Silent Night, Deadly Night flickers off the screen as an experience that shares more with cash-grabby holiday flicks than anything visceral.
Author: Prabhjot Bains
Prabhjot Bains
Prabhjot Bains is a Toronto-based film writer and critic who has structured his love of the medium around three indisputable truths- the 1970s were the best decade for American cinema, Tom Cruise is the greatest sprinter of all time, and you better not talk about fight club. His first and only love is cinema and he will jump at the chance to argue why his movie opinion is much better than yours. His film interests are diverse, as his love of Hollywood is only matched by his affinity for international cinema. You can reach Prabhjot on Instagram and Twitter @prabhjotbains96. Prabhjot's work can also be found at Exclaim! Tilt Magazine and The Hollywood Handle.
In banking so much of its genre exercise on setups and backstories Wake Up Dead Man suffocates before it can even get started.
Unfolding with barbed, acerbic precision, No Other Choice slyly dissects the ouroboric state of corporate and workplace politics.
To enter Sirat’s dominion is to enter a cinematic trance so engulfing that we become one with its oppressively gorgeous desertscape.
Unfolding at a leisurely pace, The Secret Agent eschews conventions to manifest as a living, breathing cinematic novel.
Though Exit 8 struggles to sustain its atmospheric highs, becoming less interesting with each loop, it survives as a daring genre exercise.
The Roses isn’t thorny enough for its scent to linger as Olivia Coleman and Benedict Cumberbatch go to war in The Roses.
Relay quickly turns into the very kind of film its countercultural 70s influences rebelled against.