Die’ced: Reloaded rehashes the original with extra gore and a longer ending, feeling more like recycled footage than a proper sequel. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 4.4/10. After being impressed with Die’ced a couple of years back, I was genuinely curious when Die’ced: Reloaded popped up. The thought of Jeremy Rudd finally getting the time and budget to finish what he started was exciting. Sadly, what we got feels less like a sequel and more like a Frankenstein patchwork job—half movie, half rerun.

The story brings back scarecrow-masked killer Benny, who’s set loose on Halloween night to carve up 1980s Seattle. The opening murder spree leans hard into practical gore effects, and they look great. Unfortunately, Benny doesn’t actually escape the asylum. Instead, a nurse accidentally releases him and then insists, “We can’t call the cops, we have to erase any trace he was ever at this hospital.” This, after explaining he’s been locked up for 17 years. That’s not just bad writing, that’s a Looney Tunes gag.

From there, we hit every slasher cliché like boxes on a grocery list. High school scene with pop music? Check. Halloween party with disposable victims? Check. Scenes that look suspiciously identical to the first movie? Double check. At a certain point, I started wondering if Rudd just dusted off the old footage, glued on some new scenes, and called it a day. The truth is, that is exactly what he did.

To the film’s credit, the kill sequences are a highlight again—bloody, practical, and occasionally hilarious when Benny suddenly channels the strength of ten dockworkers. Eden Campbell steps into final-girl territory, but she never fully sells the scream queen energy; her performance hovers between “damsel in distress” and “mildly inconvenienced.”

The original Die’ced ended with a decent twist, but here we get an extra ten minutes tacked on. That means more carnage, a peek at Benny’s unhinged mother, and a slightly more complete send-off. The problem is, those extra scenes don’t actually make the film feel new. It’s the same dish reheated with a splash of CGI blood for garnish.

In the end, you don’t need to watch both. Die’ced: Reloaded basically contains the entire first movie with a few bonus clips stapled in. If Rudd’s goal was closure, he delivered, but if it was to craft a worthy sequel, the result feels more like leftovers.

Die’ced: Reloaded (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/dieced-reloaded-2025/

Ethan Hawke dives into action-hero mode in this slick redemption thriller packed with practical stunts and nonstop firepower. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 6.3/10. 24 Hours to Live takes a concept that could have easily been dismissed as a throwaway gimmick and turns it into a surprisingly engaging action thriller. The film stars Ethan Hawke as Travis Conrad, a professional assassin who finds himself in a very unusual predicament. While on a contract job, he crosses paths with Lin (Xu Qing), an Interpol agent, and winds up on the wrong side of her trigger. Normally, that would be the end of the story—but thanks to a classified experimental procedure, Conrad is literally brought back from the dead. The catch? He’s only got 24 hours before the clock runs out again.

What could have been a silly setup actually works better than expected. Knowing he’s on borrowed time, Conrad makes the choice to turn against the people who resurrected him and instead joins Lin in protecting the informant he was originally hired to eliminate. The “race against the clock” angle adds some genuine tension, and while the script doesn’t try to reinvent the genre, it delivers a straightforward trip that leans on character chemistry and solid pacing rather than convoluted twists.

Hawke, who isn’t exactly known for being an action star, slips comfortably into the role. He brings just enough strength and humanity to Conrad that you can root for him, even as a career killer searching for redemption. His performance is helped by the fact that the movie wisely reveals bits of his past piece by piece, letting the audience connect with him without the story over-explaining. Xu Qing holds her own as Lin, and their dynamic feels earned rather than forced. Rutger Hauer also shows up as Conrad’s father-in-law Frank, though disappointingly, he’s given very little screen time—a missed opportunity considering Hauer’s presence alone adds weight to any film.

The action is where 24 Hours to Live shines. The filmmakers steer clear of drowning the movie in CGI, opting for practical stunt work, car chases, and grounded fight choreography. Yes, the gunfights occasionally betray their digital blood splatter, but overall, it’s refreshing to see a production that doesn’t lean too heavily on computers. The final twenty minutes, in particular, are a nonstop barrage of bullets and chaos. It’s excessive, sure, but undeniably entertaining.

Of course, I still spotted a few flaws. Some plot holes pop up, especially when it comes to the pseudo-science of bringing someone back to life, but when you’re dealing with a concept this pulpy, that’s to be expected. The important thing is that the film never takes itself too seriously—it knows what it is and leans into being a slick, fast-paced popcorn flick.

