Christopher James 1/8/26 Christopher James 1/8/26

Breaking Glass Pictures “EVIDENCE OF THE BOOGEYMAN” (2025) Finds New Terror in Found Footage

Modern found footage horror movies are no longer content to rely on shaky cameras and accidental jump scares to do the heavy lifting. The sub-genre has somewhat matured, finding new and inventive ways. Simply by aiming to unsettle audiences by blending realism, mockumentary techniques, and true crime aesthetics into experiences that feel disturbingly authentic. Today’s viewers are savvy and well versed in horror language, which means modern found footage films must work harder to earn their scares. When successful, they do not simply frighten in the moment but linger long after the screen goes dark. 7th Street Productions and Breaking Glass Pictures new movie “Evidence of the Boogeyman” stands as a strong example of how contemporary found footage horror continues to evolve while still honoring the genre’s roots.

“Evidence of the Boogeyman” marks the terrifying third chapter in Calvin McCarthy’s acclaimed Boogeyman series, and it makes a bold creative choice by fully embracing the found footage format. A jump like this from a traditional narrative approach does not always work, especially for an established franchise, but here it feels natural and purposeful. Rather than feeling like a gimmick, the found footage perspective strengthens the mythology, making the legend feel closer, more invasive, and far more opportunities to keep audiences on the edge of their seats. The Boogeyman is no longer a story being told to the audience. It is something being documented in real time.

Directed by and starring Calvin Morie McCarthy, the movie drops viewers into the behind-the-scenes chaos of a small indie crew shooting a low budget paranormal documentary at a rural farmhouse infamous for its violent past. What begins as a lighthearted ghost hunting project quickly reveals deeper and far more disturbing implications. McCarthy also serves as co writer and producer, which his creative control shows in every frame. His understanding of pacing, atmosphere, and character dynamics gives the film a confident hand that never feels rushed or unfocused.

McCarthy’s triple role as co-writer, director, and star is especially impressive. Balancing those responsibilities can easily lead to creative overload, but instead it highlights his command of the material. His performance feels grounded and natural, anchoring the film in believable reactions rather than exaggerated horror tropes. He understands when to let the camera linger and when to pull back, allowing tension to build organically. This restraint is one of the film’s greatest strengths and proves that McCarthy is not only passionate about horror but deeply knowledgeable about how it works. Each of the movies he has made or have been a part of have really shown his skills as a multitalented person within the horror movie industry.

Tim Coyle also plays a major role in the movies’s success, serving as both co-writer and one of the stars. His involvement behind and in front of the camera adds authenticity to the dialogue and character interactions. Conversations feel loose, overlapping, and real, which is essential for found footage to work. He also provides a bit of some on screen humor that rounds out his character even more. Not only that, but his performance captures the slow erosion of skepticism as evidence mounts, making his character’s journey both compelling and unsettling. His collaboration with McCarthy results in a script that feels lived in rather than staged.

“Evidence of the Boogeyman” is undeniably a slow burn, but it is a patient one that rewards viewers who stick with it. This movie carefully establishes its setting, particularly through its use of the surrounding woods. During daylight hours, the environment feels warm, sunny, and almost optimistic. The cabin and forest seem harmless, even inviting. That sense of comfort is deceptive by design. When night falls, the same landscape transforms into something oppressive and terrifying. Shadows stretch endlessly, sounds carry without explanation, and the Boogeyman begins to feel less like a myth and more like a presence lurking just beyond the frame.

Naomi Mechem Miller and Erik Skybak round out the core cast and prove to be essential pieces of the story. Both actors bring depth and personality to their roles, ensuring that no one feels disposable. Each has moments where they steal the spotlight, delivering scenes that heighten tension and introduce their own brand of terror. Their reactions feel genuine and emotionally grounded, adding layers to the group dynamic and making the unfolding horror far more impactful.

One of the movies’s standout elements is its incorporation of a mockumentary style true-crime framework. This approach elevates the found footage concept by framing the events as something that has already been analyzed and reconstructed. Jason Brooks appears as a police officer whose serious, authoritative presence grounds the movie in reality. His performance feels authentic and restrained, lending the story a credibility that makes it easy to forget you are watching fiction. He adds weight to the narrative and reinforces the idea that what happened at the farmhouse had real and tragic consequences.

The mockumentary structure is further strengthened by narration from Elissa Hall, who guides the audience through the story with calm precision. Her delivery, combined with on screen information and contextual details, creates a foundation that allows the horror to unfold naturally. The text and narration never feel intrusive. Instead, they enhance the realism and tension, making the footage feel like part of an actual investigation rather than a cinematic device.

As the movie progresses, the sense of dread becomes almost suffocating. The slow burn approach pays off as tension escalates steadily, leading to a final act that is claustrophobic and relentless. Rather than relying solely on jump scares, the movie allows fear to accumulate through atmosphere, sound design, and the growing realization that escape may no longer be possible. When the horror finally peaks, it feels earned and devastating, leaving a lasting impression.

Fans of found footage classics like “The Blair Witch Project”, “Grave Encounters”, and “Hell House LLC” will find plenty to appreciate here. This movie understands what made the found footage horror movies before it effective while carving out its own identity. It does not attempt to reinvent the wheel but instead refines the tools of the genre with confidence and care.

I highly recommend “Evidence of the Boogeyman”, as well as the first two movies in the series. Calvin McCarthy has firmly established himself as a force within the horror filmmaking community, and this entry proves he is far from finished telling stories that haunt and disturb. His ability to adapt, experiment, and still deliver effective scares speaks volumes about his talent and vision.

“Evidence of the Boogeyman” is now available on Roku. It is a strong example of how modern found footage horror continues to push forward while respecting its past. The real question is this. How do you feel modern found footage movies compare to the early days of the genre, and do films like this prove that found footage can still find new ways to scare us?

Whether it’s slashers in the woods, ghosts in the attic, or killers in the cornfield, ILHM Reviews brings you the frightful horror flick recommendations worth watching. Follow us on Instagram, be sure to listen to the the "I Love Horror" podcast and remember that if you’re a true fan of horror, every night can be a FRIGHT NIGHT!

Christopher James 1/2/26 Christopher James 1/2/26

Jaunted January Unleashes New FOUND TV Horrors

2026 is shaping up to be the kind of year horror fans will talk about in hushed, excited tones long after the lights come back on. The horror genre isn’t just thriving, it’s mutating, splintering, and daring audiences to keep up. Studio heavyweights are doubling down on bold risks, indie filmmakers are weaponizing creativity over budget, and audiences are craving fear that lingers rather than fades with the credits. Horror has always thrived on reinvention, but 2026 feels like a perfect storm where nostalgia collides with nerve, technology sharpens every scare, and filmmakers seem determined to remind us why horror is the most fearless genre of all. If there was ever a year poised to redraw the boundaries of what scares us, this might be the one that leaves claw marks on your calendar and chills down your spine that will last all year.

Jaunted January is here and 2026 is staring with some amazing bangers from our friends at Found TV. As always, they don’t disappoint, so these will be ones you will not want to miss. Mark your calendars for these releases:

JANUARY 1: Wilderness Tapes - Volume One (2025) - Nearly a million smartphones and cameras are lost in the wilderness each year. For the first time in history, recovered footage from such devices is presented in a chilling anthology series. Wilderness Tapes: Volume One chronicles a journey into an abandoned gold mine that goes wrong, plunging "Prospector Pete" into the depths of supernatural madness.

JANUARY 6: Yami Douga 12 (2015) - The pursuit of fear continues. After Kazuto Kodama's popular horror series "The Real Deal. Cursed Videos" (Honto ni Atta. Noroi no Video) unleashed a new generation in horror, we bring you volume 12 in the ultimate horror video collection.

JANUARY 9: The Hem (2025) - A documentary crew investigates a haunted church on the verge of collapse with one condition: they must be out by dark.

JANUARY 13: Elevate (2025) - A father's love of film turns disturbing when a cursed camera shows images from a reality unseen to the human eye. A disturbing look into a cursed technology driven by vanity.

JANUARY 16: Chateau (2024) - While on a French vacation funded by odd jobs, an aspiring influencer covertly films a vlog in a reportedly haunted chateau she's been hired to clean. North America only.

JANUARY 20: Yami Douga 13 (2015) - The pursuit of fear continues. After Kazuto Kodama's popular horror series "The Real Deal. Cursed Videos" (Honto ni Atta. Noroi no Video) unleashed a new generation in horror, we bring you volume 13 in the ultimate horror video collection.

JANUARY 23: The Night Devours (2024) - A serial killer facing his own mortality looks back on his life and the events that have brought him to this point in time.

JANUARY 27: Haunted 3: Spirits (2018) - Andrew Robinson returns to the Halloween horror nights phenomenon. On a rural farm in deepest, England he encounters a series of paranormal events that lead to a mystery being solved with frightening consequences and ultimate finale.

JANUARY 30: Areas of High Strangeness - Stimson Hospital (2025) - When the Demon Hunter Society ventures into the haunted halls of Stimson Hospital in Eaton Rapids, Michigan, they uncover chilling evidence of restless spirits and malevolent forces in a place long shrouded in mystery and terror.

Christopher James 12/29/25 Christopher James 12/29/25

BREAKING GLASS PICTURES “DEAR JODI” (2025): Is It An Encore We Need?

True crime has evolved into one of the most dominant forces in modern cinema and media, transforming real-world tragedy into an endless loop of content. What once served as investigative storytelling now often functions as entertainment engineered for engagement, clicks, and prolonged fascination. As audiences grow more familiar with infamous cases, the genre faces a critical challenge: figuring out whether revisiting these stories offers genuine insight or simply perpetuates obsession. Breaking Glass Pictures’ “Dear Jodi” enters this crowded landscape with polished visuals and reflective intentions but ultimately struggles to justify its existence beyond revisiting a case the public has already dissected to exhaustion.

Directed by Clive Christopher, “Dear Jodi” revisits the murder of Travis Alexander and the trial of Jodi Arias. It was a case that became a cultural spectacle long before a verdict was decided. The documentary positions itself as a quieter, more contemplative alternative to sensational coverage. It does so by promising overlooked evidence, untold perspectives, and renewed insight into why the trial unfolded the way it did. While this approach is admirable in theory, the execution often feels disconnected from the present moment, as though the film is attempting to restart a conversation that concluded years ago.

From a technical standpoint, “Dear Jodi” is competently made. The cinematography is clean, interviews are professionally staged, and the overall presentation reflects a level of care that exceeds many low-budget true-crime releases. Visually, the film looks good. Unfortunately, that polish does not translate into an engaging viewing experience. There is a persistent sense that the documentary lacks urgency or purpose, making it difficult to feel invested despite the gravity of its subject matter.

A major issue lies in the documentary’s reliance on repetition. Much of the runtime is devoted to rehashing the crime and trial in ways that will feel overly familiar to anyone with even a passing knowledge of the case. Rather than trusting its audience, the film frequently reiterates well-known details, creating the impression that viewers are being lectured rather than invited into a deeper analysis. This approach unintentionally undermines the intelligence of its audience and stalls any forward momentum.

The documentary’s collaboration with The Within Range Podcast further complicates its identity. While cross-platform storytelling is not inherently problematic, “Dear Jodi” often feels less like an independent documentary and more like an extended visual companion piece, or even a commercial for the podcast itself. The emphasis placed on the podcast’s perspective and framing gives the film an oddly promotional tone, blurring the line between documentary filmmaking and branded content. It also feels the crime and case around it seem more like a joke to them, more than a serious subject revolving around the loss of a human life.

This structural issue raises a larger question about format. Much of what “Dear Jodi” presents would arguably function more effectively as a long-form YouTube video or podcast episode rather than a feature-length documentary. The conversational pacing, reliance on opinion, and lack of investigative progression make the film feel stretched beyond its natural scope. Instead of building a cohesive narrative, it drifts between commentary and reiteration, never fully committing to a clear investigative goal.

“Dear Jodi” features appearances from Jared Suter, Dominic Vaquez, Darren Burch, Joe Arpaio, Noah Gruber, Vanesha Guidry, and Andrew Leal, whose contributions range from reflective to speculative. While their insights are provided earnestly, the documentary rarely challenges or contextualizes their claims with substantive evidence. This results in a presentation that feels more interpretive than factual, prioritizing perspective over verification (especially with the unneeded reenactments).

