Halloween (2018) | Halloween (2018) looked ready to slice up #Shocktober, but only proved evil ages better than tension. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.3/10. Forty years after the night that changed horror forever, Halloween (2018) promised to be the definitive reckoning between Laurie Strode and Michael Myers. Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis), now a traumatized survivor turned hardened recluse, has spent decades preparing for Michael’s inevitable return. When he escapes during a transfer from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, her lifelong paranoia proves justified. But as The Shape (Nick Castle) resumes his silent, relentless killing spree, the real question becomes whether Laurie’s obsession with the Boogeyman has consumed her more than the evil she fears.

I went into this with high expectations—waiting until I was back in Australia in 2019 to finally give it a watch—and unfortunately, it wasn’t worth the wait. It’s not a bad movie, especially by slasher standards, but it’s far too monotonous. The pacing plods along, draining much of the tension that made the 1978 original such a nerve-shredder. The setup of Michael being kept alive and transferred feels rushed, glossed over to get to the meat of the story. Laurie’s decades-long trauma and her obsessive preparation for a showdown that, on paper, should’ve been cathartic.

Curtis gives it her all, and her portrayal of Laurie as a woman scarred but unbroken is compelling. The problem lies in how the movie treats the horror. The kills are surprisingly restrained, which could’ve worked if the tension compensated—but it doesn’t. Instead, long stretches of characters slowly poking around dark hallways replace any real suspense. A full third of the movie feels like one endless search sequence that halts the momentum entirely.

Visually, though, Halloween nails the autumnal atmosphere. The orange-hued leaves, suburban streets, and eerie lighting evoke the spirit of Carpenter’s original. There’s craft here, especially in how the cinematography mirrors the first film’s voyeuristic framing. But the movie itself is rarely scary. Too many scenes show Michael casually strolling into homes and killing strangers without buildup or payoff. The result feels more mechanical than menacing. Michael becomes less a force of evil and more of a bored factory worker clocking in for another night shift of murder.

For what it’s worth, it serves as a passable 40-year-later wrap-up (though we all know it didn’t really end there). It looks great, Curtis delivers, and the respect for the original’s tone is clear. But Halloween just doesn’t pack the punch it should’ve. It’s eerie but dull and lifeless—a flick that, much like its masked villain, refuses to die but doesn’t quite know why it’s still walking. We shall see if Michael gets his bearings in Halloween Kills.

Halloween (2018)

https://jackmeat.com/halloween-2018/

Good Boy (2025) | A loyal dog versus the darkness, Good Boy blends supernatural chills with heartfelt emotion. Indy the dog absolutely steals this #Shocktober show. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 6.5/10. Very rarely have I seen a film come along that makes you question what’s going on inside the minds of animals, and Good Boy takes that concept to unsettling depths. Directed by Ben Leonberg, this supernatural drama follows Indy, a loyal dog who moves to a rural home with his owner, only to face unseen horrors lurking in the shadows. As the supernatural entities close in, it’s Indy—not the humans—who becomes the story’s emotional and heroic core.

For a trained animal, Indy the dog delivers a performance that puts most human actors to shame. He expresses fear, sadness, loyalty, and bravery with nothing more than subtle gestures, expressive eyes, and finely tuned body language. It’s no exaggeration to say this pooch deserves a Best Actor nomination. We often take for granted that dogs can sense death, illness, and emotion—but this film explores what that might mean to them. Imagine perceiving mortality itself; Good Boy turns that concept into a quiet nightmare, framed through the eyes (and nose) of man’s best friend.

Leonberg’s direction is nothing short of ingenious. He reportedly spent over 400 days across three years capturing Indy's performance with unparalleled realism. Nearly every shot is from the dog’s point of view, achieved by keeping the camera close to ground level—making the human world seem enormous, alien, and threatening. That choice pays off brilliantly, immersing us in a perspective that’s both intimate and terrifying. The decision to obscure human faces amplifies that immersion, forcing the viewer to emotionally anchor themselves to Indy’s experience.

The film’s supernatural angle, while not groundbreaking in plot, blends traditional haunted-house tension with an existential twist: how does an animal perceive evil? The scares are measured but effective—fleeting shadows, eerie sounds, and the slow realization that Indy may be seeing what his human cannot. The editing and effects are crisp, with moments of haunting imagery that linger just long enough to crawl under your skin.

Larry Fessenden’s involvement lends the film an indie-horror credibility, grounding its more experimental edges in something familiar for genre fans. But Good Boy isn’t just another ghost story—it’s a haunting, deeply original study of loyalty and fear through a non-human lens. Indy’s journey is emotional, sometimes heart-wrenching, and above all, believable. You genuinely feel his confusion, his courage, and his love.

Good Boy is a small, strange, and beautiful film about a dog who sees too much of the darkness we ignore. It’s eerie, emotional, and unforgettable—proof that sometimes, the bravest souls in horror don’t have to speak at all. (Keeping it spoiler-free, but I think my hints in the review say what I believe was really going on in this flick)

https://jackmeat.com/good-boy-2025/

Arcadian (2024) | This flick offers a mix of horror and action, bolstered by the enigmatic presence of Nicolas Cage. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 5.8/10. I don’t care what anyone says, you simply can’t go wrong with Nicolas Cage. Whether he’s going full-tilt crazy or quietly simmering under the surface, Cage always commits, and his latest flick Arcadian is no exception. Set in a dystopian future where Earth’s remaining inhabitants face relentless terror after nightfall, the film blends post-apocalyptic survival drama with creature-feature horror, and Cage gives it more emotional weight than it probably deserves.

Cage stars as Paul, a devoted father raising his two sons, Thomas (Maxwell Jenkins) and Joseph (Jaeden Martell), in a fortified farmhouse. By day, the world seems eerily calm—almost too calm—but once the sun sets, the family is under siege by monstrous, unseen terrors that roam the night. The rule is simple: be home before sundown. But when Thomas breaks that rule, Paul is forced to risk everything to bring him back before the horrors descend. What follows is a tense, grim, and occasionally touching story of family survival in a world gone dark, literally and figuratively.

One of the standout elements to me is the creature design. The monsters—sort of a twisted blend between the “lickers” from Resident Evil and bird-faced nightmares—are unnerving to watch. The way their heads violently twitch before they attack adds a jarring, insect-like menace that genuinely gets under your skin. The film uses them sparingly, which works in its favor, keeping the fear of the unknown alive until all hell breaks loose.

Cage, unsurprisingly, anchors the whole experience. Even when the dialogue gets clunky or the pacing starts to wander (and it does, especially in the middle act), he sells every scene with conviction. His portrayal of Paul carries the right mix of exhausted ferocity and paternal love, making the character feel real even amid the chaos. You could give this man a script about fighting toaster ovens, and he’d still find a way to make it compelling.

