Tales from Black Manor (2025) | A slow, death-obsessed slog that looks pretty but feels like AI gothic fan fiction with no thrills or reason to watch again. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 3.6/10. I’m not saying Tales from Black Manor was made by AI, but if a robot was trained on gothic Pinterest boards, voice-over apps, and a dusty copy of Immortality for Dummies, this would probably be the result.

The film promises an epic, centuries-spanning saga of the cursed Black family and their mysterious book of death, from the 1300s to the end of the world. What we get instead is a somber, slow-mo slideshow narrated like someone’s medieval PowerPoint presentation. Imagine sitting through a family reunion, but every branch of the family tree is obsessed with immortality, and no one has a personality. That’s this movie.

It’s sort of an anthology, but not in any way that feels intentional. Each segment introduces another Black family member with a name like “Aleister” or “Ivy,” who stares into the distance while someone explains their quest to defeat death. Then, without anything actually happening, we fade out and move on to the next centuries-old sad sack. Rinse, repeat, sigh.

The whole thing is narrated more than acted, and what’s narrated often contradicts or deflates the only semi-interesting parts. They even decide to circle back and undercut the “Miss Nobody” subplot from earlier, which wasn’t great to begin with but now just feels like someone deleted the wrong paragraph from the script and hoped we wouldn’t notice. Spoiler: I did.

Now, I won’t lie—this movie looks gorgeous. The manor is striking, the costumes are moody, and the cinematography is the kind of thing you'd screenshot and put on your vision board if you were planning a haunted wedding. But beauty can only get you so far when your movie feels like a gothic screensaver with a melancholy audiobook playing over it.

There’s almost zero tension, no characters to root for, and despite being a film about death, shockingly few actual deaths. Most are just mentioned in passing, like, “And then he was lost to the fire,” but we never see a spark. It’s like being told ghost stories by someone who’s allergic to excitement.

Honestly, the only character I felt anything for was the manor itself. It didn’t do much, but at least it showed up on time and looked fabulous.

In the end, Tales from Black Manor isn’t scary, thrilling, or even all that coherent. It’s the cinematic equivalent of slowly reading an ancient family diary while staring at oil paintings. With a sharper script, some on-screen action, and maybe one—just one—character worth following, there might’ve been something here. Instead, it’s a long, dreary walk through centuries of whispered nothings.

Skip it, unless you’re an immortal being yourself and literally have eternity to waste.

Tales from Black Manor (2025)

It is either Amazon or a couple of freebies to watch this one. Click Plex to watch now for free.

https://jackmeat.com/tales-from-black-manor-2025/

The Dogs (2025) | Temper your expectations from "when dogs attack" to "supernatural mystery" and you have a solid 90s made-for-TV movie. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.9/10. Don’t let the title or ominous-looking poster fool you, The Dogs isn’t really a “when pets go bad” type of horror flick. Despite a few gnarly canine appearances and plenty of barking, this low-budget thriller is more of a domestic drama wrapped in a soft layer of supernatural mystery. If you were hoping for another savage survival romp like The Pack, you're barking up the wrong tree.

The story follows Cameron (Donovan Colan), a teenage boy on the run from his abusive father alongside his mother, played by Kathleen Munroe (who you may recognize from Law & Order Toronto: Criminal Intent). The pair takes refuge in a remote countryside farmhouse, hoping to start fresh. But of course, in true horror fashion, the house has a dark past, and apparently, some leftover ghostly baggage.

Despite the title, the dogs aren’t really the focus here. They’re more atmospheric than threatening, with most of their impact coming through ominous barking and the occasional glowing-eyed jump scare. In fact, The Dogs is less a creature feature and more of a low-boil haunting tale with the abusive ex looming in the background as the most tangible danger. There's even the obligatory creepy neighbor/landlord who, shocker, knows all about the cursed history of the place but keeps it conveniently vague until it’s almost too late.

What holds the film together is the emotional core between Cameron and his mother. Their attempts to rebuild their lives provide some grounding, even if the dialogue sometimes feels like it was ripped from a Hallmark drama. Cameron’s school life, his budding friendship with a mysterious kid who knows more than they are letting on, and his mom’s cautious flirtation with a local all add threads to the story—some more worthwhile than others.

Visually, the film has a very “made-for-TV in the ‘90s” feel. The cinematography is serviceable but uninspired, and the credits look like they were thrown together with free editing software. Still, there’s a certain charm to its throwback vibes, and if you're the kind of viewer who grew up watching horror-lite thrillers on Sunday nights, there’s some nostalgic appeal.

Ultimately, The Dogs doesn’t break new ground, and I didn't feel any lasting impressions. But once you recalibrate your expectations away from killer dog chaos and toward ghost story meets family drama, there's just enough mystery and mild suspense to make it watchable. Just don’t expect to be scared unless you’ve got a phobia of off-screen barking.

The Dogs (2025)

There are several streaming options to choose from, including Amazon.

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

Osiris (2025) | B-movie alien mayhem with Predator vibes and a fun weapon arsenal. I wasn't wowed but you may get some mildly entertaining sci-fi fluff. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.9/10. Osiris tries to beam you aboard a gritty, bullet-ridden sci-fi thrill ride, but somewhere between the alien abduction and the final firefight, the transmission gets garbled. Directed by William Kaufman, who previously helmed the solid Saints & Sinners, this B-budget outing stars genre veteran Linda Hamilton and the always-reliable Max Martini, both doing their best to anchor a film that’s drifting somewhere between Predator-lite and late-night SyFy fare.

The setup is classic straight-to-video material: Special Forces soldiers on a mission suddenly vanish mid-op, only to wake up trapped in a mysterious alien environment. Is it a ship? Another planet? Or a soundstage in Louisiana? The movie never quite answers that, and honestly, it doesn't really matter. What does matter is that these humans are now prey in a galactic game of cat and mouse, though whether the cats have bulletproof fur seems to depend entirely on the needs of the scene.

When Hamilton’s character finally shows up, she offers some exposition (or what passes for it), laying out the vague contours of what's going on. There's a half-hearted subplot about a “mother” figure that may have meant something in the script but feels like a half-sketched idea onscreen. It’s one of many narrative threads that seem to unravel as soon as they’re introduced.

