The Desert’s Dark, Hidden Secrets

MOVIE REVIEW
Brute 1976
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Genre: Horror
Year Released: 2025
Runtime: 1h 46m
Director(s): Marcel Walz
Writer(s): Joe Knetter
Cast: Adriane McLean, Sarah French, Gigi Gustin, Dazelle Yvette, Adam Bucci, Mark Justice, Jed Rowen, Ben Kaplan, Bishop Stevens, Alex Dundas, Robert Felsted Jr., Andreas Robens, Bianca Jade Montalvo
Where To Watch: premieres at Laemmle Glendale - Los Angeles, CA, August 26, 2025, with additional showings on August 29 & 30, also opening at Alamo Drafthouse in Indianapolis, IN, August 29, with more markets TBA

RAVING REVIEW: BRUTE 1976 drags the viewer back to an era when horror didn’t wear a polished facade. It was hot, sticky, bloody, and dangerous—cinemas that smelled like sweat and gasoline. Marcel Walz taps into that grime-soaked decade with a vision that’s both homage and rebellion, creating a film that feels like it crawled out of a barn in the middle of nowhere and refuses to let you look away. This isn’t just a throwback; it’s a statement that horror still has the power to be feral and utterly unforgettable. With one of the most jaw-dropping lines ever spat on screen—“Killing makes me so wet?”—BRUTE 1976 makes it clear that its goal isn’t comfort, it’s infamy.

The heart of this nightmare beats in a place fittingly called Savage, a town more unwelcoming than you can imagine. It’s the kind of place where silence hangs heavy and strangers don’t get to leave. A family rules here, though “family” feels too warm a word—their intentions are masked along with their faces, and what they hide beneath is worse than anyone stumbling across their home could imagine. Every step into their world feels wrong, like trespassing on cursed soil, and once you’re in, there’s no easy way out. That’s where the true terror comes from: not the idea of being hunted by monsters, but being swallowed whole by a place that breathes cruelty.

The story brings together victims and survivors—people who never asked to be part of this game but find themselves bound to it nonetheless. Fate is cruel here, grinding down even the strongest until they either adapt or break. On the surface, you might think you’ve seen this setup before, but Walz toys with expectations, twisting familiar elements until they feel raw again. Instead of comfort in recognition, there’s dread in how far things will go this time.

What sets BRUTE 1976 apart is its refusal to rely solely on nostalgia. It embraces the aesthetic of the 70s without becoming a hollow replica. The grain of the atmosphere is there, but so is an undercurrent of modern awareness—a sense that this isn’t just another trip through the blood-stained backcountry. Characters feel sharper, more fleshed out, and their choices land harder because of it. The duality works: the film lives in the shadow of the past while carving out its own path. Neon Noir has been building a reputation for smart, bloody risks, and this one keeps their streak alive.

The effects deserve praise all their own. Where most indie slashers settle for cheap latex and buckets of cherry-red syrup, BRUTE 1976 aims for authenticity. The blood has weight, the wounds look real, and the violence never feels staged. It’s dirty, mean, and hard to shake off—exactly what horror in this style should be. There’s even one shot that feels almost tongue-in-cheek, as if to remind the audience that while this is artful, it hasn’t forgotten how to grin through the gore.

Casting anchors the experience. Sarah French and Gigi Gustin bring presence and conviction, grounding the carnage with performances that refuse to be overshadowed by the brutality around them. Their work, paired with several strong takes from the rest of the ensemble, ensures the characters aren’t just bodies waiting to be carved up. They’re believable, sometimes even sympathetic, which makes their struggles inside Savage hit harder. Horror is only as effective as the humanity it destroys, and BRUTE 1976 makes sure that humanity is present.

What lingers after the credits isn’t just the gore or the shocks—it’s the sensation of being trapped in that world. The heat, the dust, and the decay of a town out of time feel like they cling to your skin. This isn’t stylized terror; it’s rough, feral, and unsettlingly plausible. Walz isn’t afraid to make you feel dirty for watching, and that’s exactly why the film works. Horror should leave you uneasy, not safe.

BRUTE 1976 stands as proof that indie horror is thriving by going where studio horror won’t. It’s not afraid of discomfort, not scared to push into territory that feels genuinely dangerous. For Neon Noir, it’s another notch in a growing belt of bold takes. For horror fans, it’s a reminder that the genre still has teeth sharp enough to draw blood. This isn’t just another masked slasher wandering into the night. BRUTE 1976 is a declaration that the grotesque, sweat-soaked spirit of 70s horror isn’t dead—it’s alive, snarling, and ready to drag us all back into the dirt where it belongs. (I already can’t wait for BRUTE 1986!)

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[photo courtesy of NEON NOIR, CINEPHOBIA RELEASING]

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