Doctor Plague (2026) | Feels like a lost VHS slasher with a killer in an outfit you could DIY and a conspiracy far messier than needed. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 3.7/10. I couldn't help thinking that Doctor Plague was stitched together from two entirely different Blu-rays found at the bottom of a dusty video store bargain bin. On paper, it reads like pulpy fun. Jaded private investigator John Verney (Martin Kemp) tracks down an ancient order of Plague Doctors dismembering the underworld of London, with the faint hum of Ripper conspiracies in the air. In practice, the end result suggests that the filmmakers can’t quite make up their minds whether or not they want to produce an occult thriller with style or just be a low-budget slasher flick with an affinity for bird masks.

The story starts strong enough. Kemp plays Verney with a worn-down, “I’ve seen too much” energy that mostly works, even when the script doesn’t give him much to do beyond glare, brood, and ignore common sense. The murders are brushed off by his superiors as gang-on-gang violence (yeah, why not), pushing Verney down a conspiracy rabbit hole that escalates rapidly from “something’s off” to “1888 secret societies are after my family.” It’s all very serious, very grim…and occasionally very silly.

I did kind of dig the Plague Doctor killer. The costume is actually decently creepy at first glance, but it also has a strong “I could buy or make that myself this weekend” energy. And honestly, I’m still not convinced what woman on Earth would step closer to a dude dressed like that just to hear what he’s saying. If anything, that beak should come with its own restraining order. Still, the look does its job, especially in shadowy scenes where the film briefly remembers that atmosphere exists.

The biggest issue here is how wildly uneven everything feels. Some sequences, particularly the visions and nightmare moments, are surprisingly polished and effective, hinting at a much better film lurking underneath. Then the next scene rolls around, looking unmistakably B-budget, with flat lighting and staging that drains any tension right out of the room. The body count follows a similar pattern, swinging between offscreen shrug-fests and genuinely worthwhile practical gore effects that slasher fans will at least appreciate.

The conspiracy itself becomes far more complicated than it ever needed to be. You won’t get lost, but you may find yourself wondering why the plot keeps taking unnecessary right turns when a straight line would’ve done just fine. The cast, to their credit, isn’t bad at all for a film of this tier. They’re simply stuck in a story that feels forced and oddly cramped, never giving them enough space to really sell the madness.

Director Ben Fortune deserves some side-eye for the inconsistency, but there is potential here. The film has a commendable old-school video store slasher vibe, which was clearly the goal. It just needed more shine, not necessarily more money. Doctor Plague isn’t for everyone. Not even close. But for fans of slasher films (Shogun's last flick, Helloween, would be a good comparison) who have a tolerance for imperfections and a few lost opportunities, it might be a fascinating late-night watch. Just don’t go in a dark alley with anyone sporting a beak mask.

Doctor Plague (2026)

https://jackmeat.com/doctor-plague-2026/

Self-Help (2025) | Self-Help feels like it’s constantly about to go off the rails, then politely decides not to. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.8/10. Self-Help opens with the Bloody-Disgusting logo, which is usually a reassuring sign if you’re hoping for some mean-spirited carnage. Even better, it kicks off at a birthday party inside a ShowBiz Pizza Place, complete with the animatronic band that instantly unlocks some of my own fond kid party memories. For a brief moment, I thought I was getting a movie about to weaponize nostalgia and take us somewhere delightfully unhinged. Then that optimism takes a hard left turn when young Olivia catches her mother enjoying a very personal backroom moment with a clown. Childhood trauma - unlocked. Smash cut to college years, title card, and we’re off.

Now older, Olivia (Landry Bender) carries her emotional baggage openly, guarded and shaped by years of unresolved trauma. When she agrees to reconnect with her estranged mother, Rebecca (Amy Hargreaves), she ropes her friend Sophie (Madison Lintz) into tagging along to what turns out to be a self-actualization community that’s about three red flags deep within seconds. This is where we meet Curtis (Jake Weber), the group’s smooth-talking leader who runs his operation with an iron grip and a permanent aura of “something is very wrong here.” As the members reveal themselves, it becomes painfully clear that Olivia and Sophie have wandered into some weird-ass shit.

