Tag: USA

Brutal Fury

  By

★★
“Cover not necessarily representative.”

While technically a 1993 release, the copyright date on this is five years earlier. That seems about right, because a more eighties movie, you would be hard pushed to find. The hair! The synth score! The fashions! But, to be fair, this makes it ahead of its time in some ways. It definitely predates Heathers, with which it shares a number of elements in common. It takes place in small-town Texas, where Lincoln High School is home to a group of female vigilantes called The Sisterhood. They take it upon themselves to act as moral enforcers, punishing with violence those who sleep around, take drugs, etc. Their latest recruit is Misty (Greene), recently arrived in town.

However, Misty is barking mad, the result of a lifetime of indoctrination by her evangelical and fundamentalist minister father. While The Sisterhood go no further than beating up those they find guilty, Misty is… more enthusiastic. The predatory lesbian gym teacher? Stabbed and pushed off a roof. The rapist football player? Suffocated and left dangling from the goal-posts. Detective Bill Griffin (Campitelli) doesn’t know what to make of it. Not least because his wife, Molly (Gebron), is currently undercover at the school, trying to bust open a drug ring. You’d think that might have merited attention from The Sisterhood, but apparently not. I guess they are too busy holding quasi-Satanic initiation ceremonies, which look they might have strayed in from the director’s cut of Spinal Tap. 

Molly isn’t exactly convincing as a teenager, despite dressing from the “Sexy Punk Rocker” aisle at Party City. But that’s alright, because the pupils at the school also look closer to their mid-life crises. Naturally, she ends up becoming one of the targets for Misty’s big finish, after she gets kicked out of The Sisterhood for being too extreme. There is certainly a lot to unpack here, and it definitely feels like there are a plot or two in excess of what the director could handle. In more skilled hands, this would definitely have had potential as a cult classic, mixing religion, morality and violence. But this was apparently Watkins’s debut, and little of the potential is realized.

He doesn’t even have the decency to deliver gratuitous nudity. I mean, staging a meet for the drugs outside of a topless bar? Sheesh. That’s your B-movie license revoked, right there. Greene is likely the best thing here, selling both of her personalities effectively: shame this was her only film. The rest of the cast vary from competent enough to “Was there really nobody else available for the role?” It is just in desperate need of executing its ideas with considerably more energy than Watkins can bring. Lean into the insanity more, play up the exploitation elements (for despite the title, it is neither brutal nor furious) and this would have the potential to become one of Quentin Tarantino’s favourite movies. Someone needs to remake it along those lines. 

Dir: Fred P. Watkins
Star: Lisa-Gabrielle Greene, Tom Campitelli, Annette Gebron, Karen Eppers

Hands

  By

★★½
“Needs more punch.”

This is a film I wanted to rate higher than I have. The performances are generally decent to good, and I don’t doubt the sincerity of those involved. However, both the script and the core action leave a bit to be desired. To start with the former, I’m not saying this story was written by AI. But if you did train ChatGPT with every combat sports cliché, and then ask it for a script… You probably wouldn’t be too far from what you get here. There’s Naomi (Williams) and Carter (Black), a couple united by their love of mixed martial arts. Until, that is, Carter refuses to take a dive in an underground tournament final, as ordered by the slimy Mindy (Thomas).

When he doesn’t, he gets sucker punched by the aptly named Killgore (MMA legend Quinton ‘Rampage’ Jackson) and dies. Two years later, Naomi has a chance in an underground tournament of her own. Absolutely no prizes will be offered for guessing who the bracket sets her up to face in the final. There are some other well-worn tropes, such as Naomi’s father (action film veteran Billy Blanks), a former boxer who gave up his career for the sake of his family. To be fair, it does not resolve quite as expected. While there is still the obvious confrontation between Naomi and Mindy, it doesn’t take place in the tournament setting. That’s about the extent of the deviation from genre norms you should expect here.

As noted, I did like the performances, which all hit the required notes. Of particular appeal was Thomas, who makes for a suitably hissable villain, with her Resting Bitch Eyebrows. I also liked Gibb, who took genre cliché #17, the Grizzled Old Coach, and brought it to life. Watching these two face off was close to the highlight of the film, from a dramatic standpoint. I appreciated the occasional dry moments of humour too, such as when tournament promoter Gregor mocks the large bad guy: “What type of name is that anyway? ‘Killgore’. His name is probably Marcus or Brandon.” So, the acting side of things, all told, was fine. It certainly was not the chore it could have been. 

