural curse or just severely regretting her life choices. Hard to tell, given she wears the same wide-eyed, slightly stunned expression through most of the film, like she’s constantly experiencing the world for the very first time. Still, to her credit, that performance is oddly magnetic and becomes the glue holding this uneven story together.

Director Michelle Garza Cervera (tackling her first full-length feature) gives us a slick-looking film. You can feel personal touches woven into the myth of La Loba—the bone-gathering woman who sings wolves back to life—using it as a metaphor for Valeria figuring out if motherhood is her true path, or if she’s meant to break free and run wild toward her own horizon. It’s an interesting concept. The problem is that the concept never quite solidifies.

Editing is one of the big culprits here. Scenes jump awkwardly—like Valeria nodding off on a couch with her mom, only to suddenly be rocking out at a punk concert, confronting her sometimes-lover Octavia (Mayra Batalla), then bam! straight to giving birth. It plays like a dream sequence you’re waiting to snap out of. Spoiler: it’s not a dream, just an odd editorial choice that leaves you checking if you accidentally sat on your remote and skipped chapters.

Pacing is where Huesera really stumbles. For a movie marketed with creepy contortions and haunting silhouettes, it’s strangely devoid of fear. Moments that should boil over with supernatural terror fizzle into quiet contemplation. The horror elements drop off, replaced by a slow-burning story about accepting who you are—interesting, sure, but a total bait-and-switch if you showed up for the promised curse-driven nightmare.

Add to that a script peppered with narrative gaps, and you’re left scratching your head. Events occur without enough explanation, feeling like scenes were carved out in post-production that might’ve answered key questions. The end result is a story that feels incomplete, leaving the folklore framework underused and the emotional payoff muted.

After watching, I found myself googling the legend behind it—discovering the old Mexican tale of the desert woman who gathers bones and sings them into living wolves, which then transform into free women. That’s undeniably rich territory for a horror-fable hybrid. It’s just too bad the film mostly treads water instead of running wild with its own mythos.

That said, Cervera clearly has an eye for evocative visuals and a personal angle that makes parts of Huesera compelling, even if the whole never quite comes together. I suspect bigger, more polished projects are on her horizon.

Huesera: The Bone Woman (2023)

For now, though? Not a horror film so much as a moody meditation on motherhood and identity, dressed up with occasional skeletal cracking. If you came for the nightmares, don’t be surprised when you find yourself watching more of a soft psychological drama that just happens to have some creepy hands.

You can check this one out on Amazon, Shudder and several other streamers.

https://jackmeat.com/huesera-the-bone-woman-2023/

The Shrouds (2025) | Possibly Cronenberg’s final film is a fittingly morbid yet thoughtful meditation on death, technology, and the strange ways we attempt to keep loss at bay. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.9/10. David Cronenberg’s The Shrouds is one of those films where simply knowing who’s behind the camera sets your expectations, and probably filters who should even watch it. If Cronenberg’s brand of clinical body horror, icy emotional undercurrents, and existential musings isn’t your thing, there’s little chance this one will win you over. But if you’re drawn to his work, this is a fascinating, if uneven, late-career piece that seems to wrestle with mortality as much as the director himself does.

The film follows Karsh (Vincent Cassel), a wealthy businessman, inconsolable after the death of his wife. In his grief, he’s developed a controversial technology that allows the living to watch their deceased loved ones decomposing in their graves, an unsettling concept that Cronenberg treats with a kind of intellectual curiosity more than outright horror. When Karsh’s wife’s grave, along with many others, is desecrated one night, he becomes obsessed with finding out who is behind it.

It’s not hard to see how personal this project is for Cronenberg, who reportedly drew on the loss of his own wife. That somber, introspective energy permeates the film. Unfortunately, so does a bit of clutter. The Shrouds feels loaded with stray thematic threads: critiques of privacy-invading tech, A.I. dependence, capitalism, modern surveillance states, plus jabs at the Chinese, the Russians, and the lifestyles of the rich. There’s a subplot involving Karsh’s personal AI assistant that’s undercooked—just one of several ideas that might’ve been more compelling with deeper exploration.

