Monday Miniatures: Sleeping in a Tinderbox

Welcome to Monday Miniatures, where I tell you about some of the stuff I’ve been watching in the past week that I wouldn’t otherwise get to share.

The week of Oct. 13-19, 2025:

A House of Dynamite, directed by Katherine Bigelow

Fail Safe, directed by Sidney Lumet

How I watched them: A House of Dynamite - in theaters (Alamo Drafthouse DTLA); Fail Safe - Tubi

A House of Dynamite was out of date before it was even released in one very specific way that tells us everything we need to know about the urgency of its message and the potency of its story. One of the film’s main characters, played by Jared Harris, is the secretary of defense. You will note that the current administration would prefer alternative terminology for this position and department, opting instead for a secretary and department of war. In the scenario posited by Bigelow and writer Noah Oppenheim, the distinction between “war” and “defense” means everything.

I watched this in conjunction with Lumet’s Fail Safe, unfairly saddled over the years with the impression that it is the stately, “eat your vegetables” version of Dr. Strangelove. Compared to Stanley Kubrick’s film, Pee-Wee’s Playhouse would seem stately. In fact, Fail Safe is a white-knuckle thriller that proves Lumet was a master of making the “men in a room” movie cinematic, a form he arguably perfected seven years prior in 12 Angry Men.

The takeaways from all nuclear thrillers – from Fail Safe and Dr. Strangelove to Crimson Tide and A House of Dynamite – are largely the same. First, nuclear weapons proliferation was a mistake. Second, in a nuclear world, it is important to have rational, thoughtful, sane, and empathetic people in positions of power and making the split-second decisions that could save 10 million lives or end them.

One could reasonably ask why we need another movie that largely, if entertainingly, communicates these same themes when we have all that came before. My response would be that in the halls of power today, rationality, thoughtfulness, sanity, and empathy are in stunningly short supply. It’s critical that our great film artists, every now and then, remind us how bad things are and how little they’ve changed.

It should go without saying that Bigelow absolutely counts among our great film artists. With this, The Hurt Locker, and the controversial Zero Dark Thirty, Bigelow has proven to be the preeminent chronicler of the 21st century American war machine. The picture she paints is bleak but honest, though some will quibble with her facts. I believe Bigelow achieves an ecstatic truth through her films, a real reckoning with who we are as a nation and who we have allowed ourselves to become.

In addition to all that, A House of Dynamite, written by Noah Oppenheim, is a structural marvel, tightly edited, and featuring some of the best sound design of the year. Harris, Rebecca Ferguson, Gabriel Basso, and Anthony Ramos deliver tremendous performances as chess pieces with differing levels of culpability and responsibility in the film’s crisis. A marvelous movie, well worth catching in the theater if you can but certainly on Netflix when it drops this Friday.

Bring Her Back, directed by Danny and Michael Philippou

How I watched it: HBO Max

The Australian twin brothers Danny and Michael Philippou burst onto the horror scene in 2022 with the widely loved Talk to Me, a movie that asks: What if communing with the spirit realm were the new party drug? There is nothing in their new film, which was released back in May, that one could mistake for a party. Bring Her Back is unrelentingly bleak, which is not a criticism so much as a warning. If that’s not your thing, you’re going to have a bad time. If it is your thing, you’re going to have a bad time but you’ll enjoy it.

I enjoyed Bring Her Back but, by the end, found myself wanting more. Talk to Me was such a rich, deeply layered film about grief, addiction, trauma, and all that goes there that the expectations were quite high for this followup. Layered, however, is not what I would call it. Its themes are right there on the surface the whole time, which is not the worst thing in the world but doesn’t leave you much to chew on once the film is over. I walked away from Talk to Me and I couldn’t shake it. Bring Her Back passed through me like a ghost.

It might not be fair to compare, but I do so only because I know what the Philippou brothers are capable of, and I hope they keep raising the bar for their work. Sally Hawkins delivers a knockout performance, but having recently rewatched Weapons (more on that next week), it’s the kind of villain character I’m getting a little tired of. The kids in the movie are universally excellent, the filmmaking remains top notch, but I’m missing a little depth and nuance.