Visually, the alien antagonists steal the show, at least in terms of creep factor. Their heads bear an uncanny resemblance to the Chatterer Cenobite from Hellraiser, and their armor seems to come and go with plot convenience. One moment, they're walking tanks impervious to machine gun fire, and the next, they're going down like stormtroopers at a rebel barbecue. The inconsistency in their vulnerability makes it hard to feel any real stakes.

Still, there are some fun touches. The alien tech is a mix of Halo-inspired shields and chunky blasters that look like they were built from leftover Nerf parts. And in keeping with long-standing action movie tradition, when all else fails, everybody drops their guns and just throws hands. It's dumb, it's predictable, and it's kind of charming in its own way.

The plot progression is telegraphed early and often. As soon as the humans start plotting their big escape, you’ll have no trouble guessing how it’ll all shake out. But hey, the reason the aliens came to Earth in the first place? That was actually kind of clever: they intercepted the Voyager probe and took the invitation seriously. How’s that for NASA outreach?

If you remember low-rent '90s sci-fi flicks like Neon City or Shadowzone with any kind of fondness, Osiris might hit a nostalgic sweet spot. My brain wandered off into the layered weirdness of eXistenZ—this is more functional than philosophical and not at that level.

At a 4.9/10, Osiris doesn’t reach orbit, but for us B-movie fans with a taste for pulpy alien warfare and an appreciation for shoestring spectacle, there’s just enough here to make it through the runtime without pressing eject.

Osiris (2025)

Amazon is one of several streamers carrying this flick.

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

I Will Never Leave You Alone (2024) | A painfully slow haunted house flick with zero scares and a lead so dull even the witch-ghost seems over it. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 3.7/10. The setup for I Will Never Leave You Alone should work: a convicted man gets one last shot at freedom if he can spend a week in a haunted house and clear out the ghost problem. Sounds like the kind of B-horror fun you'd catch on a rainy night. But instead of thrills, we're treated to 93 minutes of Kenneth Trujillo brooding like he just lost a staring contest with the drywall. There’s no real logic behind how squatting in a cursed house is supposed to “cleanse” it—maybe they thought ghosts just get bored of roommates? Unfortunately, it’s not the ghosts who tap out; it’s us unfortunate viewers. The pacing drags so badly you'd think the film was being projected through molasses. Every time a genuinely eerie moment pops up, it’s quickly smothered under long pauses and conversations with invisible things that may or may not be figments of Richard’s tragic backstory.

And speaking of sweet nothings, there’s allegedly a romance brewing here. Richard keeps professing his undying love, but the flashbacks — which serve more as low-energy therapy sessions than narrative devices — make it feel more like a case of obsessive stalking than anything remotely romantic. He says, “I love her,” and the audience collectively goes, “...Why, though?”

But don’t worry, the flashbacks do offer one high point — and yes, I’m terrible, because it involves some karmic justice that’s amusingly violent and thoroughly satisfying. Blame a woman? Oh, Richard certainly does. This film is practically an extreme case study in the “It’s all her fault!” defense strategy. You’ll find yourself not rooting for him so much as hoping the ghost gives him a solid haunting just for being that guy.

Budget constraints clearly hit the effects department hard — the witch-ghost looks like someone lost a bet at Spirit Halloween and had to be wrapped in papier-mâché. By the time she finally shows up to do something gory, it’s the final ten minutes, and at that point you’ve already mentally redecorated the entire haunted house and written your own sequel out of sheer impatience.

Oh, and special shoutout to the handyman character, who apparently suffers from short-term memory loss. He was having a conversation through a wide-open window earlier in the movie, but later has to unscrew boards to get in. Maybe the real ghost was continuity all along.

I Will Never Leave You Alone (2024)

In the end, I Will Never Leave You Alone isn’t scary enough, gory enough, or dramatic enough to recommend to anyone except the “I must watch every horror movie ever made” completionists. For everyone else? I’d suggest... leaving it alone.

Amazon and a couple of other streamers have this one, including a couple freebies.

https://jackmeat.com/i-will-never-leave-you-alone-2024/

Happy Gilmore 2 (2025) | Happy’s back, golf’s gone insane, and ballet school’s expensive, so he fights Shooter in a graveyard and returns to his Happy place. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.6/10. Happy Gilmore isn't done with golf, not by a long shot. And as it turns out, neither is Adam Sandler. Happy Gilmore 2 is one of those rare late-arriving sequels that actually feels justified. Hollywood, for once, made the right call, reviving a beloved comedy instead of digging up something nobody asked for (thinking of you, Zoolander 2).

The plot is simple, and almost identical to the first, but with enough tweaks to keep it from feeling like a retread. Happy's out of the game, living the retired life, but when his daughter wants to attend an elite ballet school, the man has to dust off the old hockey stick putter and raise the cash the only way he knows how: by smashing golf balls and pissing people off. There is a bit of a dark twist thrown in involving his wife, Virgina (Julie Bowen) and why he would even need to raise money. Somehow, Sandler finds a way to even make that funny. This time, however, the sport is under threat from a lunatic with marketing brain rot, a gingivitis-ridden maniac determined to turn the PGA Tour into some mutant hybrid of the XFL and vintage MTV.

The real strength of the sequel lies in its affection for the original. Sandler and co-writer Tim Herlihy clearly understand what made Happy Gilmore a classic in the first place: crude humor with heart, ridiculous physical comedy, and that underdog charm. There’s no shortage of callbacks, cameos, and surprise returning faces — some even literally pulled from the first movie via flashbacks. The fight scene in the cemetery between Happy and Shooter McGavin (Christopher McDonald, still chewing scenery like it's 1996) might be the most nostalgia-fueled moment of all, delivering pure chaotic energy that’ll leave longtime fans grinning.

The celebrity cameos are a mixed bag, but fun. John Daly shows up and looks like he wandered onto the set from a completely different movie, which, frankly, fits perfectly. Steve Buscemi’s brief role is a highlight, weird and wonderful as expected. And yes, Eminem is in this, though ignore that lazy Men's Journal article calling him "a fellow golfer." He’s actually the grown son of the original “Jackass” heckler from the first film, a clever nod that will go over the heads of anyone who didn’t rewatch the original. (I may or may not have corrected the author on Twitter.)

Sandler, as usual, makes it a family affair — his wife Jackie and daughters Sadie and Sunny all get roles. It’s sweet, even if the “Gilmore sons” felt like an afterthought, mostly echoing their dad’s old catchphrases with less bite. Still, Sandler himself seems in on the joke more than ever. Half the fun is watching that sly grin creep across his face, like he can’t believe he’s still pulling this off.

