Mehnificent

It’s almost a shame, watching Untamed, to see how little faith the show has in the very wilderness it fetishizes. From its opening moments—where a body falls off El Capitan, landing with the grace of a screenwriter’s design rather than the force of gravity—we are meant to believe we’re entering that coveted realm: the prestige procedural, taut with secrets and wound as tightly as a coil of survival rope. And yet, by episode two—somewhere between the first heavy downpour (that leaves nary a footprint erased) and the second miraculous rescue in a park the size of Luxembourg—the spell begins to lift and what’s left is a potboiler searching for a kettle.

Let Me Make You a Martyr is one of those films that arrives with so much sulfurous promise it almost dares you not to be excited. An indie southern-gothic revenge tale with Marilyn Manson putatively playing an assassination angel named Pope? That’s the kind of casting stroke that wakes up even the most jaded cinephile. On paper, it's a ready-made baroque: broken family loyalties, incestuous chemistry, violence steeped in religious delirium, Sons of Anarchy but with the lights turned down and the metaphysics dialed up.

Oh dear, it’s always a little heartbreaking to watch a film trundle out its aspirations with confetti and sashes, only to trip over its own parade float and land face-first in the mud. Founders Day wants so much to be a cheeky contribution to the crowded boudoir of holiday slashers, a genre already thick with gore-soaked in-jokes and severed limbs of irony, but the result is the sort of limp, confounding spectacle which leaves you dazed at the exit, wondering whether you’ve seen a movie at all or simply sat through a particularly aggressive PTA meeting with unfortunate casualties.

Bill Duke’s Deep Cover wears its neon-lit grime like a badge of honor—a garish, stylized crime thriller dressed up in the trappings of hardboiled noir and early-’90s urban anxiety. If the movie’s mood—the slick rain on Los Angeles streets, the burnished cathedrals of vice, and the snaking synth-and-hip-hop soundtrack—is its raison d’être, then what we get, ultimately, is exactly that: a heady, immersive surface that is always beckoning, yet never really giving.

In a landscape filled with espionage thrillers, Black Bag ventures into the murky waters of betrayal and intrigue, directed by the esteemed Steven Soderbergh and penned by David Koepp. The film, released on March 12, 2025, in France and shortly thereafter in the United States, stars a lineup of talent including Cate Blanchett, Michael Fassbender, and Pierce Brosnan, all attempting to weave a narrative centered on a top-secret software leak and the moral quandaries that follow. Yet, despite the film's enticing premise, the final product lands solidly in the "good, not great" category. It reveals the frustrating reality of a story with remarkable potential, yet ultimately squandered by poor pacing and underdeveloped characters.

Cold Wallet, the 2024 thriller directed by Cutter Hodierne, dives headfirst into the chaotic world of cryptocurrency, perfectly capturing the mania surrounding digital assets, meme coins, and the ever-looming specter of rug pulls. With a plot that is as relevant as today's headlines, the film follows a ragtag group of Redditors who, after losing their savings to a notorious crypto scam, resort to drastic measures. Their scheme leads them to the secluded mansion of the enigmatic Charles Hegel, played by Josh Brener, setting the stage for a dramatic showdown that blends dark comedy with moral ambiguity. As the film explores the lengths to which everyday individuals will go in the pursuit of justice—or money—it increasingly pushes viewers into a whirlwind of ethical dilemmas and tension.