One of the more uncomfortable aspects of “Dear Jodi” is its recurring focus on Jodi Arias’ appearance. Despite positioning itself as a critique of media sensationalism, the documentary frequently revisits the same superficial elements that fueled the original media frenzy. The emphasis on her looks, demeanor, and perceived allure contributes little to a meaningful understanding of the case and instead reinforces the spectacle it claims to reject. This fixation detracts from any serious attempt at factual analysis and feels particularly out of place in a film that purports to offer clarity.

Similarly, the documentary devotes significant attention to a song Arias sang while in prison, framing it as a kind of emotional confession. This interpretation feels strained, especially given that Arias had already been convicted at the time. Treating this moment as revelatory borders on performative symbolism rather than substantive insight. Instead of uncovering new information, the film leans into conjecture, mistaking emotional interpretation for evidence.

Perhaps the most troubling aspect of “Dear Jodi” is how the tragedy itself becomes secondary. While the murder of Travis Alexander is acknowledged, the emotional impact on his family often feels overshadowed by the film’s continued fascination with Arias. In attempting to reframe public perception, the documentary risks minimizing the human cost at the center of the story. The result is a film that, intentionally or not, feels like it is cashing in on a tragedy without offering meaningful advancement in understanding.

That said, “Dear Jodi” is not without merit. Its restrained tone avoids overt sensationalism, and there is a genuine desire to examine how media narratives influence public perception and the justice system. These ambitions matter, particularly in a genre often driven by excess. However, intention alone cannot sustain a documentary when its insights feel redundant and its timing feels misaligned.

Ultimately, “Dear Jodi” is a film caught between reflection and relevance. While competently made, it arrives too late to meaningfully reshape the narrative surrounding one of America’s most infamous cases. Instead of illuminating new truths, it reiterates familiar ones, leaving viewers with the sense that the documentary exists more to extend discourse than to deepen it.

As true crime continues to dominate modern cinema, projects like “Dear Jodi” highlight the importance of discernment in storytelling. Not every case is in need to be revisiting, and not every perspective needs to have a feature-length treatment behind it. While the film raises worthwhile questions about media, obsession, and narrative control, it ultimately struggles to answer the most important one of all: “why this story, and why now”?

Christopher James 12/13/25 Christopher James 12/13/25

“HERMAN” (2025): A Haunting Journey Through Inner Torment

Courtesy of VP Independent and LBM Pictures

Psychological thrillers that weave religion into a character’s personal hell strike a deeper chord than the average horror movie. These stories don’t rely solely on jump scares or external threats. They dig into guilt, faith, memory, and the terrifying possibility that the darkness haunting us might be of our own creation. When a film blends spiritual unease with the unraveling of the human mind, it feels raw and intimate. It forces audiences to confront their internal fears rather than the ones lurking outside the frame, creating a type of horror that lingers long after the screen goes black.

HOW DARK & TWISTED DOES IT GET?

While psychological thrillers often promise a descent into the human mind, “Herman” delivers something far more unsettling. It drags you into the places you’ve avoided, the locked rooms you refuse to visit, and the shadows you hope no one else ever sees. I walked into this film expecting a traditional slow-burn story about a troubled man in isolation. What I got instead was a harrowing emotional excavation that made me feel the dread within myself in ways I didn’t anticipate. Director and writer Andrew Vogel has crafted a film that doesn’t just ask you to observe Herman’s unraveling. It forces you to sit beside him, breathe the cold air he breathes, and confront the echoes of your own buried pain.

Colin Ward plays Herman with remarkable precision. His performance is controlled yet explosive, fragile yet defiant, and it captures the complicated duality at the heart of the story. Herman is a mountain recluse haunted by a dark force, but the film makes clear early on that the most terrifying intruder is the one already living inside him. When Suzann Toni Petrongolo appears as Sr. Mary, one of his late-night visitors, her presence pushes him toward a reckoning he can no longer postpone. Petrongolo delivers a haunting mix of compassion and quiet authority, amplifying the film’s religious undertones without slipping into cliché.

The supporting cast adds crucial texture. Lawson Greyson brings Alice to life with raw emotional honesty, offering glimpses of what connection might look like for Herman if fear didn’t strangle every attempt at vulnerability. Andrew Vogel, stepping in front of the camera as Max, shows an intuitive grasp of the story’s rhythms. Alex James, as James, adds another layer of tension, a reminder that once the past comes knocking it rarely knocks only once. Soni Theresea Montgomery gives Sr. Josephine an otherworldly calm that unsettles as much as it soothes. Lamar Alexander, playing The Man, delivers a lean yet unforgettable performance, the kind that makes you lean closer without realizing it. Every performer is operating at full force, and the result is a cast that carries the film with unified intensity.

Much of the dread in “Herman” comes from its willingness to sit in silence. Cinematographer Jess Dunlap transforms the mountain setting into a living organism. The fog sequences are some of the most gorgeous horror images I’ve seen this year. The camera doesn’t simply frame Herman’s world. It breathes with him. The fog rolls across the landscape like a memory you’ve tried to outrun, swallowing the cabin, the tree line, and eventually Herman himself. This visual strategy gives the film a mood that reminded me of wandering through “Dante’s Inferno,” each step bringing Herman deeper into his own personal Hell. I could feel the weight of that descent in my chest, as if the film were quietly asking me to examine the painful moments I’ve shoved into the corners of my own mind.

The themes at play here resonate with a sharpness that lingers long after the credits. Herman isn’t only haunted by supernatural threats. He’s pursued by the accumulated dread of his past, the choices that carved pieces out of his soul, and the secrets he swore to take to his grave. These secrets aren’t vague suggestions dropped in to build tension. They are woven through the film’s structure and become the scaffolding that supports the third act. That final stretch is one of my favorite cinematic turns of the year. It’s bold, blistering, and emotionally devastating. I felt as though I were watching two versions of Herman battle for the right to exist. The duality of self is explored with a precision I rarely see in horror, and it made me question how much of my own pain I’ve learned to carry without acknowledging its weight.

Vogel’s writing excels here. The dialogue is tight and meaningful, and not a single line feels like filler. The pacing is steady, allowing suspicion and dread to build organically. Nothing is rushed, yet nothing feels indulgent. As a director, Vogel demonstrates a deep understanding of how mood, silence, and visual storytelling can shape psychological horror. His control of each scene is confident, and his decision to merge spiritual symbolism with emotional trauma gives the film a sense of mythic gravity. The religious elements never overexplain themselves. Instead, they act as a compelling guide rope as Herman stumbles through the labyrinth of his inner world. I found myself clinging to that rope right beside him.

The production companies, VP Independent and LBM Pictures, deliver a film that looks and feels polished without losing the intimate grit that makes psychological horror so effective. There is an artistry here that respects the viewer. The film assumes you’re willing to think, to feel uncomfortable, and to question yourself. I appreciated that level of trust. Every scene feels handled with purpose, from the smallest gesture to the sweeping, fog-laden shots that belong on a large theatrical screen.

Emotionally, the film hit me harder than I expected. Herman’s fear is tangible, but it’s the quieter moments that cut the deepest. When the visitors arrive at night and force him closer to the truth he fears most, I found myself leaning into the discomfort. The movie made me think inward, confronting my own dread as though I were the one trapped in that isolated cabin. That level of emotional reflection doesn’t happen often, especially in horror, and it speaks to how powerful the story is when every element works in sync.

As the final moments unfolded, I realized I wasn’t just watching Herman fight for his sanity. I was watching him fight for the right to be seen, understood, and forgiven. That yearning is universal, and the film captures it with heartbreaking authenticity. By the time the last frame hit, I felt like I had walked through Herman’s Hell alongside him and emerged with a deeper understanding of my own psychological scars.

“Herman” is the perfect way to close out 2025. It’s stunningly beautiful, emotionally fearless, and crafted with an artistry that deserves high praise. The writing is exceptional. The directing is confident and captivating. The acting from Colin Ward and the entire cast elevates the film into something unforgettable. Jess Dunlap’s cinematography deserves awards recognition for its hypnotic fog sequences alone. This is a film that earns every shiver, every gasp, and every quiet moment of reflection it inspires.

You can stream “Herman” now on Amazon Prime, and I highly recommend experiencing this psychological nightmare for yourself. Hit play, turn down the lights, and let Herman’s world pull you under. If you’re brave enough, take the journey into the dark and see what secrets you’ve buried there.

Christopher James 12/11/25 Christopher James 12/11/25

TERROR FILMS RELEASING’S “FEY” (2025) Captures Fear in Perfect Focus

Terror Films Releasing is taking 2025 by absolute storm. The indie-focused distributor has been stuffing its library with fresh, genuinely exciting horror releases, from eerie original titles to rock-solid sequels like “Hell House LLC: Lineage,” which sent fans buzzing all over again. If the company’s mission is to outdo itself every few weeks, it is succeeding. Their latest addition, the unnerving found-footage thriller “Fey,” continues that hot streak with confidence, precision, and a creeping sense of dread that lingers long after the credits fade.

LIGHTS OFF, CAMERAS ON - LET’S DIVE IN:

“Fey” stars Madeline Doherty (who also wrote and directed the movie), Zoe Bishop, Michael Raleigh, and Sam Howard. The cast (for the small moments they are on screen) brings a grounded authenticity to a story that is already unsettling on its own. The movie centers on Maddy, who has entered the final phase of a trauma study following a deeply scarring incident that still has its hooks in her psyche. As part of the study, Maddy must film her time alone since the event in her childhood home. Her job is to record, reflect, and attempt to reclaim her sense of safety. Unfortunately for her, and very fortunately for us horror fans, that sense of safety evaporates almost immediately as the old feeling of being watched returns. The more she records, the less alone she becomes.

What makes “Fey” shine is how perfectly suited the story is for the found-footage format. Some films use the style as a gimmick. “Fey” uses it as a narrative engine. The choice to ground the entire experience through Maddy’s camera turns every shadow into a threat, every distant sound into a warning, and every frame into an accusation that something is there even when we cannot see it. The tension works because the camera never feels like a prop. It is an extension of Maddy’s unraveling emotional state, a lifeline she desperately holds onto as the walls start to close in again.

Doherty, as Maddy, delivers a performance that sells every crack in her emotional armor. She plays trauma in a way that feels painfully real, not theatrical. When fear hits, it hits like something she has lived with too long. Zoe Bishop, Michael Raleigh, and Sam Howard support the story with grounded, believable performances that keep the world of the film intimate and authentic. In a genre that sometimes sacrifices character work for spectacle, “Fey” builds its terror by relying on strong, lived-in performances. You believe these people, and that makes the horror punch harder.

The writing from Madeline Doherty is remarkable in its restraint. Rather than explaining every detail, the script trusts the audience to fill in the spaces that trauma leaves behind. We get enough pieces to understand Maddy’s fear, but the film wisely avoids spoon-feeding its mythology. That decision pays off because it keeps viewers focused on the emotional reality instead of logistics. The screenplay understands something essential: fear becomes more potent when the unknown is allowed to breathe. Every quiet moment, every lingering shot, and every subtle shift in Maddy’s behavior stacks like bricks toward an outcome we feel but cannot predict.

Not just is this an amazingly written movie, the directing by Madeline Doherty is equally impressive, balancing documentary-style realism with slow-burn menace that builds scene by scene. The film avoids cheap tricks, quick cuts, or needlessly bombastic scares. Instead, it gives the audience a front-row seat to Maddy’s vulnerability. The tension is not created by loud noises or sudden jolts. It is created by dread—the kind that grows in the pit of your stomach as you start to realize something is truly wrong and getting worse by the minute. Doherty directing understands the power of stillness, of silence, of letting fear creep instead of explode. It is a mature approach that sets “Fey” apart from other entries in the found-footage space.

Props must be given to Terror Films Releasing for putting this movie under their banner. It is a smart, thoughtful piece of horror that aligns perfectly with the company’s current streak of quality releases. They have always been a haven for filmmakers working on the fringes of the genre, but this year seems particularly strong. “Fey” fits seamlessly into their lineup of ambitious, character-driven titles that aim to do more than simply scare. It reflects their talent for spotting films that offer something different, something sharpened by vision rather than budget.