Unfortunately, the film doesn’t fully stick the landing. The third act detour into “Maxi Golf” — a gaudy, exaggerated rival league poking fun at LIV Golf — is where things nearly come off the rails. The idea had potential, but the execution felt like a bad SNL skit that wouldn’t end. Thankfully, the movie speeds through it fast enough to avoid completely derailing the good vibes.

Happy Gilmore 2 (2025)

All in all, Happy Gilmore 2 is way better than it has any right to be. It doesn’t reinvent anything, and it doesn’t need to. It’s silly, sentimental, and full of familiar laughs. While the back end stumbles, the first hour and a half is such a fun ride that I was willing to round up. Not quite a hole-in-one, but a solid birdie for Sandler and the gang.

This one went directly to Netflix. If need be, Amazon has the original classic for you.

https://jackmeat.com/happy-gilmore-2-2025/

Saint Clare (2025) | Bella Thorne plays a misguided vigilante in this low-stakes thriller where ghostly guidance and clumsy twists fail to deliver real thrills. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.2/10. Bella Thorne stars as a soft-spoken vigilante in Saint Clare, a movie that dares to ask the question: what if Dexter (yes, I am finally binging ALL of this show) had way less blood, no tension, and hung out with a ghostly postman instead of doing anything remotely horrifying?

Set in a quiet town where people go missing almost as fast as the film’s pacing, Saint Clare follows Clare Bleecker, a college student who moonlights as a part-time angel of death, offing the “evil” in society—though you’ll have to take the film’s word for it, because the evil-doing is mostly implied via gossip and shady auras. Instead of actual wrongdoing, most of the targets come off like people who cut in line at Starbucks or forgot to tip.

Thorne does her best to bring a strange, dazed gravity to Clare, but the poor girl seems perpetually confused, even when she’s stalking bad guys, attending weird school plays, or chilling with her grandma (played by Rebecca De Mornay, who’s so unrecognizable I kicked myself for not realizing it was her). And yes, that was Frank Whaley as Bob the mailman, her undead conscience-slash-guide who died due to a mix-up that makes Weekend at Bernie’s look like a documentary on responsible living.

The trailer teased visions from beyond, which sounded ominous, but really just means Bob shows up now and then to deliver cryptic life coaching with all the urgency of someone handing you expired coupons. The horror? Nonexistent. The action? Sparse. The tension? Let's just say the real suspense came from wondering if Ryan Phillippe's detective would ever do anything more than squint at Bella in disbelief.

And oh, the twist. When the trafficking ring’s Big Bad is finally revealed, it hits Clare like a ton of bricks… despite being telegraphed so loudly, I’m surprised she didn’t get a postcard about it from Ghost Bob. By the time Clare starts connecting the dots, you half expect her to accidentally stab a mirror and yell, “Aha! It was me all along!” (don't worry, that isn't it)

Mitzi Peirone directs with a steady-enough hand, but the tone can’t decide if it wants to be eerie, philosophical, or a CW pilot. It ends on a “you'll be seeing more of Clare” note, which might be the scariest thing about the whole film.

Saint Clare (2025)

In short, Saint Clare is like if Ghost Whisperer and Revenge had a baby, but forgot to feed it any plot. Thorne fans might enjoy her performance—she’s committed, even if the script isn’t—but for the rest of us, this is more Saint Snore than Saint Clare.

Amazon is one of a few streaming sites carrying this flick.

https://jackmeat.com/saint-clare-2025/

Dangerous Animals (2025) | This horror nightmare feels like Wolf Creek met Jaws at a pub and decided to co-parent chaos on the high seas. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.8/10. Dangerous Animals sinks its teeth into a wild genre mash-up that pits surf culture against serial killer psychosis, and somehow it works better than it should. With a title that sounds like a Discovery Channel special I caught during shark week, this lean and tense 98-minute thriller gives us a sun-soaked nightmare that feels like Wolf Creek met Jaws at a pub and decided to co-parent chaos on the high seas.

Hassie Harrison stars as Zephyr, a confident, free-spirited surfer who, unfortunately, catches the eye of Tucker, a shark-obsessed lunatic played with menacing glee by Jai Courtney. It doesn’t take long before Zephyr finds herself shackled on his boat, floating somewhere between the stunning Gold Coast and hell. Tucker isn’t just your run-of-the-mill psycho—he’s filming a twisted “shark show” for his personal viewing pleasure, and the sharks circling below aren’t just window dressing. They’re props in his sick ritual, triggered by a feeding frenzy of flesh and fear.

Courtney is, without a doubt, the standout here. He sheds the more straight-laced roles from his past and fully leans into the madness. His portrayal of Tucker is chilling and unpredictable yet calm. He’s not killing for revenge, trauma, or even twisted justice—he’s doing it because it amuses him. That lack of logic makes him even scarier, and Courtney nails it with a performance that’s as captivating as it is disturbing.

Zephyr, thankfully, isn’t a total damsel. While she does get her fair share of victimhood, her resourcefulness kicks in just when it counts, and she pulls off one of the most creative and grotesque handcuff escapes I’ve seen in a while. Josh Heuston plays Moses, the guy who had a lucky night early on and now plays knight errant in board shorts, trying to locate his missing flame. While his character doesn’t break any new ground, he serves the purpose of injecting some urgency from the outside world.

Visually, Dangerous Animals is a treat. The cinematography above and below the surface is sharp and cinematic, capturing both the natural beauty of Queensland and the lurking dread beneath. The shark footage, which appears to be largely real, adds authenticity without resorting to overblown CGI carnage. The attack scenes are restrained, focusing more on impact and dread than gory spectacle, which fits the film’s tone surprisingly well.

Nick Lepard’s script deserves a shoutout for turning what could’ve been a laughable premise into something surprisingly tense. The pacing is tight, with a consistent sense of claustrophobia and unease, broken only by a few eye-roll moments—yes, someone absolutely fumbles their chance to end things early, as per horror tradition.

Dangerous Animals (2025)

All in all, Dangerous Animals doesn’t reinvent the shark thriller or the psycho captor genre, but it blends them into a gnarly cocktail that goes down smoother than I expected. It's got sharp performances, especially from a scene-stealing Courtney, and enough creativity to leave a bite mark of its own. Just maybe don’t book that Gold Coast surf trip right after watching.