That said, Arcadian doesn’t completely escape the pitfalls of its genre. The plot hits familiar beats, the pacing slows to a crawl at times, and a few lines of dialogue feel pulled from the “end of the world” cliché handbook. Yet, despite these flaws, the film manages to hold your attention with its moody atmosphere, solid creature effects, and Cage’s ever-watchable performance.

It’s not groundbreaking, but it delivers enough tension and monster mayhem to satisfy fans of survival horror. In the end, Arcadian is exactly what you’d expect from a Nicolas Cage apocalyptic thriller—flawed but engaging, weirdly heartfelt, and just unsettling enough to make you think twice about venturing out after dark.

Arcadian (2024)

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

Halloween Candy (2025) | Halloween Candy proves not all treats are sweet, and this #Shocktober flick gives you cavities of the cinematic kind. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 2.6/10. With a name like Halloween Candy, I was hoping for a sweet, sugary bite of terror but it mostly left me gnawing on stale nougat. Molly Gazay stars as Liza, a recently divorced writer spending her first Halloween alone, and she’s desperate for inspiration. Luckily for her (and us, unfortunately), a parade of trick-or-treaters stops by, inspiring a series of spooky tales that make up this anthology of mild horrors. I like the premise, but like a bag of discount candy corn, most of it just tastes the same.

The first story, “Halloween House,” kicks things off with a crooked haunted house owner whose shady business practices come back to bite him—sorta. The setup promises something nasty, but the payoff is more “light nibble” than “savage mauling.” There’s a shootout (off-screen), a few blood droplets, and the vague sense that maybe the director wanted to go home early. Still, it’s passable if you fill in all the other stuff they could've done with it. (2)

Next up is “Predator,” a tale about a wolf-costumed kid and a creepy stranger that doubles as an after-school special for overprotective parents. It’s a reminder that stranger danger still sells, even if the execution here feels like it was filmed during a lunch break. By now, Liza’s already deep into her bottle of inspiration juice, and honestly, who can blame her? (2)

Then we get “Talking to the Dead,” where a group of teen drinkers decide it’s a good idea to contact their deceased friend via séance. Spoiler: it’s not. This one gets a few unintentional laughs thanks to some hilariously awkward dialogue and a budget séance setup. IF you have a good imagination, you can fill in what happens since they don't bother showing us. Still, it tries to say something about guilt and loss. The problem is, it mostly just says, “Please don’t drive drunk.” (2)

Just when you think things can’t get weirder, “Pumpkin Night” lumbers in. There’s pumpkin carving, grief flashbacks, and acting so wooden it might as well have been carved too. It’s not terrible enough to be funny, but not good enough to care about either. And yet… I kind of respected the effort. A little. Okay, barely. (3)

“Coronaween” attempts to resurrect COVID horror five years too late. It’s a tone-deaf, low-effort reminder that not every global trauma needs a sequel. By this point, I was rooting for the virus. And then, like a light at the end of the candy bag, “A Killer Date” arrives — a short with actual tension, a twist that kind of works, and some blood that doesn’t look like ketchup. A Halloween miracle. (2) (4)

Halloween Candy (2025)

Finally, the wraparound story comes full circle with Liza’s last visitor — a creepy clown who ties everything together in a finale that’s more confusing than cathartic. Still, kudos for the practical gore and trying to make it count. Halloween Candy may not rot your teeth, but it will test your patience. Not quite a trick, not quite a treat — just a middle-of-the-road bite from the bottom of the bag. (3)

https://jackmeat.com/halloween-candy-2025/

Abigail (2024) | A simple story, yet a very entertaining vampire flick that doesn’t shy away from violence or dark humor. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 7.2/10. Abigail is a gripping piece of horror that delivers bone-crunching action, a wicked sense of fun, and a surprisingly effective storyline. It’s a film that knows exactly what kind of monster it wants to be—bloody, stylish, and proud of its R-rating. I’ll admit, the trailers had me worried that it might water down the vampire element or lean too hard into camp, but thankfully, that never happens. This one bares its fangs early and doesn’t let go.

The story follows a mismatched group of would-be criminals who kidnap the twelve-year-old daughter of a powerful underworld figure, expecting a quick $50 million ransom. Their job seems simple enough: watch the girl overnight in an isolated mansion until the cash arrives. But things quickly take a turn for the horrifying when the captors begin to vanish one by one. Soon, it becomes clear that they’re trapped inside with something far from an ordinary child, and they’ve bitten off much more than they can chew.

One of Abigail’s strongest qualities is its focus. It never wastes time on unnecessary subplots or forced exposition. Instead, it keeps the pacing tight and the tension steadily climbing as the night spirals out of control. The setup might sound familiar, but the execution is sharp, and the blend of horror, dark humor, and claustrophobic suspense keeps it engaging.

The cast also elevates the material. Melissa Barrera shines as the titular Abigail, effortlessly shifting from eerie innocence to feral menace in the blink of an eye. She commands every scene she’s in and gives the vampire angle the punch it needs. Dan Stevens turns in a slick, delightfully sinister performance as the group’s ringleader, channeling the same twisted charm he brought to Cuckoo, and maybe turning it up another notch. Their dynamic adds real energy to the film’s more chaotic moments.

The sound design deserves a special nod, with its exaggerated bone-crunching effects that make every impact feel brutally real. Each hit, slam, or throw has weight behind it—you don’t just watch the violence, you feel it. Combined with a clever sense of timing and a dash of dark humor, it makes Abigail both gruesome and entertaining.

By the time the blood-soaked finale hits, the film has fully embraced its own madness, and it’s a blast to watch. Abigail never tries to be profound—it just wants to thrill and entertain, succeeding on all counts.

Overall, Abigail is a slick and savage horror-thriller that balances gore and humor with confidence. It’s feral and unapologetically fun—a reminder that vampire films can still feel fresh when they’re done with this much bite.

Abigail (2024)

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

Bone Lake (2025) | Clever marketing tricked me into watching an erotic thriller in a horror costume with some blood and a couple too dumb to leave. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 5.1/10. Their marketing fooled me into thinking I was getting a slasher. The Bone Lake trailer promises blood, mystery, and a killer lurking in the woods, but what we actually get is a darkly seductive psychological thriller with some laughs, a few drops of gore, and a bit of naked manipulation. The setup sounds promising: a couple’s romantic getaway at a secluded lakeside mansion turns into an uncomfortable double date from hell when another attractive pair shows up with their own twisted agenda. What follows is less Jason Voorhees and more “Basic Instinct meets a B-grade Netflix thriller.”

