Category: Action

Where explosions solve problems and nobody reloads.

  • The Long Walk: America’s Next Top Trauma

    The Long Walk: America’s Next Top Trauma

    Stephen King’s The Long Walk asks one simple question: what if middle school gym class ended in state-sanctioned execution?

    In a future where the government solves boredom by making teenage boys walk until they literally drop dead, 100 kids are forced into a cross-country death march with exactly zero snack breaks. Walk too slow, get three warnings, and—boom—you’re deleted like last season’s streaming content.

    Cooper Hoffman plays Ray Garraty, a sad-eyed boy with just enough backstory to make his inevitable demise feel poetic. He’s joined by Peter McVries (hot, haunted), Stebbins (probably a clone), and Barkovitch (definitely not okay). Meanwhile, Mark Hamill shows up as The Major, a military daddy figure who hands out trauma like participation trophies.

    It’s bleak. It’s brutal. It’s allegedly a metaphor. And according to early buzz, the movie changes the book’s ending—which has already triggered at least five Reddit meltdowns and one guy threatening to walk in protest.

    4.5 out of 5 government-issued step counters.

    Come for the existential dread. Stay because you physically can’t stop.

  • War of the Worlds (2025)

    War of the Worlds (2025)

    So apparently aliens have upgraded from tripods to… Microsoft Teams? In this one, Ice Cube is a Homeland Security analyst fighting an alien invasion entirely from his laptop. Which means instead of laser beams and mass panic, we get screen shares, awkward buffering, and the occasional “You’re on mute” while humanity burns.

    Critics have been savage. At one point Rotten Tomatoes slapped it with a perfect 0%, which feels less like a score and more like a dare. Some people say it’s actually fun in a “drinking with friends and watching a dumpster fire” sort of way, but that might just be Stockholm syndrome from all the product placement. Amazon drones show up so often I half expect them to deliver the ending.

    On the bright side, there’s an “It Was a Good Day” vibe if you squint: no barking dogs, no spilled coffee, no UFO parked outside your house… just Ice Cube looking into his webcam like he’s troubleshooting his Wi-Fi while aliens delete the planet.

    1 out of 5 alien Zoom backgrounds, plus half a star if you watch it on a Friday and your pager doesn’t go off.

  • The Fantastic Four: First Steps

    The Fantastic Four: First Steps

    This is Marvel’s 87th attempt to make the Fantastic Four work on screen, which is impressive if you consider that most people give up on a Rubik’s Cube after six minutes and one thrown coffee mug. But this time, it’s going to be different, allegedly because Marvel gave the project to a director who has both a “vision” and the ability to hold actors at gunpoint until they stop smirking during green screen takes.

    The Fantastic Four, in case you’re unfamiliar, are a group of scientists and one hothead who went to space and came back with the kind of mutations you normally only get from expired gas station sushi. They are:

    • Mr. Fantastic, a man who can stretch his body like taffy and somehow still thinks he should be in charge.
    • The Invisible Woman, who has the power to disappear and still gets talked over during team meetings.
    • The Human Torch, who flies around on fire and would absolutely commit insurance fraud for fun.
    • The Thing, who is made of rock, yells a lot, and looks like what would happen if a chicken nugget wished to be a linebacker.

    The plot is likely something between family drama and apocalyptic science fair. There will be some kind of glowing portal that someone warns them not to go near, followed immediately by everyone going near it. Then chaos. Possibly a cloud. Possibly another dimension. Possibly a villain who speaks in vague metaphors about entropy.

    There will definitely be a scene where Mr. Fantastic stretches his arm across a room to press a button, and everyone acts like it’s normal. There will be at least one emotional conversation about “what it means to be a team,” possibly delivered while someone is literally on fire.

    Also, the trailer features a slow zoom-in on a cosmic event, a cryptic monologue about destiny, and a musical sting that implies someone just discovered either dark matter or that their ex is dating Dr. Doom.

    Speaking of which—Dr. Doom is probably the villain again, which is fair because he has “doom” right there in the name. He’s either a sorcerer, a dictator, or a very angry LinkedIn user. Possibly all three.

    To be clear, I’m rooting for this movie. I want it to work. I want to believe that four people with wildly different powers and clearly no HR department can unite to save the world without needing six spinoffs and a Disney+ series to explain how.

    But if history is any indication, this movie will either be amazing or a beautiful train wreck, like watching someone attempt a backflip during a wedding toast. Either way, I’m in.

    I give it 3.5 out of 5 unstable molecules, with bonus points if they finally let The Thing wear pants.