I'm sure the theater pricing will be dropping soon, but Amazon and the other JustWatch links are still $20.

https://jackmeat.com/dangerous-animals-2025/

American Trash (2024) | American Trash is a moody, meditative, and grounded tale that focuses more on emotional consequence than action-packed closure. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.1/10. When I got an email from Robert LaSardo himself asking me to check out his directorial debut, American Trash, my jaw hit the floor. This is a guy I’ve been rooting for since the early ’90s, back when he’d pop up just long enough to get thrown through a window by Steven Seagal. But over the years, I watched him evolve, especially with roles like Gang Related, where it became clear LaSardo was a lot more than just a tough guy with tattoos. Now, stepping behind the camera for the first time, he delivers a raw and surprisingly vulnerable story about grief, trauma, and the crumbling environment we call society.

Set in a dystopian vision of Los Angeles, American Trash is not your typical revenge flick, despite what the synopsis might suggest. Don’t come in expecting Milles Carpis (LaSardo) to go full Rambo on everyone after his lover is murdered. This is not that movie. What you get instead is a slow-burn, emotionally driven journey through despair, healing, and introspection. Milles, drowning in pain, leans on a group of modern-day hippies for guidance. Yeah, it sounds a bit out there—but it works. Surprisingly well.

LaSardo’s performance is, as expected, rock-solid. But what really caught me off guard was his ability to direct emotion. There are a few quiet, atmospheric scenes—one in particular comes to mind, where Milles sits isolated amid a tribute—that hit harder than any bullet or explosion. You really feel the loneliness, the absence, and the weight of unresolved grief. It’s in these moments that the film shines.

Now, I’m not sure that listening to old Charles Manson tapes is the healthiest way to cope with the loss of a loved one, but hey, this is American Trash. It’s messy, it’s dark, and it doesn’t always make the most sensible choices—but grief rarely does either. The film explores PTSD, environmental collapse, and the ripple effect of tragedy in a way that feels surprisingly honest. It’s a love story, yes, but it’s also a lesson in the quiet destruction caused by emotional neglect, both personal and societal.

The film isn’t without its flaws. It’s uneven in pacing at times, and some scenes feel like they linger a bit too long on abstract imagery when the story would’ve benefited from a firmer hand. But as a debut, it’s impressive. LaSardo proves he’s more than ready to move beyond bit parts and supporting roles—he has something to say, and now he has a platform to say it.

American Trash is a moody, meditative, and grounded tale that focuses more on emotional consequence than action-packed closure. It may not be for everyone, but if you give it a chance, there’s something real beneath the grime and chaos. And for a first-time director, LaSardo shows that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He just chooses to do it a bit differently.

American Trash (2024)

Amazon is one of several streamers you can choose from to watch this one.

https://jackmeat.com/american-trash-2024/

Unspeakable: Beyond The Wall of Sleep (2024) | Unspeakable 2 is not good in any traditional sense but it is oddly entertaining for any fans of dumb horror flix. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.1/10. Well, folks, it finally happened. Someone out there watched Unspeakable from 2000 and thought, “You know what this story needs? A sequel. Twenty-four years later. With Edward Furlong. And magic coconuts.” And that someone was apparently Chad Ferrin. Bless his Troma-inspired heart.

Unspeakable: Beyond The Wall Of Sleep picks up immediately after James Fhelleps' arrest—yes, that emotionally dead, incestuous murderer who spent the first movie shuffling from kill to kill like a depressed Roomba. Now he's locked up in Arkham Asylum, because of course he is, and a renowned dream doctor named Ambrose London (played by a very paycheck-cashing Edward Furlong) is brought in to psychoanalyze his split personalities: Fhelleps and Joe Slater. Furlong might also want to investigate his career choices.

We’re already off the rails, and we haven’t even gotten to the magic rock.

The movie opens with irritating black censor bars over the gore and nudity, which made me think Prime was having a breakdown—but no, it’s just a strange artistic choice that thankfully disappears once the film jumps 25 years into the future, at which point we leave behind the vague attempt at Troma-style sleaze and fully embrace cosmic lunacy. I mean, sure, why wouldn’t the plot suddenly involve a mythical meteorite that zaps two brothers during a walk in the park and fuses them into a single bloodthirsty demon-personality-blob? That is after the enlarged penis duel, of course. Sounds medically accurate.

Ginger Lynn plays Furlong’s wife (yes, that Ginger Lynn), and Bai Ling wanders in for a scene like she got lost on her way to a Sharknado audition. You’ll get a possessed man chomping on intestines like spaghetti, although when the camera pans around—whoops!—his victim’s torso is in mint condition. Look, when the FX budget maxes out at four dollars and a wet napkin, sometimes continuity takes a backseat.

In what can only be described as drunk or high ramblings, Unspeakable 2 blends Lovecraftian horror, 90s late-night Cinemax vibes, psychological drama, and yes, the occasional poop joke. It’s unbalanced, chaotic, and about as grounded in reality as a Florida Man headline. The dialogue feels like it was written by someone translating therapy terms through Google Translate, and the performances range from “trying their best” to “what is acting?”

There are attempts at humor, usually shoved awkwardly into scenes like someone accidentally sat on a rubber chicken. But credit where it’s due, Ferrin really commits to the madness. The Slater/Fhelleps fusion gets its own little internal civil war, culminating in some sort of psychic cage match to determine which persona gets to drive the meat suit. It’s bizarre and kind of dumb, but still entertaining in an odd way.

The film also gives Alice (you remember, the grotesquely disfigured wife from the first movie who made Darth Vader look like a Nivea model) a surprise glow-up and questionable plot relevance. And the daughter that caught a case of death in the first flick, yeah, she is doing much better now. There’s also a garbage disposal scene that might be the single most inaccurate use of a household appliance in horror history. I laughed and cried. Ok, I didn't, but I wondered if anyone on set was sober.

In the end, Unspeakable: Beyond The Wall Of Sleep is the kind of sequel that makes you question your own grip on reality. Is it “good”? Not in any traditional sense. But is it entertaining? Oh, slightly. Like watching a monkey operate a particle collider. Confusing, loud, and full of unexpected explosions.