The movie opens strong with a brutal and misleading scene — a naked couple being hunted through the forest by a crossbow-wielding killer. It’s the kind of cold open that made me think, “Alright, we’re in for a ride.” Too bad that’s the last time the movie even flirts with horror. After that, it shifts gears into an erotic mind game between two couples. Diego (Marco Pigossi) and Sage (Maddie Hasson) are your average vacationing duo, while Will (Alex Roe) and Cin (Andra Nechita) are clearly the wildcards. Within minutes, Will and Cin’s manipulative energy takes over the film, though it’s hard to imagine why Diego and Sage don’t just pack up and leave.

The cast performance is uneven, with Nechita standing out as the only one who seems comfortable in her role. Roe tries to be the enigmatic bad boy but mostly just looks like he’s reading from a cold script. Pigossi and Hasson, meanwhile, give flat, reactive performances that don’t sell the tension or fear the story demands.

Despite the psychological tension it’s trying to build, Bone Lake spends most of its runtime simmering without ever boiling over. The dialogue and acting start off awkward, even the sex scenes feel rehearsed, but things smooth out slightly as the movie leans into its psychological manipulation. Still, it’s never suspenseful or genuinely sexy enough to work as either a thriller or an erotic drama. You keep waiting for the kills to ramp up, but the film takes its sweet time, teasing instead of delivering. When the violence finally arrives, the blood and brutality are done well enough, but by then it’s too little, too late.

By the end, it’s just another “crazy couple manipulates naive guests” thriller with predictable twists and a few moments of bloodshed tossed in as decoration. The setting is atmospheric, and there’s a hint of potential in its early scenes, but Bone Lake never finds its rhythm. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a lukewarm bath — pleasant for a minute, then just dull.

A case of clever marketing making my Shocktober list under false pretenses. If you came for the slasher it promised, you’ll leave disappointed. If you’re in the mood for a mildly steamy thriller that thinks it’s more shocking than it is, Bone Lake might float your boat.

Bone Lake (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/bone-lake-2025/

Helloween (2025) | Helloween takes the clown craze and turns it into a #Shocktober snooze fest. Art the Clown would be embarrassed. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.1/10. During the great killer clown craze of 2016, remember, when the scariest part was realizing people actually went outside? Well, Helloween tries to make it the setup for a global clown apocalypse. Dr. Ellen Marks (Jeanine Nerissa Sothcott) and her trusty sidekick journalist John Parker (Michael Paré) discover that all roads lead to Carl Cane (Ronan Summers), a smirking serial killer who somehow commands an army of honking, homicidal followers from prison. And then... well, the movie just sort of forgets to do anything cool with that.

I was expecting a film about a killer clown revolution to offer, at the very least, a few gruesome deaths or a memorable face-paint massacre. Instead, Helloween gives us the slasher equivalent of listening through the wall while your neighbor watches a better horror movie. Every single kill happens off-screen — you just get a sound effect and some reaction faces. Imagine Terrifier without the terror, the gore, or the Art… basically, imagine Terrifier rewritten by someone afraid of ketchup.

Summers’ performance as Cane is baffling. As a kid, his character was portrayed as an evil prodigy; as an adult, he feels like he’s warming up for open mic night at a Jim Carrey tribute act. It’s hard to be afraid of a man who seems two steps away from saying, “Somebody stop me!” Sothcott, meanwhile, delivers her lines with all the passion of someone reading the weather forecast during a hostage situation. Thankfully, Caroline Wilde, as her daughter Leah, manages to keep a shred of dignity amid the clownery (pun intended).

Then comes the twist. You know, that big “gotcha” moment every low-budget horror flick seems contractually obligated to attempt. Except here, it’s as predictable as a Halloween store opening in September. It doesn’t explain the supernatural nonsense or the logistics of a global clown uprising — it just waves vaguely at the idea and calls it a day.

I went in expecting a bloody, campy slasher perfect for a Shocktober binge. What I got instead was a movie that mistook confusion for mystery and ambient clown laughter for horror. Using the real 2016 clown craze could’ve been clever, maybe even unsettling. Instead, the film squanders that setup faster than a juggler dropping flaming pins. What was marketed as “an army of killer clowns” turns out to be… just one guy holding a grudge against his psychiatrist and a single follower, Candy. Talk about false advertising.

A 4.2 feels generous, but given the cinematic crimes I’ve endured lately, I’ll allow it. Helloween had a promising premise — evil clowns, Halloween chaos, potential for actual scares — but it honked its red nose straight into mediocrity.

Helloween (2025)

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

Coyotes (2025) | A slick but brainless #Shocktober siege flick where nature turns deadly and the humans prove dumber than the beasts. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 5.1/10. When you mix Hollywood vanity, a raging wildfire, and a pack of bloodthirsty coyotes, you’d think you’d have the recipe for a deliciously chaotic creature feature. Coyotes certainly starts that way, opening with the titular predators stalking an influencer—because, let’s face it, one less social media parasite isn’t exactly a loss to humanity. The sequence sets the tone: stylish, a bit snarky, and ready to sink its teeth into both the privileged elite and some practical gore. Unfortunately, the film itself ends up a bit like its prey, cornered by its own dumb decisions.

The movie introduces its human cast through fun, pop-art-style name cards that feel ripped from a hyperactive graphic novel. I like this playful touch that works well early on, giving us a quick sense of the characters’ eccentric personalities. There’s a nice rhythm to the setup, as we meet a group of rich, quirky types holed up in their Hollywood Hills mansion while the hills burn and coyotes close in. It’s a clever premise—nature reclaiming space while the self-absorbed elite scramble to survive—but it soon becomes clear that logic didn’t make it through the fire.

Take, for instance, Justin Long building a cage inside a sealed garage, as if the entire garage wasn’t already a massive cage. That’s the kind of head-scratching decision that drags the film down. And then there are the bizarre moments where characters talk to the coyotes, as if negotiating with nature’s murder puppets would make any sense. Still, there are flashes of promise here, particularly the practical effects work. One neighbor’s death scene delivers some satisfyingly gnarly gore, and the bite sequences don’t shy away from the red stuff.

Long gives a solid performance, managing to juggle panic and sarcasm in equal measure. His real-life wife, Kate Bosworth, adds an interesting layer of realism to their on-screen dynamic, especially since the film takes place in Hollywood itself. Their chemistry gives the movie a slight edge when the script starts wobbling. The humor, meanwhile, swings between sharp and cringeworthy, sometimes landing a chuckle but more often feeling forced.

I give director Colin Minihan some credit for keeping the tension alive during the quieter moments. He knows how to frame claustrophobic panic and stage a decent siege scenario. Unfortunately, the writing team doesn’t seem to know when to rein it in. The dialogue occasionally dips into outright stupidity, with lines and decisions so absurd you start rooting for the coyotes to thin the herd.

