Tremont‘s Hometown News Site

There’s something that warms the heart when you see classic animation treated like cinema history instead of a disposable library of children’s content. TOM & JERRY: THE GOLDEN ERA ANTHOLOGY acknowledges what longtime fans, animation scholars, and collectors have argued for decades: these shorts shaped American comedy as directly, if not more than, some of the films they played before, and they deserved a release that respects their artistry. This collection delivers exactly that. It’s the complete run of the original Hanna-Barbera era, presented with the type of care normally reserved for prestige restorations. The result isn’t nostalgia packaged for resale, but a reminder of how inventive the shorts were at their peak, how they endured for nearly 20 years, and how much personality could be communicated without a line of dialogue.

The line between imagination and responsibility is a battlefield. THE MOTHER, THE MENACER, AND ME uses that conflict as its whole foundation, following a dreamer who never figured out how to time his dreams with his real-world obligations. The premise sounds absurd on paper: a young father still believes he can mount a career on a single idea while his life unravels around him. The twist that makes the film work is that his passion isn’t a joke to him. Somewhere inside all the comedy, something honest keeps pushing up through the edges.

The TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES TRILOGY represents a moment in film history when practical effects reigned, comic-book adaptations embraced the fun, and a group of unlikely heroes became household names. Revisiting all three films together, especially through the incredible restoration and the extras-filled 4K set, offers a clearer view of how these movies became a cultural milestone. They aren’t just childhood favorites; they’re artifacts of a filmmaking philosophy built on craftsmanship, storytelling, and a sense of personality that modern CG-heavy blockbusters rarely replicate.

The idea of using a dog’s emotional slump as the focus through which two people reconsider their own fractured relationship (surprisingly) isn’t new, but MERV approaches it with a charm that doesn’t feel recycled. It opens not with forced whimsy but with something quieter: the uneasy distance between people who once shared a life but now only share responsibilities. It’s the kind of setup that could tip into over-the-top comedy, but Jessica Swale handles the premise with a gentler touch, letting the audience understand the strain before pushing toward any sort of reconciliation. That restrained opening makes the story feel more honest.

For a series with eight or nine films (depending on what you count), this new version of SILENT NIGHT, DEADLY NIGHT walks a tightrope between homage and reinvention — and often it teeters dangerously, but it never quite falls off. Under Mike P. Nelson’s direction and screenplay, the film strips away much of the ’80s cult-slasher’s sleazy exploitation. It replaces it with a more emotionally fraught, character-driven origin of horror. The result is a remake that respects the legacy but isn’t afraid to rework its roots; one that aims for more than cheap shocks and holiday taboos.