In the end, 24 Hours to Live doesn’t break new ground in the action genre, but it doesn’t need to. It gives Ethan Hawke a rare chance to step into action-hero territory and even sprinkles in themes of family and redemption without getting preachy. I have been a fan of his ever since a relatively unknown gem, Mystery Date, way back in 1991. The two films are nothing alike, although they share one thing. Both are just plain fun, and sometimes, that’s enough.

24 Hours to Live (2017)

https://jackmeat.com/24-hours-to-live-2017/

Weapons pulls you in from its chilling opening, layering mystery, tension, and disturbing imagery into one of 2025’s best. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 7.5/10. Zach Cregger’s Weapons wastes no time in pulling the rug out from under you. At precisely 2:17 AM, every child from Mrs. Gandy’s class gets out of bed, walks downstairs, opens their front doors, and disappears into the night—never to return. The scene, narrated in unsettling fashion by Scarlett Sher, drops us directly into the nightmare without a shred of setup, and from there the film becomes less about what happened and more about how different people process it.

The story unfolds in chapters, each centering on a different perspective, slowly piecing together fragments of the mystery. Julia Garner leads as Justine, the class’s teacher, who immediately becomes the town’s prime suspect. It’s not exactly a warm welcome when your name tops the blame list, but Garner gives Justine an edge of haunted strength, playing her as someone frantically trying to hold herself together while the walls close in.

On the other side, Josh Brolin’s Archer is a grieving father whose son Matthew is among the vanished. While the rest of the town points fingers, Archer actually wants answers. Brolin brings a strong, heavy presence that balances out the hysteria around him. Then there’s Alden Ehrenreich as Paul, with his Tom Selleck moustache. He plays a cop (and Justine’s occasional “friend”) whose investigation leads him into some genuinely disturbing encounters—chief among them James, a local lowlife played by Austin Abrams. James stumbles into imagery so unsettling that it feels ripped straight from any parent’s nightmares, and his subplot is a highlight.

The film doesn’t stop there. Benedict Wong takes time away from Shang Chi and shows up as Marcus, a child services worker who takes a call that makes you want to unplug your phone forever, and young Cary Christopher plays Alex, the bullied classmate and the sole child who didn’t vanish. His presence shifts the story yet again, leading us toward an unnerving and strangely poetic conclusion. Amy Madigan deserves applause—her turn as Gladys steals every scene she’s in, slipping between moods and moments with a fluidity that keeps you guessing what she really knows.

What makes Weapons work is its structure. Cregger builds the tension by layering character stories like a sinister Jenga tower, each block making you more nervous that it’s all about to collapse. The film rewards patience, and while the hints are there from the beginning, the full picture only clicks into place in the final act.

If there’s a drawback, it’s the ending. The movie comes tantalizingly close to sticking a perfect landing but seems to hold back just a touch, as if afraid of fully committing to its boldest ideas. Even so, the finale is strong and memorable—it just left me wanting that last ounce of gut-punch.

Minor quibble aside, Weapons is one of the strongest horror-thrillers of the year, cementing Cregger as more than a one-hit wonder after Barbarian. It will be giving Bring Her Back a stab for favorite of the year, if I needed to pick one. Disturbing, layered, and meticulously crafted, it’s a film best experienced blind. Go in knowing only this: the kids disappeared. The rest? Let the movie handle it.

Weapons (2025)

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

This is some gloriously bad action nostalgia with a bulletproof vest that quits after one hit, instant romance and mistimed fights. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 3.4/10. I knew this movie was in trouble when the first fight scene looked like the actors were reading tomorrow’s script instead of throwing punches. A Line of Fire kicks things off with Jack “Cash” Conry (David A.R. White) doing his best impression of someone reacting to punches that haven’t even landed yet. It’s like he’s auditioning for Minority Report: Kumite. And it doesn’t get better from there.

Cash is a former secret agent who traded his FBI badge for full-time dad duty after his wife passed. Noble, sure. But then his old partner’s niece Jamie (Katrina Bowden) rings him up with an emergency, and Cash jumps right back into a world of crime, corruption, and editing so choppy you’d think the film was spliced together during a car chase.

And speaking of Jamie, she might just be the clumsiest damsel this side of a Hallmark thriller. At one point, she wanders into a gas station, discovers a dead body, screams loud enough for Pluto to hear, and Cash—who is literally staring at the body from five feet away—somehow doesn’t notice it. Then, in an inspired bit of action logic, Cash picks up a random backpack, throws money on the counter, and walks out. Apparently, this nameless attendant moonlights as a personal shopper for on-the-run FBI dads.