Visually, the film holds up—until the digital coyotes show up in full force. Their uncanny, weightless movements kill the tension more effectively than any tranquilizer dart could. It’s a shame, because when the movie leans on practical makeup and effects, it shines. The corpses look great, the attacks feel brutal, and there’s an old-school creature-feature energy buried beneath the clumsy CGI and nonsense dialogue.

Coyotes (2025)

In the end, Coyotes isn’t the disaster I thought it could’ve been. It’s messy and often laughable—but it’s also occasionally fun, bloody, and weirdly self-aware. As far as Shocktober distractions go, there are certainly better beasts out there—but worse ways to spend 90 minutes, too.

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

The Astronaut (2025) | Kate Mara shines in this decent space thriller, weighed down by poor decisions and a crash-landing finale. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 4.9/10. After spending months in space, The Astronaut, Sam Walker (Kate Mara), returns to Earth only to find that her biggest problem isn’t gravity, it’s what might have followed her home. Stuck in a high-security NASA facility that looks like a cross between a rehab center and an Airbnb with trust issues, Sam begins experiencing strange phenomena that suggest her mission didn’t quite end when she landed.

Mara does most of the heavy lifting here—emotionally, that is. She delivers fear, paranoia, and cosmic dread like a pro, even though the script doesn’t give her a lot to work with. It’s the kind of role where she has to sell both the “terrified astronaut” and “questionable decision-maker” sides of the character, and somehow she mostly pulls it off. Unfortunately, her choices, particularly when it comes to her health and her family’s safety, make about as much sense as volunteering for a second trip to space right after you’ve been probed by an alien lifeform.

Laurence Fishburne steps in as her father, bringing his usual commanding gravitas. He could read the NASA cafeteria menu and make it sound profound, so every scene he’s in feels instantly more important. The movie itself starts decently enough—a low-key sci-fi thriller with a mild horror vibe that keeps you watching without ever making you grip your seat. The pacing is steady, the visuals fine, the effects serviceable, and the performances strong enough to keep it from drifting into space debris territory.

Jess Varley, pulling double duty as writer and director, clearly aims for deeper themes about humanity, acceptance, and the emotional aftermath of exploration. And to her credit, those ideas do poke through now and then. The middle section even delivers some effective tension and genuinely eerie moments. But the final act, where the twist lives, feels rushed and underbaked, like the story reentered Earth’s atmosphere and burned up on descent. I thought the twist itself works; it’s everything around it that falls apart.

And when you think it’s over, the final credits surprise with a burst of breathtaking otherworldly imagery—fleeting glimpses of what The Astronaut could have been if it had leaned harder into its cosmic mystery instead of playing it safe. It’s like realizing the dessert you’ve been craving was in the kitchen the whole time, but the chef forgot to serve it.

The Astronaut isn’t bad, it’s just not the stellar experience it wants to be. A competent, mildly eerie, and occasionally thought-provoking space thriller, just don’t expect it to stick the landing. A decent one-time watch, especially for fans of slow-burn sci-fi, but not one you’ll likely revisit.

The Astronaut (2025)

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

Late Night With The Devil (2023) | A wonderful mix of demonic possession on a humorous 70s talk show set that dives slowly down into hell. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 7.0/10. Let’s see what all the hype is about. I can tell you what the fuss was about—a refreshing breath of air in the horror genre. Late Night With The Devil delivers a creative twist on the found footage formula, ditching the “I lost my hand-cam in the woods” cliché and opting instead for something far more original: the recovered footage of a 1977 late-night talk show broadcast that went catastrophically wrong. What we see is the supposed “unaired episode” of Night Owls with Jack Delroy, hosted by a wonderfully unhinged David Dastmalchian. What starts as a routine Halloween special soon devolves into chaos, unleashing something far darker than anyone expected—evil, live on television.

The film’s presentation is a stroke of genius. It blends behind-the-scenes footage, on-air segments, and the chaos during commercial breaks to give us a full sense of the world within the studio. The pacing is superb—this isn’t a film that tries to make you jump every two minutes but one that keeps you utterly absorbed, waiting for the next unsettling thing to happen. It feels like watching a train wreck you can’t look away from, only this train happens to be possessed by a demon.

The cast deserves plenty of credit. Ian Bliss as Carmichael, the magician and professional skeptic, adds just the right amount of tension and cynicism, grounding the increasingly bizarre events. But the real standout is Ingrid Torelli as Lily, the young girl supposedly channeling a dark presence. Her performance is eerie, controlled, and hypnotic—those wide, curious eyes scanning the set like she’s seeing through the world itself. She nails that unsettling blend of innocence and menace, and every moment she’s on screen feels charged.

The scares here are more psychological and atmospheric than outright shocking, but when the finale arrives, the gloves come off and the film dives headfirst into nightmarish territory. Unfortunately, that’s also where it stumbles a bit. The ending, while wild, feels like it doesn’t quite match the inventiveness that came before it. I was hoping for a more creative or emotionally resonant resolution after all that excellent build-up.

Even with that small gripe, Late Night With The Devil is a clever, immersive, and surprisingly stylish horror experience. It perfectly captures the look and feel of 1970s television while giving horror fans something fresh to sink their teeth into. If you grew up watching Letterman, Johnny Carson, or even The Larry Sanders Show, this twisted time capsule will feel eerily familiar—and by the end, you might never look at a live broadcast the same way again.

Late Night with the Devil (2024)

https://jackmeat.com/late-night-with-the-devil-2023/

The Benefactress (2025) | Claims to be extreme #Shocktober cinema, instead delivers depravity and softcore suggestion for a different kind of arthouse horror. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 2.8/10. Every once in a while, you stumble across a film that promises to be so transgressive, so deranged, so artistically liberated… that you brace yourself for impact — only to realize you’ve been handed a Nerf bat. The Benefactress is exactly that kind of experience.

Directed by Guerrilla Metropolitana, reportedly following up their cult(?)-acclaimed Dariuss — a film so underground I’m convinced most of its fans are imaginary — this new outing arrives wrapped in the mythology of danger. A “mysterious dying woman” with a fake name and a televangelist husband bankrolls the project, demanding only one thing: to appear via video link. Sounds like a strong setup for a cursed production. I was prepared for found-footage spiritual rot mixed with deranged control-fantasy chaos. What I got was… a film that really wants to be shocking, but settles for suggestive shrugging.

Let’s start with the stylistic promises. We’re warned up front. We’re told this is linked to Dariuss, that there were shadowy financiers, that unnamed actors had to remain anonymous for safety reasons. That’s adorable. I’ve seen public domain stock footage with more danger. The so-called depravity plays like a late-night cable softcore reel edited by someone terrified of legal liability. Every time a hit is about to land — cut to black. Every supposed moment of penetration — performed from angles so evasive that even chiropractors couldn’t confirm alignment.