Unfortunately, the action is underwhelming, and that applies particularly on the distaff side. Jackson, Black and Blanks all know their way around a fight: Kuhn and Thomas, very much less so. We see little of Naomi in action for the first hour, and when the “tournament” gets under way, the fights all seem to be over in thirty seconds or less. Mindy is even less of a threat. As the Big Bad, she needs to be established as an existential physical threat to the heroine, and that is something the film fails to do. It’s not often entries in this genre work better as drama than as action, yet such is certainly the case here. Given my interests, the results have to be classed as disappointing, albeit not fatally so. 

Dir: Justin Kuhn, Tanjareen Thomas, Donald Gibb, James M. Black

Nobody Wants to Shoot a Woman

  By

★★★½
“Better living through crime.”

Mary (Benko) moves in to a new Brooklyn neighbourhood, along with her husband, John (Gorn) and teenage son, Johnny. But neither of them are comfortable, the middle-class morality being an ill fit for John’s career as a bank robber. Unfortunately, John has an addictive fondness for gambling, which leads to him being gunned down on their front porch. This leaves Mary excluded by most of the other residents, and in a precarious financial position, unable to find legitimate employment. Eventually, she convinces John’s sketchy associate Sean (Godere), to bring her on board for his next robbery, and Mary discovers a hidden talent for such activities. This brings with it a new-found inner confidence in her everyday life.

The film reminds me of Monica la mitraille, though that was based on a real bank-robber, while this appears entirely spun from fictional cloth. However, it has the ring of plausibility to it, writer-director Enright creating characters and situations which feel distinctly lived-in. Mary’s character arc is strong and well-defined. She begins as someone stuck in an abusive relationship, though it seems only a matter of time before John’s self-destructive behaviour does, indeed, self-destruct. The question throughout it, how far will her subsequent path mirror that of her late husband? The police are circling, not least because of the media fuss resulting over the unusual gender of this criminal, nicknamed “Machine Gun Mary” by the press. There are also suggestion Mary may be growing a fondness for gambling too.

It’s this tension which pulled me along the narrative. It does occasionally lean too hard into the obvious tropes – I may have rolled my eyes at the “one last job” plot point, with Mary repeatedly stating she’s only doing this so she can provide for her son. In addition, none of the male characters are anywhere near as well-developed as the heroine. However, it manages to avoid relying entirely on them – or, at least, twists them in interesting ways. For example, the relationship between Mary and Johnny’s teacher doesn’t unfold as expected. Nor does that “one last job” turn out the way you think, although with hindsight, I could perhaps have predicted the resolution. 

You should not expect much on the action side of things, since this is, understandably, limited. While she does wield the automatic weapon after which Mary is nicknamed, this is purely for intimidation purposes. A few rounds loosed into the ceiling is more than sufficient, and she doesn’t shoot anybody, because she does not need to do so. Mary is smarter than that and, with the possible exception of the detective on her heels, is clearly the most intelligent person in the movie. She is definitely the least in thrall to the seductive addiction of criminal activity. However, how far will that take her, in a game where the house – by which, I mean the authorities – always win, sooner or later? That’s the key issue here, and I found it more than enough. 

Dir: Kerry Ann Enright
Star: Tina Benko, Michael Godere, Lev Gorn, Dane Zagarino

Detained

  By

★★
“The Unusual Suspects.”

I gave serious consideration as to not covering this here, since it is kinda fringe. The protagonist, Rebecca Kamen (Cornish), spends much of the movie handcuffed. This is not particularly conducive to action. But there are just about enough moments, as shown, where she gets her hands on a firearm, to crawl over the qualifying threshold. Don’t expect much in the way of girls-with-guns action. In fact, don’t expect much, full stop. For as the tagline above suggests, I preferred this the first time I watched it, when it was called The Usual Suspects. It begins with the police investigating a scene involving arson and murder, where one victim attempted to paint a name in their blood on the wall: “Jovan”. 

We then flash back to Kamen awakening in police custody, with no memory of how she got there. Seems she got off her face on drink and/or drugs, and mowed down a pedestrian. At least, that’s the story told to her by detectives Avery (Alonso) and Moon (Bloodgood). However, as things unfold, it becomes clear this is not a genuine police station. This isn’t much of a spoiler, because that fact is revealed relatively early in the process. It’s unfortunate, however, because this is the main point of originality which it has to offer. Turns out, Rebecca was involved in the disappearance of a large sum of money – Avery says eight million dollars, she rejects the figure, and suggests the legendary Jovan is responsible.