Enter the villains: Cuba Gooding Jr. as “bad guy” and Jason Patric as “worse guy,” running a gun-smuggling business so loosely sketched it makes Mad Libs look like Tolstoy. There are vague mentions of “snitches,” but the plot doesn’t bother circling back until the wrap-up ending, which lands with the grace of a bowling ball dropped on a trampoline.

Romance? Oh, you bet. Jamie and Cash go from “I don’t know who you are” to “let’s make out” in about the same time it takes me to microwave popcorn. If that wasn’t enough, Scott Baio strolls in as a retired cleaner, reminding us that apparently everyone got a call to dust off their ’90s direct-to-video résumés.

The action logic is equally priceless. Bulletproof vests apparently only work once, because after taking a single shot, Cash just ditches his. I guess Kevlar is like a smartphone screen protector—you crack it once, it’s basically useless. Add in the classic “I’ve got one more shot left before I die” trope, complete with a bullet wound so harmless it looked like the cinematic equivalent of a paper cut, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for unintentional comedy.

And then—because the film just can’t help itself—the main villain is revealed to be “Mr. X.” Yes, like that Mr. X, the one from Resident Evil or maybe even Mega Man. I laughed, not because it was clever, but because I suddenly realized Capcom video games have deeper plots and stronger dialogue than this script ever dreamed of.

Look, if you’re nostalgic for those straight-to-video action flicks that Lorenzo Lamas and Michael Dudikoff used to crank out in the ’90s, A Line of Fire might scratch that itch. But don’t fool yourself—there are far better examples of that era to revisit. This one’s more like reheated leftovers: technically edible, but you’ll regret it halfway through.

A Line of Fire (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/a-line-of-fire-2025/

A trippy descent into the mind that mistakes surreal ASMR noise for substance. Bold concept, but without story, it’s empty therapy. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 4.1/10. Jacob’s got problems, serious, deep-rooted mental ones, and in his desperation for relief, he volunteers for a radical new treatment that promises peace of mind. Instead, what he gets is a claustrophobic nightmare. Trapped in a house with a tunnel into his subconscious, Jacob’s journey toward healing becomes a fractured maze of distorted time, splintered memory, and bending reality. On paper, it sounds like a trippy character study. In practice, Soul to Squeeze is more like watching a high-concept student project that forgot to bring a story along for the ride.

The movie immediately sets itself up as “visionary” by starting in a boxy 4:3 aspect ratio and slowly widening to 2.35:1 by the final frame. The idea is that we’re supposed to feel Jacob’s expanding perception as he claws toward redemption. In execution, though, it feels more like a gimmick—one of those things that only really lands if this is the first movie you’ve ever seen. Visually daring? Sure. Emotionally raw? Only because the press notes keep telling us it is.

Michael Thomas Santos takes the lead as Jacob, and all I could think throughout was: Yeah, living on your own without your parents can be tough, huh? His performance never sells the torment or the supposed breakthroughs; instead, it plays like a guy struggling through an endless ASMR session about how he misses his sister (at least I think that’s the intended subtext). The dialogue is sparse, the sounds are aggressively heightened, and the surreal imagery piles on without ever forming something meaningful. It’s less a descent into the psyche and more a retread of a junior high educational video about how the eye works.

Where Soul to Squeeze truly stumbles is in its attempt at a grand “Aha!” moment. The finale tries to deliver a revelation, but unless you’ve barely seen any films before, it’s impossible to be surprised. Instead of leaving me shaken or reflective, I just shrugged and thought, That’s it? It’s hard to be emotionally invested when the movie doesn’t bother to ground its experimentation in a narrative worth following.

That said, there are glimmers of promise. Director W.M. Weikart, making his debut here, clearly has an inventive streak. The ambition is undeniable, and the willingness to play with form and sensory tricks is admirable for a low-budget entry. If he can pair that same creative energy with an actual story next time, he might really have something.

As it stands, though, Soul to Squeeze feels like being trapped in someone else’s therapy session. It may be short (86 minutes), but it is indulgent, and nowhere near as profound as it thinks it is.

