Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a ghoulishly entertaining sequel that takes us back to the kooky world of Winter River, and, well… it’s exactly what you’d expect. It’s fun in the moment, full of quirky visuals, and Michael Keaton is clearly having the time of his undead life, but beneath the surface, there’s not much that’s new. The movie leans heavily on nostalgia with a few fresh gags, but in the end, it’s a ghostly echo of the original.

Michael Keaton, as the iconic “bio-exorcist,” steals every scene with his signature chaotic energy. He’s a whirlwind of charisma, cracking wise and pulling faces as only he can. If you came for Beetlejuice himself, Keaton delivers and then some. The man is clearly having a blast, and his enthusiasm is infectious. It’s like he’s been waiting decades to let the ghost loose, and he goes full-throttle from start to finish.

Then we have Winona Ryder as Lydia, now a mom and low-key goth grandma. Ryder leans into her old lady voice, giving us shades of her softer, quieter performance from Edward Scissorhands. For some reason, though, her dialogue is often so quiet it’s like she’s ghost-whispering half the time. But Ryder brings a kind of gentle nostalgia to the role, even if she occasionally feels like she’s only half-there in a scene.

And then there’s the new addition: Jenna Ortega as Astrid, Lydia’s teenage daughter. Astrid, to put it bluntly, is the film’s designated “plot instigator.” Her character blunders through every obvious trap, earning her the unofficial award for “2024’s Dumbest Kid in a Movie.” She’s the one who accidentally opens the portal to the Afterlife, kicking off the whole plot, and while it’s clear the movie needed a trigger for chaos, Astrid’s decision-making is… let’s just say, questionable. Ortega’s performance doesn’t help either, as her delivery is flatter than a spirit in a séance. Whether that’s due to direction or a deliberate “teenage ennui” vibe, it’s hard to say, but her character feels more like a plot device than a fully formed person, which is a shame.

On the technical side, the film does a decent job with its visuals and set design. There’s a touch of the original’s whimsical horror, with quirky practical effects and a few memorable set pieces that nod to Tim Burton’s trademark style. And while there are plenty of callbacks and a bit of recycled material, it’s not so excessive that it becomes grating. However, the CGI and some of the effects can feel a bit lackluster, not quite reaching the eerie charm of the original’s practical effects.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice delivers a few laughs and plenty of nostalgia, but it’s more of a one-time romp than a classic rewatch. It’s fun in a popcorn-movie sort of way, with a few memorable moments, and if you’re a fan of Keaton’s Beetlejuice, it’s worth checking out. But when the dust settles, it’s ultimately just alright, an enjoyable but fleeting experience. It’s good for some laughs, but if you’re hoping for a fresh take or a truly haunting sequel, you might find yourself feeling like the movie missed the mark.

Speak No Evil, James Watkins’ remake of the chilling Dutch original, takes the concept of a dream holiday and twists it into an expertly crafted psychological nightmare. With tension so thick it feels like a vice around your chest, the film combines social horror with slow-burn suspense, creating a darkly magnetic experience that you’ll be thinking about long after the credits roll.

Let’s just say it outright: James McAvoy absolutely owns this film. His performance as the charming yet quietly unnerving British patriarch is nothing short of magnetic, infusing the character with layers that keep you teetering between intrigue and dread. He charms, disarms, and chills in equal measure, making every scene he’s in as unpredictable as it is riveting. McAvoy’s ability to switch from warm to deeply unsettling in the blink of an eye is what makes Speak No Evil work so well, leaving viewers glued to the screen even as the tension ratchets up.

The film doesn’t hide its cards. Right from the start, you feel that something is off with this picturesque setup—a family invited by newfound “friends” to a lovely estate in the countryside. The danger is plain as day, almost daring you to shout warnings to the screen. And yet, Watkins’ direction is so precise that even though you see what’s coming, you can’t look away. Instead, you feel every creeping shadow, every pregnant silence, with an intensity that’s hard to shake.