What truly elevates “Fey” is the way it keeps you perched on the edge of your seat, constantly guessing what might happen next. Not many horror films pull off that slow tightening of suspense without showing their cards too early, but this one nails it. Each recorded night brings a shift in Maddy’s environment that is subtle enough to question yet disturbing enough to dread. The progression never feels forced. It feels natural, like creeping paralysis that starts at her feet and slowly climbs its way to her throat. By the time the final moments arrive, you realize you have been clenching your jaw, leaning forward, and gripping the armrest like the experience is happening to you.

The film’s commitment to authenticity never wavers. The lighting, the framing, the pacing—everything feels like it was captured by someone simply trying to get through the night. That is the magic of well-executed found footage. It traps you in the character’s perspective until you forget that there is a director, a writer, and a crew behind the lens. You are just there, breathing with Maddy, listening for anything that might move in the dark.

“Fey” never overplays its hand. It does not try to reinvent the wheel, nor does it need to. Instead, it presents a compelling and thrilling story through a lens that amplifies every moment, crafting a narrative that is simple in premise yet nerve-shredding in execution. The film proves that found footage, when done well, is not a gimmick but one of the most emotionally effective tools in the horror toolbox. It is a reminder that what we imagine is often far more terrifying than what we see.

By the time the credits roll, “Fey” has done its job and then some. It leaves a mark. It scratches around in your mind long after you stop watching, making you wonder what you would find if you left a camera running while you slept. It is the kind of horror film that sticks with you not because of what it shows, but because of what it suggests.

“Fey” is a must-see for found-footage fans and anyone who loves horror driven by tension, emotion, and razor-sharp storytelling. Terror Films Releasing added another winner to its 2025 slate with this one, proving again that the company knows how to pick films that leave an impact. You can watch “Fey” right now on the Found TV app, and trust me, you are going to want to experience this one with the lights off.

Christopher James 12/10/25 Christopher James 12/10/25

BREAKING GLASS PICTURES Announces New True-Crime Documentary “DEAR JODI”

True crime continues to fascinate audiences, even those who are the most seasoned or new to the venture of the dark history of everyday life. The horrific tales of true crime blurs the line between the unthinkable and the undeniable. They often remind us that the darkest monsters aren’t supernatural creations that we sometimes look up to in awe on the silver screen from the night out to the movies, but they’re ordinary people pushed (or pulling themselves) into extraordinary acts of violence. The raw authenticity of true crime taps into a primal curiosity that makes us ask ourselves “Why do people commit horrific acts?” or “How do victims that survived go on with their lives?” It makes make you wonder what patterns hide beneath the surface of everyday life that would make someone take that corner into insanity. Modern horror films have absorbed this cultural obsession, shifting away from purely fantastical terrors and moving toward grounded, human-driven nightmares inspired by real cases, criminal psychology, and societal fears. This influence has reshaped the genre’s tone and texture, encouraging filmmakers to lean into documentary-style techniques, procedural structures, and morally ambiguous storytelling. The result is a wave of horror that feels more intimate and unsettling as it carries the uneasy weight of possibility, simply proving that, sometimes, the scariest stories are the ones rooted in the reality in which we comfortably live.

Recently I got word that Breaking Glass Pictures has announced a new true-crime documentary “Dear Jodi”, a reexamination of the Jodi Arias case. Here is a bit more info on that from Breaking Glass Pictures and their recent press release:

“Breaking Glass Pictures is proud to announce the upcoming digital release of “Dear Jodi”, a gripping new true-crime documentary that revisits one of the most scrutinized and controversial murder trials in American history: the case of Jodi Arias and the death of Travis Alexander.

After years of sensational headlines, viral speculation, and courtroom theatrics, “Dear Jodi” steps back from the noise to focus on overlooked evidence, untold perspectives, and new reflections from individuals close to the case. Directed by Clive Christopher, the film collaborates with The Within Range Podcast, who bring forward a guest connected to key figures involved in the investigation and trial.

With unprecedented access and unfiltered interviews, the documentary reopens the central questions that continue to fascinate and divide true-crime audiences worldwide:

What really happened that night?

And why did the trial unfold the way it did?

Featuring appearances from: Clive Christopher, Jared Suter, Dominic Vaquez, Darren Burch, Joe Arpaio, Noah Gruber, Vanesha Guidry, and Andrew Leal.”

Stay tuned to I Love Horror Movie reviews for the in-depth review of this new true-crime documentary “Dear Jodi”, coming soon.

Christopher James 12/9/25 Christopher James 12/9/25

“CUDDLE” (2025): A Short Film With Big Scares

If there’s one thing horror has taught me, it’s that the moment you try to relax is exactly when something decides to ruin your night. “Cuddle” takes that universal truth and crafts a tight, clever, and wildly entertaining short that transforms a body pillow into the most demanding sleep companion since Freddy Krueger stalked Elm Street. I didn’t expect to fear plush bedding, but here we are.

What immediately grabbed my attention was the cinematography. The directing trio of Violet de la Torre, Brittany Cairo, and Frederick Nuti clearly came to play. The camera glides with confidence, panning back and forth between the quiet room and the encroaching forest, creating a steady pulse of suspense. That visual rhythm sets the tone early, making me feel like something is always watching from just outside the frame. It’s smooth, sharp, and intentional, exactly what a horror short needs when it only has minutes to make an impact.

Then there’s the moment the body pillow disappears from the couch and reappears on the bed with a threatening little note that simply reads, “CUDDLE ME NOW.” I laughed, then immediately questioned why I laughed, because that is the exact kind of command I would not take lightly in the middle of the night. The film knows how absurd its premise sounds, and instead of running from it, it leans in with style. The humor enhances the tension, rather than breaking it, and that balance is what makes the whole thing so enjoyable.

The short digs into a fear most of us have felt at one point or another: sleeping in an unfamiliar place while traveling. I’ve experienced that creeping paranoia myself. The way the walls feel too thin, the quiet feels too loud, and every item in the room seems capable of subtle judgment. “Cuddle” takes that already unnerving setup and pushes it into fun, sinister territory. I could practically feel that out-of-town discomfort creeping in as the story played out, and the film uses it to great advantage.

When the pillow finally decides it’s done being ignored, the tone shifts in the best possible way. Thanks to the red lighting, the room transforms into a nightmare space that feels ripped straight from a Krueger fever dream. The shadows stretch longer, the colors intensify, and everything grows more hostile. It’s a smart stylistic choice by the directors, giving the pillow’s “revenge arc” a surreal, hellish flare. It’s playful, unnerving, and genuinely impressive considering the short’s format and runtime.

The performances seal the deal. Sophie Cooper brings grounded, relatable energy to the chaos, and R.L. White balances vulnerability with the kind of comedic timing that horror shorts thrive on. The two play off the absurdity of the situation without ever slipping into parody, and that restraint keeps the tension intact even when the story gets wild. Their chemistry makes the final moments land with even more impact.

By the time the short film ends, I found myself wanting more, not because anything was missing, but because the story clearly has room to expand. The final beat leaves a tantalizing question hanging in the air: who’s the next unlucky traveler this pillow plans to “bond” with? I’m absolutely here for a sequel, a series, or a full-length escalation of cuddle-driven terror. It is is clever, stylish, well-acted, and crafted with real love for the genre. I highly recommend checking it out. Just maybe keep an eye on your bedding tonight. You can watch “Cuddle” now on YouTube and Screamify.

Christopher James 12/4/25 Christopher James 12/4/25

Suspense Builds Quietly in “SOMETHING OF A MONSTER” (2025)

Pregnancy horror at times can be a hit-or-miss corner of the horror genre. It’s a niche that either connects deeply with audiences who appreciate its emotional weight or leaves viewers frustrated when the metaphor that might overwhelm the movie. I recently had a chance to watch “Something of Monster”. The movie was directed by Brandon Duncan and written by Hyten Davidson and Christian Missonak. It’s a solid thriller with atmosphere to spare, even if it leans on a handful of tropes that can stretch your patience long before the payoff hits.

HOW DOES THE MOVIE STACK UP?:

Set in 1984, the movie follows a woman experiencing a phantom pregnancy, sent away to a remote Catskills inn as if isolation will somehow restore her sanity. From the moment she arrives, it’s clear that solitude is the last thing she’s going to get. Duncan wastes no time hinting that something is off, that something is watching, and that something isn’t planning to keep its distance. The setup is simple, but sometimes simplicity is all you need to let the dread settle in.

Star Ashley Bacon anchors the movie with a performance that balances desperation, exhaustion, and a stubborn sliver of hope. Joy Avigail Sudduth and Ameerah Briggs round out the cast with grounded, layered performances that make the inn feel lived in instead of like a set dressed for a scare. Yet the character work, while strong, is constantly undermined by the movies’s most irritating trope: nobody believes the main character Amelia.

This trope isn’t just present, it’s practically weaponized. Even when the movie lays out clear, undeniable evidence that something supernatural or sinister is unfolding, the people around her don’t simply shrug it off; they aggressively blame her. There are scenes where the victim-blaming is so sharp and so persistent that it becomes genuinely uncomfortable to watch. Instead of creating tension, it pushes the story into repetitive territory. I’ve seen plenty of horror movies use this device that works like “Rosemary’s Baby” to “The Unborn” but rarely has it felt this stubborn. The refusal to acknowledge the obvious borders on narrative laziness, and it’s the one element that repeatedly pulls the story down.

Courtesy of PersimmonCourtesy of Persimmon

Ashley Bacon deserves extra attention for her performance within this setup. She carries the emotional weight of the movie, and for the most part, she does it well. There are moments early on where her acting leans a little over the top, particularly in scenes where panic takes over but she eventually finds her footing. Once she settles into the rhythm of the story, her performance becomes grounded, compelling, and fully in sync with the film’s emotional core. Her ability to rebound and deliver a strong second half keeps you invested even when the script’s choices make you want to yell at the screen.

Still, for all its frustrating decisions, the movie eventually rewards your patience. The movies’s slow-burn pacing (at times can be a bit too slow) gives way to a final 20 minutes that completely change the temperature of the experience. When the movie kicks into full gear, it’s genuinely gripping. The tension sharpens, the pieces fall into place, and suddenly the emotional through-line of the movie lands with clarity and force. Those last moments are where the story’s deeper themes finally shine: the painful weight of pregnancy trauma, the psychological aftermath of loss, and how society often responds to women’s suffering with dismissal instead of compassion. It’s a pointed message, delivered with enough sincerity that it lingers long after the credits roll.

Cinematographer Brendan McGowan deserves an entire paragraph to himself. His work elevates the movie far beyond what the script sometimes allows. The framing is deliberate and unnerving, often revealing just enough in the background to raise your pulse without resorting to obvious scare tactics. He uses the woods, the hallways, and the cluttered corners of the inn to build a sense of presence, as if something always is lingering just out of reach. The inn itself becomes a character thanks to his lens. You can almost smell the old wood and feel the cold draft under the door. Nothing is over-lit or over-calculated; McGowan understands that the best horror hides in the architecture and the shadows. It’s a beautifully shot movie, and his work alone makes it worth at least one viewing.

What truly gives the movie emotional weight is its commentary on pregnancy and loss. Without spoiling anything, “Something of Monster” captures the internal collapse that can follow phantom pregnancies, miscarriages, or the loss of a child. It demonstrates how grief can warp someone’s reality, not because they’re fragile, but because the trauma is profound. Through its thriller framework, the movie highlights how society tends to stereotype women in these situations rather than support them. It’s uncomfortable, but intentionally so. That thematic honesty makes the movie stand out, even when its storytelling choices falter.

The supernatural element (or possibly psychological element, depending on how you read it), serves as both metaphor and menace. The mysterious woman in the woods is one of the most effective parts of the narrative. Duncan smartly keeps her at the edges, using presence over proximity to create dread. She embodies both literal and symbolic threat: the fear of someone taking what isn’t theirs, the fear of losing what you believed you had, and the fear of being replaced. That layering adds dimension to a story that otherwise risks slipping into familiar territory.

While the movie has its problems, I still found myself invested. The tone, the imagery, and the tension work more often than they don’t, even if the script struggles with repetitive beats and frustrating character logic. The inn setting, the cold 1984 atmosphere, and the creeping presence in the trees all work together to build a world that feels isolated and suffocating. The filmmakers know how to shape mood, which is half the battle in horror.