And look, fake stuff doesn’t bother me. Theatrical violence is an art form. But don’t tell me you couldn’t show it — when clearly you just didn’t. There are actors in the adult industry who will gladly allow penetration to be filmed, be it a dildo or a penis. The Guinea Pig films from the ’80s still make this look like a church pamphlet. Even the much-hyped “pet” character never reads as anything but a mildly irritated sub working off-script discomfort, not mortal terror.

Then there’s the claim of subliminal messaging. I was told: “The film contains almost undetectable visual subliminals.” Translation: a quick flash of text spelling out exactly what you’re already looking at. That’s not subliminal — that’s a PowerPoint cue card.

Juicy X delivers every line like someone’s standing behind the camera mouthing, “read it or I delete your passport.” The deliberate sound distortion adds nothing but tinnitus. And don’t even get me started on “the cleaner goes down on a dead chick”. It’s not shown. It’s not shocking. It’s an idea someone wrote down at 3AM and refused to delete out of pride.

The biggest flaw? Repetition. With no plot and no escalation, the film loops through staged degeneracy like a broken fetish screensaver. Instead of spiraling into madness, it stalls into mild inconvenience. I wanted to be horrified. Instead, I was checking the timestamp like I was stuck in line at the DMV.

To Guerrilla Metropolitana — thanks for the early access. I respect the ambition. But if you’re going to pitch yourself as extreme cinema, you’ve got to commit. Still, hey — if the filming of The Benefactress got you a deranged threesome out of the deal, at least someone walked away fulfilled. I saw this as a step down from the previous effort in Dariuss. I do look forward to seeing what you have in store for the future when this gratuitous ego stroke is done.

The Benefactress (2025)

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

Dariuss (2023) | You’ll either admire its audacity or stare in confusion, wondering why the sink won’t stop dripping. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 3.7/10. Dariuss bills itself as an “unspeakable, sickening and perverse cinematographic voyage of blood, bodily fluids and madness,” and, for once, the marketing isn’t exaggerating. Shot like a fever dream on a handheld camera in the quiet countryside of Essex, it follows a middle-class family shattered by the loss of their young daughter. There’s no dialogue. No clear exposition. Just grief fermenting in silence until it curdles into something unrecognizable. You’d think that setup alone would be enough to pull at the heartstrings, but Guerrilla Metropolitana isn’t interested in sentimentality—he’s aiming for something rawer, stranger, and far less forgiving.

The film operates like someone broke into their neighbor’s house, filmed them silently dissolving into madness, and then forgot to add a score… so they looped the sound of a leaky faucet instead. I’m not exaggerating — if there was a nomination for “Most Overused Kitchen Sink Drip as Emotional Bridge,” Dariuss would sweep the category. It’s equal parts immersive and infuriating. You either let it wash over you, or you reach for the remote.

To its credit, the voyeuristic style is effective. We’re not watching a ghost story so much as intruding on one. Early scenes linger uncomfortably long on mundane actions — eating, sitting, staring — until the air feels heavier than any haunted house soundtrack could manage. The titular Dariuss begins as little more than a shadow in the corner, a figure glimpsed rather than revealed. At that point, I was on board. The ambiguity was working. Was this grief given form? A supernatural parasite? Or just one family collectively losing their minds?

Unfortunately, that quiet dread soon pivots into full surrealist meltdown. Hair scalps, high heels, bodily fluids, erotic asides that I’m still trying to categorize — it’s like someone fed David Lynch, Lars von Trier, and the Red Shoe Diaries into a blender and hit frappe. The refusal to explain itself becomes less courageous and more of a dare. There’s a fine line between poetic ambiguity and narrative abandonment, and Dariuss takes a flying leap over it in stilettos.

Still, I respect the swing. In a cinematic landscape obsessed with over-explaining every mystery, there’s something admirable about a film that simply stares back and refuses to clarify. It’s absolutely a love-or-hate situation, and I’m landing firmly in “mild appreciation with a raised eyebrow.” Guerrilla Metropolitana clearly has vision — even if that vision occasionally involves zooming way too close to bodily fluids. I was recently sent their latest film, The Benefactress, and if nothing else, Dariuss has ensured I’m curious… if slightly braced for impact. (Will be my next review)

Dariuss (2023)

https://jackmeat.com/dariuss-2023/

The Long Walk (2025) | A brutal walk to the death. The Long Walk turns Stephen King’s dystopia into a hauntingly plausible endurance nightmare. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 7.0/10. Francis Lawrence’s The Long Walk trudges down a grim, hypnotic road that feels both eerily plausible and disturbingly familiar. Adapted from Stephen King’s early Richard Bachman novel, the film imagines a dystopian America ruled by a military dictatorship, where teenage “volunteers” enter a government-run endurance contest that doubles as a public execution. The conceit is simple yet nightmarish: one hundred young contestants must keep walking at over three miles per hour. Fall below the pace three times, and soldiers escorting them on the highway deliver swift, televised justice. The last one standing wins “whatever he desires.” Everyone else dies for the nation’s amusement.

Cooper Hoffman leads as Raymond Garraty, a boy driven by something more complicated than hope. Alongside him, David Jonsson’s Peter McVries provides the kind of emotional counterbalance that keeps the movie from collapsing into nihilism. Their chemistry builds the heart of the story, as exhaustion and fear strip away the thin veneer of patriotism they were sold. The rest of the competitors blur together at first, but Lawrence wisely lets their personalities emerge through snippets of conversation and brief, fleeting humanity. The dialogue is surprisingly natural, balancing gallows humor, confusion, and philosophical musings about freedom and purpose.

Mark Hamill is rock solid as the authoritarian Major, commanding the event with a chilling, bureaucratic calm. His presence is simultaneously theatrical and terrifying, perfectly embodying a regime that has learned to turn cruelty into pageantry. Every time a participant falters and receives their “final warning,” the ensuing execution scene hits hard — not just for its brutality, but for its cold efficiency. Lawrence doesn’t shy away from showing the violence, yet he never lets it feel gratuitous. Instead, it becomes part of the film’s oppressive rhythm, like the steady beat of boots on pavement.

Despite the simple setup — it really is just a marathon of walking — The Long Walk sustains a surprising amount of tension. The cinematography captures both the monotonous grind of the endless road and the psychological unraveling of the marchers. The longer it goes on, the more the landscape blurs into a hallucination of sweat and despair. The pacing slows deliberately, almost daring the viewer to feel the exhaustion alongside the boys.

That said, Lawrence’s adaptation does soften King’s original bleakness. I did notice some missing elements and a reworked ending that feels a bit too polished — a touch of Hollywood sheen where King’s text offered raw despair. Still, the film’s core message survives: youth as disposable entertainment, violence as spectacle, and the way societies numb themselves by televising cruelty.