Jigoku, directed by Nobuo Nakagawa

How I watched it: Criterion Channel

There’s a group of films that are on my October watchlist every year and that I somehow never get around to watching. I’m hoping this finally will be the year of Yes! The 1960 Japanese classic Jigoku is the first one off the list. I had no idea what this film was about, but when the opening title card came up, revealing the direct translation of the film’s title as simply “Hell,” I knew I was in for a ride. And, what a ride it turned out to be!

Chopped (an operative word here) neatly into two halves, Nakagawa’s film is about actions and consequences, or quite literally about sin and punishment. In the first half, mild-mannered but easily influenced student Shirô (Shigeru Amachi) is led down a path of vice and destruction that results in the death and damnation of everyone in his orbit. This sequence ends with a scene of murder and mass death that is not necessarily violent but shocking nonetheless. The violence comes next.

The film’s raison d’être is its second half, a literal depiction of hell pulled from a combination of Buddhist cosmology and Chinese mythology, as well as a little bit of Christian dogma. Nakagawa’s imagery is enthralling, presaging the psychedelic era that was to come in the later ’60s and early ’70s. The violence is graphic but artful, depicting the tortures of hell as existing in a sort of perpetual dream state, where it is not simply suffering of the body but suffering of the soul. It is a chilling interpretation of eternity.

Slice, directed by Austin Vesely

How I watched it: Tubi

I really wanted to like this movie more than I did, and there absolutely is fun to be had here, just not quite enough. Set in a world where humans co-exist with mythical creatures like ghosts, werewolves, and witches, none of the characters seems particularly amazed by anything going on, which makes it difficult for the audience to be amazed by anything either.

The plot revolves around a series of murders alternately blamed on ghosts and a werewolf (played by Chance the Rapper) and a bizarre scheme to open the gates of hell. None of it makes much sense or comes together in a satisfying way. There are funny performers in this who got some big laughs from me, at least, but there’s really not enough meat on the bone.

Let me tell you the scariest thing this movie supposes: The opening involves the murder of a pizza delivery man who is killed while completing a delivery to a ghost. To be clear, the ghost has ordered a pizza, which means he intends to pay for that pizza. We also see a different ghost working at the pizza place. How horrifying that in this world, not even death earns us release from the hamster wheel of capitalism.

Tales from the Hood, directed by Rusty Cundieff

How I watched: Blu-ray I own

An essential annual watch at this point, Cundieff’s omnibus horror is 30 years old this year. It has been fascinating to rewatch and reflect on this movie over the years. For all intents and purposes, I have grown up with it. It absolutely informed my own political consciousness, specifically as it pertains to race, but its politics have not kept up with modern leftist ideals. Through no fault of its own, it reflects a very ’90s view of the problems associated with racism in this country.

Most prominently, this view largely holds that Black people bear equal responsibility for the ills of racism in their community, focusing heavily on Black-on-Black crime, domestic violence, and Black characters choosing to be subservient to white ones in order to be near power. Today, we are more aware of the systemic problems that create the conditions that foster these issues. Spike Lee, who produced this film, can fall into this trap, as well, and has done so as recently as this year in his Highest 2 Lowest.

That being said, I still believe that if we watch this film with respect for the context in which it was made and a healthy dose of progressive skepticism, it still has a ton worthwhile to say. And, it’s still fun and scary as hell. It’s probably not a coincidence that the best story is the one that remains most politically relevant: that of the “former” KKK member running for political office and bemoaning the (imagined) negative effects of anti-white racism by virtue of affirmative action. The puppet effects alone in that one are all-time horror stuff.

For this viewing, I watched with Cundieff’s commentary recorded for the Shout! Factory Blu-ray I bought as part of the pop-up I wrote about in conjunction with a screening of Joe Dante’s Piranha at Vidiots. It was fun and informative and came with the exact kind of behind-the-scenes stories you would want as a watcher of DVD commentaries, one of the many film-fan luxuries the streaming era is attempting to take from us. At 30 years old, this film remains as special to me now as when it was first released, and I hope still to be watching it 30 years in the future.

Welcome to the 31 Days of Horror Redux

On this day, 10 years ago, I started a project called the 31 Days of Horror. Thirty-one horror movies in 31 days. It was a way of sharing my love for the genre by sharing some of what I considered, at the time, the greatest films in that genre. Now, 10 years on feels like the right time to revisit the project – but with a twist. Instead of my recommendations, I am going to be listening to the world’s recommendations and watching new films, myself.

