June 2025

The Gorge (2025)

So many genres, so little time.

When the creative team in charge of a film project gets carried away trying to please each and every imagined audience member, the results are usually a load of crap.

The Gorge, written by Zach Dean and directed by Scott Derrickson, seemingly utilizes this kitchen-sink approach, tossing a zesty, messy melange of romance, action, horror, and conspiracy theory that’s a just a tad over two hours in length.

And somehow it works pretty damn well as a super-engaging popcorn flick!

Levi (Miles Teller) and Drasa (Anya Taylor-Joy) are two highly trained snipers from different countries assigned guard duty at opposite watch towers on either side of the enormous and mysterious titular gorge.

The mercenaries are armed to the hilt and instructed not to contact each other, but the need for company proves too much for Levi and Drasa, and soon they’re flirtatiously firing rounds, demonstrating their skill and accuracy, while a Ramones record plays.

“I guess this qualifies as a Meet Cute,” I whisper to Mrs. Sharky.

Though separated by a chasm that occasionally spits out monstrous hybrid humanoids called Hollow Men, the hired guns overcome logistical challenges and use a zip line to hook up and become not just a couple, but an elite and capable survival team.

This comes in handy when their military handler (Sigourney Weaver) decides they can no longer be trusted.

Once the protagonists figure out that this version of the future has no future, their decision to join forces is logical and inevitable. Besides, they’re a hot couple, and Drasa is clearly the aggressor, eventually rescuing Levi from an unexpected plummet into the abyss.

Through waves of decent monster attacks and fabulous fire fights, we actually grow fairly attached to Levi and especially the badass Drasa, which helps keep the viewer grounded during the mood shifts and infrequent talky interludes.

The Gorge is also a very impressive example of world-building, an important component to any successful popcorn operation. The mise-en scene has been carefully considered providing a foundation of future realism that looks like it was designed by the prison industrial complex.

No wonder no one want to hang around!

Ouija: Origin Of Evil (2016)

Prolific genre dynamo Mike Flanagan (Haunting of Hill House, Oculus, Dr. Sleep) created this prequel to Ouija (2014), and consensus opinion holds that Ouija: Origin of Evil, is far superior to its predecessor, though that may have more to do with the “meh” quality of the original material, rather than an auteur’s magic wand.

We travel back to the year 1967, where widowed mother Alice (Elizabeth Reaser) makes a modest living as a phony fortune teller, aided in her deceptive practices by daughters Lina (Annalise Basso) and Doris (Lulu Wilson).

Alice and eldest daughter Lina consider adding a Ouija board to their seance shtick, but all too quickly this occult stepping stone gets a grip on Doris, the youngest, resulting in a once-innocent child playing host to a number of spiritual entities, good and bad, including her late father (good) and a fiendish Nazi doctor (bad).

Flanagan and cowriter Jeff Howard weave together enough plot points for seven sweaters, but don’t sweat the details. Ouija: Origin of Evil is trademark Flanagan territory, as a fractured family faces a perilous paranormal presence coming from inside the house.

The technicians Flanagan puts to work on his projects are first-rate, intuitively establishing the tone, time, and terroir in which his particular domestic terror can take hold of hearts and spines.

Here, art director Alberto Gonzalez-Reyna and cinematographer Michael Fimognari mute the sunny ’60s California scenery in dark shades of green and gold, so wardrobe colors appear especially vivid and blooming—a keen counterpoint to the carnage being carried on behind closed doors at the local fortune teller’s house!

Despite being a minor entry in Mike Flanagan’s filmography, Ouija: Origin of Evil is a compelling and highly watchable film in its own right, and needn’t be seen in the company of any other Ouija entries in the hopes of additional illumination.

Abandoned (2022)

I’ve spent enough hours surfing for movie options that I can read a plot summary in about three seconds flat.

Thanks to several years of immersive research, I can now safely testify that approximately 70 percent of ALL horror entertainment must include a struggling couple with kids (living or recently deceased) relocating to a house of questionable repute in search of a fresh start.

Usually for such an egregious error in judgment, the hopefully healing family gets placed in a potentially paranormal hot seat, somehow stemming from one of the parent’s festering trauma.

Abandoned, which benefits from a thoroughly committed Emma Roberts as a new mom with a vicious case of postpartum depression, is another such film. Director Spencer Squire digs deep into the tortured psyche of Sara (Roberts), but doesn’t find anything new or interesting to report.

Sara and husband Alex (John Gallagher Jr) get a sweet deal on some rural acreage that comes with a bonus room that the previous owner only used for murder and suicide.

Their infant son Liam spends most of his screen (scream?) time lustily crying his lungs out, so we definitely sympathize with the rapidly disintegrating Sara.

The fragile lass gets saddled with a wailing infant all damn day, and has nothing better to do than figure out the dark history of the house while suffering a nervous breakdown.

Meanwhile, her veterinarian hubby is facing his own challenges putting down a pen of infected pigs, necessitating many hours spent out of the house, leaving Sara and little Liam to deal with a creepy neighbor (Michael Shannon), voices in the walls, and a bunch of missing toys (resulting in even more loud lamentations).

Alex euthanizing sickly swine is supposed to provide some kind of narrative parallel to Sara’s mentally unstable parenting style, but in the end, she accepts her crybaby and bravely snatches the little nipper back from a pair of feral kids.

Or maybe they’re ghosts, I dunno.

Even with Roberts giving it her deranged best, Abandoned never rises above the level of reheated leftovers, sadly lacking in flavor and originality. But if you’re not in a hurry it might inspire memories of better meals. I mean, movies.

Preferably ones not ruined by the presence of shrieking children.