By the time the credits roll, “Something of Monster” lands as a one-time watch, but a watch you’ll enjoy. It doesn’t reinvent pregnancy horror, but it respects its themes, delivers a strong lead performance, and ends with a pulse-pounding third act that’s absolutely worth waiting for. If you can push past the aggravating stretches of disbelief and the heavy-handed victim-blaming, you’ll find a thriller with a clear voice and an emotional core that resonates. The think to get in mind with this movie is this, sometimes a movie doesn’t need to be perfect to get under your skin—it just needs to be honest enough to haunt you. “Something of Monster” from Persimmon is available today, December 4th on VOD.

Christopher James 11/25/25 Christopher James 11/25/25

Get Ready For Dismembered December on FOUND TV

December is the month when winter steps even more into the spotlight. The holidays are looming, the air sharpens with a cold sting, and a fresh coat of snow turns the world into an ideal stage for on-screen terror. After all, few things are more delightfully unsettling than blood splattering across a frozen landscape, or a severed head rolling down the same hill you once sledded down as a kid.

Welcome to “Dismembered December” (yes, every month gets a name), the time when horror fans seek body chills that rival the ones waiting outside. Fortunately, Found TV has returned with another curated list of new and chilling found-footage horror releases guaranteed to keep the season sufficiently chilling.

MARK YOUR CALENDARS FOR THESE RELEASES:

DECEMBER 1: NOW STREAMING “Tahoe Joe 3: Concrete Wilderness” (2025) - After the events of Tahoe Joe 2, filmmakers Michael Rock and Dillon Brown race against the clock to outrun a corrupt organization trying to capture the legendary Sasquatch creature called "Tahoe Joe."

DECEMBER 3: “Werewolf Santa” (2023) - On Christmas Eve when Santa delivered presents, he was bitten by werewolf becoming monster himself. North America and UK only.

DECEMBER 5: “Red Christmas” (2014) - I'm Tara, I like killing people! I've been doing it a long time now and realized there might be some folks that want to see what it's like. So, I made this movie to show you all of the steps of how to brutally murder a person while never forgetting what the holidays are all about! This year, I'm dreaming of a Red

DECEMBER 9: “Yami Douga 10” (2014) - After Kazuto Kodama's popular horror series "The Real Deal. Cursed Videos" (Honto ni Atta. Noroi no Video) unleashed a new generation in horror, we bring you volume 10 in the ultimate horror video collection.

DECEMBER 12: “Poltergeist Diaries” (2018) - Episode 8: Paranormal investigators Gabe and Loretta unravel a dark connection to Mason and Holly's haunting. Episode 9: Mason attempts to remove The Poltergeist and evil entities from his home. Episode 10: After weeks of fail attempts to rid his home of a diabolical Poltergeist Mason finally decides to burn the Ouija Board.

DECEMBER 17: “Haunted 2: Apparitions” (2018) - A private investigator looks into the Halloween horror nights phenomenon. On a rural farm in deepest, darkest England he encounters a series of bizarre paranormal events that lead to a mystery being solved with frightening consequences.

DECEMBER 19: “Capture Kill Release” (2016) - A couple plots to murder a random stranger just for the thrill of it, but things turn ugly when one of them decides not to go through with it. North America only.

DECEMBER 23: “Yami Douga 11” (2014) - The ultimate fear video collection which carefully selects the spirit video which is born from the darkness and is about to be buried in the dark, introduces the coverage.

DECEMBER 26: “Documenting the Witch Path” (2017) - Three young documentary filmmakers find out about a place called 'The Witch Path'. It leading to a lake known as 'Witch Lake' where, in the 17th century, innocent women were drowned when they were accused of witchery.

DECEMBER 29: “There’s Something in the Pilliga” (2014) - The Pilliga Yowie, - or 'Jingra' - has haunted the Australian outback for centuries, stalking a remote part of New South Wales, where men seldom dare tread, content to keep to itself... until now.

Christopher James 11/18/25 Christopher James 11/18/25

“JABBERJAW” (2025): TERROR FILMS RELEASING Strikes Again with a Sharp & Sinister Sci-Fi Horror

Found footage horror has proven itself to be one of the most fascinating and resilient sub-genres in cinematic history. It continues to evolve rather than fade, and I proudly consider it a vital piece of modern horror’s beating heart. There is something thrilling about watching terror unfold through shaky handheld cameras, grainy microphones, and unfiltered human panic. It collapses the distance between viewer and victim and makes us feel like accidental eyewitnesses. “The Blair Witch Project” forever changed the rules by convincing the world that lost tapes and abandoned equipment could be just as frightening as masked slashers and giant monsters. Since then, the genre has adapted through haunted apartments, cursed family homes, bizarre wilderness expeditions, digital call screens, and even documentaries gone wrong. Found footage works because it refuses to pretend. It allows horror to breathe without CGI perfection, without glossy studio glamor, and without the safety net of omniscient storytelling. It is messy, flawed, intimate, and terrifying in a way few formats can mimic. When a new title joins this legacy, it immediately inherits a massive genre expectation. Thankfully, “Jabberjaw” not only accepts the challenge but strides into the eerie forest with confidence and a fresh identity.

A SLOW BURN WITH A SCI-FI TWIST:

“Jabberjaw” is written and directed by Luke Genton, who previously brought us “The Bone Box,” a movie that already proved he understands how to build dread that lingers. His latest project follows Dylan, played with depth, honesty, and emotional vulnerability by Olivia Khoshatefeh, as she escapes into the woods with her best friend Minnie. Minnie is brought to life by Alexis Ingram, whose performance is warm, grounded, and naturally charismatic. Dylan is trying to get space from an abusive boyfriend and believes a camping trip might offer clarity and peace. Both women document their adventure with a video camera, which gives the audience an intimate and unfiltered perspective of their humor, fears, and emotional state. What immediately works is the chemistry between Khoshatefeh and Ingram. They do not just feel like actors paired for convenience, they feel like genuine lifelong friends with shared history, private jokes, and unspoken emotional understanding. Their rapport becomes the emotional anchor of the story and effortlessly pulls the viewer into their world.

As their peaceful escape shifts into panic and paranoia, Dylan begins to believe she is being followed. The tension grows slowly, allowing the story to simmer rather than explode too early. It becomes unclear whether a human threat is lurking in the trees or if something entirely different is stalking them. This ambiguity is handled impressively and never feels confusing or forced. It reminded me of “The Blair Witch Project” in terms of dread, isolation, and immersive fear, but with an added element of science fiction that gives the story an unexpected twist. The alien presence contributes to the tension rather than overshadowing the emotional terror. Genton balances reality and otherworldly fear with precision and never sacrifices character for spectacle. The result is a movie that feels layered rather than gimmicky.

The performances deserve major acknowledgment. Olivia Khoshatefeh carries the emotional weight of her character with authenticity and strength. She makes the horror personal rather than distant and never falls into a predictable or exaggerated performance style. Alexis Ingram shines in her supportive role as Minnie and displays impressive comedic timing while still honoring the seriousness of the story. Both actresses succeed individually, but together they deliver something even more compelling. Their teamwork becomes the soul of the film and elevates it into something emotionally memorable. It is refreshing to see a found footage film led by two talented women whose dynamic drives the plot just as strongly as the external mystery.

“Jabberjaw” is also a slow burn in the best possible way. It does not try to shock from the start or rely on constant jump scares. Instead, it builds an atmosphere that gradually tightens like a rope pulled through the dark. Viewers are given time to connect with the characters, appreciate their humor, and understand why this situation feels so dangerous. The humor fits naturally within the dialogue and never breaks the tension. It feels like the type of humor that emerges when people are trying to stay brave rather than silly, which gives it a relatable emotional texture. The outdoor setting works perfectly for this type of story and becomes a character of its own. Trees, darkness, isolation, and the unknown are inherently threatening, especially when paired with trauma and uncertainty. Genton understands that horror does not always need elaborate settings, it only needs the right direction and purpose.

The writing deserves particular praise for handling trauma responsibly and thoughtfully. Dylan’s pain is not used as a plot device; it is part of her journey and shapes her fear. The merging of emotional horror and extraterrestrial suspense creates a hybrid experience that feels fresh rather than derivative. The ending delivers a satisfying payoff, which is something many found footage films struggle with. Genton shows that slow burns can reward patience when crafted with intent.

It is exciting to see another female led entry in the found footage sub-genre, especially one that explores friendship, trust, fear, and healing without reducing its characters to stereotypes. “Jabberjaw” confidently proves that emotional horror and science fiction can exist together without weakening one another. It is clever, unsettling, intimate, and memorable, and it deserves a place among the standout modern offerings in the genre.

If you are craving something that captures the unsettling authenticity of the amazing elements of found footage horror, while weaving in an extraterrestrial thread and two standout performances, you need to watch “Jabberjaw.” It is currently available on the Found TV app, and it certainly earns its place among the most intriguing new releases from Terror Films Releasing. Stay tuned for more horror reviews from both Terror Films Releasing and Found TV, as they both have an amazing library of horror.

Christopher James 11/14/25 Christopher James 11/14/25

“We Hate Movies” Podcast Delivers Killer Comedy Through Its New Craven Tier

The horror world has plenty of podcasts clawing for attention, but few have the power to grab your attention, or the sheer chaotic charisma of We Hate Movies. Hosted by Andrew Jupin, Stephen Sajdak, Eric Szyszka, and Chris Cabin, the long-running comedy show has developed a kind of gravitational pull among movie lovers who crave equal parts smart criticism and absurd riffs. Recently myself and other horror fans who are part of their avid listener base have been delighted to see they have added a new tier to their Patreon specific to horror content. This new “Craven” tier includes an evolving slate of horror-focused bonus shows.

This new tier feels like a sly wink to Wes Craven himself and an invitation to plunge deeper into the spooky side of WHM’s cinematic mischief. It’s pitched at horror fans who don’t just enjoy being scared. Plus, people who want to hear four grown men gleefully dissect why “The Lawnmower Man” should be illegal or how certain ’90s slashers are funnier than half the comedies released today.

Much of this renewed energy comes from “WHM After Dark”, a bonus AMA like series that lets the hosts connect with the fans of the show and maybe even talk a little bit about some horror movies. The vibe is looser, weirder, and beautifully unfiltered. Horror fans also get a chance to hear their new show “Scaredy Cats” and get the thrill of hearing a show that leans into the best part of horror fandom, a place with the perfect balance between fear and fun. There is even access to their horror specific episodes in the “Spooktacular” collection. Whether they’re covering a cult favorite or a ridiculous relic best left in a VHS bargain bin, the Scaredy Cats format gives each movie just enough room to breathe before the hosts pounce with their trademark mix of sharp commentary and absolute quick wit that will have you laughing for hours. It’s a perfect gateway for listeners who want horror talk without the gatekeeping, and a warm embrace for longtime fans who already know WHM’s particular brand of madness.

All this expansion couldn’t come at a better time. With their 15-year anniversary creeping up in December, We Hate Movies isn’t coasting on nostalgia or leaning on their legacy. They’re doubling down, and horror is where they’re planting their flag for the next chapter. Instead of resting on an impressive catalog of episodes, they’re building new ways to connect with an audience that’s grown up, or grown weird, right alongside them.

The Craven tier is more than just merch-friendly branding or an excuse to dust off old forte favorites; it’s a celebration. A celebration of horror, of community, and of a podcast that understands why people love hearing their favorite movies roasted with affection. For longtime listeners and curious newcomers alike, this new horror-forward era proves that WHM is still evolving, still surprising, and still delightfully unhinged after all these years. If this is what the lead-up to year fifteen looks like, horror fans are in for a very good time. As a fan of these guys for over a decade and a horror fan for much longer, I can guarantee these guys are an amazing powerhouse that will leave you rolling on the floor laughing and make you want to add them to your weekly podcast que. You can check out their new Craven Patreon tier here and check out WHM host Andrew Jupin’s episode on my podcast “I Love Horror” here.

Christopher James 11/12/25 Christopher James 11/12/25

“DEAD GIVEAWAY” (2025) is a Bloody Who Done It Told Through Hangover Logic

As a lifelong horror fan, I’ve always had a soft spot for independent horror movies. There is something alluring about watching filmmakers outside the world of the high price studios craft scares, laughs, and wild originality on their own terms. Indie horror has a way of reigniting that spark in fans, the same one that made us fall in love with the genre in the first place. These movies are scrappy, fearless, and often more emotionally raw than the polished big-budget releases. When an indie horror movie hits, it hits hard, we all are still talking about how crazy “The Blair Witch Project” is 26 years ago (I still do and it has always been the reason why I have still refused to go camping). That is exactly what Ian Kimble’s “Dead Giveaway” does. It is the kind of horror-comedy that reminds you why independent cinema matters: it is inventive, bold, and brimming with personality.