The Long Walk might not fully explore the philosophical potential of its concept, but it’s still a powerful, unsettling experience. Between its strong performances, technical excellence, and haunting premise, it lingers like a nightmare you can’t quite shake. As I have been saying for years, Reality TV hasn’t gone this far yet, but mark my words, it’s only a matter of time.

The Long Walk (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/the-long-walk-2025/

Monster Tapes (2025) | Two vloggers, one monster, zero logic. Monster Tapes is chaotic horror nonsense that almost escapes full #turkey status. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 2.4/10. After a blogger’s monster video goes viral, he vanishes into the wilderness, leaving behind only his shaky handi-cam legacy. Naturally, two amateur mythbusters decide to investigate and prove that “The Hollowed One” is just another online hoax. Unfortunately for us, that also means enduring their acting for the next hour of Monster Tapes.

We kick things off with some of the most aggressively high-school-looking performances I’ve seen this year. The first few minutes feel like an improv exercise gone rogue, complete with the kind of dialogue that makes you wonder if the script was printed on napkins. Our fearless debunkers are camping in a tent roughly the size of a laundry hamper, and somehow emerge the next morning with perfect hair and clean clothes. Sure, Jan.

One girl even dons a Rambo-style bandana, ready to face evil — or maybe just mosquitoes. Before long, soldiers appear out of nowhere, supposedly there to hunt the monster (and possibly the girls, because why not?). Toss in some random hunters for good measure, and suddenly we’re knee-deep in a chaotic forest free-for-all. By the time the monster actually attacks, it’s like everyone forgot which movie they were in.

And yet… I have to give a little credit where it’s due. The editing during the attack scenes is oddly creative — chaotic, yes, but interesting. The monster fight choreography looks like a lost TikTok dance trend, but at least it’s trying. The director, Ashley Hays Wright, seems to have a spark of visual ambition buried somewhere beneath all the confusion. The use of miniatures mixed with CGI hints that someone on this crew actually cared.

At just 61 minutes, Monster Tapes doesn’t overstay its welcome — though it does test your patience. It’s one of those rare cases where the film is bad on nearly every level, but you can still sense a tiny glimmer of potential trying to claw its way out of the carnage. If Wright ever wrangles the madness into something coherent, we might get a decent B-movie someday.

For now, Monster Tapes is an endearingly awful, unintentionally funny monster mash that is definitely circling the coop of the #turkey pile.

Monster Tapes (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/monster-tapes-2025/

Traumatika (2025) | Traumatika starts strong with disturbing scares and solid practical effects, but loses steam toward the end. Still, an indie worth watching. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 5.2/10. If you ever needed proof that childhood trauma and cursed Egyptian relics don’t mix, Traumatika is here to hammer that message home with a blood-smeared shovel. The poster alone looks like something that crawled out of a therapist’s nightmare, and the opening text about the five types of childhood trauma isn’t exactly comforting. From there, we’re off to Egypt in 1910 for a ritual that screams “nothing good will come of this,” and sure enough, it doesn’t.

Fast forward to Pasadena, California, in 2003, because every good curse needs a long flight home, and little Mikey’s night terrors are about to turn into a full-blown demonic family reunion. The movie doesn’t waste time easing you in; it goes straight for the jugular. Between the nightmare-fueled scenes and a missing-kid storyline straight from Unsolved Mysteries: Hell Edition, it’s clear early on that no one’s sleeping soundly tonight.

Then we meet Abigail (Rebekah Kennedy), the woman holding the kid hostage and delivering a surprisingly effective performance. At first, she seems like your standard-issue lunatic, but the film actually gives her some disturbingly believable motivation. Turns out, her family makes the Texas Chainsaw clan look well-adjusted relatives. The father-daughter relationship alone is enough to make you want to call your parents just to thank them for not being monsters. Moms, however, might want to sit this one out, it gets rough.

Credit where it’s due: the gore and makeup effects look fantastic. No glossy CGI sludge here — this is old-school, sticky, tactile horror. The blood splatters, the demonic transformations, and the ghoul design are all convincingly grimy and gross in the best possible way. The first hour is pure Halloween fuel. Dark, gritty, and confidently mean-spirited. It even manages to layer in a surprisingly human message about how trauma festers through generations, giving the carnage some emotional weight.

Then, somewhere around the two-thirds mark, the movie hits a wall. The energy drops, the pacing slows, and suddenly it feels like someone switched reels with a lesser film. The plot meanders toward a finale that’s more “well, I guess that’s one way to end it” than “holy hell, what a finish.” It’s a shame, because the first half was on track to make this an indie horror knockout. Instead, it limps across the finish line and leaves the door open for a sequel, which, knowing horror, will probably happen whether we asked for it or not.

Still, there’s a lot to like here. Emily Goss also turns in a decent performance as Alice, Abigail’s younger sister, and Sean Whalen’s scenes are a fun surprise for horror fans who spot him instantly from The People Under the Stairs. The psychological themes land well, the practical effects deliver, and the first half alone justifies the watch.

Traumatika (2025)

Traumatika starts as a creepy and emotionally raw horror story and ends as a decent indie that lost its nerve halfway through. It’s not perfect, but compared to some of the dumpster fires I’ve sat through lately, this one’s a walk in the bloody park.

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

The Banished (2025) | Atmospheric but painfully slow, The Banished wanders deep into the woods and never quite finds its way back out. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 3.9/10. The Banished opens with a promising dose of mystery — a panicked woman named Grace (Meg Eloise-Clarke) bolts upright in her tent, screaming for a missing man named Mr. Green (Leighton Cardno). The forest around her looks lush, peaceful even, but the unease creeps in fast. It’s a strong start, one that hints at folk horror tension and psychological dread. Unfortunately, the film never quite lives up to that opening.

What follows is a slow and often confusing trek through the wilderness — both literal and emotional — as Grace searches for her brother David (Gautier de Fontaine). The story leans on flashbacks to explain how she ended up there, but instead of adding depth, they end up bogging the movie down. Nearly 50 minutes crawl by before we even catch up to that opening scene again, and by then, much of the tension has leaked out. The constant back-and-forth timeline feels less like clever storytelling and more like filler for a narrative that doesn’t have enough forward momentum.

Visually, the film has its moments. The forest setting is atmospheric, and there’s an eerie stillness that occasionally works in its favor. The cinematography captures the isolation well — lots of static shots, lingering on trees, shadows, and Grace’s anxious breathing. There’s some unsettling imagery scattered throughout, the kind that almost jolts the movie awake, but not quite. By the end, we’re given a quick montage of the film’s most striking moments, which unintentionally highlights how few memorable visuals there actually were.

