"Halloween III: The Misunderstood Anthology Experiment

Halloween III didn’t faceplant in 1982 because it was a bad movie. It got curb-stomped because the title promised Michael Myers and then ghosted him like a flaky ex. Audiences walked in expecting The Shape doing his annual knife-and-cardio routine, and instead got a stand-alone fever dream about evil Irish capitalism, television brainwashing, and Halloween masks that basically function as tiny portable death clauses.

The Fly II (1989): When the Buzz Fades.

What do you get when you cross science fiction with gooey body horror and a corporate dystopia? You get The Fly II, a sequel that flutters awkwardly in the shadow of its far superior predecessor. Directed by Chris Walas, the special-effects wizard behind the Oscar-winning mutations of the first film, this sequel is ambitious but ultimately fails to stick the landing—or, in this case, the ceiling. Let's dive into the metamorphic madness and see if this creature feature manages to spread its wings.

Crypt Keepin’ It Real: Why Demon Knight Slays

Let me tell you something about Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight. It’s like stepping into a hazy bar at 2 a.m. and finding out the bartender is the devil himself—equal parts exhilarating, terrifying, and guaranteed to send you stumbling home in need of a shower. If you thought your nightmares were weird before, wait until Billy Zane shows up with that rakish grin, an army of demons, and enough swagger to make you question whether you should root for evil just this once.

Critters 2: The Main Course (1988): A Second Helping Of The First

Sequels are proof that humankind never learns from trauma. And yet, when the trauma involves demonic hamster-balls from outer space, who can resist a second helping? Critters 2 isn’t a movie; it’s a bar fight between imagination and self-control—directed by Mick Garris, a man who looked at the term “horror-comedy” and thought it meant “set everything on fire.”

Blank Man: A Film About Heart, Justice, And Silly-Billy-Gumdrops!

In the summer of 1994, while America was still humming along to Boyz II Men and arguing about the O.J. Simpson chase, Damon Wayans stepped onto movie screens dressed in long underwear, goggles, and an old bathrobe. His character, Darryl Walker, was not handsome or slick. He was shy, brilliant, socially awkward—a man who tinkered with gadgets the way other people pray. And when his grandmother was murdered by a street gang, he did something audacious. He didn’t pick up a gun. He picked up a soldering iron.

Not Another Superman Movie: When even the villains didn’t show up to work...

Let me be clear: I walked into Superman ready to judge it like it owed me money. DC has spent the last decade emotionally sparring with its own fanbase, and I’ve been ringside for every punch. We’ve had operatic gloom, studio panic edits, and enough tonal confusion to require therapy. So when James Gunn took over the most iconic superhero in history, I wasn’t hopeful—I was defensive. And somehow, against my better instincts, this thing won me over.