After a great run at the Philadelphia Film Festival, where it earned an Honorable Mention for Best Chemistry, “Dead Giveaway” is already proving that word of mouth can make as much noise as a studio marketing budget. Written and directed by Kimble, this bloody, booze-soaked rollercoaster of chaos doesn’t just play by the rules, it breaks them with a smile.

WHEN BRUNCH GETS BLOODY:

“Dead Giveaway” opens like a hangover nightmare that feels just a little too relatable. Jill, played by the endlessly entertaining Ruby Modine, wakes up with a pounding headache, an uninvited corpse in her bed, and a schedule that still includes making it to brunch by 3:00 p.m. From there, everything spirals gloriously out of control: there’s a tied-up man in her closet, a roommate that may be harboring a secret of her own, and a best friend who simply wants to go to brunch. The best way to compare this movie to anything you may have seen is saying it is an enjoyable hybrid of “Thelma and Louise” meets “The Hangover”. Not to toot my own horn but I will say for once, that comparison is spot-on. It’s a wild blend of chaos, dark humor, and female camaraderie with a bloody bow on top.

One of the many things that immediately grabbed my attention while watching this movie is how confidently Kimble’s script walks the line between horror and comedy. The jokes land as hard as the jump scares, and every punchline feels like it has been marinated in panic and caffeine. The pacing is relentless in a way that it is the kind of ride that refuses to let you catch your breath. You just have to hang on, put your phone away to not miss a moment and hope brunch still happens for our main characters.

I would forever be regretful if I didn’t talk about Ruby Modine and Mikaela Hoover because these two absolutely own this movie. Their chemistry is the heartbeat of “Dead Giveaway”, and it is easy to see why the Philadelphia Film Festival took notice of their stellar performances. Modine gives her character Jill a frazzled charm that’s instantly relatable. She’s messy, funny, terrified, and determined all at once, while rocking that dreadful hangover that we all have on more than one occasion dealt with. Her physical comedy is sharp, her timing is pitch-perfect, and she shifts between panic and wit with absolute ease.

Then there’s Hoover, who’s also a total revelation here. I’ve enjoyed her work in movies like “The Suicide Squad” and “Guardians of the Galaxy”, but “Dead Giveaway” lets her fully embrace her comedic instincts. The back-and-forth between Hoover and Modine is hilarious, fast, and perfectly in sync. Their banter feels so natural that it almost seems improvised. Watching these two navigate one ridiculous disaster after another is pure entertainment gold.

It’s also incredibly refreshing to see a horror-comedy anchored by such strong female leads. Too often, horror-comedies treat women as victims or side characters, but here, Modine and Hoover drive the story, the humor, and the emotional core. This is a great female-led movie that doesn’t just celebrate women, it lets them be chaotic, funny, and complex in all the best ways.

Seeing Scout Taylor-Compton pop up in “Dead Giveaway” was a true treat. Horror fans like me know her best from Rob Zombie’s “Halloween” movies, where she brought intensity and heart to Laurie Strode. Here, she flips expectations completely, flexing her comedic muscles with ease. Taylor-Compton’s scenes are sprinkled with that same confident energy we have seen in her more serious roles, but this time she gets to have fun with it. Watching a scream queen handle comedy this naturally is a genuine delight, and it gives the movie a little extra wink to horror fans who have followed her career.

Writer-director Ian Kimble deserves serious credit for the balancing act he pulls off here. Mixing horror and comedy is one of the hardest things to do in filmmaking, but he makes it look effortless. Every scene feels carefully orchestrated yet totally unhinged, a combination that works beautifully. The editing is tight, the humor smart, and the energy infectious.

Kimble’s dialogue is sharp, witty, and often quotable. It is the kind of writing that invites rewatching just to catch the jokes you missed the first time. He crafts a world that’s both horrific and hilarious, a space where panic and laughter coexist perfectly. His direction captures the absurdity of the situation without ever losing sight of character or tone. That’s what makes “Dead Giveaway” so impressive. It’s chaotic, but it’s chaos with purpose.

There’s a real sense of style here, too. Kimble blends indie sensibilities with mainstream flair, echoing films like “Game Night” and “Ready or Not” without ever feeling derivative. It’s fast-paced, unpredictable, and filled with creative visual touches that make even the bloodiest scenes fun to watch.

One of the things I loved most about “Dead Giveaway” is how it takes the familiar structure of a “who done it” and turns it completely on its head. Instead of a detective or team of investigators, we get two hungover women desperately trying to piece together what the hell happened the night before, all while tripping over their own lies and bad decisions. It’s part mystery, part meltdown, and entirely entertaining.

The tone is a perfect cocktail of tension and absurdity. One minute I was laughing at Jill being told that Googling “how to hide a body” is a stupid mistake she shouldn’t do, and the next I was gripping my seat as things took a darker turn. Kimble uses that unpredictability to keep the audience hooked, making sure we never quite know whether to laugh, scream, or both. It’s a tricky tonal balance, but it pays off beautifully. Not to mention how gruesome and hilarious some of the cutaways are of the crazy ideas the characters have throughout the entire movie.

Watching “Dead Giveaway” reminded me why I’ll always champion independent horror. There’s an honesty and a freedom in indie horror filmmaking that big studios can’t always capture. These movies feel personal, passionate, and alive simply because they are created by people who love horror as much as the fans who watch it. Ian Kimble’s movie is a perfect example of that spirit. It’s fearless, funny, and bursting with creativity.

Indie horror has this magical ability to reach horror fans on a deeper level. It reminds us that the genre doesn’t have to rely on spectacle, it just needs vision and heart. When a movie like “Dead Giveaway” comes along, it doesn’t just entertain; it reenergizes the community. It’s the kind of movie that makes you want to text your horror-loving friends immediately and say, “You need to see this.”

“Dead Giveaway” is everything I want from a modern horror-comedy. It is fast, funny, and fearlessly original. Ruby Modine and Mikaela Hoover deliver career-best performances, their chemistry carrying the movie with wit and chaos. Scout Taylor-Compton’s appearance is a bonus gift for horror fans, proving she can conquer comedy as easily as she conquers killers. And Ian Kimble’s writing and direction? Sharp, smart, and gleefully twisted. This movie doesn’t just balance horror and humor; it embraces both with open arms. It’s the kind of film that makes you laugh one second and cover your eyes the next, all while wondering how something so absurd can feel so relatable.

I had an absolute blast watching it. “Dead Giveaway” proves that horror-comedy can still surprise us, still make us laugh until we cry, and still remind us why we love this genre so much. It’s clever, chaotic, and unapologetically entertaining, everything I want when I sit down for a good scare with a side of laughter.

When the movie becomes available in the near future, do yourself a favor and check it out. Just make sure you’ve eaten beforehand, because this adventure to get to brunch gets bloody. “Dead Giveaway” is a whip-smart, female-driven, hangover-from-hell masterpiece that proves indie horror still knows how to keep the genre alive, laughing, and screaming. If you ask my opinion (which I assume if you’re reading this you just might), it is a five-star movie that was enjoyable from start to finish. If you’re a fan of horror-comedies that aren’t afraid to get messy, the kind that make you laugh and cringe in the same breath, this one’s for you. When it drops, add it straight to your must-watch list.

Christopher James 11/9/25 Christopher James 11/9/25

Chad Ferrin Mixes Noir Style & Nasty Secrets in “DOROTHEA” (2025)

True crime has long been one of horror’s favorite accomplices, shaping some of the most haunting stories to ever hit the screen. From “Psycho,” inspired by Ed Gein’s real-life horrors, to “The Silence of the Lambs,” which blended criminal psychology with grotesque fascination, horror and true crime have always shared the same dark heart. Over the last few decades, filmmakers have leaned into that connection, reminding us that the scariest monsters are often the ones who look the most normal. Dread’s latest release, “Dorothea,” continues that legacy with chilling brilliance. Written and directed by Chad Ferrin, the movie doesn’t just tell a story about murder, it digs it up, dissects it, and holds it close enough for us to see the rot beneath the roses.

LETS TAKE A STAB AT THE MOVIE:

“Dorothea” tells the terrifying true story of Dorothea Puente, a seemingly sweet grandmother who murdered her tenants and buried them in her garden. On the surface, her boarding house was a refuge for the elderly and disabled. In reality, it was a trap built on deception, manipulation, and greed. Ferrin, whose previous work “Ed Kemper” helped kick off Dread’s biographical true-crime horror series, crafts this second entry with both precision and flair. It’s a movie that thrives in its details. The unsettling normalcy of its settings, the quiet horror of its performances, and the sharp wit that sneaks in when you least expect it.

Susan Priver delivers an extraordinary performance as Dorothea Puente. Her portrayal walks the line between warmth and menace so deftly that it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Priver doesn’t play Dorothea as a cackling villain; she plays her as someone who genuinely believes she’s justified. She is an angel of mercy to herself, if not to anyone else. Her smile is polite, her tone gentle, and her eyes calculating. When she breaks the fourth wall, it’s both chilling and hilarious. It is a knowing wink to the audience that feels like complicity. She makes you laugh, and then she makes you question why you did. It’s easily one of the finest performances in a true-crime horror movie in recent years.

Ferrin’s direction gives the movie an intoxicating noir sensibility. Shadows stretch across wallpapered rooms, cigarette smoke curls through interrogation scenes, and every detail feels drenched in old-school crime cinema style. The lighting and set design conjure the claustrophobic mood of 1980s Sacramento while maintaining the timeless feel of a classic thriller. “Dorothea” could just as easily sit beside “Double Indemnity” or “Sunset Boulevard” as it could with modern horror staples like “The House That Jack Built.” Ferrin doesn’t just tell us a story; he seduces us with it. Simply by drawing us into a cinematic world where decay wears a fresh coat of paint.

The movie also benefits from Ferrin’s signature tonal balance. Known for blending shocking violence with sly humor in films like “Pig Killer” and “The Old Ones,” he brings that same twisted playfulness here. The comedic wit, especially in Dorothea’s asides to the camera, adds a dark levity that enhances rather than undercuts the horror. It’s a dangerous trick to pull off, but Ferrin nails it. These moments of self-awareness give “Dorothea” an almost theatrical energy, a sense that we’re part of the performance as much as the audience. The laughter comes nervously, uncomfortably, but it comes all the same.

The supporting cast gives the movie a rich texture of performances that complement Priver’s commanding lead. Lew Temple delivers understated heartbreak, grounding his character in quiet tragedy. Brinke Stevens and Ginger Lynn bring veteran poise and presence, while Brenda James and Cassandra Gava add emotional depth to their roles. Every actor seems perfectly in tune with Ferrin’s tone, heightened but human, grim but grounded. Even in brief appearances, each tenant feels like more than just a victim. Their personalities, quirks, and small acts of hope make their fates even more devastating.

One of the movies’ greatest strengths lies in its screenplay. Ferrin’s writing refuses to indulge in gratuitous spectacle. Instead, it focuses on atmosphere and psychology. The dialogue crackles with noir rhythm, tight, witty, and cuttingly observant. Each line reveals more about Dorothea’s twisted moral compass, her uncanny ability to rationalize the horrific. There’s also a clear respect for the truth of the story; Ferrin never turns Puente into a myth. She’s terrifying precisely because she feels real, because she was real.

“Dorothea” also stands out for its exploration of control and survival. The movie doesn’t excuse its subject’s crimes, but it refuses to simplify them. Through careful glimpses into Dorothea’s past, Ferrin builds a portrait of a woman molded by abuse and neglect, whose trauma eventually mutated into manipulation and murder. It’s an unsettling evolution, and it forces the audience to confront an uncomfortable question: is evil born, or is it built? In the end, the movie leaves that question hanging like a body in the basement that is best not answered, but impossible to ignore.

Visually, the movie is a feast for fans of mood and texture. The garden where Dorothea buried her victims becomes a morbid metaphor for her psyche. It is beautiful, manicured, and teeming with rot beneath the soil. The muted palette and careful cinematography evoke both the era and the dread that defines it. Each shot feels deliberate, from the lingering close-ups of Dorothea’s smiling face to the uneasy stillness of her home’s floral wallpaper. There’s a haunting rhythm to the film’s pacing, each revelation blooming like another flower in her poisonous garden.