Hints of deeper themes float to the surface, like a vague reference to an abusive father during Grace and David’s reunion, but it’s so underdeveloped that it barely registers. If the film was trying to say something about trauma, family, or the darkness that binds people together, it gets lost in the murk of slow pacing and restrained storytelling.

By the finale, The Banished seems to circle around an idea that “everything is for family,” but without a coherent emotional core or real plot to support it, that message feels hollow. Instead, we’re left with an atmospheric film of mood and suggestion — long on tone, short on substance. It’s a movie that wants to haunt, but mostly just lingers.

In the end, The Banished is the kind of folk horror that mistakes quiet for profound. While it looks decent and has flashes of something eerie beneath the surface, it’s too meandering, too static, and too unsure of its own purpose to really stick the landing.

The Banished (2025)

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

Out of Darkness (2022) | A rare step into the Stone Age for a tale of survival that dips its toes into the horror genre. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 5.7/10. Stone Age Horror? An untapped timeframe for most movies, especially horror. My first thought upon ending: That had to be written by an Anthropologist. Out of Darkness ventures into uncharted territory, both literally and figuratively, as it transports audiences back to the Old Stone Age for a chilling tale of survival and supernatural terror. Directed by Andrew Cumming with a keen eye for anthropological detail, the film offers a fresh and intriguing perspective on the horror genre.

Set against the backdrop of a harsh and unforgiving landscape, the story follows a disparate group of early humans as they navigate the challenges of prehistoric life and search for a new land to call home. However, their journey takes a terrifying turn when they become convinced that a malevolent and mystical being is stalking them, forcing the clan to confront a danger they never imagined. Stone Age horror is a largely untapped subgenre, making this film a refreshing departure from the familiar tropes and settings of traditional horror fare.

By plunging you into the ancient past, the film offers a unique lens through which to explore themes of fear, survival, and the unknown. It is definitely a bold and ambitious premise. The attention to detail in depicting the daily lives and customs of early humans is commendable, reflecting the influence of anthropological research that had to be done for this production. From the primitive tools and techniques used by the characters to the intricacies of their social dynamics, every aspect of the clan's world feels authentic and immersive.

The whole thing is a character-driven story, anchored by a diverse ensemble cast that brings depth and humanity to their roles. Yes, I did think they were a bit well-kept for their supposed time frame (haircuts specifically), but past that, quite authentic. While the supernatural elements add an extra layer of intrigue, it is the relationships and struggles of the characters that drive the film forward and keep you invested in their fate. While the story is unfolding, you may guess what the ultimate end to this flick will be, so prepare for disappointment if you are correct. It ends up being a bit of a horror show, but it also holds a clear moral to the story.

Still, a trip into Stone Age horror offers a fresh and compelling take on the genre. With its authentic portrayal of prehistoric life, decent performances, and atmospheric storytelling, Out of Darkness is sure to leave you intrigued and slightly unsettled, contemplating the end. Even if you figure it out in advance, the movie is still effective. Another one that kicked around for a couple of years before being released in 2024.

Out of Darkness (2024)

https://jackmeat.com/out-of-darkness-2022/

Scurry (2025) | Imagine 100 minutes of dirt, CGI dust, and bickering instead of #Shocktober creature action. That’s Scurry in a nutshell. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 3.7/10. I didn't realize I was curious what would happen if two strangers fell into a sinkhole and then spent 100 minutes bickering while occasionally dodging a CGI house spider on steroids. Thankfully, Scurry is here to answer that question I know I wasn't curious about in the slightest.

The film opens with a city being attacked by something. Explosions, screaming civilians, chaos everywhere… then the camera confidently ignores all that interesting stuff and dives straight into a sinkhole, landing on Mark (Jamie Costa), who’s buried in rubble and bleeding. Instead of climbing out or yelling for help like a normal person, he decides the optimal strategy is to head deeper underground. Smart. Very mole-like behavior.

Down there, he bumps into Sarah—or Kate? The movie finally commits to her name long after you have given a shit. She is played by Emalia, who is also injured but still manages to immediately assume command of the situation because she has a gun and a strong desire to irritate the only other human within earshot. Their dynamic is simple: he insists it was an earthquake, she refuses to believe anything he says, and they both make decisions that would get them killed before the spider even shows up.

Yes, the spider. The marketing promised a monstrous threat, but what we get is an occasionally present, occasionally visible, slightly shy arachnid rendered with CGI quality somewhere between “mobile game cutscene” and “weather channel simulation.” It lurks. It hisses. It… politely waits off-screen while the main characters argue about whose fault everything is.

Most of the movie consists of crawling, sliding, wheezing, and groaning through increasingly narrow tunnels while coughing through what can only be described as CGI dust storms. Every time a rock shifts, particles magically bloom into perfect beige clouds, as if the earth itself just discovered Photoshop’s smoke brush.

At one point, someone must be sipping Everclear from a flask, which ultimately gets weaponized into a flamethrower explosion that would make Michael Bay raise an eyebrow. Yes, alcohol is flammable—but not “atomic firebomb” flammable. Still, it’s easily the most exciting moment in the film, so I respect the commitment to science denial.

There is almost no blood in this creature feature minus a single shot from above ground through a sewer grate. The single notable kill doesn’t even involve Mark or Sarah/Kate, who remain suspiciously clean for two people tunneling through dirt for over an hour. The trailer, in fact, shows you about 90% of the spider’s appearances, so if you’ve seen that, congratulations—you’ve essentially watched Scurry at 2x speed.

The ending at least offers a pretty outdoor shot to remind you what sunlight looks like. If you caught the verbal cue Mark got from his wife on the phone, the new world is a fitting last scene. Unfortunately, you’ll have to endure 100 minutes of underground misery to earn that five-second reward. Unless you’re incredibly passionate about claustrophobic sliding and poor decision-making, go ahead and crawl out of this one before it starts. Then again, I have seen far worse.

Scurry (2025)

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

The Strangers: Chapter 2 (2025) | Chapter 2 delivers more mask-wearing mayhem and surprise farm animals for your average #Shocktober horror fun, again. To be continued. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 4.6/10. Renny Harlin is really committing to this whole “middle chapter with no actual ending” thing. The Strangers: Chapter 2 picks up immediately after the events of the first film, which would be great, except the movie speedruns through its own continuity like it’s embarrassed to be a sequel. We start with Shelly/Pinup (played by Ema Horvath) luring yet another unlucky sucker from the diner, only to immediately smash-cut to Maya (Madelaine Petsch) in a hospital bed with little explanation of how she got there unless you studied Chapter 1 like it was homework. There’s a quick police interview and some flashbacks stitched in like narrative duct tape, but it’s hardly enough to count as proper storytelling.