  • Superman: Legacy

    Superman: Legacy

    Boots first, justice later.

    I have not seen the new Superman movie, but based on the trailer, leaked set photos, and the collective Reddit meltdown over whether the cape is too red or not red enough, I feel fully qualified to review it.

    James Gunn directs this one, which is a bold choice for a character whose emotional range usually runs from “concerned squint” to “stoic hovering.” But Gunn, who once made us weep over a tree with a three-word vocabulary, seems determined to give Superman his feelings back—whether we like it or not.

    This time around, Superman is played by David Corenswet, a man who sounds like he was named by IKEA but looks like someone AI would generate if prompted with “Make me a trustworthy jawline.” He’s got the classic look: square shoulders, noble brow, and the aura of someone who could solve world hunger but is instead stuck writing columns for a dying newspaper.

    Lois Lane, portrayed by Rachel Brosnahan, is back to doing what she does best: uncovering the truth, risking her life daily, and somehow not realizing that Clark Kent is Superman despite the glasses being literally the only disguise. Meanwhile, the villain is either Lex Luthor, an evil space algorithm, or late-stage capitalism—unclear from the trailers.

    The teaser does give us one very intense shot of Superman slowly putting on his boots while chaos rages outside the window. A bold choice for a guy who’s canonically faster than a speeding bullet. If I’m being attacked by a sky-laser, I’d prefer my superhero not be out here mood-tying his laces like he’s late to yoga.

    But let’s talk about the real hero of the film: Krypto the Superdog. This four-legged missile of love is not just comic relief. He’s a full-blown emotional support weapon. He catches missiles in his teeth, fetches entire satellites, and pees liquid justice. Honestly, if this franchise had any sense, they’d let Krypto take over the Justice League and put Batman on pooper-scooper duty.

    The plot, as far as I can tell, is about Superman grappling with his legacy—which is superhero movie code for “he cries at least once while staring out over a cornfield.” Expect lots of brooding, some high-concept speeches about hope, and the now-mandatory slow-motion cape shot while a melancholy indie cover of “Take On Me” plays in the background.

    In summary, this isn’t your dad’s Superman—unless your dad’s Superman also had a therapist and a dog with laser eyes. It’s got action, heart, and a protagonist who looks like he could file your taxes and crush a tank in the same afternoon.

    4.5 out of 5 superdogs

  • Ironheart

    Ironheart

    Teen genius builds flying death suit between midterms. Also, there’s a demon.

    Look, Riri Williams is a 19-year-old engineering prodigy from Chicago who builds an Iron Man suit out of spare parts and emotional trauma, and Marvel said, “Yes, let’s add magic to that.” Enter The Hood, a villain who appears to have raided both a thrift store and a cursed monastery.

    Riri’s suit is powered by cutting-edge tech and grief, which in the MCU is basically standard operating procedure. Her AI assistant is her dead best friend. Her enemies are mystical gangsters. Her guidance counselor is probably a S.H.I.E.L.D. plant. And somewhere in the background, Mephisto is maybe lurking again like a raccoon in the MCU’s garbage can.

    Dominique Thorne is apparently incredible as Riri, delivering heartfelt speeches while flying at Mach 3 and dodging flaming curse bullets. Anthony Ramos plays The Hood, a villain who looks like he’s about to either hex you or drop a mixtape. He’s got a cloak, a chip on his shoulder, and access to the dark arts, which is a bold resume for a guy named Parker.

    There’s also some dude in a bunker with missiles, but no one remembers him because hello, magic hoodie.

    The show reportedly juggles a gritty Chicago vibe, heartfelt coming-of-age moments, and Marvel’s usual CGI wizard fights where everything explodes in slow motion while someone whispers “I believe in you.”

    Thematically, Ironheart is about legacy, loss, and whether you can out-tech the literal devil. Plot-wise, it’s been described as Iron Man Jr. with a side of Doctor Strange and the Electric Kool-Aid Tech War.

    Critics say it’s uneven but charming. Reddit says “mid.” Marvel says “trust the process.” I say it’s a heartfelt rollercoaster with a rocket-powered science nerd and a villain who owns both a glock and a grimoire.

    3.5 out of 5 repulsor blasts and one enchanted Timberland boot.