As a whole, “Dorothea” is another testament to Chad Ferrin’s genius as a filmmaker. He’s carved out a unique space in horror; one where historical accuracy and cinematic daring collide. Much like “Ed Kemper,” this movie doesn’t just retell a crime, it reframes it, forcing audiences to examine the strange allure of real-life evil. Ferrin knows that horror isn’t just about blood; it’s about empathy, curiosity, and the perverse comfort of looking at something we shouldn’t. His direction proves once again that he’s one of the most daring voices in cinema today. When I interviewed Chad Ferrin after watching the movie, he mentioned the reason why he choose Dorothea Puente as his subject:

“She checked all the boxes. The period is great, the California aspect is great, so I don’t have to travel. I dove into the research and was just blown away. The script kind of started writing itself.”

He also mentioned a few things regarding his process for making the movie:

“It would’ve been a great experience with Sharon Stone, but I’m not into the Hollywood bullshit. I like having my little family of film crew and cast, you get them together and it’s like having a barbecue. You crank these out and have a good time.”

We both also had quite a positive back in forth when it came to his star Susan Priver playing Dorothea:

“It was a joy to show up every day and see what she did with it. Being an audience member in the director’s chair, every day was exciting and thrilling to see what she came up with.”

We even had a chance to not only talk about his great process with the movie and performances, but also what he has in store for fans next with his project focusing on Richard Ramirez:

“If you’re going to do Ramirez, it has got to be a balls-to-the-wall horror movie. It’s got to be scary. He’s kind of the rock star of true crime serial killers.”

“Dorothea” is a triumph of tone, storytelling, and performance. It’s a movie that captures the uneasy beauty of true-crime horror: the way evil can wear pearls, serve cookies, and still dig a grave in the backyard before sundown. Susan Priver shines, Chad Ferrin continues his run of creative brilliance, and Dread’s true-crime slate cements itself as one of the most exciting horror ventures in years. If “Ed Kemper” was the spark, “Dorothea” is the flame, and with “Richard Ramirez” on the horizon, it looks like Ferrin and Dread are just getting started.

Something to keep in mind is that by the movies’ end, “Dorothea” doesn’t offer catharsis, it offers confrontation. The closing moments leave you unsettled, not because of the violence, but because of how ordinary it all feels. Dorothea Puente’s world is filled with pastel colors, polite manners, and pleasant smiles, until you realize that beneath it all lies the quiet hum of horror.

Christopher James 11/5/25 Christopher James 11/5/25

“THE WEEDHACKER MASSACRE” (2025): A Self-Aware Blend of Horror & Humor

Intro

Horror spoofs have always held a strange but beloved place in the genre. From “Scary Movie” to “Stan Helsing,” these movies let fans laugh at the very tropes they’ve been terrified by for years. A good spoof knows when to wink and when to stab, simply by balancing parody with genuine affection for the genre. I recently had the chance to watch “The Weedhacker Massacre,” directed by Jody Stelzig and written by Ray Spivey, certainly knows its horror roots. Although, much like its fictional film crew within the movie, it sometimes feels like it’s cutting the wrong weeds.

SYNOPSIS & THOUGHTS:

The movie follows a group of actors and filmmakers remaking a terrible horror flick a decade after murders occurred during its original production. The premise itself is clever, a movie within a movie where the chaos behind the scenes mirrors the on-screen slaughter. Unfortunately, the execution often feels like a half-baked homage rather than a sharp satire. The humor leans on obvious gags and horror puns rather than building the kind of manic energy that makes this type of comedy soar. It’s as if someone took all the best bits from “Stan Helsing” out and decided to let the leftovers fend for themselves.

That said, there are moments that work and when they do, they’re genuinely funny. The opening bit featuring a drone shot of a car on a winding road, only to reveal it’s a toy car being pulled by a string before cutting to real footage. It is a perfect example of the movie’s self-aware goofiness. You can tell the filmmakers are in on the joke, and moments like that show flashes of the kind of B-movie brilliance the film aims for.

The cast deserves credit for giving it their all. David Treviño, Molly Sakonchick, Bobbie Grace, Sean Reyna, and Parrish Randall all lean into the absurdity with energy and commitment. Grace, in particular, seems to understand the tone the movie’s reaching for a blend of over-the-top acting and genuine awkwardness that somehow fits. It’s a nice treat to see Allen Danziger, of “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” fame, return to the genre as Sheriff Danzinshoos. His presence is a nostalgic wink to horror history, even if his material doesn’t quite live up to his legacy.

Then there’s the masked menace of the movie, Pokerface. Imagine “Leatherface” if he’d raided a Vegas card table and developed a habit of chatting mid-murder. The concept of a killer with playing cards on his mask is certainly memorable, and it’s an oddball visual that fits the movie’s self-parody vibe. Still, much like the rest of the movie, it feels like an idea that could have been developed further. He’s weird, he’s dumbly talkative in the tone of a 80’s idiot jock, and he’s oddly charming in a “why am I watching this?” kind of way.

Unfortunately, the biggest issue with “The Weedhacker Massacre” is that its script and pacing never quite find a rhythm. Some of the dialogue feels forced, the jokes linger too long, and there’s a sense that everyone involved is having more fun making the movie than the audience has watching it. Director Jody Stelzig and writer Ray Spivey clearly had a good time crafting their stoner-slasher satire, but the humor often goes up in smoke before the punchline lands. (See what I did there?)

Still making any movie, especially an independent horror comedy is no easy task. For that alone, the cast and crew deserve recognition. Whether it’s the ridiculous kills, the wobbly one-liners, or the low-budget charm, you can tell there’s genuine passion behind the chaos. While I didn’t personally connect with the movie beyond a few scattered chuckles, I always encourage horror fans to give any movie a shot. You never know what oddball gem you’ll find buried beneath the bad jokes and fake blood.

In the end, “The Weedhacker Massacre” may not be a cut above, but it’s at least a reminder that horror spoofs (no matter how rough) they still have a place in the genre garden. Sometimes you just have to trim away the excess to see what’s growing underneath. The movie is now available on VOD for rent or purchase.

Christopher James 11/1/25 Christopher James 11/1/25

TERROR FILMS RELEASING Digs Up Killer Fun With “GRAVEYARD SHARK” (2025)

There’s a certain charm to what Terror Films Releasing does for the horror genre. In a cinematic world dominated by sleek studio productions and endless reboots, this company acts as a beacon for indie horror filmmakers who still believe in blood, grit, and pure creative madness. Terror Films doesn’t just distribute horror, they resurrect it. They do so by giving the weird and wonderful a platform where it can thrive and be introduced to an audience of all types of horror fans. Their catalog celebrates filmmakers who dare to blend comedy with carnage, and “Graveyard Shark” is one of their latest glorious oddities. Written/Directed by Matthew A. Peters, the movie is everything its title promises and more. Its a campy, low-budget gem that swims right into your heart with teeth bared and tongue firmly in cheek.

LETS DIVE INTO THE MOVIE:

“Graveyard Shark” tells the story of a YouTuber/Cryptid Hunter investigating a string of disappearances in a small town plagued by rumors of a monstrous creature haunting the local graveyard. As she digs deeper, she discovers that the culprit isn’t your typical ghost or ghoul, it’s something far stranger. What lives within the fenced walls of the already eerie graveyard is a land-walking shark born of blood, betrayal, and something distinctly unholy. Yes, you read that right. A shark. On land and in a graveyard. Kind of gives off the vibes of what a live action “Street Sharks” movie would be like if they decided to eat people instead of fight crime (which I would totally watch).

Stephanie Ward stars as the determined cryptid hunter trying to uncover the truth, and she brings a balance of sincerity and self-awareness that fits the movie perfectly. She’s the kind of protagonist who could easily exist in an “X-Files” episode that went completely off the rails and in the best way possible. Her investigation into the bizarre goings-on of the town is full of deadpan humor, creative kills, and enough small-town weirdness to make you feel right at home in this twisted little world.

The supporting cast leans all the way into the film’s over-the-top tone. Michael John Gilbert and Ryan Santiago play locals who can’t quite decide if they’re terrified or thrilled by the shark’s existence, while Olivia Walton and Madisen Zabawa bring a mix of sass and scream-queen energy to the chaos. Yet the true standout is Berdele March as Captain Seyburn. He is a larger-than-life captain with the bravado of Quint from “Jaws” and the comedic timing of a midnight-movie icon. Seyburn is every exaggerated seafarer cliché rolled into one gloriously unhinged package. Every line he delivers sounds like it was carved out of a whiskey barrel and polished with sea salt. He’s both a town drunk, someone with a redemption story and ridiculous. Every moment he’s on screen is pure gold. His interactions with the townsfolk and his unapologetic belief that he’s the only one warning people not to look for the Graveyard Shark makes him the film’s pulse and punchline rolled into one. Without a doubt, he’s my favorite part of the entire movie. Lets just say he has quite the hilarious and unexpected slap in the face comment to a group of survivors of the Graveyard Shark that made me have to pause so much from laughter.

The film’s charm comes from its complete lack of pretension. Peters and his team know exactly what kind of movie they’re making, and they don’t shy away from it for a second. “Graveyard Shark” doesn’t try to be high art; it’s here for the fun, the scares, and the sheer joy of creating something so absurd that it circles back to genius. In that sense, it channels the energy of a classic Troma movie. Think The “Toxic Avenger” meets “Sharknado” by way of “Night of the Demons”. It’s gleefully self-aware, poking fun at the very tropes it embraces, but it never feels lazy or mean-spirited. You can feel the affection for the genre in every frame, from the rubbery creature effects to the exaggerated reaction shots.

What makes “Graveyard Shark” work so well is that it’s not just a joke stretched into a movie. There’s an actual story beneath the camp. The film explores themes of betrayal, grief, and obsession wrapped in the bloody fin of a creature feature. The shark itself, though obviously a man in a suit, has an oddly captivating presence. Instead of hiding the seams or the occasional visible zipper, the movie flaunts them. It’s a refreshing throwback to the days when horror filmmakers weren’t afraid to show their monsters in full light, even if the masks didn’t line up perfectly or the prosthetics creaked a little. Those imperfections add personality, reminding us that horror doesn’t need to be polished to be powerful.

Peters’s direction brings an old-school sensibility that feels both nostalgic and energetic. The lighting, set design, and camera work harken back to the era of late-night VHS treasures. It is the kind of movies you’d discover in the horror section of a mom-and-pop video store, complete with faded cover art and hand-written staff recommendations. Every frame looks like it was made by people who love horror, not just people trying to cash in on it. That love bleeds through, sometimes literally, and makes the movie impossible not to enjoy.

The humor is the glue that holds everything together. “Graveyard Shark” is never afraid to make fun of itself, whether through knowingly clunky dialogue, exaggerated gore, or characters who react to the absurdity with a perfect mix of disbelief and acceptance. The film walks a fine line between parody and sincerity, and it does so with surprising grace. It’s not mocking horror, it’s celebrating it. Every cheesy one-liner and overacted scream feels like a love letter to the genre’s most outlandish moments. It’s the kind of movie that makes you laugh not because it’s bad, but because it’s having the time of its life.

There’s also a noticeable heart to the production. You can tell the cast and crew had fun making it, and that energy is infectious. The dialogue is peppered with quotable lines, the kills are inventive, and the soundtrack hits all the right notes of eerie yet playful. The pacing keeps things moving briskly, never letting the silliness overstay its welcome. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a midnight pizza binge—messy, indulgent, and exactly what you didn’t know you needed.

By the time the credits roll, “Graveyard Shark” has given you everything it promised: laughs, scares, and a monster that defies logic in the most delightful way possible. It’s a film that thrives on imagination over budget, proving that passion and creativity can turn even the strangest concept into something genuinely entertaining. This isn’t the kind of horror that keeps you up at night—it’s the kind that keeps you smiling long after it’s over.

Ultimately, “Graveyard Shark” captures what makes indie horror so special. It’s fearless, funny, and completely unapologetic. Terror Films Releasing once again demonstrates their knack for finding projects that embody the heart of true independent filmmaking: raw creativity unfiltered by corporate polish. For fans who miss the days of DIY monsters and tongue-in-cheek terror, this movie is a breath of fresh, salty graveyard air. It’s the kind of film that reminds you why you fell in love with horror in the first place because sometimes, the best scares come wrapped in laughter and latex.