Despite the cult setup and a few bloody splashes here and there, this isn’t really a horror film. Despite the imagery, this is much more of a subdued thriller than anything that would qualify as a slasher film. It is always hanging on the edge of going with the dark and/or dangerous options, but it never quite follows through on this tease. Even the violence that happens is purely for effect and not at all cleansing.

The story’s twists are another weak point. Nothing here lands as a genuine surprise. Instead of “oh damn, didn’t see that coming,” most revelations are met with a shrug and a “yeah, that tracks.” Writer-director Erik Bloomquist also has a habit of underexplaining key developments, leaving certain motivations and turns feeling oddly incomplete. If you’ve seen it, you know exactly what that means.

The biggest problem, though, is pacing. The film drains its own energy before it really gets going. The early stretch is heavily focused on dysfunctional family drama, emotional wounds, and Olivia’s attempt to reconnect with a mother still under the influence of Curtis and his self-help society. Such aspects are significant, but they take over to such an extent in Self-Help that other aspects, such as the cult intrigue and mayhem, are relegated to the backseat. They seem to have already spent most of their runtime when the real action starts.

Self-Help (2025)

Self-Help isn’t awful, but it’s annoying. There’s a better, nastier movie buried in here, one that never quite scratches its way free. What’s left is a tame, oddly cautious thriller that had the potential to be much more disturbing than it ever lets itself be.

https://jackmeat.com/self-help-2025/

The Devil's Disciples (2024) | Horror royalty assembles for a paycheck parade through a bland, soap-opera demon flick that confuses gore for substance. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 3.5/10. Talk about a story that sounds far more epic than the movie itself ever manages to be. That was my immediate take on The Devil’s Disciples. A forgotten prophecy threatens Lucifer’s dominion, Hell is on the brink, and his elite council must race against destiny to save the infernal balance. On paper, that’s prime supernatural horror territory. In execution, it’s more like a soap opera wandered onto a low-rent soundstage, found some fake blood, and decided to call itself apocalyptic.

I’ll give the film this much. The cast list absolutely did its job. Seeing names like Tony Todd, Bill Moseley, and Angus Scrimm pop up is enough to make any horror fan sit up a little straighter. The opening credits feel like watching a trailer, rattling off familiar faces as if daring you to bail out early. Even when Tony Todd shows up, and for a moment I was thinking, “Okay…maybe we'll get something here.” Then the movie starts, and that hope slowly packs its bags.

The screenplay, penned by writer-director Joe Hollow, is just so generic, so boring, for a premise that could be so thrilling. For chrissakes, prophecy, demons, and fate all offer so much fertile ground to plow, but instead, what we're left with is dialogue that sounds like it was written by a middle-school English class, action that could only be described as "meh, it gets the job done," and, worst of all, a film that never gets any flow, any momentum. The special effects, of course, were limited, at least confined mostly to the gore elements. To be fair, the gore is serviceable, doing just enough to remind you this is technically a horror film.

The real hook here is pure horror history. Beyond the big three, you’ve also got Brinke Stevens, Linnea Quigley, and Elissa Dowling rounding out a cast that reads like a convention guest list. Add in Felissa Rose, and you may have nailed everyone in recent horror. Performances across the board are mostly fair, as in, no one’s embarrassing themselves, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that this is a “paycheck is a paycheck” situation for everyone involved. Strip this movie of its horror icons, and you could comfortably knock another two points off the score without hesitation.

It almost hurts to mention that the score comes from Harry Manfredini of Friday the 13th fame. That’s a serious name attached to a movie that doesn’t earn it. There’s a ton of horror pedigree baked into The Devil’s Disciples, which only highlights how underwhelming the final product is. The film does at least tick off the B-budget horror checklist with ample blood and a generous dose of nudity, so fans of classic exploitation will find the expected comforts.

