My quick rating – 6.8/10. Dangerous Animals sinks its teeth into a wild genre mash-up that pits surf culture against serial killer psychosis, and somehow it works better than it should. With a title that sounds like a Discovery Channel special I caught during shark week, this lean and tense 98-minute thriller gives us a sun-soaked nightmare that feels like Wolf Creek met Jaws at a pub and decided to co-parent chaos on the high seas.

Hassie Harrison stars as Zephyr, a confident, free-spirited surfer who, unfortunately, catches the eye of Tucker, a shark-obsessed lunatic played with menacing glee by Jai Courtney. It doesn’t take long before Zephyr finds herself shackled on his boat, floating somewhere between the stunning Gold Coast and hell. Tucker isn’t just your run-of-the-mill psycho—he’s filming a twisted “shark show” for his personal viewing pleasure, and the sharks circling below aren’t just window dressing. They’re props in his sick ritual, triggered by a feeding frenzy of flesh and fear…

My quick rating – 6.9/10. Marshmallow kicks off with a bone-chilling dream sequence: a child is tossing and turning while his bed is slowly being engulfed in water, only to see that water is spewing from an open wound in his chest. It’s the kind of opening that grabs your throat and whispers, “This isn’t just a campfire story.” And it’s not. What starts as a standard camp-set horror film slowly transforms into something much more unexpected.

Twelve-year-old Morgan (Kue Lawrence), shy, socially awkward, and clearly out of place among the louder, rougher kids, is our guide through this waking nightmare. He’s the target of relentless bullying, and the film doesn’t sugarcoat the meanness of children—or people in general. While I don’t recall summer camp being quite this cruel when I was nine or ten, I wouldn’t be shocked to hear some kids got their asses kicked behind the mess hall. Marshmallow taps into that uncomfortable truth about childhood: kids can be vicious, and isolation at that age feels like the end of the world…

My quick rating – 7.0/10. Somewhere in the cosmic video store of nostalgia, my 12-year-old self just did a cartwheel in parachute pants. I grew up rewinding an original The Toxic Avenger on worn-out VHS until the tracking lines looked like snowstorms over Tromaville. So when Hollywood whispered “remake,” I braced myself for PG-13 sterilization and emotional damage. But bless Macon Blair’s radioactive heart—he didn’t just do it justice, he hosed it down in glowing sludge and handed it a mop.

Our new hero is Winston Gooze (Peter Dinklage), a terminally ill janitor who gets baptized in toxic goop and comes out looking like a meatball with abs and a Costco-sized case of trauma. Dinklage doesn’t just play Toxie, he owns him. He swings that glowing mop like Excalibur dipped in biohazard, and suddenly I remembered why deformed vigilantes matter: because nothing says “hero” like ripping someone’s intestines out while trying to make it to parent-teacher night…

My quick rating – 7.2/10. Danny Boyle and Alex Garland return to the infected-ravaged wastelands of the U.K. with 28 Years Later, the third entry in the franchise that helped redefine the zombie genre. Set nearly three decades after the original outbreak, this installment doesn’t waste time rehashing familiar territory. Instead, the story plunges us deeper into a mutated world where more than just the virus has evolved.

The story centers around Spike (Alfie Williams), a survivor living on a fortified island community tethered to the mainland by a single, heavily defended causeway. When he ventures into the heart of infected Britain on a rite of passage mission, what he uncovers shifts the tone of the movie from survival horror to something more contemplative, surreal, and surprisingly emotional. Williams delivers a standout performance, balancing quiet resilience with vulnerability, and anchoring the story with genuine heart, something not always expected in a film with this much arterial spray…

My quick rating – 7.5/10. Zach Cregger’s Weapons wastes no time in pulling the rug out from under you. At precisely 2:17 AM, every child from Mrs. Gandy’s class gets out of bed, walks downstairs, opens their front doors, and disappears into the night—never to return. The scene, narrated in unsettling fashion by Scarlett Sher, drops us directly into the nightmare without a shred of setup, and from there the film becomes less about what happened and more about how different people process it.

The story unfolds in chapters, each centering on a different perspective, slowly piecing together fragments of the mystery. Julia Garner leads as Justine, the class’s teacher, who immediately becomes the town’s prime suspect. It’s not exactly a warm welcome when your name tops the blame list, but Garner gives Justine an edge of haunted strength, playing her as someone frantically trying to hold herself together while the walls close in…

My quick rating – 8.2/10. When I first heard that Guillermo del Toro was finally making his version of Frankenstein, I was already in line, no further information needed. The master of the macabre brings Mary Shelley’s timeless tragedy to life with both ferocity and heart, creating something which feels equal parts Gothic horror and soulful meditation on creation, loss, and obsession.

The film opens with a hauntingly beautiful scene aboard a frozen ship where Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) recounts his story to Captain Walton (Lars Mikkelsen). From there, del Toro splits his film into two distinct yet complementary parts: Victor’s Tale and The Creature’s Tale. It’s an ambitious narrative structure that pays off wonderfully, giving equal weight to both the creator and his tormented creation…