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Something is refreshing about a short film that doesn’t waste a second establishing where you are and who you’re watching, but still finds the time to surprise you. What begins as a seemingly familiar spy setup takes an unexpected and grounded detour. Set against the backdrop of Cambodia, this story doesn’t use its location as embellishment. Instead, the setting shapes the story’s entire undercurrent. And as soon as the camera starts sweeping through landscapes with a nostalgic grain, it’s clear this isn’t just another international mission with a silent protagonist and a disposable adversary.

Sometimes a movie lines up all the right ingredients—an iconic lead, a flashy heist setup, a crew of specialists—and still feels like a test run for something that never quite came together. That’s the case here, where a familiar formula gets another outing but lacks the spark to make it worth remembering. With a storyline that leans on every convention in the book, what could’ve been a sleek, character-driven crime caper ends up more like a shrug of a sequel.

Japan’s most infamous tale of betrayal and supernatural revenge has been told countless times. Still, Tai Katô’s 1961 version of THE TALE OF OIWA’S GHOST is one of the more relentless and grounded adaptations. Newly released on Blu-ray by Radiance Films and MVD Entertainment, this restoration gives the lesser-seen Toei production a fresh coat of dread. While it doesn’t quite reach the dreamlike artistry of KWAIDAN, Katô’s take grabs you by the throat with its raw emotion, pacing, and brutal sense of justice.

This Cult Epics double-feature pairs two works from the late 1970s that are connected yet incredibly different. MYSTERIES and PASTORALE 1943 are two films that couldn’t feel more different in tone, focus, and success, yet the presence of Dutch icons Rutger Hauer and Sylvia Kristel anchors both. Released at the height of their respective careers, these films offer a fascinating glimpse into the ambitions of Dutch cinema during a transformative era.

HEART OF STONE might be a fable, but it isn’t content with being quiet. This East German fairy tale, originally titled DAS KALTE HERZ, filters its lesson through striking visuals, shadowy forests, and the kind of existential consequence you don’t often expect from a children’s fantasy. Newly restored for its Blu-ray debut from Eureka’s Masters of Cinema series, the 1950 film is fascinating both as a work of early color cinema and as a social commentary buried in the framework of folklore. It doesn’t hit every mark, but there’s much to appreciate, especially how it mixes whimsy with something far darker.

Shaw Brothers fans know revenge has never been a subtle concept in their filmography. With EXACT REVENGE, Eureka Classics uncovers two underappreciated entries from the studio’s vault that explore a burning drive for justice from different stylistic angles. THE EUNUCH and THE DEADLY KNIVES may not sit at the same level as some of the studio’s most iconic releases. Still, together they offer a snapshot of a transitional moment in martial arts cinema—and provide enough grit, bloodshed, and drama to justify a slot on your shelf.

Horror can hit differently, especially when it trusts its audience to sit with discomfort and draw fear from familiarity. That’s the kind of confidence this film runs on. With deliberate style choices and an eye for the understated, it manages to build tension out of stillness, suspense out of silence, and danger out of the mundane. From its framework to its methodical pacing, this one doesn’t beg for attention—it earns it on its terms.

HONG KONG 1941 doesn’t just look into the past—it confronts it. There’s no romantic glossing over of war, no polish on tragedy. Instead, this 1984 drama leans into the tension of survival with unflinching honesty. Set during the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong, the film filters sweeping trauma through the lens of intimate human choices. What emerges is a story less about battlefield heroics and more about the quiet courage of trying to live, love, and escape when the world has lost its mind.

Heartbreak doesn’t wait for the credits to roll—it loops, replays, and lingers long after the screen fades to black. That’s the emotional pull that GUACAMOLE YESTERDAYS steps into. For two-thirds of the film, it handles that terrain with sharp dialogue, offbeat charm, and just enough sci-fi edge to elevate a grounded story about fractured relationships. But as the film inches toward its conclusion, it opts for a hard narrative swerve that, while ambitious, undercuts some of the groundwork it so effectively lays early on.

THE NICE GUYS is the kind of movie that doesn’t just resurrect the buddy-cop formula—it sucker punches it, drags it through a pile of cigarette butts, and shoves it into a polyester leisure suit before sending it to a party nobody remembers leaving. Instead, what could’ve been another throwaway homage to the mismatched-duo genre becomes one of Shane Black’s sharpest works, loaded with acidic wit, crumbling masculinity, and a surprising sense of sadness that makes its chaos feel oddly personal. And that cast! It’s aged like a fine wine, with Crowe and Gosling as leads and a young Angourie Rice and Margaret Qualley. The film knows exactly what it wants to be and is cast perfectly for it.

A brutal cold open can be a gamble, but this one wastes no time throwing viewers into the thick of it—no mood-setting montage or gentle build-up. A single woman in a restroom and a very specific, visceral kind of bloodshed kick things off with a jolt. The moment screams for attention and dares you to keep watching. Unfortunately, the promise of such an unapologetically raw beginning doesn’t translate into sustained momentum, and while the premise is bold, the execution can’t always keep pace.

There’s something galvanizing about a performance that doesn’t wait for permission to tell its truth. CONFESSIONS OF A MENOPAUSAL FEMME FATALE doesn’t ease its way into vulnerability—it bursts in with humor, and a kind of creative control that feels earned. What begins as a return to a former home evolves into a much deeper excavation of identity, self-perception, and the fallout that comes with life changes that are too often pushed to the margins. This isn’t a special-interest project aimed at a niche audience—it’s a bold, sharply crafted spotlight on stories that rarely get told.

