Trashtacular

Carjackers is a haphazard amalgam that could generously be described as cinematic confusion. Streaming on platforms that likely won’t dare claim it as an exclusive, the film tells the story of Nora and her motley crew of valets and bartenders who moonlight as thieves, hitting up unsuspecting wealthy patrons. As if this dual life wasn’t complicated enough, they decide to pull off their biggest heist yet, all while being hunted down by a hitman hired by their own hotel’s director. The premise is tantalizing enough to spark interest, but strap in because this ride is heading straight into the pit of mediocrity.

Popeye's Revenge, the cinematic event of 2025 that nobody asked for but apparently someone thought we needed. This British slasher horror debut, directed by William Stead and written by Harry Boxley—who, let’s be honest, seemed to have one foot in the cereal aisle while brainstorming—takes the beloved spinach-loving sailor and drags him into a realm far more grotesque than the one fans of E.C. Segar could ever imagine. What promises to be a dark transformation of the iconic character ends up traversing dangerous waters, rarely surfacing from the murky depths of absurdity.

Star Trek: Section 31, the latest “triumph” in the hallowed Star Trek franchise. Released on Paramount+, this film attempts—let’s be generous here—to capture the magic of the Star Trek universe, but instead, it resembles a hapless child playing dress-up in a too-big, moth-eaten uniform. Longtime Star Trek fans, brace yourselves: this isn’t just bad; it’s a nostalgic nightmare. With its confused characterizations and incoherent plot, the film stands as a testament to what happens when you take a beloved franchise and toss it into a blender set on “oblivion".

How we love a good biopic, especially one centered around a character as illustrious as Vladimir Putin. Enter the cinematic catastrophe known as Putin, directed by Patryk Vega, a name that will surely join the ranks of legendary filmmakers—right next to Uwe Boll. Released on January 10, 2025, this film promised an exhilarating journey through the life of the iron-fisted ruler of Russia. Instead, it delivers a jumbled mess that is about as coherent as Putin's own policies. Bravo, Vega, for turning a once gripping narrative into a nonsensical exercise in confusion and disappointment. If you were looking for a mind-bending experience, you certainly got one—though I imagine insomnia will yield more fulfilling results.

In a universe not so far away, a film titled "Flight Risk" has landed—or more appropriately, crash-landed—straight onto streaming platforms, helmed by a name once synonymous with epic storytelling, Mel Gibson. Prepare yourselves, for this is not "Braveheart," nor is it a movie that wrestles with deep philosophical themes. Instead, it is a whirlwind, turbulence-riddled escapade of bewildering decisions and a plethora of questionable accents. Central to this cinematic odyssey is a pilot of questionable credentials—wink, wink—and a handcuffed accountant. Hats off to the daring filmmakers who decided the vast Alaskan wilderness would be best portrayed from inside one small cabin for 90% of the runtime.

Picture this: waking up in a city you don’t recognize, your identity a mystery, and apparently, for the two hours you’re about to spend with "Man with No Past", that's not all you will forget. James Bamford, the illustrious director of such concepts as laying waste to potential, graces us with this gem on the small screen.