Pretty Lethal (2026) | Pretty Lethal convinced me ballerinas are the deadliest athletes alive. Forget MMA, try surviving a pissed-off dance troupe. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.2/10. Pretty Lethal walks in wearing pointe shoes and immediately kicks you in the face. Gracefully, of course. The movie opens with a sincere little monologue about the brutal, soul-melting reality of being a ballerina, which might trick you into thinking this is some A24 trauma ballet. Then the opening practice scene hits, and the dancers are throwing hands like they're auditioning for Black Swan: Fight Club Edition. It’s the kind of tonal whiplash I live for on my movie reviews page, because Pretty Lethal clearly knows exactly what it is. A dark comedy–action–horror hybrid that refuses to apologize for any of its choices.

Our five drenched dancers - Bones (Maddie Ziegler), Princess (Lana Condor), Grace (Avantika), Chloe (Millicent Simmonds), and Zoe (Iris Apatow) - wander into a mysterious inn after their bus breaks down, because nothing says “good life decisions” like instantly agreeing to change into tutus in a stranger’s house. But hey, there’s a stage! You’re already in dancewear! Why not loosen up those hamstrings while a guy upstairs is being branded on the tongue? The film doesn’t bother with believability. It leaps straight into chaos like a grand jete performed off a balcony.

At the 18-minute mark, after someone’s brains hit the floor with the elegance of glitter scattering on marley, we finally get the title card for Pretty Lethal, and it feels earned. These girls don’t actually know how to fight, which makes the violence feel hilariously scrappy and weirdly satisfying. Ballet training becomes a weapon. Bruised toes and taped joints turn into improvised survival tools. It’s like watching Van Damme with better extension and more eyeliner.

The choreography really is the secret sauce here. Pretty Lethal blends classical movements with combat in a way that feels fresh instead of gimmicky. A hiding sequence built entirely on dancer flexibility? An entire ensemble routine used to beat the hell out of a small army? Yes, thank you, more of that. And Bones delivers the line of the movie with absolute deadpan perfection after one girl gets drugged: “What kind of a ballerina doesn’t know how to throw up?” It should be on a T-shirt.

Uma Thurman glides through her limited screentime like a sinister casting director who wandered in from a different, classier film but decided to stay because the carnage looked fun. Pretty Lethal never tries to be deep. It prefers being violent, silly, self-aware, and stylish. It flirts with horror, winks at its own absurdity, and pirouettes straight through logic into the land of guilty-pleasure gold.

Is it high art? No. Did I enjoy watching ballerinas stage-combat a mob of henchmen like they’re auditioning for Swan Lake: The Apocalypse? Absolutely. This is the kind of ridiculous genre mashup I’ll happily add to the watchlist for anyone who loves action served with bruises, blood, and a perfectly pointed toe.

Pretty Lethal (2026)

https://jackmeat.com/pretty-lethal-2026/

Do Not Enter (2026) | Influencers sneak into an abandoned hotel, unaware the supernatural tenant already hit “subscribe” on their suffering. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.7/10. If sneaking into places is your thing, you may have thought, “Hey, maybe a nice abandoned hotel crawl would be fun.” Do Not Enter is here to smack that idea right out of your head, and probably fling a rat or two at you while it’s at it. The movie opens with a terrified blond woman crawling across a filthy floor, which is exactly the kind of Airbnb experience you never want to book. She looks up at something terrifying, we don’t get to see it, and boom. Credits. A bold move that basically says, “Don’t worry, you’ll be confused for at least 30 more minutes.”

Those credits walk us through the Paragon Hotel’s sketchy Vegas property history, and a headline screaming Lansky’s Missing Millions, which Do Not Enter wants you to know is based on David Morrell’s Creepers. Then we meet Diane (Adeline Rudolph), hosting her webshow Creepers - yes, same name - and rallying her “young explorers,” who immediately start acting like the world’s worst group project partners. It’s not even ten minutes (including credits!) before someone tries to steal a chunk of “priceless” wall, and honestly, that’s the most relatable archaeology we’ve seen since The Mummy.

