Every family that has ever made a film together has had the same argument at the same table, and Family Movie is the first one I know of to sell tickets to it. Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick direct, with Dan Beers writing the concept they sparked to; their children Sosie and Travis Bacon act; and the conceit is a low-budget horror film about a family making a low-budget horror film, which is either the laziest idea in the world or the most honest, depending on whether you have ever had to cast your own cousin because the day rate was zero. It premiered at SXSW on a Friday the 13th, in the Narrative Spotlight, with Gersh selling and no distributor yet attached at the time Deadline wrote it up. Deadline loved it. AwardsWatch gave it a D+. I find both verdicts defensible and the gap between them more interesting than either, because the gap is exactly where micro-budget meta films live. ...

Jason Blum has a rule for cheap horror that every producer in this tier can recite with a drink in hand: you may have a big cast, many locations, or heavy practical effects, and you may choose two. Nicholas Pineda, making his first feature, Infirmary, could afford one. He chose the building. Everything else in this production, the form, the cast size, the story, even the title, is downstream of that single pick, and the result, a found-footage night shift in a psych ward shot entirely inside a real abandoned hospital in Los Angeles, premiered at FrightFest in the UK and is now streaming on Shudder. I have not read a cleaner demonstration of the one-rule constraint this year, so let me walk it in the order the decisions were actually made, because the order is the lesson. ...

What happens when a documentarian makes his first fiction feature about television? You get a film in which every charge the critics file reads, from another angle, like a description of the method. Lance Oppenheim is thirty, formed entirely in nonfiction, the HBO series Ren Faire behind him and an Elizabeth Holmes film co-directed with Nathan Fielder ahead, and Primetime, his first scripted picture, released by A24 from a screenplay by the equally first-time Ajon Singh, takes as its subject Chris Hansen and the Dateline NBC machine of To Catch a Predator. Robert Pattinson plays Hansen. The reviews are split down a line so clean you could light it: everyone admires the surface, and everyone files the same complaint about what is under it. ...

Let me count this one’s debts before its assets, because with Paul Greengrass the two are always drawn from the same account. The debts, filed almost identically by every notice I have read: the middle of The Uprising goes muddled once factions and locations start arriving at speed; several characters function as representations of a class rather than people; and the screenplay keeps reaching past the 1381 Peasants’ Revolt toward folklore, a mythology layer the marketing itself connects to the Robin Hood legend, which sits badly beside the grounded drama around it. Seat42F’s reviewer puts the complaint in one clean sentence, that the film doesn’t need the additional mythology, and Brian Orndorf is blunter still, finding the director dramatically constipated, the pace throttled. The audience wing of the prosecution is on the record too; one r/movies thread opens, with the weariness of a man who paid for his ticket, just watched The Uprising, and honestly, what a slog. ...

Follow the budgets and you can read Adam Wingard’s whole career like a bank statement. Mumblegore features made for around $75,000. Then You’re Next and The Guest, million-dollar festival darlings that turned into commercial hits. Then a decade in the land of intellectual property, a Blair Witch, a Death Note, and two Godzilla-and-Kong machines carrying budgets upward of $150 million for Warner Bros. And then, in May 2024, the trade announcement that reverses the whole curve: Wingard walks away from directing Godzilla x Kong: Supernova to make Onslaught, an original action-horror picture with his oldest writing partner, Simon Barrett, for A24 and Aaron Ryder’s company, at $15 million. From one hundred fifty to fifteen: a director buying back his own name at ninety percent off. ...

Blumhouse dropped The Last Kiss onto digital platforms as a surprise for the Halloween season, which is the modern genre economy’s way of saying: here is a small one, find it if you can. Tant pis for the surprise strategy, because what the director’s press reveals is a film made with considerably more design intention than the release pattern suggests. Yoko Okumura, directing and co-writing from a script by Krystal and Alon Zivs that the company brought to her, has the hook every teen slasher prays for: a girl whose kisses show her how the kissed will die. Mckenna Grace leads; the kills are, in Okumura’s word, predictive. A slasher where the heroine sees the murder before the murderer commits it is a mystery engine and a horror engine bolted together, and the interesting part is how deliberately the machine around it was built. ...

Christopher Smith may be the most useful case study in British genre cinema, precisely because he refuses to become a brand. SciFiNow’s FrightFest notice makes the point with his own filmography: the tube-tunnel debut Creep, the office-outing splatter comedy Severance, the looping seabound puzzle Triangle, the plague procession of Black Death, hauntings, possessions, a Christmas film, and now Spider Island, an eco-horror comedy that premiered at FrightFest on the 30th of August. Two decades inside genre without repeating an idea is a career strategy with a real cost, since every film must find its audience from scratch, and a real reward, which is that nobody can predict him. The new one returns him to the Severance register: a protected Pacific island, a greenwashed luxury hotel called the Pearlhaven, thirty imported influencers, and a population of pack-hunting spiders whose cave habitat has been plugged with smuggled concrete and who have relocated, sensibly, into the hotel’s air conditioning. ...

I rarely write about tools, and never with much pleasure. Software is the fastest-aging subject in this métier, the vendors redo their pricing pages the way the rest of us change socks, and no shoot I have ever stood on was saved by a subscription. The first stripboard I worked from was cardboard in a wooden holder, and it ran a feature perfectly well. Tant pis: the paperwork is part of the process whether I enjoy it or not, these four names keep arriving in my comments, and I have watched too many young producers choose their software the way they would never dare choose a lens, by reading the side of the box. The boxes will not help you here, since all four print the same list on them, and a feature list has never once predicted which tool survives contact with a shooting day. What predicts it is the shape of your production, because a one-day commercial and a twelve-day feature fall apart in entirely different places. So the shape is how I will compare them. ...

The most honest thing in Agnieszka Smoczyńska’s Hot Spot is its real estate. Variety’s reviewer, no admirer of the film’s plotting, still surrendered to what the production design is doing: Anna Anosowicz builds humanity’s last compound out of existing midcentury brutalist architecture and far older ruins, Greek stones included, dressed with what the review calls superficially futuristic window-dressing. The future, in other words, is not built here; it is scavenged. Not a brave new world but a thriftily recycled one, hanging onto past glories by a thread, and that single design decision tells you more about a civilization run by a rationing AI than any title card could. It is also, en passant, the oldest trick of resourceful production: when you cannot afford to build the future, photograph the past strangely enough and the audience will do the rest. Smoczyńska is working with the biggest budget of her career, and she spends it like a director who remembers not having one. ...