Regardless, Avery and team intend to pry it out of her. What follows is an hour of steadily decreasing returns, beginning with me thinking “They’re not going to go there, are they?” and ending with the sad realization, “They went there, didn’t they.” Cornish, whom you might remember from Sucker Punch, is actually the best thing about this. She starts off by playing the complete innocent, and you believe she genuinely has no idea why she is there. But an ability to read people like a world-class poker player, allows Rebecca to manipulate those who are trying to manipulate her. Consequently, it’s not long before ever-deepening cracks start to show in the facade of the opposing team. 

In particular, Avery – who was best friends with the previous owner of the cash – is prepared to go far further in compelling Kamen to open up her back account. The problem is, having initially shown the extraordinary lengths to which the gang are prepared to go to fake things, the viewer is left thoroughly suspicious of everything which follows. This is up to and including death threats aimed at small children: I was left thinking, “Yeah, sure…” The scepticism is, if you can to begin with, get past the completely unnecessary complexity of the original plan. I’d have bypassed all of it, and gone straight for the fingernail ripping. I guess that preference for the simpler solution is probably why I didn’t grow up to become a Bond villain. 

Dir: Felipe Mucci
Star: Abbie Cornish, Laz Alonso, Moon Bloodgood, John Patrick Amedori

Belle Starr’s Daughter

  By

★★½
“Like mother, like daughter.”

After one of her henchmen kills a local marshal, a posse is sent from Antioch to deal with outlaw Belle Starr, who had previously been in an uneasy truce with the town. However, when they arrive, they find Belle dead, and the gang subsequently scatters. Her daughter, Rose (Roman) mistakenly blames the new marshal, Tom Jackson (Montgomery), for her mother’s death. She apparently takes up honest work as a waitress, and Jackson falls in love with the young woman, initially unaware of her felonious ancestry. But Rose ends up leaving town with Bob Yauntis (Cameron) – he’s a former member of the gang who, unknown to her, was the actual killer of Belle and the previous marshal.

I guess this is something of a follow-up to Belle Starr – or maybe Badman’s Territory, since Isabell Jewell played Belle in both movies. This certainly has a similarly loose approach, taking historical fact as a jumping-off point for fictional adventure. Belle did indeed have a child: however, she was named Pearl Starr. Rather than an outlaw, she became a prostitute and ended up running several bordellos herself, and died in Arizona in 1925 (I’m a little surprised she wasn’t covered in Outlaw Women of Arizona). This appears to be taking another Western wild woman, Cimarron Rose, and making her Belle’s daughter. In reality, that Rose did hang with a criminal nicknamed ‘Bitter Creek’, as Bob is called here. She was supposedly involved in the Battle of Ingalls, an 1893 gunfight between outlaws and law-enforcement. 

Back in the cinematic world, it’s a shame Belle doesn’t survive longer into the movie. Having her, not just be an outlaw, but being the leader of an entire gang, is not something you see much on Westerns, particularly from this era. Obviously, the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, but you don’t get the idea Rose is exactly the sharpest tool in the box, letting Bob manipulate her at every step of the way. She refuses to accept the truth, well beyond the point at which any sensible person would be going, “Wait a minute…” While Roman might not be Gene Tierney in Belle Starr, there is something of a resemblance. She passes muster in a “We have Gene Tierney at home” way. 

It is a little disappointing how she ends up sidelined in the middle, in favour of Marshal Jackson hunting after Bitter Creek Yauntis and his gang. Rose just becomes one of the gang, though the way she isn’t treated particularly differently from anyone else, is somewhat refreshing. She does take the lead in trying to help an injured gang member, leaping off her horse to help him when he collapses into a river. Bob’s callous indifference here is what helps turn Rose against him, and she flees (across some very nice scenery), with Bob and his henchmen in pursuit. No prizes for guessing who arrives to save the day: having a woman who could save herself was still a little too advanced for Hollywood.

Dir: Lesley Selander
Star: Ruth Roman, George Montgomery, Rod Cameron, Wallace Ford

Street Queens

  By

★★
“Respect the hustle.”