In the end, The Devil’s Disciples is a curiosity rather than a recommendation. It’s worth a look strictly for the cast and the novelty of seeing so much horror legacy crammed into one forgettable package. Sadly, all that history can’t save a movie that never quite figures out what to do with it.

The Devil's Disciples (2024)

https://jackmeat.com/the-devils-disciples-2024/

Dust Bunny (2025) | The monster under the bed is real, it’s adorable, and somehow the assassins are the least scary thing in this charming flick. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.8/10. Well, that was a pleasantly strange flick. Dust Bunny is one of those that sneaks up on you, wins you over, and makes me wonder why more movies don’t take risks like this anymore. The setup alone feels like a dare. Ten-year-old (not 8 according to Bryan Fuller) Aurora (Sophie Sloan) asks her quiet, hitman neighbor (Mads Mikkelsen) to kill the monster under her bed, which she insists already ate her family. Of course, he doesn't believe her. He thinks all the commotion in and around her apartment is the aftermath of enemies seeking to get to him. The truth turns out to be that both are right and completely wrong.

The film opens with subtle but effective visual cues, introducing the “evil” dust bunny through fleeting shadows and movement, paired with moody shots of an urban cityscape that carries a faint Tim Burton vibe. It’s atmospheric and immediately had me intrigued. Things escalate quickly when Aurora follows her neighbor and stumbles into something far less ordinary - an unexpectedly flashy, out-of-the-blue hand-to-hand fight staged against a firework-lit backdrop. It’s a bold tonal shift, but it works. At that point, Dust Bunny immediately reminded me of Big Trouble in Little China, and honestly, you know that's a compliment from me.

Writer/director Bryan Fuller imagines a singular, playful world where hitmen, monsters, and childhood imagination all coexist without apology. Sigourney Weaver pops up as the hitman's handler, doling out sharp dialogue with serious attitude and reminding everyone just how effortlessly commanding she can be. The genre mashup is where the film really shines. Thinking the monster under the bed is only some metaphor for gang violence or trauma? Think again. The monsters are very real, and once Aurora is dragged into their world, gun-toting assassins are quickly the least of anyone's concern.

Despite the carnage, the film doesn’t rely on excessive gore to rack up a body count. The creature effects are well done, and the titular dust bunny is oddly adorable in a deeply unsettling way - cute, but in a “please don’t let that near me” sense. That makes it tricky to label this as straight horror, but the genre elements are definitely there, just wrapped in whimsy rather than pure terror.

The heart of the movie lies in the chemistry between Mikkelsen and Sloan. This odd couple partnership surprisingly works, with a nice enough running joke involving his inability to say her name right, adding a bit of genuine warmth to proceedings. This is a film that arguably goes to the fringes of what a child-friendly horror film can be without getting neutered.

Visually, Dust Bunny has a strong aesthetic identity, which helps to complement the tone of the film, and the rhythm keeps the story churning along. Although the narrative occasionally wanders, the charm, imagination, and directness of Dust Bunny keep everything fascinating. For a debut feature, Fuller delivers an achievement in itself, especially following his excellent work on Hannibal. I guess he and Mikkelsen are still on good terms, as he appeared in Hannibal, too.

Dust Bunny (2025)

Dust Bunny is a creative, intelligent movie that works on its own silly terms. It's funny, imaginative, and surprisingly heartfelt. For those in the mood for something different, it's an easy recommendation. Side note: if I caught this during 2025, it absolutely would’ve landed a spot somewhere on my Top Ten horror list.

https://jackmeat.com/dust-bunny-2025/

The Centipede Strangler (2025) | Feels less like a movie and more like an excuse to grope actresses with Halloween props. 66 minutes felt eternal. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 1.3/10. I put The Centipede Strangler on my watchlist for one noble reason - it was 66 minutes long. That felt survivable. That was before I realized it was another Jamie Grefe joint and before the Cinema Epoch logo crawled onto the screen like a bad rash. At that exact moment, my soul tried to strangle itself.