From there, we dive into one of horror’s most beloved fantasy tropes: the completely abandoned small-town hospital. You’d think someone on staff would at least be mopping a hallway or refilling a vending machine, but no—Maya can sprint floor to floor without bumping into so much as a night nurse or grieving relative. Meanwhile, the film tries to plant seeds of suspicion about four random young adults (who apparently make up 80% of the town’s remaining population), but Harlin seems more interested in stringing the audience along than actually committing to a reveal.

Then comes the boar. Yes, you read that right. A full-on wild boar attack. One that not only mauls people, but has the intelligence to open the trunk of a car. You can practically hear the writers high-fiving across the room as they pitched it—“Nobody will see this coming, and it’ll show how tough Maya is!” Sure, why not? At least it gives us a wonderfully absurd flashback explaining that one of the killers grew up tormenting pigs, because character development equals livestock cruelty now.

The killers themselves seem to be powered by pure plot armor. One takes a pair of scissors to the temple and merely shrugs it off like a mild inconvenience. She also got pitchforked in the leg, only to be up and running minutes later, while Maya limps like she’s auditioning for The Walking Dead. Speaking of Maya, her default expression is permanently locked on “deer in headlights,” which makes her less of a protagonist and more of a terrified spectator in her own movie.

The film spends most of its runtime in a cat-and-mouse loop with tension that occasionally works but rarely pays off. The flashbacks are oddly charming in their wickedness, even if they feel spliced in from an entirely different movie. Just when it feels like we might finally get some narrative closure—BAM. Another abrupt “TO BE CONTINUED.” And just like Chapter 1, there’s a tease for Chapter 3 during the credits, like a horror franchise is now required to operate on Marvel logic.

Much like its predecessor, The Strangers: Chapter 2 is aggressively fine. Light on gore, high on repetition, and occasionally bonkers enough to be entertaining. If you enjoyed Chapter 1, this is more of the same. If you didn’t… well, buckle up, there’s still Chapter 3 on the way, whether you like it or not.

The Strangers: Chapter 2 (2025)

https://jackmeat.com/the-strangers-chapter-2-2025/

Midnight Peepshow (2022) | I enjoyed the anthology wrap-around story much more than the individual parts, but overall it isn't too bad nor that good. #jackmeatsflix #Shocktober

My quick rating - 3.9/10. Sometimes you stumble across a horror anthology hoping for a hidden gem, only to realize you’ve instead paid admission to the world’s grimiest carnival sideshow. Midnight Peepshow is exactly that—an intriguing concept trapped inside a thrift-store execution. Shot in 2022, then apparently left wandering in distribution purgatory for a couple of years, it finally oozed its way onto streaming services, presumably after someone blew the dust off the hard drive and said, “Eh, good enough.”

The premise is absolutely solid: an unnamed madame runs a peep show unlike any other, where customers don’t just watch—they’re forced to confront their deepest desires, fears, and sins. Tonight’s lucky contestant is a businessman with ties to an extreme fantasy website, which already sounds like a bad life choice. Instead of taking him straight to horror-town, the film decides to warm us up with three morality-play shorts, each accessed through the peep booth like some cursed X-rated jukebox.

The anthology format is easily the movie’s strongest feature. The idea of using the peep show as connective tissue is clever, even stylish at times. Unfortunately, while the structure is sound, the content inside is wildly uneven—like ordering a sampler platter and discovering two of the items are just damp napkins.

We open with “Personal Space,” in which a woman hires her boyfriend to fake a home invasion because nothing says intimacy like consensual terror. It’s a premise that could have explored kink, boundaries, trust—something. Instead, it mostly explores my patience. The second short escalates things with a literal round of “Fuck Marry Kill,” but despite the outrageous setup, it’s oddly flat, like the filmmakers were afraid to fully commit to how insane it could’ve been.

And then, mercifully, comes “The Black Rabbit.” This is where the movie finally finds its teeth. Tied more directly into the wraparound narrative, it delivers actual atmosphere, some effective psychological tension, and visuals that—while still low-budget—at least aim higher than “college film project.” It’s moody, mysterious, and just grounded enough to unsettle. If the entire anthology had matched this tone, we’d be talking about a hidden gem instead of a mostly dull curiosity.

Performance-wise, everyone is… fine. Not offensively bad, not particularly memorable. The cinematography ranges from murky to “hey, that shot was kind of cool.” The themes are familiar—desire devours, sins return for blood payment, care what you click on the internet—but presented with the energy of someone reading them off a fortune cookie.

Midnight Peepshow (2022)

So would I recommend Midnight Peepshow? Only to horror diehards with an unusually high tolerance for slow starts and questionable production design. If you don’t have the stamina to slog through two duds to get to one halfway decent payoff, skip this booth entirely. Otherwise, grab your phone and a strong beverage—you’ll need both.

https://jackmeat.com/midnight-peepshow-2022/

Stay (2025) | #Huluween limps in for this movie. I did Stay and finish, but after that #Shocktober mess, it is more like endured. #jackmeatsflix

My quick rating - 2.8/10. The first Huluween flick of the year has arrived, and if Stay is the harbinger of what’s to come, then I’m already packing my bags for Netflix. Or Tubi. Or literally anywhere else. This movie follows a couple on the brink of divorce who suddenly find themselves haunted by... something. A demon? A god? A metaphor for communication issues? Even the film isn’t sure. It’s like African mythology got kidnapped and forced to mediate couples’ counseling.

I have a strong suspicion AI wrote at least 40% of this script, and I don’t mean the good kind of AI — I mean the one that writes Facebook scam ads. The dialogue ranges from “therapy brochure” to “fortune cookie in a toxic relationship.” The plot wanders like it got lost in its own house. And the ending? Let’s just say I was actively rooting for the supernatural entity to win. At least it had a goal.

Megalyn Echikunwoke spends most of the runtime cycling between two facial expressions: Mild Concern and Soap Opera Panic. Meanwhile, Mo McRae is over in the corner doing Oscar-level emotional labor in a Dollar Store possession movie. The man is sweating, crying, fighting spirits, and begging us to care — but even he can’t save this marriage, or this movie.

And can we talk about the sound mixing? Whispered arguments are buried beneath Royalty-Free Suspense Track #14. Half the film sounds like two people discussing trauma in a library while a marching band rehearses next door.

There really isn’t much good to say about Stay — unless you count the runtime ending. There is an MMA ring crammed in as one of the many flashbacks. I suppose fans may find that interesting, even though it serves no purpose. As the inaugural Huluween entry of 2025, I pray this is just the warm-up act. Or maybe the prank before the actual horror. A 3 even feels generous.

Because right now, it’s not Huluween. It’s Hulu-why?

(Yeah, that was worse than Huluweenie. I’ll see myself out.)

Stay (2025)

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