  • The Unholy Trinity

    The Unholy Trinity

    Shootouts, Gold, and Samuel L. Jackson Doing Something Weird in a Saloon

    The Unholy Trinity is a modern western where jealousy, buried gold, and the film rights to every shoot-’em-up cliché collide in dusty Montana. Pierce Brosnan plays Gabriel Dove, a sheriff with decent facial hair and unresolved Civil War flashbacks. Samuel L. Jackson shows up as St. Christopher, a charismatic outlaw who may or may not be improvising half his lines just to keep things interesting. And Brandon Lessard plays Henry Broadway, a young man on a revenge mission who looks like he’s never actually ridden a horse but definitely owns at least one bolo tie.

    I haven’t seen it. But I’ve watched the trailer, skimmed critic reviews, and accidentally wandered into an online debate about whether it’s “a tribute to classic westerns” or “two hours of dusty people yelling at each other while sitting weirdly still.”

    The plot revolves around some very 1800s things: revenge, betrayal, injustice, and buried Confederate gold — which, like most Confederate ideas, probably wasn’t that valuable to begin with. There’s also a wrongly accused woman, a lot of hats, and what I can only assume is a dramatic standoff in front of a church or possibly a general store that sells bullets by the scoop.

    Critics say Jackson and Brosnan “keep the film afloat,” which is film critic code for “the plot wandered off but we like the actors.” The Washington Post called it a “low-budget, underwhelming B-movie,” which still sounds better than most meetings I’ve had this year.

    And yes—this dropped right as Brokeback Mountain hit its 20th anniversary, which means some people were probably hoping for another complex, layered, emotionally gut-wrenching western. The Unholy Trinity is… not that. It’s more of a shoot-first, emotionally-process-later kind of situation. Less longing glances and more “pass the dynamite.”

    But hey, not every western needs to make you cry in a tent. Some are just here to give Samuel L. Jackson a rifle and let him monologue about justice while chewing beef jerky.

    I give The Unholy Trinity 3 out of 5 dusty stares, and I assume someone gets shot mid-sentence by a character named Wyatt, Colt, or “the banker.”

  • Predator: Killer of Killers

    Predator: Killer of Killers

    Time-Traveling Death Alien vs. Every Warrior Hollywood Could License

    In Predator: Killer of Killers, the Predator franchise finally answers the question absolutely no one asked: “What if we dropped a dreadlocked space hunter into a historical re-enactment buffet?” This animated anthology film reportedly features the Predator facing off against warriors from multiple eras—Vikings, samurai, Roman soldiers, maybe a caveman with a rock and a grudge.

    I haven’t seen it. But I have watched the trailer, four fan breakdowns, and a TikTok where someone ranked the Predator’s historical kill-to-vibe ratio. So I’m fully qualified to tell you this movie looks like an ultra-violent field trip through time.

    According to everything I’ve read, this thing is bloody. Like, “your popcorn might flinch” levels of bloody. And it’s animated, which just means the gore is somehow extra creative. There’s an entire scene where a Predator allegedly dismembers a Mongolian warlord mid-speech while a thunderstorm plays the drums in the background. This is not verified, but it feels right.

    Each segment drops our friendly neighborhood intergalactic skull collector into a new era with new prey. And yes, someone probably says something like, “What are you?” before immediately dying. It’s a Predator tradition. The vibe is equal parts Love, Death & Robots, Assassin’s Creed, and whatever your cousin with the cool tattoo collection would pitch after two Red Bulls.

    There’s no central plot, just historical carnage and themed bloodbaths. It’s like Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure if they replaced Keanu Reeves with a cloaked alien who collects spinal cords for fun.

    Predator: Killer of Killers might be the most unnecessary, over-the-top installment in the franchise—and I say that as someone who watched Predator vs. Santa Claus on YouTube once. But it also might be brilliant. After all, what other franchise can pit an invisible plasma-cannon-wielding alien against a Viking berserker and have it make sense?

    I give it 4 out of 5 beheaded history buffs, and I will absolutely be watching it the second I’m brave enough.

  • Ballerina

    Ballerina

    Grace. Vengeance. And More Neck Snaps Than Opening Night at the Met.

    This movie is part of the John Wick universe, which means everyone is either a highly trained assassin, a hotel manager, or dead. Possibly all three.

    Ballerina stars Ana de Armas as a professionally pirouetting vengeance machine who was raised in a secret ballet school that is somehow also a murder academy. Yes, it’s basically Center Stage if it had more landmines.

    The plot (which I have not seen but have aggressively imagined) follows our tutu-clad heroine as she sets out to avenge the mysterious death of her family, friends, dog, or possibly her Wi-Fi signal. She uses her lethal choreography and graceful homicide skills to take down an endless parade of bearded men in tactical gear who apparently never learned how to dodge a flying heel kick.