The description promises something vaguely horror-adjacent. A psychic investigator is driven to madness after being hired to track a killer obsessed with centipedes. Which sounds like it might involve, I don’t know, centipedes, killing, or strangling. Silly me. What it actually involves is the same Jamie Grefe greatest hits package we’ve suffered through before - pervy camera work, zero blood, zero tension, and a profound misunderstanding of what words mean. “Strangler,” for instance, appears to mean “guy who awkwardly presses a rubber centipede onto women while they twitch.”

It opens with a woman having bad dreams, and once she wakes up, the real nightmare begins. The audio. It genuinely sounds like the microphone was placed inside a running washing machine filled with pillows. Someone whispers “centipede” ominously, as if that alone is supposed to do the heavy lifting. It doesn’t. It matters about as much as the red static rising effect, which also goes completely unexplained, like the repeated fake-orgasm-slash-possession scenes that just keep happening because… reasons?

Ah yes, the latex mask returns, that old Grefe staple, looking like it was pulled from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Enter the rubber centipede, the exact one you bought as a prank to scare six-year-olds. The actors seem unsure whether they’re supposed to laugh, convulse, or call an ambulance as latex boy gently fondles them with it. Seizures occur. No explanation follows. Characters vanish via what looks suspiciously like someone hitting pause and record. Still no strangling.

Once the washing machine mic is finally shut off, we’re treated to a constant, droning hum that never leaves, like tinnitus with a budget. By this point, I genuinely wondered whether to feel sorry for the actresses. Does Grefe just lie to them? Is there a script? Did anyone ask why nobody actually dies, or gets strangled, or why this feels less like a horror film and more like an excuse to grope people on camera?

The “effects” eventually escalate to fake worms from Bikini Guillotine slithering over someone for absolutely no reason, confirming that the entire special effects budget was spent at a local bait shop. The performers drift around like performance art without the performance, the art, or the talent.

The Centipede Strangler (2025)

Let me be crystal clear. If you see the Cinema Epoch logo, proceed with extreme caution. If Jamie Grefe’s name is attached, avoid it like the plague. The Centipede Strangler earns its #turkey rating by failing to strangle and failing at cinema on every conceivable level. The real horror is that this keeps happening, and that somehow he got these women to take their tops off.

https://jackmeat.com/the-centipede-strangler-2025/

Death Count (2022) | A Saw-lite online nightmare where likes mean survival, proving once again that social media was a mistake. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.1/10. Death Count is one of those movies that’s been quietly loitering on my watchlist like a sketchy guy outside a convenience store, and curiosity finally won. The premise is simple, cruel, and very online. Strangers wake up in individual cells, collars locked around their necks, and if they don’t earn enough internet “likes,” they die horribly. Because of course they do. Nothing says modern horror quite like social media deciding whether you live or get turned into abstract art. And for being strangers as the description tells us, they seemed to know each other real quickly.

We kick off with Sarah French waking up in her cell, confused, restrained, and immediately having a worse morning than anyone who’s ever overslept for work. She quickly realizes she’s not alone, and soon the rules of the game are laid out by the warden, played by Costas Mandylor, who once again proves he has a permanent reservation in “authoritative creep” roles. One of the rules is promptly ignored by Robert LaSardo, because someone always has to test the system. This earns him a swift, painful lesson in compliance and a headache you definitely can’t fix with aspirin.

From there, the movie leans hard into its Saw-lite DNA. Non-compliance results in nasty ejections from the game, and yes, the gore factor is alive and well. The traps and challenges revolve around self-mutilation, disfigurement, and generally doing things to your own body that would make even a tattoo artist back away slowly. Every time that obnoxious siren blares, it’s time for another round of unplanned “body modification,” all while a live audience watches, votes, and pretends this is somehow entertainment.

Once the stream hits the internet, the police get involved, with Michael Madsen showing up as Detective Casey, looking like he wandered in from a completely different movie but decided to stay anyway. The participants must escalate their grotesque performances to earn votes, because subtlety does not win likes. I did briefly wonder why one character didn’t just exploit the internet’s oldest weakness sooner - let’s be honest, boobs will always get votes. Spoiler: the movie eventually agrees with me, just far later than expected.

