Chris Jones
Entertainment Editor
Chris Jones, from Washington, Illinois, is the Mail Entertainment Editor covering Movies, Television, Books, and Music topics. He is the owner, writer, and editor of Overly Honest Reviews.
Some coming-of-age stories don’t rely on big moments or forced turning points, and RACING WITH THE MOON fits perfectly into that space. It doesn’t rush to define its characters or push them toward the conclusions that genre fans would expect. Instead, it lingers in the in-between, in those last spans of youth when everything feels temporary yet incredibly important. While that version of coming-of-age won’t live up to everyone's expectations, especially if you’re looking for something more structured, it gives the film a sense of uniqueness that’s hard to ignore.
There’s a version of MR. JONES that could’ve easily fallen apart within the first twenty minutes. It’s built around a character who lives in extremes, someone whose energy pulls people in just as quickly as it pushes them away. That kind of role either works entirely or not at all, and the difference usually comes down to the performance. In this case, that’s exactly what keeps the film afloat. Even when the story starts to sway, there’s always something compelling at the center holding your attention.
THE ACCOUNTANT moves with a confidence that never needs to call attention to itself. It keeps its scope tight, relying on character and conversation to build tension rather than expanding into an unnecessary exploration. There’s a precision to how each scene is constructed, with nothing feeling wasted or overstated. That level of control is what gives the film its staying power.
There’s a deep honesty buried within the grime of mid-century exploitation cinema, but finding it usually requires digging through a lot of repetition, rough craftsmanship, and moments that feel more pieced together than intentionally directed. THE SEXPLOITERS / RAW LOVE, presented here as part of Kino Cult’s ongoing excavation of grindhouse history, offers exactly that kind of experience. It’s less about storytelling and more about capturing a very specific moment in underground filmmaking, where content drove production and structure was often an afterthought.
There’s no illusion of comfort here, no entry point that gently guides you into the story. I think that was the moment that I realized how much I was going to appreciate this film. THE DANCING HAWK throws you into its world with a kind of controlled chaos that feels intentional, even when it borders on overwhelming. It’s a film that demands patience because it refuses to communicate in ways most audiences are conditioned to expect. That will divide people almost immediately.
Coming home isn’t framed as a warm return here; it feels more like walking straight into an unresolved past. THE BUSINESS OF FANCYDANCING builds the emotional foundation of the film around that unease, following a man who has technically “made it,” only to realize that success doesn’t erase where he came from or the burden that comes with leaving it behind.
Somehow WE BURY THE DEAD feels like it’s actively avoiding being the movie it was marketed as, and whether that works for you depends entirely on what you came in expecting (that’s not a negative). On the surface, it's a zombie film? (military disaster, mass casualties, the dead rising) But almost immediately, it starts pulling away from those moments, as soon as they appear. What you get instead is something quieter, more introspective, and definitely more interested in grief than survival. That’s the film's personality, but it will also push some people away and pull others in.
There’s a version of THE HISTORY OF SOUND that feels like it should hit you a lot harder than it actually does, and that gap between intention and impact ends up defining the entire experience. On paper, this is exactly the kind of film that should knock you over, a story about two men, a shared love of music, a fleeting connection shaped by time, distance, and repression, all set against the backdrop of a changing world. It has all the ingredients of something devastating. But what you actually get is something far more restrained, almost to a fault, where the emotion never quite breaks through the surface.
There’s some deep discomfort that comes from watching someone try too hard to belong, and LURKER understands and explores that with an almost surgical precision. It doesn’t rely on twists or shocking reveals to get under your skin. Instead, it builds tension through awkward silences, calculated interactions, and the realization that the person at the center of it all is always one step ahead, even when he pretends not to be.
There’s a very specific blueprint that UNCOMMON VALOR follows, and it would go on to define an entire subgenre of 1980s action cinema. A group of misfit soldiers, a dangerous rescue mission (sound familiar?) A ticking emotional core is driving the whole thing forward. It’s familiar, sometimes to a fault, but there’s enough sincerity underneath the surface to keep it from feeling disposable. (to be fair, this wasn’t the first, but it was before many of the copycats that followed.)
There’s a charm that rises naturally from a film that knows exactly where it’s from, even if it doesn’t always know exactly where it’s going, and RANDY & THE MOB leans into that identity. This is a deeply Southern story, not just in its setting but in its attitude, humor, and character. While it doesn’t always connect, it carries enough personality to keep things engaging.
High-concept thrillers live and die by how well they commit to their own rules, and MERCY wastes no time locking itself into a very specific construct. A man sits in a chair, accused of murder, with a ticking clock counting down to his execution. That setup could feel restrictive, but the film leans into it, building tension through confinement rather than trying to escape it. This isn’t a new story, but it’s handled here in a way that creates something more than the sum of its parts.
I KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU DIE rides a thin edge throughout, keeping things engaging even when the payoff falls short. Built around a writer whose work starts bleeding into reality, the concept does much of the heavy lifting. Execution is what determines how much of it actually lands.