Watkins brilliantly crafts each scene, building dread in subtle ways that dig into your psyche. The setting, lush and deceptively inviting, contrasts sharply with the simmering danger lurking underneath. The result is a film that grips you from the beginning and slowly, unrelentingly, pulls you into its twisted heart. The idyllic backdrop, with its rolling hills and vintage charm, only amplifies the horror—turning what should feel like paradise into a gilded cage you know they won’t escape from.

If there’s one gripe in an otherwise exceptional thriller, it’s that the characters occasionally make some questionable choices. You know the ones: those “don’t go in there!” moments that make you want to shout at the screen. But even these minor lapses serve to draw you further into the narrative. Because, let’s be real—Speak No Evil isn’t just horror; it’s a social horror. It plays on the agonizing tension between politeness and survival instincts, leaving the audience squirming as the characters’ naivety and trust override their better judgment. It’s a brilliant study of how far people will go to avoid awkwardness, even when every fiber of their being screams “run.”

The suspense, meanwhile, is palpable. Watkins knows how to build a scene to its breaking point without overdoing it, letting every small gesture and glance linger just long enough to keep you on edge. The moments of horror aren’t bombastic or bloody but rooted in the unbearable discomfort and dread that pervades every interaction. It’s a masterclass in restraint, where every uncomfortable silence and clipped sentence lands like a punch to the gut.

All in all, Speak No Evil is a horror-thriller that does exactly what it sets out to do. It’s an unflinching exploration of social tension and psychological dread, guided by Watkins’ razor-sharp direction and McAvoy’s knockout performance. Even when the characters make those maddening decisions, you’re too caught up in the nightmare to look away. If you’re after a suspenseful, brilliantly acted thriller that leaves you unnerved and questioning just how much you’d trust a stranger, Speak No Evil is well worth the watch.

Gary Dauberman’s Salem’s Lot is the latest adaptation of Stephen King’s horror classic, and, well… let’s just say it’s a quick bite rather than a full meal. This film is like taking a red pen to the novel, condensing the brooding, eerie buildup into something that feels more like a horror rollercoaster than the creepy, winding path King fans might hope for. If you’re here for the world-building, character development, or the sinister small-town vibe of the original Salem’s Lot, prepare to be underwhelmed. This version is pure, compressed horror-lite, straight to the vein.

Ben Mears (played earnestly enough) returns to Jerusalem’s Lot with a writer’s curiosity and a grudge against the creepy Marsten House, only to find himself facing off against a growing vampire horde. The bones of King’s story are here, but they’re stripped of the slow dread and carefully layered atmosphere that made the novel a classic. Instead, Dauberman’s adaptation skips along at a brisk pace, as if he’s got a checklist of plot points he’s racing to hit before the credits roll. It’s the kind of adaptation where you know where you’re headed but don’t really feel the weight of getting there.

Visually, the film has its moments. The Marsten House looms with all the gothic menace you’d expect, and there are some admittedly cool shots that give glimpses of the sinister underbelly of the town. But for every effective visual, there’s questionable CGI that undercuts the horror and pulls you right out of the experience. The vampires are creepy enough, but when they’re rendered with a little too much digital polish, they lose that gritty, raw edge that could have grounded the horror.

The direction is competent – Dauberman keeps the pacing tight, and the set pieces are visually engaging in that popcorn-flick way. But while the film does deliver some chills, it’s the kind of horror you can tune out and still get the gist of. The vibe is very “switch-off-your-brain,” designed for audiences who want a quick scare more than a deep, unsettling horror experience.

This Salem’s Lot is a fine enough way to kill a couple of hours, but it feels more like a highlight reel than a full adaptation. Gone is the slow creep of dread, the rich cast of characters, and the sense that the whole town is steadily slipping into darkness. What we get instead is a streamlined, bite-sized version that feels a little too quick, a little too clean, and just okay overall.

If you’re a die-hard Stephen King fan, brace yourself for a film that scratches the surface of Salem’s Lot without sinking its teeth into the heart of the story. If you’re here for a quick, no-fuss horror flick, grab some popcorn and settle in for an easy ride. Just don’t expect it to linger in your mind once the credits roll.