Unspeakable: Beyond The Wall of Sleep (2024)

Amazon and a couple of other streamers have this one.

https://jackmeat.com/unspeakable-beyond-the-wall-of-sleep-2024/

Unspeakable (2000) | Unspeakable is like watching someone pour hot tar over their trauma while deadpanning their way through a snuff film. #jackmeatsflix #troma

My quick rating - 3.8/10. You ever stumble across a sequel and think, "Wait, how the hell did the first one even get made?" That was me with Unspeakable: Beyond the Wall of Sleep, a title that sounds like a Lovecraftian nightmare but delivers more like a dream filmed in someone’s garage. Naturally, I had to track down the original Unspeakable—and oh boy, what a beautifully miserable time that was. The good part was seeing that Troma intro at the beginning.

Chad Ferrin’s Unspeakable is what happens when a revenge horror flick meets a Troma distribution deal, gets left in the sun too long, and forgets that Troma movies are supposed to be, you know, fun. There’s nary a wink, nudge, or Toxic Avenger to be found here, just middle-aged misery, mutilation, and a metric ton of grimy existential dread.

Meet James Fhelleps (played with the emotional range of a sleepy tree stump by Roger Garcia or Cline, depending on who you ask), who has lost everything in a car accident. His daughter Heather is dead, and his wife Alice is now a shrieking puddle of flesh with the bedside manner of a chainsaw. So, naturally, James does what any rational grieving father would do: he grabs a knife and goes on a no-budget rampage through L.A., killing hookers and junkies like he's collecting stamps.

The camerawork looks like someone duct-taped a camcorder to a Roomba, the acting is so wooden you could build a shed with it, and the dialogue makes you yearn for the sweet release of silence. And yet, Unspeakable commits the most unspeakable crime of all—it takes itself completely seriously. This is Troma, people! Where’s the slime? Where’s the slapstick? Where’s the pervy chicken mascot?

The only breath of fresh air (if you can call it that) is Timothy Muskatell as a deranged home nurse, injecting the film with just enough twisted energy to remind you this isn’t an industrial safety video. His performance teeters on the edge of comedy and horror like he's not sure which side he's supposed to land on, and that confusion is somehow the most entertaining part.

And for a movie that wears the Troma name (if only as a distributor), it’s shockingly tame in the shock department. Sure, there’s gore and a generous helping of poop (it is still a Troma-adjacent project), but nudity is practically nonexistent, which feels like a clerical error.

Still, I had to do it. I watched Unspeakable purely because I knew Unspeakable 2 existed. And yes, I watched them back-to-back, which should probably qualify me for some kind of veterans’ discount or at least a group therapy session.

Final verdict: Unspeakable is like watching someone pour hot tar over their trauma while deadpanning their way through a snuff film. It's not fun, it's not clever, but it’s undeniably grim. A curiosity at best, a punishment at worst. But hey, if you’ve ever wanted to see a man try to hug his dead daughter by stabbing drug dealers to death, here’s your ticket.

Unspeakable (2000)

Misery loves company, and apparently, sequels.

Troma Now is the place to stream this from, along with a couple of freebies.

https://jackmeat.com/unspeakable-2000/

The Unholy Trinity (2025) | Star-studded western with scenic charm but a tired, predictable plot—The Unholy Trinity is watchable, yet forgettable, and rarely strikes gold.

My quick rating - 5.3/10. Every once in a while, I like to change things up, and The Unholy Trinity offered just enough star power to nudge me into giving a western a shot. Set in the rugged terrain of 1870s Montana, the film kicks off with a hangman's noose and a father’s last request. As Isaac Broadway awaits execution, he tasks his estranged son, Henry, with a heavy burden: find and kill the man who framed him. From there, Henry heads to the dusty, isolated town of Trinity and stumbles into a classic web of secrets, gold, and more backstabbing than a Thanksgiving dinner with outlaws.

The film boasts some impressive scenery that helps sell the setting. Shooting on location in Emigrant, Montana, was a smart move—there's a certain authenticity you just can’t fake with a green screen. The cinematography captures that cold, lonely feeling of frontier justice, and if you squint, you might even believe you’re watching a prestige western.

As for the cast, that’s where The Unholy Trinity shines. Pierce Brosnan brings some dignity as Sheriff Gabriel Dove, a man trying to clean up a town that's rotting from within. Samuel L. Jackson plays St. Christopher, a mysterious outsider who’s either the devil or the man you want on your side when things go sideways. Toss in David Arquette as a duplicitous priest (because why not?), and you've got a lineup that promises more than the script delivers.

Here’s the problem: the story’s tired. Really tired. Gold. Revenge. Betrayal. Repeat. It's a Western checklist without much spark. The twists are telegraphed miles in advance, and the double-crosses start feeling more like mandatory plot beats than actual surprises. The dialogue leans melodramatic, and by the time the bullets start flying, you're already three betrayals ahead of the movie.

It clocks in at a brisk 94 minutes, which is probably its biggest strength. It doesn’t overstay its welcome, but it also doesn’t leave much of a mark. For all the potential in the cast and the setting, it ends up playing like a soapy drama with occasional shootouts. There's no real sense of urgency, and not a single character feels particularly fresh or compelling.

Look, westerns aren’t my usual go-to genre, and The Unholy Trinity didn’t change that. It's a low-budget flick dressed up with some recognizable faces and a pretty backdrop, but the story just doesn’t rise above the genre clichés. It's fine for a one-time watch, especially if you’re in the mood for six-shooters and shady dealings, but it’ll take a much better western to convert me (Hateful Eight, anyone?). This one just rides off into the “meh” sunset.

The Unholy Trinity (2025)

Currently theater at home pricing on Amazon, but these streaming links will be the same when they drop.

https://jackmeat.com/the-unholy-trinity-2025/

Grafted (2024) | A promising body horror with creepy effects, Grafted fumbles its potential with logic gaps and a tame climax. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.4/10. Grafted seems to ask the question, “What if Mean Girls got a full-body transplant... and then promptly forgot to check the mirror?” What begins as a creepy little tale of transformation and revenge quickly spirals into something that feels like it got lost halfway between an episode of Botched and a student film with a surprisingly generous make-up budget.

Wei (Joyena Sun) is our socially awkward genius from China who wins a scholarship to a bougie New Zealand university, where everyone seems to have taken Advanced Bullying 101. Cue the trio of Mean Girls who exist solely to sneer, scoff, and plot poolside selfies. After enduring their cold shoulders and hot takes, Wei finds an alternative method to fit in, one that involves surgical precision, a little face-swapping, and a whole lot of disbelief suspension.