Soul to Squeeze (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/soul-to-squeeze-2025/

From an oxy-fueled intervention to spine-whacking mayhem, this flick is proof Disney didn’t fund or approve this message. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 3.3/10. Nothing says “timeless horror” like a knock-off Mickey Mouse suit and a squishy sound effects budget. We kick things off in 1997, where our killer, dressed like your childhood nightmare of Disneyland’s mascot, goes on the loose. The practical effects are allegedly on display, but the filmmakers decided to save money on lighting by… not using any. Half the kills take place in shadows darker than my expectations for Mouseboat Massacre. At least the Foley team nailed the “grocery store Jell-O cup” squish effect. So that’s something.

Fast forward 28 years later (get it? 28 Years Later? Coincidence? The producers hope you’ll think not). Instead of the usual vacation-gone-wrong or cabin-in-the-woods setup, this time, a family drags their daughter Mimi (Lauren Leppard) to an intervention. Fresh angle, sure, but also possibly the first horror movie where the monster competes for screen time with a very special episode of Intervention.

Connie (Kathi DeCouto), whom I last saw cashing a check in Popeye’s Revenge, pops up here, reminding us that acting may not be the reason anyone is watching—or surviving—this. Mimi, meanwhile, is addicted to oxycodone, and while she sells the glazed-over look just fine, she trips and falls with all the grace of a sleepwalking mannequin. Speaking of continuity, a black man got decapitated, and the separated head was off a white mannequin LOL.

The mouse’s summoning point? Not a cursed book, not an ancient artifact—nope, it’s a VHS tape, straight out of The Ring’s garage sale. Once unleashed, Sadistic Mickey gets down to business. And by business, I mean cutting off limbs, faces, and in one very creative first, beating someone with their own spine. The brutality is plentiful, and the blood flows generously enough to keep horror fans awake through the otherwise bland storyline.

Unfortunately, blood alone doesn’t float this boat. Writer Harry Boxley serves up a script that’s as generic as pre-sliced white bread. The kills deliver, but the story limps along like Mimi after her fourth fake trip-and-fall. Just when I thought the movie was going to land on a solid, gruesome ending, the filmmakers dragged it on with a nonsensical finale that had me wondering if the VHS tape also cursed the editing department.

I suppose Mouseboat Massacre offers enough gore and absurd mouse mayhem to satisfy the midnight-movie crowd, but if you’re looking for an actual story or scares beyond “squishy noises in the dark,” you may want to steer your boat elsewhere.

Mouseboat Massacre (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/mouseboat-massacre-2025/

A limp Italian rom-com disguised as a sports comedy, this misfired mystery is on my waiver wire of movies being predictable & pointless. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 3.8/10. Some movies fumble the ball. Others get flagged for unnecessary melodrama. Fantasy Football Ruined Our Lives manages to pull off the cinematic equivalent of punting on first down and then celebrating like it was a touchdown.

On paper, it sounded promising: a buddy comedy wrapped around a mystery, fueled by the obsessive energy of fantasy football leagues. Only—plot twist—it’s Italian. Which means we’re not talking about the NFL, but soccer. Yes, instead of arguing over whether to draft Patrick Mahomes, these degenerates are yelling at each other about Serie A midfielders, which is objectively less funny unless you already have an encyclopedic knowledge of Lazio’s bench depth. Netflix slapped a dub on it anyway, so you get the unique experience of hearing grown men scream “FOUL!” in English while their lips are clearly forming “fallo.”

The story kicks off when Gianni (Enrico Borello) vanishes on his wedding day, presumably fleeing from both matrimony and a terrible draft pick. His friends start recounting the chaos of his bachelor party, which should’ve been a comedy goldmine of sports obsession run amok. Instead, the film spends most of its runtime pivoting to a limp rom-com subplot between Andrea (Silvia D’Amico) and Simone (Giacomo Ferrara). She’s the league’s first female manager—gasp, progress!—and like Clockwork, the script immediately shoehorns in a romantic angle, because heaven forbid a woman be included in a sports comedy without also being a love interest.

The police investigation into Gianni’s disappearance is played with the same realism you’d expect from a Looney Tunes sketch, except without the charm. Officers shrug, crack jokes, and somehow schedule their questioning around fantasy football auctions. It’s not funny, it’s not suspenseful—it’s just baffling. And when the big reveal finally drops? Let’s just say you’ll wish they had kept him missing.

The pacing is a disaster. Comedy bits arrive late, panting and out of shape, while dramatic moments appear like uninvited relatives at a wedding reception: nobody asked for them, and they linger far too long. The humor itself is about as sharp as a deflated ball, full of predictable setups and punchlines you’ll see coming a full 90 minutes before they land.