If you’re looking for a horror flick that doesn’t take itself too seriously, that revels in its own chaos, and that gives you a captain you’ll be quoting for weeks, “Graveyard Shark” is your next great catch. Grab some popcorn, dim the lights, and dive right in the water’s weird, but it’s fine. “Graveyard Shark” is now available to rent or buy on VOD.

Christopher James 10/27/25 Christopher James 10/27/25

“KILLER CONTENT” (2025) Delivers a Fatal Dose of Follower Obsession

Intro

Influencer horror has officially arrived as its own blood-soaked sub-genre, and honestly, it was inevitable. If you have ever scrolled through a feed and thought, “These people would absolutely die for likes,” congratulations, you have already understood the premise. Social media may have started as a highlight reel, but in horror, it has become a hunting ground. Movies like “Ingrid Goes West,” “Spree,” and “Sissy” cracked open the ring-lighted world of curated chaos, showing how the pursuit of followers can turn into a full-blown descent into madness. This new wave of digital-age terror feeds on the anxieties of a generation raised on validation, where self-worth is measured in clicks and visibility comes with a price. It was only a matter of time before the genre asked the obvious question: when your entire life is content, what happens when the content starts fighting back?

Now, a new part of this unique sub-genre has joined the ranks of being a potential new item on your watchlist. “Killer Content” joins the ranks with teeth just as sharp, fast-paced psychological thriller that turns the filtered world of influencers inside out and reminds us that fame has never been more terrifying.

Written and directed by Chris St. Croix, “Killer Content” centers on Jexy Diamond, played by Katie Keene, a social media star who has built her life around being constantly watched, while trying to make a positive impact on the lives of her followers. After surviving a brutal attack from a stalker, Jexy retreats to her childhood cabin to heal and plan her next move. She is seeking quiet and control, but the silence of the woods only amplifies her paranoia. What begins as a retreat quickly turns into a nightmare when Megan, played by Casey Casmira, a devoted super-fan with dreams of viral fame, tracks her down. What follows is a disturbing collision between idol and admirer that escalates into obsession, control, and violence.

ABOUT THE MOVIE:

The setting is used brilliantly. The cabin is not just a backdrop but an active source of tension. Every creak in the floorboards feels like a heartbeat, every shadow moves a second too long, and every sound within it’s walls is just a precursor to the threats about to happen. The isolation becomes a bit of its own antagonist, that is until the real danger comes to her doorstep. The cabin makes the setting feel that it has trapped the main characters inside a psychological cage where every interaction between them feels like a fight for dominance. St. Croix knows how to weaponize not only the setting for the movies’s beautiful setting, but the still yet eerie atmosphere the movie creates. The quick and terrifying moments are where the fear seeps in, turning the viewer into an unwilling witness. The result is an edge-of-your-seat experience that builds suspense without ever relying on cheap scares.

Katie Keene commands the screen as Jexy Diamond. She captures the strange vulnerability of someone who has made their life a public performance. Even in moments of terror, she cannot completely turn off the instinct to be “on.” There is a haunted look in her eyes that suggests years of living for validation. She makes Jexy both sympathetic and slightly dangerous, someone you root for even as you wonder how much of her personality is real. Keene gives a performance that feels grounded and genuine, perfectly balancing fear with determination.

Opposite her is Casey Casmira as Megan, a fan who blurs the line between admiration and madness. Casmira’s performance is captivating, bringing both a softness and a menace that make her impossible to predict. One moment she is fragile, the next she is frightening. Watching Keene and Casmira together is mesmerizing. Their chemistry feels alive, as if both are constantly pushing and testing each other. They share the spotlight in a way that demands attention, creating a tense psychological dance that carries the entire film.

Adding to the unease is Diego Gomez as Donnie. His performance is commandingly sinister, the kind that makes you instinctively lean back in your seat. He is unsettling not because he is loud or aggressive, but because he feels so real. There is something about the way he moves and speaks that puts you on edge, as if he is always one bad thought away from doing something awful. Gomez brings an unpredictable energy that deepens the film’s sense of danger. If you ever found yourself stuck in a cabin with him, you would not sleep.

The supporting cast, including Nathan Freitas, Kyle Rankin, and Patrick Sharn, adds texture without distracting from the story. They enhance the world rather than clutter it, keeping the focus tightly on the dynamic between Jexy and Megan.

Visually, “Killer Content” is striking. The cinematography captures the cold beauty of isolation, mixing the artificial glow of phone screens with the natural darkness of the woods. The film’s visual language mirrors the influencer lifestyle: carefully staged, slightly fake, and always one click away from unraveling. It feels polished but haunted. Every shot has a purpose, every frame tells a story.

Beyond its suspense, “Killer Content” offers a sharp critique of influencer culture. It examines the way fame feeds obsession and how constant exposure breeds danger. The film understands that the influencer-fan relationship is built on illusion. It shows how easily admiration can turn toxic when the boundary between online fantasy and real life disappears. Jexy’s captivity becomes a metaphor for the way she has always lived, trapped by her own public image. She is a prisoner long before she is taken hostage.

As the story builds toward its final act, the tension becomes almost unbearable. The violence, when it comes, feels earned and shocking without being excessive. The ending is both satisfying and unsettling, leaving you questioning who truly held the power all along. St. Croix’s direction ensures the fear never fades, even after the credits roll.

Katie Keene and Casey Casmira deserve enormous credit for how seamlessly they carry this film. They complement each other perfectly, each pulling focus without ever overshadowing the other. Their shared scenes crackle with intensity. You can feel the push and pull of fear, fascination, and survival in every exchange. It is rare to see two performances that balance each other so beautifully.

By the end of “Killer Content,” the silence of the cabin feels deafening, and the tension has built to the point where you realize you have barely taken a breath. It is a dark, unnerving experience that lingers. The fear of isolation, the price of fame, and the horror of obsession all collide in a story that feels deeply relevant and disturbingly real.

“Killer Content” is now available on VOD through Strike Back Studios, waiting to stream directly into your living room. Just make sure your doors are locked, your location settings are off, and your notifications are silenced. After all, in the world of influencers, sometimes your next follower is already closer than you think.

Christopher James 10/23/25 Christopher James 10/23/25

TERROR FILM RELEASING’S “FEY” (2025) Blurs Truth, Trauma, & Terror

Intro

Terror Films Releasing has been absolutely killing it this year (pun intended). Their slate of releases has proven once again that they are one of horror’s most reliable purveyors of fresh fear, serving up stories that bite harder than most big-budget contenders. Their latest run of found-footage horrors has especially caught my eye (look for the review of “JABBER JAW” coming soon), reminding me why I have such a deep love for what TFR does best: uncovering hidden horror gems and giving them the sinister spotlight they deserve. These are not just indie scares, they are the kind of films that make you triple-check your locks at night. And their newest release? It might just be their most haunting discovery yet.

FROM THE TFR PRESS RELEASE:

Terror Films Releasing has partnered with writer and director Madeline Doherty for the release of her chilling new found-footage horror film, “Fey”.

Starring Madeline Doherty, Zoe Bishop, Michael Raleigh, and Sam Howard, “Fey” follows Maddy, a young woman participating in the final phase of a trauma study. As she films her first nights alone since a mysterious incident, the unsettling sensation of being watched slowly creeps back into her life and this time, the camera captures more than she expects. Doherty, who also produced the film, shared insight into her creative process and vision behind “Fey”:

“I wanted to make a film I’ve been craving to see—something raw, unpolished, and so real it barely feels like a movie. The kind of thing you stumble upon and think, what could possibly happen next?

At its core, this story is about how truth can twist, and how people, especially the ones we least suspect, can sometimes be the most sinister. That’s real horror. There’s no score, no polish, just choppy cuts, silence, crickets, and a girl alone in her childhood home. I shot it in my real childhood home, with my real parents, and even used real home movies. Most of the cast had never acted before. Everything was designed to feel discovered, not performed.

As a lifelong horror fan, I wanted to throw it all on the table for the genre to give audiences something that feels new yet familiar, grounded yet deeply unsettling. Something made for people like me who love horror not just for the scares, but for the stories that linger long after the screen goes dark.”

TERROR FILMS RELEASING will premiere “Fey” across multiple platforms on November 14, 2025, including Chilling, Scare Network TV, Kings of Horror, Watch Movies Now, Shocks & Docs, and TFR’s official AVOD YouTube channel, among others. Stay tuned to here for a full review coming soon.

Christopher James 10/19/25 Christopher James 10/19/25

Creature Feature Hit “COYOTES” (2025) Gets Digital Release Date (Copy)

There’s something unsettling howling just beyond the camp fire glow and on October 21st the thrilling suburban creature feature horror-comedy “Coyotes” (written by Tad Daggerhart, Daniel Meers and Nick Simon, as well as directed by Colin Minihan) is arriving on VOD for all to experience.

Synopsis:

”After a Santa Ana windstorm knocks out power in the Hollywood Hills and crushes the family SUV, the Stewarts — Scott, Liv, and their precocious daughter, Chloe — are stranded in their hillside home with no cell service, no escape route, and just enough Spam to start a riot. But the real problem? Coyotes. Not the scrappy, skittish kind that dig through your garbage and steal your cat, but smart, organized, murder-flavored coyotes. Led by a scar-faced alpha with serious beef, the pack starts picking off neighbors like it’s happy hour at an all-you-can-eat casino buffet. As wildfires rage on one side and a bloodthirsty canine death cult circles the other, the Stewarts — armed with nothing but a flashlight, an old iPad, and some questionable decision-making skills — must band together and transform from cozy suburbanites into blood-smeared survivalists. Coyotes is a savage, satirical survival thriller where nature bites back — and this time, it brought friends. Welcome to the apex of the food chain. It’s going badly.I first had the chance to watch Coyotes while covering Fantastic Fest remotely this year, and from the very first frame I was hooked. The film’s slow-burn tension, the way it uses the silence of the desert and the looming threat of what’s watching in the trees, give it a rare authenticity for genre cinema. In my review I described it as “a visceral and unnervingly grounded descent into primal fear—a film that doesn’t just show the wilderness fighting back, but reminds us that humanity was never really in control to begin with.”

I was lucky to recently have Tad Daggerhart and Nick Simon on my podcast I Love Horror, where they dug into the making of this film and their deep love of horror. As the episode’s description puts it:

“We chat about how the story for “Coyotes” came about, their time screening it at Fantastic Fest … their favorite horror movies and much more.” Nick talked about being mentored by legendary horror filmmaker Wes Craven (yes, really) and how that shaped his approach. Meanwhile Tad gave a nod to the classic body-horror of “The Fly” as one of his guiding lights. They explained that for them the desert setting isn’t simply a backdrop—it becomes a character in itself, full of oppressive stillness, lurking danger and the constant question of whether the threat is human, animal, or something else entirely.

The pair made it clear that they wanted characters who feel real—not perfect survivors but people who make mistakes, panic, turn on each other, and ultimately face the terrifying realization that nature (or whatever is out there) doesn’t obey our rules. One of Tad’s especially compelling lines: “Isolation doesn’t need walls—it just needs silence and the sense that something is watching.” This kind of human-grounded fear is what makes “Coyotes” stand out.

Beyond the writing, the performances elevate the material: there’s fatigue in the eyes of the characters, distrust in their exchanges, and the kind of slow unraveling of hope that you don’t always find in horror. And by the time the film’s finale arrives, the desert doesn’t just feel like a location—it feels like the last refuge and the worst trap.

For fans of survival horror, of psychological tension, or for anyone who appreciates when a genre film refuses to spoon-feed its threats, Coyotes delivers. With the VOD release coming October 21st, this is your chance to catch up with one of the strongest horror-entries of the year. Tad Daggerhart and Nick Simon have crafted something raw, unforgettable, and delightfully unnerving. Turn off the lights, let the volume rise—and when those howls begin, you’ll know exactly what you’re in for.

Christopher James 10/19/25 Christopher James 10/19/25

(FANTASTIC FEST) “SHELBY OAKS” (2025) Show Us When Reality Unravels the Supernatural Creeps In

Every year, Fantastic Fest drops a few titles that make me grateful for the sleepless nights, the caffeine-fueled rewatches, and the long hours spent covering movie remotely from my dark little corner of horror journalism. One of the movies that added an extra dose of fear to my week was Chris Stuckmann’s “Shelby Oaks.” I was lucky enough to catch it while covering Fantastic Fest from afar, and even through the screen, the experience felt like being dragged into a waking nightmare. By the time the credits rolled, I was sitting in a pool of goosebumps, wondering when exactly the line between fiction and reality had dissolved right in front of me.