Now, let’s talk logic—or rather, the complete disregard for it. When Wei replaces Eve (Eden Hart), her classmates somehow fail to notice that Eve’s lost about six inches in height and dropped two shoe sizes. I mean, her "friends" had no idea when the Wei version of Angela had done a 180 in her entire personality, but the Eve discrepancy is distractingly off? The face effects are, admittedly, creepily well done. It’s everything below the neck that screams, “Please don’t look too hard.”

The most baffling bit? Aunty (Xiao Hu), who initially beams with pride at Wei’s arrival, apparently can’t tell when her niece disappears, and a shell of her daughter Angela is walking around in her place. Maybe she just thought uni changed her. (It does do that to people, though not usually via skin graft.)

The film does flirt with greatness at times. The make-up work deserves a standing ovation, or at least a polite clap. There are moments of unsettling tension and dark humor that promise something deeper. But just when it starts getting juicy, Grafted backs off and opts for a final act so generic and toothless it might as well have been written by ChatGPT in sleep mode. If you recently saw The Substance and are expecting another movie of that caliber, you will be disappointed.

Is the acting bad? Not at all. Sun does a solid job flipping between wide-eyed loner and dead-eyed doppelgänger. It’s just that she’s stuck in a script that never gives her—or us—anything to really feel. No pathos. No tragedy. Just a clumsy shuffle toward a climax that ends not with a bang but a bloodless meh.

Bottom line: Grafted could’ve been a chilling tale of identity, belonging, and the cost of popularity. Instead, it’s a reminder that just because you can surgically steal someone’s face doesn’t mean you should, especially if you're not willing to wear their shoes... literally.

Grafted (2024)

Watch it if you're bored and in the mood for Face/Off on a ramen budget with zero impact. Just don't expect it to leave a lasting impression, unlike Wei’s scalpels.

Amazon has this one available along with these streamers.

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

Karate Kid: Legends (2025) | It’s fun, it’s watchable, it scratches that nostalgic itch with enough nods to keep fans smiling, but it doesn't move the franchise forward. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.2/10. Well, it looks like the Karate Kid franchise is determined to keep crane-kicking itself forward, whether it has a real story to tell or not. Karate Kid: Legends brings us a new martial arts mash-up that’s about as subtle as a roundhouse to the face and just about as quick, too. After a family tragedy, kung fu prodigy Li Fong (Ben Wang) is uprooted from Beijing to New York City with his mother. The poor kid doesn’t even have time to unpack his suitcases before some local punks decide to give him a warm American welcome. The film basically says, “Hey Li, welcome to New York! Here’s your instant confrontation. Enjoy your stay.”

To be fair, that's probably pretty realistic. The only surprising part is that no one pulled a gun. Instead, we get the familiar, safe Karate Kid formula, complete with bullies, a new friend in need, and a conveniently timed local karate tournament. So, of course, Li’s kung fu alone isn’t going to cut it — this is Karate Kid: Legends after all, not Ip Man. Mr. Han (Jackie Chan, back from the 2010 reboot) decides to call in none other than Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio), fresh off waxing cars and still very much alive in this timeline. Together, they merge kung fu and karate into some hybrid style that’s apparently unbeatable. (Or at least good enough to finish the movie in under 90 minutes.)

Speaking of 90 minutes, the film clocks out at 89 — barely enough time to microwave a stuffed crust pizza, which is ironically the nickname Li earns during this adventure. Honestly, that joke lands better than most of the emotional beats. And yes, there’s actually a scene where they make a stuffed crust pizza. In New York. Where apparently no one’s ever heard of good pizza. That’s probably the funniest part.

We get all the usual tropes: the bullied kid finding confidence, the rousing 80s-style training montage (because who needs originality when you can have Survivor on standby), and a finale showdown that tries to stir up the nostalgia by echoing the classic Karate Kid moves. It’s all fun enough in a popcorn flick kind of way. The fight choreography is solid, with Ben Wang holding his own and Jackie Chan still looking like he could take on twenty dudes with a mop and a ladder. Ralph Macchio mostly looks amused to be getting another paycheck.

But everything here feels rushed. The film is basically a checklist of franchise ideas scribbled on a whiteboard by execs who couldn’t decide if they were making a sequel to the original series, a follow-up to the 2010 remake, or a side-hustle for Cobra Kai references. Instead of cleverly tying things together, they awkwardly mash it all up into a movie that doesn’t really resolve any of its storylines. The big emotional arcs — Li’s grief, his relationship with his mom, his new friendships — are barely touched before they’re shoved aside for the next fight scene.

Honestly, they missed a golden opportunity to at least mention Dre Parker (Jaden Smith) and keep it all in the same universe. Instead, Karate Kid: Legends sits in limbo: not quite a proper sequel, not quite a standalone. It’s like someone looked sideways at the franchise, shrugged, and said, “Sure, why not another one?”

Karate Kid: Legends (2025)

So yeah, it’s fun, it’s watchable, it scratches that nostalgic itch with enough nods to keep fans smiling. But when the credits roll, I was left thinking they could’ve aimed higher. Maybe next time they’ll actually look forward, instead of over their shoulder, and give us a story that hits harder than the punches.

Amazon, along with these streamers, has this one for theater pricing.

https://jackmeat.com/karate-kid-legends-2025/

Tornado (2025) | Tornado is worth a look if you're in the mood for something moody and offbeat, but don't expect a storm, more of a gust. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.5/10. In Tornado, director John Maclean attempts to blend samurai vengeance with the bleak grit of 1790s Britain, and the result is as unusual as it sounds. Kôki takes the lead as the titular Tornado, a fierce young Japanese woman left orphaned and hardened after her father’s traveling puppet samurai show is savagely ambushed by a gang of gold-hungry outlaws. With her father dead and her legacy stripped, Tornado sets off on a blood-soaked mission of revenge and reclamation.

On paper, Tornado sounds like a bold genre mash-up—samurai code meets survivalist Western in the British countryside. And in execution, it partially delivers. Kôki brings an intense physicality and stoic resolve to the role. She's convincing in her quiet moments and genuinely vicious when the vengeance finally kicks in. Tim Roth chews his scenes as the villainous gang leader Sugarman, delivering the right amount of menace, while Jack Lowden adds sleaze and smarm as his aptly named son, Little Sugar.

The cinematography is one of the film’s strongest aspects. Sweeping shots of barren fields, skeletal forests, and craggy cliffs give the movie a lonely, weather-beaten aesthetic that matches Tornado’s internal desolation. If you’re into films where characters trudge stoically through vast, empty landscapes, this one scratches that itch. It's atmospheric as hell.