This gets an extra half-star, simply for trying to go in some unexpected directions. I’ve seen enough of these urban flicks to know the template from which they are largely stamped. Now and again, this doesn’t so much colour outside the lines, as forget about the lines entirely. It doesn’t always work. God knows, it doesn’t always work. Still, I respect the attempt. It used the word “duplicitous” inside the first minute, and you get a voice-over saying things like, “The crimson stains of her actions seemed to fade momentarily, offering a fleeting illusion of absolution. A fragile attempt to reconcile the duality of her existence.” That’s some fancy-ass, hi-falutin’ language for a film in this sub-genre. 

Unfortunately, it also manages to be an incoherent mess. Perhaps it makes sense to those involved in the production. I note that, on the IMDb, there are six writers. Okay, technically, one “created by”, one writer, a story editor, two story consultants AND a “screenplay by”. It feels as if they were all operating independently, and only met each other at the movie’s premiere. Because I cannot offer much more insight to the plot than the official synopsis. To wit, “Three formidable women, Nia (Lindsay), Bella (Hankerson), and Dragon (Love) rise to power in the male-dominated realm of organized crime.” Even here, I have questions. For it’s not exactly ‘male-dominated’ – the subject of gender barely crops up. 

Indeed, it seems the trio’s biggest threat is also a woman, the very strange Goldie (Rosario J Anglin), who also goes by another name. “I love blood, that’s why they call me the Stallion,” she says. Um, what? I can see that leading to a nickname like the Tiger, or Wolf. But a male herbivore? Though I will say, she might be the best character here, simply because she acts permanently off her face on pharmaceuticals. It’s disconcerting, and if I’m not sure I’d call it good acting, you will remember it. The basic idea is that our heroines decide to get in on the drug trade, after first robbing a high-stakes gambling night. However, the illusion there is rather fragile, given it seems to be taking place in a studio apartment.

Anyway, they use the seed money obtained there to bribe Dr. Martin (Barnhardt) into supplying them with opioids. Lots of opioids. This doesn’t go down well with a number of people, eventually leading to the trio becoming the target of a robbery themselves. Things seem to get sorted, until a “Six months later” caption, further violence, and we are informed that Street Queens 2 will be coming soon. I’m unsure whether this is a threat or a promise. The coolest thing here might be the animated, comic-book style opening credits; it’s certainly the last point at which much of this makes any sense. It did keep me watching – more or less. Just do not ask me probing questions about anything that transpired. 

Dir: Jibril Haynes
Star: Madeline Lindsay, Khristee Love, Gloria Hankerson, Malik Barnhardt

Night of the Hunted

  By

★½
“The unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable”

It has got to the point where ‘A Shudder Original’ has become more a threat than a promise. I was hoping for much more from Khalfoun, who gave us the brilliant Maniac remake. However, here he is hogtied by a terrible script, more interested in providing left-wing political messaging than  entertainment – the very definition of “woke”. At one point, the heroine actually says, “My whole life has been about pleasing men.” Seems like a you problem, honey. But it sums up the tone of this whole misbegotten endeavour. Though to be fair, watching this a week before the Presidential election didn’t help: I reached my annual quota of smug bullshit months ago.

The missteps begin almost immediately, when we’re introduced to pharmaceutical executive Alice (Rowe), who is about to leave a convention, being clumsily reminded by her husband at home that she has a fertility appointment. Seconds later, we discover she’s having an affair with co-worker John (Scippio). “What a great way to get our empathy!” said no audience, ever. On the way home, they pull into a gas-station only to find it’s the bullseye for a sniper (Stanic), who has already killed the sole overnight employee. He’s operating from a nearby billboard (top) which, in one of the film’s few interesting moments, can be read in two, diametrically opposite ways. Paul is quickly dispatched leaving Alice alone, except for a walkie-talkie through which she communicates with the active shooter.

Turns out, he has a laundry list of grudges, with his lines apparently created by a Twitter-scraping bot, or possibly an AI told to parody right-wing talk radio. I certainly can’t believe it took four human writers to come up with this garbage. It’s exactly the kind of scenario where the killer doesn’t need a reason, and all the efforts to give him one backfire completely. Compare and contrast the more effective Downrange, and you’ll see what I mean. It may have had its flaws, going too far into enigmatic. It’s still preferable to having the killer self-identify as “The right-wing nut, the conspiracy theorist, stop the lie, storm the Capitol,  election fraud, domestic terrorist, anti-vaxxer, anti-this, anti-that.” You’ll be forgiven for mentally tuning out mid-sentence.