When the wall-heist episode tanks in views, less than “insert your favorite flop joke here,” the gang pivots to hunting Meyer Lansky’s secret millions at the Paragon. The hotel sits in a version of Atlantic City that looks like it’s been through at least three apocalypses and a construction union strike. The rat swarm alone is enough to cancel any future sewer tourism.

To the film’s credit, director Marc Klasfeld and cinematographer Yon Thomas make the interior of the Paragon look wonderfully eerie. And shockingly, the cast isn’t a collection of walking irritations. Cora (Francesca Reale) ends up the most intriguing, while Frank Balenger (Laurence O'Fuarain) shows up searching for his missing reporter wife, Amanda (Svilena Nikolova). His quest is noble, though perhaps reconsidered when the group finds a literal tree full of hanging phones and cameras. I mean, how many red flags does one team need?

Then they find Diane’s missing phone and decide they don’t have time to call the cops because they have to look for her. As if multitasking were outlawed. Meanwhile, a rival gang of scavenger-influencer-morons led by Tod (Nicholas Hamilton) shows up, and their only real purpose seems to be more snacks for whatever creature claims hotel residency.

Beth (Cat Shank, love that name) appears from a closet, Rick (Jake Manley) makes a comeback that prompts a full “HOW?!” from me, and the supernatural threat finally takes shape. A CGI meme monster that looks fantastic in one shot, suspiciously PS2-ish the next, poorly superimposed onto the scene. And because Do Not Enter can’t resist, it closes with an ending that plays it way too safe, proving Hollywood still fears the radical concept of letting horror characters actually die.

Do Not Enter (2026)

The journey is entertaining, messy, occasionally stupid, and absolutely watchable…but that ending, man. It really needed to undergo a rewrite.

https://jackmeat.com/do-not-enter-2026/

Mexicali (2026) | The movie starts strong, then trips into “why is this happening” territory, but at least the fights never get boring. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.4/10. I say this all the time, but Mexicali wastes absolutely zero time letting you know exactly what kind of underground-fighting-meets-cartel ride this flick will be. The movie opens with a guy puffing his chest so hard you'd think oxygen was optional, declaring to the resident “boss-looking dude” that he doesn’t lose. The reply? A motivational speech for the ages: “You better win, or nobody eats.” Yes, the universal language of hunger as a character motivation.

Then comes the name that made me sit up. Kris Van Damme, trying to kick his way out of Dad’s cinematic shadow. Respect. Meanwhile, Joe (Bren Foster) steps into Mexicali with a string of surprisingly clean, well-choreographed fights. The variety in styles is actually impressive, like someone spliced a UFC highlight reel into a cartel movie and said, “yeah, that'll work.”

But Mexicali quickly reveals itself as another “you picked the wrong dude to mess with” action flick. And honestly, Joe and his fiancée Estrella (Tania Raymonde) must have thought they wandered into a horror film, because what better time to split up than right when the road ahead looks like it's paved with armed men and bad decisions? Truly, romance thrives under pressure. Except here, where it just walks away in confusion.

Then there’s the one-at-a-time fight scene. In 2026. Bold choice. Luke LaFontaine, sir, we left that trope in a dusty warehouse back in 1990, but thank you for resurrecting it for absolutely no reason. He also tosses in a training montage where Joe teaches Estrella knife-fighting techniques. Totally unnecessary…right up until it becomes obvious foreshadowing. Still silly, though. The only thing sillier is Joe’s “please, higher powers, make this go away, and I’ll be good forever” moment that feels ripped from someone swearing off tequila after a bad night.

And then we reach the pit fights…again. I genuinely don’t know what the logic was here. A scheduling conflict? A deleted subplot? Someone lost a bet? Hard to say.

The final act of Mexicali is where physics, tactics, and self-preservation all go on extended vacation. I have never seen people on the wrong side of an entire armed unit stand directly in front of giant windows for so long. And despite a small nation’s worth of firepower surrounding them, Joe still ends up in a machete duel with the one guy who apparently didn’t get issued a gun. At least the movie avoids the dreaded “hero shows mercy” cliché. Joe is strictly “no survivors, no sequels.”