And here’s the kicker (pun intended): if you’ve ever played in a fantasy league, you already know your Discord chat is funnier than this movie. Every league has the guy who drafts someone who retired two years ago, or the one who swears they’d win if it weren’t for injuries or referees. That real-life absurdity is where the comedy lives, and somehow this movie manages to avoid it entirely.

Fantasy Football Ruined Our Lives (2025)

By far, the funniest material in Fantasy Football Ruined Our Lives arrives in the end credits scenes, which tell you everything you need to know about the preceding 96 minutes. If you make it that far, congratulations: you’ve officially outlasted the script.

https://jackmeat.com/fantasy-football-ruined-our-lives-2025/

A stylish, funny, goo-filled body-snatcher flick with great monsters, awkward family drama, and just enough Creed to make you squirm....#jackmeatsflix

My quick rating – 5.9/10. My first thought was, “So, cultural decline is a rash that turns into an alien body snatcher. Gotcha.” Well, basically, that is Ick. Director, cast, and probably the guy who picked the soundtrack all lean into this idea like it’s fresh, even though zombie flicks have been riffing on cultural rot since George Romero was still smearing fake blood on extras. But hey, sometimes reheated leftovers taste good if you season them with enough style, humor, and the occasional Creed song.

We open with a montage of Hank (Brandon Routh), a weary science teacher whose life is basically “dad jokes with lab goggles.” Through quick flashes, we learn how he got here—failed relationships, school board meetings, and probably way too many PTA fundraisers. Enter Grace (Malina Weissman), the maybe-daughter who forces Hank to relive the most awkward family reunion questions of all time: “Do I call you Dad? Hank? Mr. Awkward Man With Too Many Science Puns?” Their relationship actually grows on you, carried by a mix of humor and “yikes, this is uncomfortable” energy.

The real star, though? The Ick itself. At first, it’s just an annoying growth everyone shrugs off, like a mold problem in an Airbnb. But soon it morphs into a full-blown parasitic body snatcher, grotesque and slickly designed, with enough ooze and gnarly transformations to keep horror fans happy. The creature effects shine, delivering some creative deaths that are equal parts gross and entertaining.

The humor mostly lands. The first attack scene in the weeds is a blast, the car sequence is amusing but overstays its welcome (seriously, I could’ve driven to a different theater during that), and then there’s Creed blasting on the soundtrack. Yes, Creed. Which either makes this movie instantly dated or secretly brilliant. I can’t decide. (If you are a fan, each Creed link is a different song on YouTube)

Jeff Fahey shows up as Hank’s dad and, like the cool uncle who always brings beer to the BBQ, steals every scene he’s in. Sadly, he’s underused, though he nails some well-timed comedy between infestation attacks. The prom sequence is the standout—a hilariously bad parental decision made after the military literally warned them about the alien threat. But that’s the point: it’s satire, and the joke is that humans would absolutely risk it all for bad punch and a DJ named “DJ Infectious.”

Where Ick falters is in depth. It’s stylish, fast-talking, and fun, but once the slime settles, there’s not much underneath. The metaphors about cultural decline are there, but they never cut deep; they just sit on the surface like an itchy rash. Which, I suppose, is fitting. This one should be available soon if you weren’t lucky enough to catch it at the Toronto Film Festival.

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

A thin but fun sequel where Bob Odenkirk turns a family theme park vacation into a bone-crunching dad-fueled demolition derby. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 6.4/10. The first Nobody worked because Hutch Mansell (Bob Odenkirk) felt like a vulnerable Everyman, a middle-aged dad who could snap at any moment but was still grounded enough that we bought into the fantasy. Nobody 2 takes a different approach: it strips away the vulnerability and turns Hutch into an indestructible, payback-hungry machine. Whether that’s an upgrade or a downgrade depends entirely on how much you enjoy watching an older father beat the smugness out of anyone dumb enough to cross him. Spoiler: it’s still bizarrely satisfying.

The film opens with Hutch in an interrogation room, dog loyally by his side. It’s clearly a setup that we’ll return to later, and it establishes right away that this sequel isn’t pretending to reinvent the wheel. Instead, it’s doubling down on what worked the first time: stripped-down plotting and bone-crunching fight sequences.

This time, Hutch decides to take his family on a nostalgic vacation to a small-town theme park. Unfortunately for them, the park is run by a corrupt operator, guarded by a crooked sheriff, and tied to a ruthless crime boss. The setup is simple—overly simple, really—but that’s by design. The writer seems intent on proving that you don’t need espionage or convoluted twists to keep an audience engaged. They’re right. At only ninety minutes, the film flies by, paced with surprising efficiency.

