Hopedale‘s Hometown News Site

SHE RIDES SHOTGUN doesn't try to be revolutionary on the surface—it just quietly earns your attention. What starts as a classic on-the-run thriller grows into something far more layered and emotionally intense. This is a story about a father and daughter struggling to reconnect while the world hunts them down, and it’s executed with a level of grit and soul that sneaks up on you. What you don’t necessarily expect is two performances that outshine the experience itself. Even if the film isn’t perfect, the heart and acting at its core deliver.

MONDO KEYHOLE: THE PSYCHOTRONICA COLLECTION #2 is a contradiction in motion—a grimy relic of 60s underground cinema that manages to be both brutally exploitative and strangely artistic. Part of VCI’s ongoing restoration series (although this is #2 in the series, it looks like #1, 3, and 4 will be coming in September), this 2K scan breathes new life into one of the earliest—and most uncomfortable—entries in the “roughie” genre. And while it’s not for everyone, it’s a revealing time capsule of America’s sleaziest cinematic corners.

A GRAND MOCKERY is the kind of film that crawls under your skin and refuses to leave quietly. Directed and co-written by Adam C. Briggs and Sam Dixon, this surreal Australian feature explodes with gritty sincerity, hallucinatory dread, and a uniquely regional sense of decay. Shot entirely on Super 8mm, it’s as if the film stock itself is rotting before your eyes—perfectly mirroring the mental deterioration of its central character, Josie.

Set against the tranquil calm of Omro, Wisconsin, THE OMRO HEIST brings high-stakes chaos to a town that probably hasn’t seen this much action in its entire history. Directed by Jamie Bailey and co-written by Simon Phillips, this low-budget crime thriller capitalizes on the simplicity of its premise, resulting in a film that may not reinvent the genre, but certainly delivers on its promise of tension and bloodshed.

There’s an eccentric charm to a movie that knows exactly what it is—bizarre, small-scale, and just the right amount of unhinged. CURDLED, the feature-length expansion of Reb Braddock’s 1991 short film, is one of those rare projects that doesn’t flinch in its identity as a gleefully macabre black comedy. With its 2025 4K re-release from Kino Lorber, a new opportunity arises to revisit this curious slice of ‘90s weirdness—now cleaned up, even if the story itself remains coated in grime and gore.

To be entirely clear and transparent, I’m not part of the worldwide phenomenon known as the BTS Army (Adorable Representative M.C. for Youth). I’ve honestly never listened to their music, and until screening this, I had no clue about the impact their fanbase has had. It would’ve been easy—too easy—for a documentary about BTS to fall into either shallow glorification or an overly analytical dissection of celebrity. What BTS ARMY: FOREVER WE ARE YOUNG manages instead is something that feels grounded and unique in the way it prioritizes the fans over fame. This is neither a concert film nor a tell-all industry exposé. Instead, it functions as a people-first mosaic that explores the lives, emotions, and growth of those who have wrapped their identities in purple light and found purpose in the community.

HAUNTED MOUNTAINS: THE YELLOW TABOO doesn’t rush to frighten you—it drifts, floats, and occasionally vanishes into its own shadow. It's a film as stubbornly ethereal as the legends it draws from, positioning itself somewhere between experimental cinema, mythological meditation, and slow-burning horror. Rain Wu’s film is not trying to fit a conventional mold, and that’s both its strength and its Achilles’ heel.

There’s a fine line between daring and disorganized, and ANYTHING THAT MOVES spends much of its runtime trying to balance on it. Shot on Super 16mm and drenched in both neon light and bodily fluids, the latest offering from Alex Phillips aims to be provocative, but often ends up tangled in its stylized excess. From the first frame, this is a film that’s designed to challenge your expectations, your comfort zone, and occasionally your patience.

HELLCAT wastes no time pulling you into its world of uncertainty. A woman wakes up in a moving trailer with no idea where she is, how she got there, or why she has a wound on her side. That’s the setup, and the clock starts ticking almost immediately. What follows is a lean, paranoia-fueled thriller that gradually shifts into something more emotionally grounded—and ultimately more unsettling. It’s a strong debut feature from writer-director Brock Bodell, and a showcase for Dakota Gorman, whose performance helps anchor the film as it veers from grittiness to psychological horror.

After more than a decade off the air, KING OF THE HILL returns with its long-awaited fourteenth season—and somehow, it feels like it never left. From the very first episode, the rebooted series strikes a balance between nostalgia and relevance, honoring the character-driven heart of the original while evolving enough to fit the world as it is now. This isn't just a return to a greatest hits compilation; it's a thoughtful extension of the lives we left behind in Arlen, Texas. And by the end of these ten episodes, it’s clear the show still has something to say.

You could argue that THE OLD DARK HOUSE was too strange, and too early. Released in 1932, sandwiched between the earth-shaking shock of FRANKENSTEIN and THE INVISIBLE MAN, James Whale’s genre-blending haunted house film didn’t quite fit the mold of Universal’s monster-driven horror renaissance. It wasn’t a monster movie, and it wasn’t a straight gothic either—it was something else. Something campy and dry, macabre and absurd. And for years, it was nearly forgotten. Thanks to a meticulous 4K restoration and limited-edition release from Eureka’s Masters of Cinema series, that wrong gets spectacularly righted.

MOTHER OF FLIES is a return—and a reckoning. With this latest experience, the Adams family doesn't just go back to their roots; they dig them up, twist them, and expose every worm underneath, burying it with rocks. John Adams, Zelda Adams, and Toby Poser once again write, direct, and star, continuing the familiar filmmaking style that’s defined their work: the family that slays together, stays together. It’s never clearer than now how much that bond shines through on screen. But this time, the stakes feel more personal, the horror more real, and the artistry more purposeful.

James DeMonaco’s THE HOME might come from the same mind that brought us THE PURGE, but this isn't a dystopian free-for-all. It’s something more contained, more psychological, and, ultimately, more personal. Anchored by an unexpectedly tame performance from Pete Davidson and bolstered by a stellar cast of stage and screen veterans, THE HOME reimagines the haunted house subgenre inside a decaying retirement facility where the dead don’t just haunt the halls—they might still be walking them.

BILLY MADISON shouldn’t work as well as it does. On paper, it’s a loud, abrasive film built around the antics of a man-child with too much money and too little maturity. But somehow, through a combination of perfect comedic timing, endearing absurdity, and an unforgettable supporting cast, it remains one of the most beloved comedies of the 90s—and arguably the film that made Adam Sandler a household name. He may have had a few memorable moments before this, but this was the film that put him front and center, allowing his unique blend of comedy to shine.

Some horror films scream; this one snarls. THE SERPENT’S SKIN might clock in at just over 80 minutes, but it packs in enough fury, vulnerability, and rebellion to fill an entire franchise. Alice Maio Mackay’s sixth feature is her most assured and emotionally volatile work yet (and that’s saying something because she has one hell of a filmography)—a supernatural queer horror tale that wields witchcraft, body horror, and heartbreak with equal urgency. It’s brutal, funny, and unmistakably punk in spirit, refusing to flatten its characters into metaphors or reduce their trauma to exposition.