Estrella’s earlier knife lesson apparently came with DLC upgrades, because she suddenly knows how to operate every weapon the cartel has ever touched. She goes from “wait, why are we breaking up?” to “I have mastered all forms of artillery” in record time.

The final showdown is entertaining if you don’t mind the kind of unbelievable survivability normally reserved for video game protagonists. Come for the fights, because Mexicali as a whole won’t raise the bar, but it’ll swing enough fists, knives, and machetes to keep you watching.

Mexicali (2026)

https://jackmeat.com/mexicali-2026/

Mamochka (2026) | Mamochka is what happens when your dead mom leaves you a Nazi doll & your husband immediately speedruns a mental breakdown. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.1/10. Let's all find out what happens when a grieving family brings home a creepy Nazi-era heirloom doll. Because nothing says closure like fascist porcelain, and Mamochka is here to supply that very oddly specific horror niche. Right from the opening credits, the movie fires up some genuinely fun 80s-style synth that instantly screams, “Yes, you are absolutely correct, something terrible is about to happen.” Meanwhile, some random kid is frolicking in a cemetery because childhood memories are overrated, and trauma builds character.

When the family returns from Jane’s mother’s funeral, they lug home the titular Mamochka doll, and suburban dad Mark (Alexander Kollar) immediately begins spiraling faster than your Wi-Fi connection during a storm. His nightmares come in hot, featuring imagery that feels like the director grabbed inspiration from a grab bag labeled “Why?” The acting around him lands mostly in the realm of “inoffensively bland,” like everyone’s just slightly too aware of where Craft Services is parked.

Then Mamochka dips into a Groundhog Day-style loop, but luckily, it doesn’t overuse the gimmick. The repetition is just enough for Mark to start doubting his grip on reality without making us stare at the screen as if we’ve accidentally rewound it. Pair that with his late-night Nazi doll research rabbit hole, and it’s especially hilarious when he casually suggests his wife, Jane, might need therapy. Mark, buddy…read the room.

Jane (Maya Murphy), meanwhile, spends most of the movie sounding like she’s auditioning with cue cards, but then she suddenly flips the emotional switch and unleashes some full-throttle “I’ve had enough of this doll nonsense” energy late in the film. It’s kind of refreshing. Wish we got that Jane sooner.

And then there’s the delivery driver (Dino Castelli), who shows up acting like he wandered in from a neighbor's house. Is he a messenger? A ghost? A guy with a very intense side hustle? No clue. The script refuses to elaborate, and somehow that makes him more entertaining.

Stanley Trub as young Brian absolutely holds it down, though. The kid is the standout, and you can tell he actually came here to act.

Where Mamochka really delivers is in how much atmosphere it squeezes out of its lean budget. The film smartly mixes familiar horror ingredients and pulls off several genuinely creepy beats. It’s just the follow-through that wobbles. The ending doesn’t quite land, doesn’t quite connect the thematic dots, and even dangles a sequel tease nobody asked for, but you know damn well I will watch.

Mamochka (2026)

Still, the potential behind the camera is unmistakable. This director has ideas. Good ones. And once they get the resources to back them up, we’re in for something special. I’ll definitely be watching what comes next…even if that doll can stay far, far away from my house.

Thanks to writer/director Vilan Trub for sending this one over for an early look.

https://jackmeat.com/mamochka-2026/

Send Help (2026) | Sam Raimi returns to horror-comedy form with a bloody corporate meltdown on a beach. Need I say more? #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 7.0/10. I thought Send Help was Sam Raimi, reminding everyone that he can still juggle horror & comedy like a chainsaw and a boomstick. And this time, he’s brought Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brien along for the fun. Kinda like tossing two mismatched coworkers into a blender and hitting chop. The setup is delightfully simple. Linda Liddle (McAdams), a prickly mastermind from strategy and planning, and Bradley (O’Brien), the sentient embodiment of a smug LinkedIn post, become the only survivors of a plane crash and wash up on a deserted island. A Boeing recall joke practically writes itself, and Raimi does not miss the opportunity.