Still, the stripped-down story comes with a cost. The mysterious, anti-hero aura that made Hutch such a compelling figure the first time around is gone. He’s no longer a man reluctantly dragged into chaos; he’s actively seeking it, handing out punishment for even the smallest offenses. That shift makes him less sympathetic and more of a one-man wrecking crew. The film leans into that shift unapologetically, making it feel closer to a ’90s action-comedy than a gritty revenge tale.

Where the film stumbles is with its villain. Casting Sharon Stone as Lendina, a matriarch described as the “eat her own children” type, sounds promising on paper. Fun? Slightly. Intimidating? Not even close. But she only gets one scene to prove her ruthlessness, and it falls flat. It feels like she borrowed her performance from Richard E. Grant’s cartoonishly weird villain in Hudson Hawk (don’t believe the hype, that is an underrated gem).

But let’s be honest: nobody is here for the villain. We’re here to see Bob Odenkirk, an older father who now fights like he’s auditioning for the senior Olympics in bone-snapping. The fights are the movie’s bread and butter—well-paced, brutal, and creative enough that you’ll never look at a Tilt-a-Whirl the same way again. Watching Hutch turn innocent amusement rides into elaborate death traps is exactly the kind of “dad power fantasy” cinema you didn’t know you wanted until you saw it.

Nobody 2 (2025)

In the end, Nobody 2 knows exactly what it is. The plot is thinner than cotton candy, the villains are undercooked, and the mystique of the original is gone. But if all you want is ninety minutes of Odenkirk as the grumpiest PTA dad who ever lived, cracking skulls and running through inventive set pieces in a warped amusement park, this sequel delivers on that front.

https://jackmeat.com/nobody-2-2025/

Pop stardom meets creepy grins in Smile 2, upping the gore with Naomi Scott shining despite another contrived ending. #jackmeatsflix...

My quick rating – 6.7/10. Another one from the “oops, forgot this existed while it drowned in my watchlist” pile. Smile 2 is a standalone sequel that wastes no time diving back into its twisted rules. Director Parker Finn once again kicks things off hard and fast with a long, chaotic “one take” opener that’s as gory and frantic as anything from the first film. It’s an effective way of providing continuity, like the entity tapping you on the shoulder and saying, “Remember me?” Yeah, we do. Unfortunately.

This time, the unlucky host is Skye Riley (Naomi Scott), a global pop sensation whose life is already overwhelming without supernatural smiles creeping into her entourage. The pop music backdrop is a clever move—it gives the film a flashy, neon-lit stage to contrast the grisly stuff happening behind it. Scott sells the role, even if Skye is written as an entitled diva. In fact, she’s the shining star of the movie, turning what could’ve been a shrill stereotype into a performance worth watching on its own.

The gore delivers more than the first one, with some well-executed kills and creative sequences that prove Finn knows how to get under your skin. But the movie leans a little too heavily on cheap jump scares and loud stingers, which start to feel more like a prankster with a foghorn than a malevolent cosmic entity. The creepy, creative moments land stronger—those sequences where the camera lingers too long or a smile shows up where it shouldn’t. That’s the good stuff.

The downside? Just like the first, Smile 2 stumbles at the finish line. The ending feels contrived, designed to force the absolute worst-case scenario rather than earn it naturally. There’s even a twist baked in, though I won’t spoil it, that adds a little extra bite but doesn’t mask the fact that the story still refuses to explain much about the entity itself. For a rare sequel I actually enjoyed more than the original, it’s frustrating that neither entry knows how to stick the landing.

That said, the increased budget does show, even if it didn’t exactly equate to bigger box office numbers. The production feels slicker, with a polished aesthetic and bolder set pieces, though the core strengths remain the same: strong performances, creepy tension, and trauma lurking just beneath the surface. It’s a promising series so far, one that feels like it’s building toward a third film where (hopefully) the rules of this curse get fleshed out and wrapped up in a way that’s more satisfying.

Overall, Smile 2 might rely too much on startle tactics, but between the gruesome creativity, a few excellent set pieces, and Naomi Scott’s magnetic performance, it lands as an above-average sequel. I liked it a bit better than the original, though for different reasons. Still, I hope the next one gives us fewer jump scares and more answers.

Smile 2 (2024)

https://jackmeat.com/smile-2-2024/