Each day this month – October being the spookiest month, I think we can all agree – I will be watching at least one horror film that is new to me. I do not have a schedule planned, but I have a vague idea of the movies I want and need to see. I will write about each film in this space, each day, and share my thoughts on the world of horror.

There are no rules for this project, but I will try my best to seek out a variety of subgenres, marginalized filmmakers, and new voices. This should be exciting, hopefully as much for you as for me. At the end of this month, the goal is to be a better rounded horror film fan than I am as of this writing. I want to learn, I want to grow, and I want to understand the furthest corners (thanks, Frank) of what this wonderful genre has to offer. I hope you will come along with me on the journey.

However, before forging ahead, I thought it would be fun to take a look back. I have been in love with horror for essentially the entirety of my movie-watching life. From the time a misguided babysitter showed me Jaws at the age of 3 and I briefly avoided swimming pools like the plague. Or when that same babysitter, in an even more ill-advised moment, showed me Child’s Play at the age of 4. I had nightmares. I didn’t go to that babysitter much more after that.

The point is: Horror lives with me, and I live with it. I am neither dogmatic nor precious about it. Show me something new. Show me a new take on an old formula. Show me an old formula done well. Show me the schlockiest, most undercooked story and give me a cheap thrill. I love it all. I cannot vouch for the quality of it all, but my love is real. 

So, with that in mind, I thought it would be fun to kick off the 10-year anniversary of the 31 Days of Horror with a list of my 10 favorite horror films of all time. I have never done this exercise, and frankly, I am as interested to see how it turns out as you are.

A couple rules: First, I won’t repeat the same director, otherwise I imagine we’d be looking at a list of almost entirely Wes Craven and Sam Raimi movies. Next, single films only, no franchises, as tempting as it might be to highlight whole groups of movies. Third, I reserve the right to change my mind and update this list in 10 years. Fourth, this is about favorites, not best. While I think most if not all of the films below are legitimately great, my only endorsement here is that I enjoy watching them.

Finally, and this is less a rule than an observation: My definition of horror may differ from yours, and that’s okay. It’s great, even. That is the beautiful thing about horror. What is horrific to you may not be so to me and vice versa. I promise to play fair – no Jesus Camp, one of the most horrifying movies I have ever seen. Let’s see how this goes.

First a few honorable mentions and one jury award: Ginger Snaps, proof that when the right metaphor meets the right theme, magic is made; Paranormal Activity, without question the movie that scared me most as an adult; [REC], when people ask me the scariest movie of all time, there are a lot of candidates, but this is on the list; Trick ‘r Treat, just a ton of fun – all treats from minute one until its wonderful conclusion; and Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, a horror comedy that delivers laughs and gore in equal measure.

Jury award: Jaws. I had to break this out into a separate section because Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster is simply one of my favorite films of all time, but it teeters on the edge of what I would call “horror.” It certainly scared the hell out of a lot of people and continues to do so, but it’s mostly a drama that veers into thriller territory. Its moments of horror are suitably horrific, but they’re a little too few and far between for me to feel good about including it here.

Okay, onto the list. I wrote about several of these films at length in the original 31 Days of Horror series, so I will link to the longer pieces about each where applicable. Without further ado, my 10 favorite horror films of all time:

10. Leprechaun, directed by Mark Jones

Here’s my promise: Next year, on St. Patrick’s Day, I will devote an entire piece to my love of the Leprechaun films. We’ll get into the history of Trimark Pictures, the Jennifer Aniston of it all, Warwick Davis, and limericks. For now, I’ll just say this was a key piece of my starter kit as a child. There’s even a child as one of the leads. It’s not too scary. It’s not too gory. But it’s a helluva lot of fun, and it represents the kind of low-budget creature feature they don’t make enough of these days. And, it’s holiday-themed, to boot.

9. Carrie, directed by Brian de Palma

Some things that come to mind when I think about the greatest Stephen King adaptation (all due respect to The Shining): the hand at the end, of course; it is, perhaps, the most honest coming-of-age film ever made; the terror of religious fervor; Sissy Spacek and Piper Laurie delivering all-time performances; the number of times I watched this late at night on TNT, sometimes as part of the Joe Bob Briggs show, which was very important to me. A masterpiece.