But here’s where the wind dies down: Tornado moves at a glacial pace. While the movie markets itself as an "action survival thriller," the thrills are more in theory than in execution. The action is sparse and often short-lived. Long stretches are filled with brooding stares, slow marches through grass, and quiet plotting that don’t always justify their runtime. The supporting cast, mostly a who's who of nameless thug archetypes, never quite elevates the stakes beyond what’s predictable.

The film's attempt at samurai lore feels more like a garnish than a core ingredient. Yes, Tornado uses some swordplay and tactical thinking, but don’t expect a flurry of katana clashes or philosophical ruminations on honor. This is more about strategy and survival than spectacle.

Still, there's a brutal satisfaction to the film's final act. When Tornado finally stops running and starts doling out punishment, it’s refreshingly raw and unapologetic. No fancy hero speeches or moral dilemmas, just sharp steel and cold vengeance.

Tornado (2025)

In the end, Tornado is a movie with strong visuals, a solid lead, and a unique premise, but it never quite rises to the occasion. It simmers instead of boils, and its slow-burn approach may test the patience of those expecting non-stop action. Worth a look if you're in the mood for something moody and offbeat, but don't expect a storm. It’s more of a gust.

This one has been recently released on streamers, so choices are limited, but Amazon is one of them.

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

1978 (2025) | Atmospheric horror flick 1978 is a grim descent into institutional evil with some b-budget satanic undertones. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.3/10. Set against the backdrop of the 1978 World Cup final between Argentina and Holland, 1978 wastes no time in throwing the viewer into a brutal and oppressive atmosphere. While the football stadium roars in the background, a far more sinister match is playing out in a hidden detention center, where military torturers mistakenly abduct a group they believe to be communist dissidents. Only, it’s the wrong group. And the consequences of that mistake unravel into something far darker than they ever imagined.

The first 40 minutes are a grueling exercise in human cruelty. We watch as the captors—emblems of dictatorship-era sadism—commit abuse with impunity. These scenes aren’t designed to evoke sympathy or even catharsis. They're purposefully uncomfortable, practically daring us to root for their eventual demise. If you're unfamiliar with Argentina’s Dirty War and the political persecutions that characterized that era, the film doesn’t offer a history lesson, but it certainly conveys the dread.

When the twist arrives—that this new batch of prisoners isn’t just another group of innocent victims—it shifts the film’s tone into something more supernatural, occult, and yes, a bit hokey. The satanic ritual elements that emerge feel jarringly theatrical compared to the grounded and grim realism of the first act, and it threatens to veer into B-movie territory. Still, the commitment to practical effects and a grungy, 80s-style horror aesthetic helps tie the tonal shift together, even if not seamlessly.

What 1978 lacks in polish, it compensates for with its atmosphere. The cinematography is claustrophobic and intentionally disorienting. The detention center becomes a character in its own right, suffocating, oozing with shadows, and religious iconography. There’s a surreal sense of decay and spiritual rot that permeates the entire location, suggesting that the evils committed there have seeped into the very walls. It’s oppressive, unsettling, and often haunting.

The film’s biggest strengths lie in its visual storytelling and commitment to ambiguity. You’re never quite sure who to trust or what’s really happening. That blurred line between reality, folklore, and madness keeps you on edge. A few decisions made by characters (especially one near the end that seems totally unearned) might make you roll your eyes, but hey, it wouldn’t be a horror flick without a few genre tropes.

What 1978 isn’t is a clean revenge horror. There’s no justice here, no neat moral alignment, and certainly no redemption. The gore is sparing but impactful, each act of violence serving as a grim reflection of both physical torment and the systemic evil of the dictatorship. It’s less a conventional horror film and more a spiritual reckoning soaked in blood.

1978 (2025)

In the end, 1978 doesn’t offer catharsis. It leaves you with rot, ghosts, and a gnawing sense of unresolved horror, much like the real-world events it evokes. It’s messy, sometimes inconsistent, but undeniably evocative. Not everyone will connect with its mix of political terror and occult horror, but it leaves a scar, and maybe that was the point.

No streamers available as of 07.14.25.

https://jackmeat.com/1978-2025/

The Surfer (2025) | The Surfer is surreal, introspective, a touch hilarious, and technically gorgeous. I had a blast being confused and uncomfortable. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.2/10. Some movies take you on a clear journey. The Surfer instead plops you down on a sun-bleached Australian beach next to a delirious Nicolas Cage and tells you to fend for yourself. And honestly? That’s kind of the joy of it. Without Cage, this is half the movie it was.

In this hauntingly bizarre psychological spiral, Cage plays an American who returns with his son to the idyllic coastal spot of his childhood, hoping to share some gentle waves and nostalgic memories. Instead, he runs smack into a gang of sneering local surfers, led by Scally (Julian McMahon), who make it their mission to humiliate, torment, and spiritually waterboard him right there in the sand. What starts as casual gatekeeping escalates into relentless harassment, gaslighting, and a truly staggering amount of sunburn.

It’s a role that only a handful of actors could pull off, and Nic Cage is absolutely at the top of that short list. Watching him endure wave after wave of physical punishment, dehydration, and mental games is somehow both excruciating and wildly entertaining. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I enjoyed seeing someone suffer on screen this much. Not because I’m a sadist (probably), but because Cage sells it with such fragile, sun-stroked commitment that you can’t look away.

Despite the heavy layers of cruelty, The Surfer maintains a strangely whimsical, almost comedic vibe. There’s a dreamy undercurrent that constantly made me wonder if any of this was actually happening, or if Cage’s character was simply hallucinating from heat and humiliation. At times, the film teeters right over the line into absurdity, so much so that I found myself laughing at moments that probably weren’t intended to be funny. Picture Cage, sweaty and half-mad, ranting on the beach while locals stare at him like a washed-up jellyfish. It’s surreal cinema gold.

The movie doesn’t bother to hold your hand, either. It strands you in the hot sand right alongside Cage, offering no easy explanations or tidy moral lessons. I kept finding myself squinting at the screen, trying to figure out if this was a psychological meltdown, a literal dream, or some cruel Aussie social experiment. By the end, I felt as sunbaked and parched as Cage in the best possible way.