Things only get worse thereafter. For naturally, the shooter idiotically ends up leaving his position of strength, and wandering around inside the gas station. This is so he can drop vague hints as to the specific nature of his motivation (which seems curiously focused on Alice), but more importantly, allows the heroine to battle him hand-to-hand. Do not expect either of these aspects to approach remotely satisfying, and my reaction when the end credits rolled was “That’s it? Really?” Of all the reasons I watch genre movies, getting political lectures from Frenchmen is pretty far down the list. This has pissed away all of Khalfoun’s goodwill, and a good chunk of that for producer Alexandre Aja too. As for Shudder? I will not be subscribing.

Dir: Franck Khalfoun
Star: Camille Rowe, Stasa Stanic, Jeremy Scippio, J. John Bieler
[A version of this review previously appeared on Film Blitz]

Howl Coyote Howl

  By

★★
“Ninety minutes of walking around the desert.”

I dunno. Maybe I’m getting less patient in my old age. Or maybe social media has shot my attention span to pieces. But I’ve noticed of late that my tolerance for underwhelming movies has worn precariously thin. I definitely feel like the average rating I’ve handed out on this side in the past year has gone down, as film after film has failed to capture my interest. This is the latest such: the best thing I can say about it is, the creators did a good job of keeping within their means. This means a cast in single digits, and everything shot where film-making is cheap, in the great outdoors.

It’s the story of Anna (Martin) and Gloria (Fernandez), who are on the run from Anna’s former lover, Dante Owens, the head of the powerful Athena Corporation, and are heading for Mexico. Due to Dante’s connections, they can’t cross the border in the traditional way, and hire two coyotes, Mr. Walcott (Sherman) and fake man of the cloth Marty (Corby). to sneak them out of the States. Because coyotes are white and American, right? Naturally, it doesn’t go as intended, with Dante having sent men of his own after them. Plus, how much are they able to trust their guides? If Dante makes a better offer, what will they do? At least Anna is an ex-soldier, with no qualms about doing whatever is necessary.

Outside of one thrown knife, however, you will be waiting a very long time for her to get round to doing it. Instead, you will get a lot of chit-chat, with the women’s – and, therefore, also the film’s – progress towards safety, slowed dramatically by Gloria’s sprained ankle. According to the director, the intention was to create a modern take on the spaghetti Western. Because, according to him, everyone else has been getting it wrong. It should be “a harsh look at American life and the rejection of fascist ideals and the power of the individual.” If I’d seen that sentence before watching the film, I might well have pretended to lose it instead. Though to be fair, I didn’t exactly get any message – least of all an anti-fascist one. 

It feels like the film is constructed backwards. We first meet our heroines as they enter the desert. From who and what they are running – surely a key element of the narrative – is not made clear until very much later, as is Anna’s background in the Middle East. So you’re left with no particular reason to care about the situation. I didn’t mind the performances too much, even if it might have been cool had Marty actually been a priest, rather than just pretending to be one. The problem here is simply an inadequate amount of things happening, until almost the final fifteen or twenty minutes. It’s a poster child for “too little, too late.”

Dir: Dylan T. Sherman
Star: Talia Martin, Gaby Fernandez, Dylan T. Sherman, Francis Lloyd Corby

Dietroit 2 Chiraq

  By

★½
“Aspirations impossible to fulfill.”

I’m not averse to the concept here. The Tubi synopsis says, “Three women rampage from Detroit to Chicago seeking revenge on Davion Legrel I, the ruthless criminal who killed their best friend.” I’d watch that movie: if anyone ever gets around to making it, let me know. Because this certainly would require subdued lighting and a very specific angle, as well probably as some kind of eye condition, before it could be mistaken for the synopsis. I am even slightly interested in lead character Christina (Brazier), a former Army nurse who, bizarrely, alludes to having learned interrogation skills while on tour in the Middle East. This would not be a combination I’ve encountered before. 