Still, even with its meandering approach, there’s something engrossing about the movie’s cool, calculated tone. Cronenberg paints a world of self-driving cars and phone screens that feels depressingly plausible, yet almost drained of life. Underneath it all is the point, of course: our technology, our shiny devices, still serve our very human, often shameful desires. Whether that’s to feel close to the dead, to voyeuristically intrude on private spaces, or simply to dull our grief.

The acting keeps this from tipping over into pure tedium. Vincent Cassel gives Karsh a hollow-eyed vulnerability that makes his obsession with his wife’s grave both sad and disturbingly believable. Diane Kruger is equally up to the task. The supporting cast similarly grounds what could’ve become a detached philosophical essay.

This is ultimately one of those movies that might miss as pure entertainment, but a Cronenberg “miss” still lands higher than most directors’ average. The slow burn won’t work for everyone—there were certainly stretches that flirted with boredom—but the emotions at the core are authentic, the sci-fi concepts hauntingly real, and the personal undercurrents hard to shake. If this does turn out to be Cronenberg’s final film, it’s a fittingly morbid yet thoughtful meditation on death, technology, and the strange ways we try (and fail) to keep loss at bay.

The Shrouds (2025)

I am sure JustWatch will have some options soon. Amazon will have this on July 7th, 2025.

https://jackmeat.com/the-shrouds-2025/

Speak No Evil (2022) vs Speak No Evil (2024) | Trying something new since these two are nearly identical in story, with very different finales, so separate reviews would have been redundant. #jackmeatsflix

It’s rare that a remake hews this closely to its source material, but both versions of Speak No Evil follow nearly identical storylines, to the point that the same beats and dialogue often feel lifted directly from one film to the other. The Danish original (2022) and its American remake (2024) are practically twins up until the final stretch, where their paths diverge sharply in tone and impact.

The Danish original, directed by Christian Tafdrup, tells the story of a Danish family who accepts a weekend invitation from a Dutch couple they met on holiday. What begins with smiles and awkward politeness slowly devolves into a psychological nightmare fueled by the Danes’ unwillingness to break social norms. Tafdrup masterfully builds unease throughout—there’s a quiet, crawling tension that wraps around the entire film, a constant sense of “something’s wrong” that never quite reveals itself until it's too late. That slow-burn discomfort works well, especially for viewers attuned to social anxiety or the horror of enforced politeness.

But the visiting family—our supposed protagonists—are written so passively, even foolishly, that their final fate loses some sting. You see every off-ramp they could have taken to escape the unfolding doom, and yet they stay. It’s clear Tafdrup wanted to explore how civility and fear of conflict can be weaponized, but at a certain point, the characters become frustrating rather than sympathetic.

Still, the 2022 film delivers a climax that is darker and far more disturbing than anything Hollywood typically dares. It doesn’t hold your hand or offer catharsis—just a gut punch that lingers. That ending alone elevates the experience, even if the journey to get there occasionally tests your patience.

By contrast, the 2024 remake trades some of that raw thematic edge for stronger performances and a glossier presentation. James McAvoy is a standout as the unnerving Paddy—his charm and menace give the film its pulse. The American family is written with slightly more agency, making their decisions (while still flawed) feel more believable. And the Croatian countryside, doubling as a serene British retreat, gives the whole film an eerie fairytale vibe.

While the remake follows nearly the same trajectory as the original, it leans more into psychological thriller territory rather than outright horror, especially in its ending, which stops short of the brutality of the Danish version. It’s still twisted, just a little more palatable for general audiences.

In the end, these two films almost demand to be viewed as companion pieces. The 2022 Danish version excels in tone and leaves a heavier emotional scar with its bleak climax. The 2024 American remake brings better acting, more immersive location work, and a slightly tighter execution through its pacing and tension-building.

If you could merge the haunting finality of the original with the gripping performances and craft of the remake, you’d have a psychological horror standout worthy of an easy 8/10. As they stand, the Danish Speak No Evil earns a 6.5/10 for its bleak vision and nerve-wracking tension, while the American version edges slightly ahead with a 6.7/10 for its polish and performances. Both are worth watching—just don’t expect to walk away feeling good about humanity.

Speak No Evil (2022)

Speak No Evil (2024)

Speak No Evil (2022) - This one is a Shudder distribution, so Amazon, along with a slew of other streamers, have it.

Speak No Evil (2024) - Amazon, among several other streamers have this one for viewing.

https://jackmeat.com/speak-no-evil-comparison/