    There’s a moment in every fight where she pauses, just long enough to strike a ballet pose and reload. And that’s when you know somebody’s about to get Swan Lake’d right in the spleen.

    She navigates a trail of fight scenes lit only by chandeliers and unresolved trauma, faces a villain who wears gloves indoors and drinks tea way too menacingly, and relives childhood recitals set to emotional EDM. At least one important conversation in Russian ends with a sword in someone’s foot.

    Also, Keanu Reeves might show up as John Wick just to nod and say something like “she’s better than me,” before disappearing into a fog machine.

    I give it 5 out of 5 blood-spattered toe shoes, with bonus points if there’s a scene where she spins so fast she knocks out a room full of henchmen and gets a standing ovation.

  • Karate Kid: Legends

    Karate Kid: Legends

    Two Legends. One Kid. And More Wisdom Than a Panda Express Fortune Cookie

    So apparently this is the movie where Jackie Chan and Ralph Macchio team up—not to stop a global threat, but to co-manage the emotional stability of one incredibly stressed-out teenager. It’s a Karate Kid crossover event, and by “event,” I mean you’ll leave the theater unsure whether you need a black belt or a therapist.

    The story revolves around a young martial arts prodigy named Li Fong, who moves from Beijing to New York because the universe decided his life wasn’t hard enough already. He’s then jointly trained by two men from completely different cinematic timelines who bond over a mutual love of punching things and looking disappointed while holding tea.

    Jackie Chan, at 71 years old, is still flipping over balconies like gravity owes him money. His Mr. Han character brings wisdom, pain, and at least one scene where he teaches a lesson by mopping a floor so aggressively it causes a flashback. Meanwhile, Ralph Macchio’s Daniel LaRusso is still carrying the emotional weight of a high school tournament from 1984. He now mentors kids through karate and metaphorical breakdowns in parking lots.

    The plot builds toward a massive martial arts tournament, because that’s how this universe solves all its problems. International tension? Tournament. Grief and identity crises? Tournament. Forgot your locker combo? Spin kick until someone cries.

    Expect a lot of deep moral lessons delivered between flying kicks and dramatic stares. Jackie teaches “stillness in motion.” Ralph teaches “motion while overthinking everything.” Together, they’re like a divorced couple trying to co-parent a spiritual awakening.

    There’s also a rich villain dojo, because there’s always a rich villain dojo. They have matching uniforms, emotionally unavailable parents, and a team motto that probably involves the word “dominate” in calligraphy.

    I give it 4 out of 5 slowly whispered sayings that could double as yoga class instructions. Bonus points if Jackie and Ralph do a synchronized bow while the teen does a spinning backflip into inner peace.

  • F1

    F1

    Fast Cars, Loud Feelings, and Helmeted Men Staring into the Middle Distance

    F1 is a high-octane drama that explores what happens when you strap emotionally fragile millionaires into carbon fiber rockets and tell them to express themselves by going 200 mph in circles.

    It stars Brad Pitt as a retired Formula 1 legend dragged back onto the track for One Last Race™—a plot device so familiar it has its own pit crew. He’s mentoring a younger driver whose jawline is so sharp it voids insurance policies, and together they navigate fierce rivals, unresolved trauma, and multiple slow-motion walkaways from smoking vehicles.

    The trailer is a symphony of fast cuts, sweaty pit crews shouting into radios, and Brad Pitt staring at his helmet like it just insulted his mother. There’s a moment where someone yells, “He’s not ready!” followed by rain, dramatic piano chords, and a team principal throwing a clipboard in despair. There’s also a very emotional scene where someone walks away from a crashed car while orchestral strings scream, “Character development!”

    It’s not just about racing—it’s about redemption, trust, and how many close-up shots of brake pedals you can squeeze into a feature film. You can absolutely expect a training montage involving wind tunnels, steely glances across the garage, and someone learning a valuable life lesson by spinning out on Turn 3.

    And of course, the final race comes down to the wire. Not because that’s what happens in Formula 1, but because no studio executive is going to greenlight a movie where Brad Pitt loses to some guy named Max from Team Beige.

    In conclusion, F1 is a sleek, turbo-charged meditation on legacy, loyalty, and why you should never wear white pants around motor oil. It’s loud. It’s intense. And if someone doesn’t cry inside a helmet, was it even cinema?

    I give it 4 out of 5 emotionally conflicted pit stops, plus one bonus point for every time Brad Pitt dramatically removes his gloves like he’s peeling away his past.