If the story sometimes floats adrift, it’s anchored by breathtaking cinematography. Director Lorcan Finnegan captures the shimmering surf and harsh coastal glare in a way that’s hypnotic, making The Surfer as much an audiovisual experience as it is a narrative. The sound design alone is worth the ride, washing over you in crashing waves and echoing dread.

The Surfer (2025)

Ultimately, The Surfer is less about clean storytelling and more about mood, madness, and watching Nicolas Cage disintegrate under the Aussie sun with style. It’s surreal, introspective, a touch hilarious, and technically gorgeous. I had a blast being confused and uncomfortable, and if that’s your cinematic jam, you probably will too.

A few streamers are carrying this one at matinee prices.

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

Departing Seniors (2024) | If you’re a slasher completionist, this sometimes silly slasher provides enough masked killer mayhem to pass the time. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.3/10. Departing Seniors is the kind of horror-thriller that lands somewhere between intriguing concept and clumsy execution. It's a teen slasher that tries to blend social commentary, high school politics, and psychic murder visions, only to end up sort of half-passing each.

The story follows Javier (Ignacio Diaz-Silverio), a high school senior who gets so severely bullied that he winds up in the hospital. But instead of just therapy bills and some fresh trauma, he comes back with the unsettling ability to see snippets of gruesome murders right before they happen. Naturally, this sends him and his sharp-tongued best friend Bianca (Ireon Roach) on a mission to catch the killer stalking their hallways, all while trying not to get offed themselves.

It’s a solid enough premise, part Final Destination, part Scream, with a little psychic twist. Unfortunately, the movie’s pacing often sputters. It meanders through cafeteria politics and clunky character drama when it should be ramping up tension. By the time the killer gets around to thinning the cast, you’re half-wondering if the guidance counselor might be the next victim just to spice things up.

Speaking of the cast, it’s mostly made up of unknown faces, which actually works in the film’s favor. Nobody feels like a big-name cameo waiting to get dramatically stabbed, and for the most part, they do fine with what they’re given, minus the occasional overblown line delivery that belongs in a CW audition tape.

The characters themselves are a mixed bag, leaning heavily toward the unlikable side. Sure, Javier is meant to be the sympathetic underdog, but the first chance he gets, he turns right around and becomes a bully himself. Hard to root for someone who’s only a victim until the power dynamic flips. It’s that kind of sloppy moral grayness that would be fascinating if it felt intentional, but here, it just comes off messy.

On the horror front, don’t expect much blood. The kills are firmly PG-13, creative enough to keep you mildly interested but nowhere near gnarly enough for us seasoned slasher fans craving buckets of gore. And yes, the movie’s logic often takes a vacation. We’re talking “how exactly did he hang himself without anything to stand on?” level of head-scratching.

Still, the whodunit angle injects enough mystery to keep things watchable. You’ll find yourself running through your mental suspect list right alongside Javier and Bianca, which at least gives the movie a little energy when the suspense falters.

In the end, Departing Seniors is perfectly fine for a one-time watch, especially if you’re a slasher completionist. It’s flawed, uneven, and sometimes downright silly, but it delivers enough psychic clues and masked killer mayhem to pass the time. Just don’t expect to be haunted by it once the credits roll or to remember half these kids’ names by morning.

Departing Seniors (2024)

There are a few freebies along with Amazon and other paid streamers.

https://jackmeat.com/departing-seniors-2024/

Heads of State (2025) | This is some shameless fun you stream on a Friday night with pizza, where world peace is a punchline and nobody’s pretending otherwise. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.7/10. Heads of State is exactly the kind of over-the-top, no-brakes buddy action-comedy the world could use right now. Directed by Ilya Naishuller (of Nobody fame, sequel coming next month), this Amazon Prime popcorn flick takes an already entertaining concept — the US President and the UK Prime Minister are frenemies — and drops it into a blender set to high speed with guns, globe-trotting, and some surprisingly sharp banter. The result? A cocktail that goes down easily, even if you’re pretty sure your brain cells are being asked to temporarily clock out.

John Cena stars as President Brackett, a larger-than-life former action star (hmm…foreshadowing?) who somehow ended up in the Oval Office. Idris Elba plays Prime Minister Cooper, a sharp, scowling statesman who’s perpetually two eye rolls away from needing a neck brace. Their public rivalry has become international tabloid fodder, threatening the age-old alliance between the US and UK. But when a mysterious power player puts a target on both their backs, the only way out is together, whether they like it or not. Enter Priyanka Chopra Jonas as Noel, a whip-smart MI6 agent who somehow manages to keep these two beefcakes alive while still looking flawless.

Elba and Cena are easily the movie’s greatest asset. Ever since they traded insults and bullets in The Suicide Squad, these two have had a palpable, goofy bro chemistry. Here, they're dialing it up to eleven. Whether they’re arguing over who gets the better bulletproof car or literally carrying each other through a Paris shootout, they’re so entertaining that you forget how absolutely absurd all of this is. The movie smartly lets them riff, cramming in plenty of quips between the hailstorms of bullets.

Speaking of absurd, this plot is one long string of convenient narrow escapes, high-octane car chases through quaint European streets, and third-act speeches about unity that somehow land without feeling cringe. It’s helped by the film’s refusal to take itself seriously for even a second. The humor is broad and sometimes straight-up cartoonish, but it knows it. Watching Cena’s president solemnly dodge a rocket launcher while trying to Tweet is a joke that basically writes itself.

Priyanka Chopra gets to flex some serious action chops, handling close-quarters fights and smirking one-liners with equal skill. If Elba and Cena are the chaotic frat boys of global diplomacy, she’s the long-suffering professional who saves the day while barely bothering to sigh at their idiocy. And let's not skip a classic bit of humor with Jack Quaid, who obliterates everything in his path.

Visually, Heads of State is a treat. The outdoor shoots across France, Serbia, and Italy give the movie a bright, globe-hopping sheen that complements the ridiculous stakes. Everything pops, from stylish safehouses in Trieste to farm-field brawls in Serbia.

Ultimately, this is a movie that argues that if the leaders of the free world just became besties, we’d all be fine, and honestly, who doesn’t want to believe that for two hours? Heads of State is goofy, slick, and brimming with charm. It’s exactly the kind of shameless fun you stream on a Friday night with pizza, where world peace is a punchline and nobody’s pretending otherwise. And in this climate? I’ll take that deal any day.

Heads of State (2025)

This one is currently a Prime Video exclusive. Here is a JustWatch link for the rest later on.

https://jackmeat.com/heads-of-state-2025/