Before the island shenanigans, Send Help gives us a quick, efficient introduction to Linda’s office life or, more accurately, office war zone. She’s treated like the oddball gremlin the “boy’s club” doesn’t want but absolutely needs if they want their Q3 numbers to make any sense. McAdams plays Linda with a perfect balance of jagged awkwardness and controlled bite. There’s no attempt to make her soft or instantly lovable, which is exactly why she works so well. You root for her because she’s complicated, unpredictable, and boldly not here to be relatable.

Bradley, on the other hand, is played to pure, weaponized arrogance by Dylan O’Brien. He’s the kind of boss who says “circle back” unironically and considers himself a thought leader because he read half a productivity book. His smarmy presence becomes instantly hateable in the best way. O’Brien commits so fully that you can practically smell the overpriced cologne through the screen.

Once the disaster hits (with more blood than I expected for a corporate team-building trip gone wrong), Send Help becomes the Raimi playground I didn’t know I needed in 2026. Limbs, screams, slapstick Misery (yes, it feels a bit like that classic). You know, the Raimi essentials. Beautiful Australian landscapes fill in the background, which I only learned from the credits, but makes total sense. The place looks like Mother Nature’s desktop wallpaper pack.

The island dynamic between McAdams and O’Brien is where the movie hits gold. They bicker, scheme, plot, sabotage, and somehow still manage to help each other when it counts…or when the alternative is being eaten alive by whatever Raimi cooked up off-screen. Their chemistry is sharp, petty, and wickedly funny, escalating from verbal jabs to physical chaos that would get both of them fired from any HR department with a pulse. And it is glorious. You'll see (that will make more sense after watching.)

Raimi also sprinkles in clever class commentary throughout the movie, poking at corporate hierarchy nonsense without ever slowing down the momentum. Longtime fans will appreciate the Easter eggs, too. I actually caught the Bruce Campbell painting in Bradley’s office, but I had to go back to confirm whether the classic 1973 Oldsmobile was hiding somewhere. Sure enough, it’s tucked into the frame during Linda’s self-help car monologue around the 15-minute mark. Never change, Sam.

Send Help sticks the landing with one of the most satisfying endings Raimi has delivered in years. It’s messy, funny, bloody, and sincere. And somehow all at the same time. Most importantly, it fully embraces Raimi’s horror-comedy roots while giving McAdams and O’Brien some of the most entertaining roles they’ve had in a long time.

Send Help (2026)

I thoroughly enjoyed seeing Raimi back in form. Do I wish it had gone a bit further? Sure, but if this is the start of a new streak from him, I say - "Please, Sam…don’t send help. Just send me more movies like this."

https://jackmeat.com/send-help-2026/

First Blood (1982) | Small town cops pick a fight with a war-trained drifter and act surprised when it goes horribly wrong for them. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 8.0/10.  If your only exposure to the Rambo name comes from exploding helicopters, infinite ammo, and enough body counts to make your old high school reviews proud. First Blood is here to politely (and then aggressively) correct you.

Revisiting this one, especially in that slick 4K “Ultimate Uncut” form, I quickly realized this isn’t the bandana-wearing action meme people remember. This is a tense, grounded thriller that just happens to feature Sylvester Stallone looking like he could dismantle a small army with a pocket knife and some unresolved trauma.

The setup is deceptively simple. John Rambo rolls into town, just trying to exist, and immediately gets on the wrong side of small-town authority. Enter Brian Dennehy as the cop who wakes up and chooses hostility. He plays it so well that you’re not just rooting against him. You’re actively waiting for karma to arrive like a freight train. Spoiler: it does, and it’s wearing a green jacket.

What really stands out is how quiet this movie is. Stallone barely speaks, but his performance carries weight through pure expression. You can see the pain, the restraint, and the ticking clock before things inevitably go sideways. And when they do? It’s less “rah-rah action hero” and more “oh no…they really shouldn’t have pushed this guy.”

There’s also something oddly funny, intentionally or not, about how casual the cops are early on. They’re cracking jokes, strolling through the woods like it’s a Sunday picnic, completely unaware they’ve just activated hardcore survival mode. That legendary line - “We ain’t hunting him, he’s hunting us” hits like a tonal slap to the face, and it comes in early. From that point on, it’s less a chase and more a slow realization of just how badly they’ve miscalculated.