When a movie builds this much tension using little more than two actors, a tree, and a forest, it's doing something right, at least most of the time. Something is compelling about a minimal setup that borders on being experimental. Yet, it plays out like a psychological chess match, constantly forcing the audience to re-evaluate what they think they know. From the first frame, it’s not about what’s happening—it’s about why.

There’s something undeniably satisfying about watching a mismatched underdog try to make its mark in a space where it isn’t wanted. That’s the spark that drives this documentary, a film that dares to ask whether bold ideas can stand against legacy. Built on equal parts vision and persistence, it explores what happens when American racing tradition is dropped into an arena defined by precision, endurance, and expectation. This isn’t a story about winning a race. It’s about redefining the stakes.

There’s a difference between horror that shouts and horror that lingers in your mind. This one doesn’t rush to frighten you with jump scares or drown you in CGI monster and chaos. Instead, it creeps along steadily, grounding its supernatural premise in real-world heartbreak and emotional disarray. What starts as an eerie party game becomes a devastating spiral, but the raw humanity, not the haunted hand, leaves the deepest scars.

This one starts slowly but flies by once it gets going. Built around a fractured relationship between a grieving mother and her self-destructive daughter, the story hooks you with a deeply emotional premise before pivoting into something more dangerous. While that shift is compelling, it leaves you wanting more, and not always in the best way.

Watching a movie that understands restraint as a tool, not a limitation, is a quiet experience. This film keeps its punches tucked beneath the surface, letting atmosphere, performance, and suggestion do the heavy lifting. It’s a story where little is said outright, but everything—power shifts, emotional manipulation, quiet longings—can be found in a glance or a moment of silence. The tension simmers rather than boils, and the damage is all the more piercing when it does break.

Something is intriguing about pairing a fictional genius with a real-life monster—and in MURDER BY DECREE, director Bob Clark does exactly that. Taking Sherlock Holmes out of the cozy parlor-room mysteries of Arthur Conan Doyle and placing him squarely in the grim, gaslit alleys haunted by Jack the Ripper, this 1979 thriller thrives on mood, tension, and a human touch. The film never loses sight of its premise, and the thoughtful performances and grounded emotional undercurrent give it lasting power. If you've only known Clark for A CHRISTMAS STORY or PORKY’S, this is your reminder that his horror-mystery chops, honed in BLACK CHRISTMAS, were equally sharp, if not sharper.

If you went into ALIEN TERROR expecting a sequel to ALIEN, you wouldn’t be alone—and you’d be wrong. This 1980 Italian genre-bender, released in various territories as ALIEN 2: ON EARTH, is one of the more brazen examples of opportunistic rebranding, capitalizing on Ridley Scott’s 1979 hit with little more than a shared genre and the word “alien” in the title. But once you accept that, you’re left with a wild, uneven, and oddly hypnotic slice of Italian sci-fi horror that leans hard into atmosphere and subterranean dread. It's messy, sometimes nonsensical, but strangely watchable—and for fans of Italian genre cinema, there’s charm in its chaos.

It’s been over two decades since SWORDFISH detonated its way into theaters, and thanks to Arrow Video’s new 4K release, there’s never been a better time to reexamine the wild, stylish thrill-ride that once asked: what if hackers looked like supermodels and blew up banks in broad daylight? Directed by Dominic Sena and starring Hugh Jackman, John Travolta, Halle Berry, and Don Cheadle, SWORDFISH might not pass any cybersecurity tests, but it still delivers the glossy, high-octane fun that made it a cult favorite of the early 2000s. If you can check your realism at the door, there’s so much to enjoy here.

When an American backpacker lands in Buenos Aires, expecting adventure and perhaps a bit of romanticized self-discovery, the last thing he anticipates is becoming an unwitting performer in a politically charged underground theater group. Yet that’s exactly where he ends up in UNDERGROUND ORANGE. This flirts with satire, activism, and surreal comedy while poking at global power structures and the hypocrisy of national identity. It’s an offbeat, sometimes erratic but undeniably thought-provoking ride.

What happens when a horror story chooses tradition over thrills and contemplation over chaos? You get a film that aims to honor its real-life source material but occasionally forgets to draw the audience in. THE RITUAL is anchored in one of American history's most documented exorcism cases, opting for a grounded tone over genre theatrics. Rather than chasing supernatural spectacle, it leans heavily on restraint and solemn storytelling. That direction is deliberate, but it often lands between bold and muted, offering a take that struggles to maintain energy.

If you’re going to watch any documentary, make it this one, but be prepared for the emotional ride ahead! There’s a rare immediacy in storytelling when the subject is so compelling that the film around them only needs to observe. That’s the case here, where the focus isn’t on the world but on something far more meaningful—an honest, grounded portrayal of a young athlete whose presence is magnetic, not because of what she might achieve, but because of what she already has. JESSZILLA doesn’t rely on forced drama. It draws you in by simply allowing a real person to exist in front of the lens, and in doing so, it crafts one of the most emotionally rewarding documentaries of the year.

When an action-comedy leans too far in both directions, it risks collapsing under its ambitions. That’s the case here, where the premise has a lot going for it—government secrets, hired killers, and a mysterious protector—but the execution rarely sticks the landing. The film tries to juggle satire, suspense, and slapstick, but never fully commits to them. Instead, what could have been a punchy, stylized thriller becomes a muddled blend of concepts and erratic delivery.

What looks like a straightforward story about teenage girls growing up in the '90s gradually cracks open into something far more raw and personal. Director Jessica Rae delivers a debut that plays with expectation—what seems like a throwback drama at first becomes an intimate account of survival, self-discovery, and quiet rebellion. There’s no exaggeration here, just layered storytelling with a point of view that’s confident and grounded in real life.