THE BREAKDOWN:

“Shelby Oaks” begins like the kind of slow-burn true crime documentary you might scroll past on a quiet evening. One that when you try to go to bed after, you find yourself wide awake, heart pounding, and checking your door locks by the halfway point. What makes it so unnervingly effective is that it wants you to think you know what you’re watching. You settle in for what looks like a cleverly constructed mockumentary. The ascetic of the grainy footage, the missing-person narrative, the eerily believable talking heads. Then out of nowhere with precision worthy of a magician, Stuckmann pulls the rug out from under you. What starts as a true crime investigation soon mutates into a supernatural horror film that will have you clenching your couch cushions in sheer terror.

At the heart of “Shelby Oaks” is Mia (Camille Sullivan), a woman spiraling into obsession over the disappearance of her sister, Riley (Sarah Durn), who once ran a YouTube channel called The Paranormal Paranoids. Years ago, Riley and her team vanished while investigating their local abandoned amusement park. From the opening frames, the movie plays like a found footage mystery wrapped in a documentary format. There’s a grounded, almost journalistic tone to it. It is so convincing that for the first twenty minutes, you might actually forget you’re watching a scripted film. Stuckmann, making his feature directorial debut, nails the authenticity. Every shaky frame, every awkward pause in an interview, every outdated VHS clip feels unsettlingly real.

Then something shifts (subtly at first). Mia’s interviews grow more erratic, the sound design starts to hum with unease, and the footage begins to feel haunted. Not by ghosts, but by guilt, grief, and something darker waiting just out of sight. By a certain point before the title screen, “Shelby Oaks” has transformed. The documentary facade crumbles, and what replaces it is a descent into supernatural horror so tense and claustrophobic it feels like the walls themselves are closing in.

The brilliance of “Shelby Oaks” is in that seamless transition. I very much enjoyed the way it uses the trust we give documentaries to make us more vulnerable to fear. Stuckmann doesn’t treat found footage and traditional narrative as competing forms. Instead, he fuses them together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. It’s like watching “The Blair Witch Project” slowly evolve into “The Conjuring” without losing its indie soul. That hybrid style not only revitalizes both sub-genres, but it also gives the movie a psychological depth that lingers long after the final frame.

Camille Sullivan is extraordinary as Mia. Her performance anchors the entire movie, bringing emotional realism to an increasingly surreal story. She embodies obsession in all its messy, self-destructive forms. She is desperate, paranoid, and heartbreakingly human. As her reality unravels, so does ours. Brendan Sexton III and Michael Beach add strong support, grounding the movie with performances that make the story feel painfully believable. There’s no camp, no wink to the audience. Everyone plays it straight, and that sincerity is what gives “Shelby Oaks” its power.

Visually, Stuckmann’s assured storytelling and tight direction announce him as a new force in genre filmmaking. The cinematography walks a razor’s edge between polished and chaotic, using darkness not as a gimmick but as a canvas. The camera lingers in corners a little too long, dares you to keep looking, and weaponizes silence with unnerving confidence. The movie doesn’t chase cheap jump scares; it builds dread through tension, texture, and imagination. When the supernatural does strike, it’s with such conviction that it feels like a logical but horrifying. It leaves the conclusion to the psychological buildup well with how the scares are executed.

Adding to its mystique is the movies’s backstory. “Shelby Oaks” isn’t just another horror release; it’s the most-funded horror movie in Kickstarter history, boasting over 4,500 backers and the support of executive producer Mike Flanagan (“Doctor Sleep,” “Midnight Mass”). That independent spirit radiates through every frame. You can feel the creative freedom, the refusal to conform to studio expectations, and that’s exactly what makes it so refreshing. This is horror made by someone who loves the genre, understands its psychology, and knows that the best scares come from emotion, not spectacle.

The overall tone of the movie is a haunting cocktail of grief and fear. It’s about the ghosts we create through obsession, and how chasing answers can sometimes open doors we were never meant to find, but also what may lurk in the shadows or come back to provide haunts from the past. The concept of belief as a summoning power and the idea that the imaginary can become real if we feed it enough fear is what gives “Shelby Oaks” an existential edge. It’s a story that doesn’t just scare you; it examines why we’re drawn to being scared in the first place.

Despite its emotional depth and slow-burn atmosphere, this movie still delivers pure, pulse-pounding terror. Stuckmann’s handling of the supernatural is masterfully restrained. So much so in fact that the horror isn’t shown so much as it’s felt. The third act is a whirlwind of disorientation and dread, the kind that has you questioning whether what you’re seeing is real or a manifestation of shared hysteria. It’s deeply unsettling, deeply effective, and deeply satisfying.

By the time the credits roll, “Shelby Oaks” has done something remarkable: it’s reinvented what a hybrid horror film can be. It’s not just found footage or narrative; it’s a fully realized fusion that blurs boundaries and heightens emotion. Stuckmann’s debut is confident, chilling, and hauntingly mature, showing that the arrival of a filmmaker who doesn’t just know horror but speaks its language fluently.

When Altitude releases “Shelby Oaks” in UK and Irish cinemas this Halloween. Audiences are in for something special. It’s a movie that crawls under your skin, takes root in your brain, and whispers to you long after you’ve turned off the lights. For a debut feature, it’s shockingly polished. For horror fans, it’s a revelation.

So yes, catching “Shelby Oaks” remotely for Fantastic Fest may not have had the communal thrill of an in-person screening, but when the shadows in my living room started to look a little too deep or I heard a slight tap on my window, I realized that watching it alone was the perfect way to do so with the lights off and every creak in my house making me wonder what may be peaking around the corner.

Christopher James 10/14/25 Christopher James 10/14/25

(FANTASTIC FEST) “APPOFENIACS” (2025) Uploads a Bloody Nightmare of Deepfake Terror

Covering Fantastic Fest remotely always feels like stepping through a digital wormhole. It feels like a place where cinematic innovation and genre chaos collide in the most unpredictable ways. It’s the kind of festival where the boundaries between fiction and reality blur, where you’re just as likely to see a haunted house movie as you are to stumble into a techno-nightmare about artificial intelligence taking over your social feed. Watching it all unfold from afar means seeing these worlds filter through screens, which is a fitting irony considering how many of this year’s films grapple with our uneasy dependence on technology. Out of the chaos, one title pulsed brighter, louder, and more disturbingly relevant than most: “Appofeniacs.”

Written and directed by Chris Marrs Piliero, “Appofeniacs” takes aim at one of the most chilling issues facing the modern digital world. It focuses on the terrifying ease with which truth can be manipulated. The movie stars Sean Gunn, Jermaine Fowler, Aaron Holliday, Michael Abbott Jr., Simran Jehani, Amogh Kapoor, Will Brandt, Paige Searcy, and Harley Bronwyn, all of whom deliver performances that swing between satirical and emotionally raw. Piliero, most known for his offbeat storytelling and music video background, injects the movie with a frenetic, unpredictable energy. The result feels like a neon-lit fever dream where comedy, tragedy, and terror bleed together. It’s as if “Black Mirror” took a shot of adrenaline and crashed headfirst into an 80s horror splatter flick. The synopsis alone sets the tone for the horror that follows:

Synopsis

“Duke (Aaron Holliday) is enthralled by the dangerous thrill of manipulation — exploiting our instinct to believe what we see and hear. With a callous disregard for consequences, he embarks on a reckless spree of deepfake creations simply because he can. What begins as digital mischief quickly spirals into bloody chaos, and Duke couldn’t care less about the destruction left in his wake.

In this darkly satirical thriller, intersecting storylines reveal the ripple effects of Duke’s petty pastime: Poppy (Simran Jehani), a cosplay enthusiast heading to a carefree weekend in the desert with friends; Clinto Binto (Sean Gunn), a fiercely principled costume designer who refuses to work for cheap; and Lazzy (Paige Searcy), a sharp-tongued stranger who finds herself in deep trouble after a trivial argument in a coffee line. Each story thread tightens the web of deceit, violence, and paranoia until every character becomes trapped in Duke’s digital nightmare.

From paranoia to confirmation bias to blind certainty, “Appofeniacs” reminds us that we’re all complicit — all chasing patterns that may not even exist. And when truth becomes so malleable it bends beyond belief, the film delivers one final, devastating reminder: the only thing you can’t fake is surviving the night.”

What Piliero does so effectively is blend these multiple storylines together, allowing each character’s perspective to build toward a larger picture of chaos and consequence. The film begins like a fractured anthology, with each narrative thread teasing a standalone cautionary tale. But as the pieces start to collide, the structure reveals itself to be a careful, layered design. By the time everything merges in the third act, the audience realizes they’ve been pulled into a digital vortex — one where identity, accountability, and morality dissolve into noise. It’s a smart, bold storytelling choice that keeps you engaged from start to finish.

“Appofeniacs” stands out not just for its biting commentary, but for how tactile and visceral it feels. The surprising amount of gore and death gives it a shock factor that’s both grotesque and thrilling. What starts as a slick social-tech horror slowly morphs into something bloodier. It morphs into a throwback to the practical carnage of 80s horror, reimagined through a modern lens. Piliero doesn’t shy away from showing the physical consequences of digital sins. The violence feels personal, almost retributive, as if the internet itself is reclaiming flesh for every manipulated frame.

Then there’s Sean Gunn. Without spoiling too much, let’s just say that his scene (the one everyone’s whispering about) deserves every ounce of attention it’s getting. It’s the moment where the movie’s concept of digital distortion meets brutal physical reality, and it’s executed with impeccable use of practical effects. It’s disgusting, unforgettable, and completely exhilarating. It is a sequence that reminds horror fans why practical effects will always outshine digital gore. The fact that this movie about deepfakes relies so heavily on real effects feels like a deliberate act of rebellion. It’s as though Piliero is saying, “Yes, technology can fake anything, but nothing beats the authenticity of blood and latex.”

Beyond the blood and mayhem, “Appofeniacs” delivers a scathing look at the fragility of truth in the digital age. Deepfakes aren’t science fiction anymore; they’re a terrifyingly real threat. We live in a time where seeing is no longer believing, and where a convincing video can destroy reputations, end careers, and rewrite history. Piliero harnesses that anxiety and turns it into cinematic terror. Every frame drips with that paranoia the creeping fear that your own face could be weaponized against you. It’s a horror that lingers long after the credits roll, because it’s not confined to the screen. It’s in your phone, your feed, your world.

The movie also deserves credit for its tone. It’s darkly funny in places (sometimes uncomfortably so) and that humor works like a pressure valve, releasing tension before the next shock hits. Jermaine Fowler and Michael Abbott Jr. bring moments of absurd levity, grounding the film’s intensity without undercutting its dread. This balance between comedy and horror is one of Piliero’s biggest strengths as a director. He knows that laughter and fear often share the same nervous energy, and he uses that to keep the audience constantly off balance.

From a technical standpoint, “Appofeniacs” is sleek and immersive. The cinematography captures the digital world’s cold glow with unnerving precision to a point it is sterile, overstimulated, and faintly nauseating. The sound design deserves special mention too. Distorted whispers, glitchy static, and warped voices blur the line between the digital and the real, amplifying the movie’s sense of unease. Every notification sound and electronic pulse feels like a threat.

What ultimately makes “Appofeniacs” so effective is that it feels both wildly imaginative and disturbingly plausible. The concept of using technology to fabricate identities isn’t new, but the way Piliero approaches it feels fresh, urgent, and horrifyingly relevant. It’s not just a story about a man abusing technology; it’s a reflection of all of us, scrolling and swiping, curating realities one post at a time. The movie holds up a cracked mirror to the culture of oversharing and misinformation, asking a haunting question: if everything can be faked, does truth even matter anymore?

For horror fans, this movie is a gift. It is a movie that blends intelligence, gore, and originality into one unforgettable experience. It’s a modern cautionary tale drenched in blood and digital static, a horror movie that feels like a prophecy. “Appofeniacs” doesn’t just entertain; it warns. And while it may be one of the most enjoyable rides to come out of Fantastic Fest this year, it’s also one of the most unsettling, because it’s a story that could happen to any of us, maybe it already has.