Between rounds of bodily harm, the film drops in the motivation behind the whole ordeal. Revenge. The backstory is revealed piece by piece, and while the reason for staging this elaborate murder-livestream feels wildly disproportionate to the original offense, that’s pretty much how these movies operate. Everything takes place inside an abandoned warehouse, which keeps the budget low and the scenery nonexistent, though some fake news clips and post-event interviews try to sell the realism and underline the internet’s moral rot.

The ending leans into sequel-bait territory and gets a bit hokey, but by that point, you know exactly what kind of ride you signed up for. Death Count isn’t here for deep character work or a compelling moral thesis. It’s here for brutality, gimmicks, and social media satire with a blunt object. If you’re into Saw-like carnage and don’t need a strong motive to enjoy the bloodshed, this one will scratch that itch. If not, you might want to log out.

Death Count (2022)

I saw the Mahal Empire logo at the beginning and realized I had missed hearing from my buddy Sonny Mahal, so I emailed Sonny around Halloween. On a sad note, he informed me his brother, Michael, who also produced this film, passed away several months back. RIP Mr. Mahal.

https://jackmeat.com/death-count-2022/

Bullet in the Head (1990) | Beneath the gunfights lies a tragic tale of friendship destroyed, proving Bullet in the Head remains powerful even decades later. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 8.1/10. A movie that is perhaps overshadowed in John Woo’s filmography for its momentous gunplay in Hard Boiled or The Killer, Bullet in the Head may just be his most emotionally brutal film. What first appears to be a purely action-oriented film on its surface is, in fact, a harsh story of friendship, loyalty, and how fast things fall apart when blood, money, and war are added to the mixture.

The initial situation is simple enough. It’s 1967, and three young friends are just ambling about, dancing, fighting for sport, and talking about a bright future to come. Ben (Tony Leung Chiu-Wai) is the emotional anchor, and Woo takes a while to show these normal-life experiences - visits from family, idle bluster, young invincibility - when disaster strikes and they must flee not only the city, but the entire country of Hong Kong because they are guilty of a murder resulting from a fight with a local gang.

The action is ferocious and impeccably choreographed, but what really hits is the contrast Woo creates. One minute you're watching skillfully choreographed hand-to-hand combat or adrenaline-fueled gunfights, and the next you're placed in the position to deal with the consequences and repercussions of violence that can never be reversed. The score may border on melodrama in some aspects but finds perfect harmony in this film and the corruption and guilt that seeps in as a consequence of the first wrong step.

Vietnam itself functions less as a political lecture and more as a pressure cooker. The trio gets tangled in a gang war involving a corrupt leader and the kidnapping of Chinese celebrity Sally Yan Sau Ching (Yolinda Yam), before stumbling into the much larger machinery of the actual war. Their gold heist accidentally implicates them as CIA operatives, leading to capture, torture, and some genuinely harrowing scenes involving POW executions, often punctuated by the film’s chilling motif - a bullet to the head. Woo doesn’t flinch here, and the violence feels intentionally ugly rather than stylish.

There’s no doubt that there’s an Apocalypse Now influence, especially regarding the American forces, but Woo expresses it in his own operatic way. Money becomes the ultimate corrosive element, pushing relationships that were already on the edge to their limits. There’s no trust left, just desperation, and loyalty turns out to be more brittle than anyone cared to believe.

Even decades later, Bullet in the Head remains on my must-see list when anyone asks. The 4K release wisely restores the extended ending, which fully commits to Woo’s bleak, furious view of betrayal and broken bonds. Compared to the shorter alternate ending, this version lands with far more destruction. In the end, this isn’t just John Woo doing Vietnam. It’s Woo at his most merciless, crafting a war drama with the impact of The Deer Hunter and reminding us why he remains the true godfather of action cinema.

Bullet in the Head (1990)

https://jackmeat.com/bullet-in-the-head-1990/