Unfortunately, that’s where the good news ends. I guess the synopsis is technically accurate, providing you are happy with a very loose definition of the words “rampage”, “revenge” and “ruthless.” For the main problem is simply resources unable to depict convincingly what’s in the script. The most woeful example is when Christina and pals Robin (Merrill) and Stephanie (Reynolds) arrive in Chicago, and go to a “club” in search of information about Davion (Spearmon). “This is a classy place,” says one attendee. No: it is not. It looks far more like an empty office suite, having folding tables as furniture, and two bits of paper on the wall, with the words “CLUB” and “HADES” printed on them. And don’t even get me started on the woeful rap artist, supposedly launching his EP. 

These poverty-row production values permeate the whole production. There’s a latter sequence supposed to be set in a top-end bordello, where our trio masquerade as hookers (explaining the cover), again for information gathering purposes. To be blunt, I’ve seen condemned crack houses with more erotic ambiance. The problem is, basically, ambitions far in excess of what the makers can deliver. They should have gone the other direction, rather than trying (and failing miserably) to appear high-end. Go low instead, and aim for gritty authenticity, telling a story fresh off the streets – a 40-ounce of MD 20/20, rather than Rémy Martin. Make that brothel an actual drug-den, ugly and grimy, and turn Christina’s journey into a descent to a lower circle of hell. 

The results often left me feeling second-hand cringe for actors likely better than the film deserves, and relentlessly obliged to play make-believe so hard, to try and sell what’s happening. Meanwhile, the rest of the film seems to be actively trying to sabotage them, courtesy of elements like unconvincing CGI muzzle flashes. Though I was amused by the unexpected recycling of one of Pulp Fiction‘s most notorious lines. Specifically, the one about being a holding location for deceased persons of African-American heritage: it probably works better here, than coming out of the mouth of Quentin Tarantino. But it’s a rare moment where this manages to be other than an embarrassment. Even by the standards of this genre, this is well short of adequate. 

Dir: Shawn Woodard
Star: Shavannahre Brazier, Richelle Merrill, Lakeisha Reynolds, Shawn D. Spearmon Sr.

Saint Clare

  By

★★½
“Burned at the stake.”

Bella Thorne’s struggle to appear in a film which reaches three stars on this site, continues unabated. While probably not helped by my tendency to confuse her with Kristen Stewart, that’s five attempts now. Although, for a minute here, I thought this might be the one where she finally cracked it, with a potentially interesting first half. But it could not sustain itself, and as the final credits rolled, and I saw Guinevere Turner’s name as the co-writer… Yeah, it all made sense. I mean, she wrote Bloodrayne. And I’m one of the few people who didn’t utterly hate that. She has… a certain type of script, shall we say, and leave it at that. 

Here, the heroine is Clare Bleecker (Thorne), a high school student – Thorne was 24 when this was filmed, so about that… – recently transferred in from the East coast after the death of her parents. She’s staying with her grandmother (De Mornay), and moonlights as a vigilante. We first see her allowing herself to get picked up by a sketchy driver, whom she strangles and stabs to death. The resulting police interrogation brings her to the attention of Detective Timmons (Phillippe). But Clare is undaunted, and proceeds to look into the string of girls who have gone missing in the town, crimes going back decades which have never been solved. When her friend Julianna (Rovaris) becomes the latest to vanish, Clare decides the time for passive investigation has gone. 

The early stages are, as noted, interesting enough to be intriguing. There’s a nice touch where her conscience is represented by regular visits from the ghost of one of her victims – albeit an accidental one. However, he all but vanishes after she discovers there’s a bigger problem in town than just random scum-bag men, and the film’s issues tend to multiply thereafter. It’s never adequately explained why Clare has gone all Death Wish in her teenage years, or the Joan of Arc inspiration. Perhaps the book on which the film is based, Clare At 16 (or, I guess, at 24), does a better job of that, but without a particular motivation beyond “Men are bad, m’kay?”, the flaws in plotting became increasingly apparent to me.

And others too, apparently: it took three years to get distribution. I do respect Thorne for trying, even if the results have been underwhelming, and would encourage her to keep trying. As I suspect I’ve said before: she isn’t particularly the problem here, so much as the material. There’s an entire thread about Clare trying to get a part in the school play which is spectacularly out of place. But Thorne’s post-Disney career has never exactly been one known for her making good choices: witness the whole OnlyFans debacle. I was more interest in watching Clare operate as a small-town version of Dexter, punishing the guilty while maintaining a facade of normality. The further this went, the more ludicrous this instead became.

Dir: Mitzi Peirone
Star: Bella Thorne, Ryan Phillippe, Joy Rovaris, Rebecca De Mornay