Director Ted Kotcheff deserves a ton of credit for keeping things practical. There’s minimal gunfire, barely any explosions, and yet the tension is constantly tightening. When action does happen, it feels raw and earned. And no CGI safety nets. When vehicles go crashing down hills, that’s real metal, real gravity, and probably a real insurance headache.

Visually, the Pacific Northwest setting (standing in via British Columbia) adds a ton to the atmosphere. Foggy forests, wet terrain, and rugged mountains make it feel isolated and dangerous. It’s the kind of environment where you absolutely do not want to be hunted by someone who knows what they’re doing, which, unfortunately for everyone involved, Rambo very much does.

Watching it now, it also hits differently thematically. The treatment of Vietnam veterans, the media spin during the manhunt, it all feels uncomfortably relevant. Turns out “fake news” didn’t just spawn with social media - it’s been lurking around long before hashtags were a thing.

After a couple of decades away, nothing about this revisit felt drastically different, but the appreciation definitely hits harder. I am not sure what the Uncut part added. First Blood isn’t just the origin of a franchise - it’s the one entry that actually slows down, breathes, and reminds you there’s a human being behind the legend.

And that makes it way more dangerous than the sequels ever were.

First Blood (1982)

https://jackmeat.com/first-blood-1982/

Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery (2025) | The church angle sounds juicy, but drags like a Sunday sermon. The mystery works, I just stopped caring who did it. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.9/10. There’s something oddly comforting about returning to a Knives Out Mystery, like being handed a beautifully wrapped puzzle box and immediately shaking it to see what falls loose. This time, though, Wake Up Dead Man is still polished and expensive-looking, but a few of the pieces feel like they wandered in from a much less interesting game.

The setup wastes no time being…I'd call it memorable. We meet young priest Jud Duplenticy, played by Josh O'Connor, by way of him decking another priest because nothing says “man of God” like opening with a right hook. He’s then shipped off to assist Monsignor Jefferson Wicks, a charismatic, slightly unhinged figure brought to life by Josh Brolin, who delivers a masturbation confession that goes on so long you start wondering if the real crime is how much screen time it eats up.

From there, the film assembles its usual “everyone’s a suspect” lineup… except this time, they kind of aren’t. You’ve got heavy hitters like Glenn Close, Kerry Washington, Jeremy Renner, and Andrew Scott. But they don't pop off the screen with their eccentricity. They mostly blend into the wallpaper. It’s a strange pivot for a franchise that's thrived on wildly different personalities bouncing off each other like verbal pinballs. I mean, how do you waste Thomas Haden Church with so little to say?

Thankfully, when Benoit Blanc finally shows up, once again played with delightful Southern-fried precision by Daniel Craig, the movie gets a much-needed jolt of life. The problem? There’s just not enough of him sleuthing. It’s like ordering your favorite meal and getting a sample instead of the full plate.

The mystery itself is dense and admittedly compelling. It does the heavy lifting because, frankly, not much else does. But where previous entries unraveled their secrets piece by piece, letting us feel clever along the way, this one leans hard into a lengthy, almost lecture-like explanation at the end. It’s less “aha!” and more “oh…okay, I guess.”

Visually speaking, the film is a knockout. The production design is gorgeous, with every frame looking like it was plucked from a gallery. It’s a shame that the conversations taking place in these spaces drag on forever without much payoff – they’re like sermons you politely sit through while checking the time.

Another missed opportunity is the film’s exploration of spirituality. Aside from one preachy conversation late in the game, the religious themes mostly sit in the background, occasionally clearing their throat but never really saying anything meaningful.

Humor-wise, you can feel the film trying. Sometimes really trying to recapture that sharp, effortless wit of its predecessors. A few lines land, but many feel like they’re reaching for laughs that never hit.

Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery (2025)

At the end of the day, Wake Up Dead Man is still a solid mystery, just not a standout one. It looks incredible, has a few strong performances, and a central puzzle that kept me interested. But it’s missing that spark, that quirky ensemble energy that made the earlier films so much fun to dissect. This one solves the case…but forgets to make you love the ride getting there.

https://jackmeat.com/wake-up-dead-man-a-knives-out-mystery-2025/