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.

I try not to swear in my reviews but damn it this film almost made me just write an endless stream of F-words for the review. This film takes everything that fans loved about the original Hellboy adaptations, tosses it out the window, and replaces it with two hours of eye-watering chaos, incoherent plotting, and CGI that feels like it came from a video game in beta testing. If you came here hoping for the grit, style, and charm of Del Toro’s Hellboy films, prepare yourself for disappointment in a new and excruciating form.

Let’s talk about David Harbour, one of the few elements in this movie that actually works. Harbour does his damnedest to channel Hellboy’s charm, grit, and conflicted soul, but even he can’t save this sinking ship. He’s doing all the heavy lifting here, delivering snarky one-liners and trying to act through that heavy prosthetic work, which, oddly, looks more unsettling than demonically cool. But while Harbour throws himself into Hellboy, the script throws him under the bus. He’s given laughably bad dialogue, dropped into one confusing, messy action scene after another, and made to plod through a script that feels like it was thrown together over a weekend.

And then there’s Mila Jovovich, playing the Blood Queen Nimue, in a performance that seems plucked from a high school theater rehearsal. She seems dead-set on delivering every line with maximum “menacing villainess” energy, but it lands more like pantomime. Her character is about as deep as a teaspoon, with motivations so generically evil that even Hellboy himself looks confused as to why she’s here. Instead of bringing a terrifying adversary to the screen, Jovovich’s Nimue feels more like a cosplay attempt that got out of hand.

Now, let’s talk about the technical blunders that hit you from scene one. Hellboy’s phone call in the opening sequence is such an absurd oversight that it’s hard not to laugh. He “hangs up” but then the screen asks if he wants to answer the call. This sets the tone for the level of polish (or lack thereof) that permeates the entire film. To make it worse, a BRPD agent who’s supposed to be close to Hellboy dies early on, and our protagonist barely seems to care. Apparently, in this version of Hellboy’s world, meaningful character connections are just disposable plot devices that no one cares to revisit.

And then there’s Pendle Hill, the infamous Lancashire setting that’s about as realistic as a backdrop at a theme park. For a film set in a historical location with deep cultural roots, it seems Hellboy went out of its way to ignore any sense of regional authenticity. We have characters supposedly in Lancashire, yet there’s not a trace of the iconic Lancashire accent. Instead, Alice Monaghan, an Irish character in the comics, has been transformed into a Queen’s English–speaking character with a Jamaican vibe—sure, why not? Add to this a character like Gruagach, who can’t decide if he’s cockney, scouse, or something in between, and you’ve got a mess of dialects that’s just distracting.

Then, the CGI. Oh, the CGI. If you thought you’d be in for a visual feast of gory, fantastic creatures, think again. Instead, we get creatures that look like they’ve been rendered by someone who just learned Blender last week. The monsters are cartoonish, the gore looks painted on, and the entire aesthetic lacks the grimy, textured realism that made the original Hellboy films so great. There’s one saving grace here: the final 30 minutes, when the demons go on a killing spree. But by that point, it’s less “wow, cool!” and more “thank God, the end is in sight.”

By the time the credits roll, the only thing you’re left with is the sense of relief that it’s finally over. Hellboy (2019) is, in a word, irredeemable. It tries to blend horror, humor, and action, but ends up delivering none of them effectively. If this is the Hellboy reboot we’re getting, perhaps some things are better left buried. A hard 0/5 – this one should’ve stayed in development hell.