8. Night of the Living Dead, directed by George Romero

In 2014, I called this the greatest horror film ever made. Ten years later, that opinion has not changed. There was great horror before Romero unleashed his film upon the world – Psycho, Frankenstein, Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, etc. – but this is the dividing line in modern horror filmmaking. This 1968 film sets the template for everything that would come after in terms of intensity, gore, and thematic depth. To this day, few films can match it in any of those categories, let alone all of them.

7. The Mist, directed by Frank Darabont

The feel-bad movie for all time (and the other Stephen King adaptation on my list). That ending. My god, that ending. For about 115 minutes, The Mist is some of the most intense and intensely allegorical filmmaking you are ever likely to see, then its final 10 minutes hit. Gut punch is too light a term. It’s more like one of this film’s monsters burrowed into you and exploded from the inside out. Not for nothing, but it also features one of the all-time great jump scares from my theater-going years, perhaps only matched by The Others. If you know, you know.

6. 28 Days Later, directed by Danny Boyle

Back then, I wrote a lot about this film as a pandemic parable – really, that’s just the text of the movie, rather than parable – and at the time, we were in the midst of the Ebola panic, which turned out to be a blip on the radar. Since then, we have all lived through COVID. Along with Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion, this provides a pretty accurate road map of how the world would feel in the grip of a pandemic. Suddenly, the parable that was always text became reality. That only made the movie more terrifying.

5. Tales from the Hood, directed by Rusty Cundieff

This omnibus of horror tales is the film that taught me movies could have a political consciousness. Not just horror movies, but movies in general. I cannot count the number of times I saw this Spike Lee-produced movie before I saw Do the Right Thing, so it was Cundieff who initially enlightened me on the abuses of police power, the scourge of domestic violence, and the false promise of “rehabilitation” in prisons. In many ways, this film is still a political guiding light for me.

4. Evil Dead II, directed by Sam Raimi

I could have gone with the original, The Evil Dead. I could have gone with the return to form, Drag Me to Hell. But if I am going to put one Raimi picture on my list of favorite horror films, it’s going to be this one every day of the week and twice on Sundays. This is the film where Raimi solidifies his status as a horror master. This is the film where Bruce Campell proves his bona fides as a leading man. This is the film where a man cuts off his own possessed hand and attaches a chainsaw to the stump. What else could you want?

3. From Dusk Till Dawn, directed by Robert Rodriguez

I waffled between this and the next film on the list a couple times. Two, three. Three, two. But I ultimately landed on this order because only the final 35-40 minutes of this film are actually horror. Everything before that is just an excellent crime picture. But, it’s that twist that makes this film so memorable. And, those last 35 minutes contain some of the gnarliest action-horror filmmaking you have ever seen. While the rest of you were watching E.R., this was my George Clooney of the ‘90s.

2. The Fly, directed by David Cronenberg

Speaking of, as a ‘90s kid, I should know Jeff Goldblum from Jurassic Park, and I should know Geena Davis from A League of Their Own. And, I do love those movies, although I actually prefer the Goldblum-led Lost World (a piece for another day). But, this is my Goldblum, this is my Davis, and The Fly is one of the most beautifully tragic romances ever put to screen. I knew that to be true, even as a child. That romance is ensconced in some of the most groundbreaking and influential body horror in film history, but it is a romance no less. 

The destruction of Seth Brundle’s body (pick your metaphor: cancer, AIDS, the ravages of age, what have you) is a brilliant effect, or rather a series of brilliant effects, but none of it means anything if we don’t care about the man at the center of it all and the woman who loves him. Cronenberg gets plenty of deserved credit for his work as a horror genius, but here, I must tip my cap to him as a master dramatist.

1. Scream, directed by Wes Craven

I’ve written about Scream a few times on this site, so I won’t rehash it here. I had seen horror movies before this, and heaven knows I’ve seen hundreds and hundreds since, but this is the one that changed everything. It spoke to me in a way movies had never spoken to me because it was about kids (played by obvious adults, but when you’re 8, teenagers and adults may as well be the same thing) who loved movies, just like I did. They knew everything about horror movies, just like I wanted to. One of the characters worked in a video store, which just seemed impossibly cool.

This film laid the groundwork for a decade of horror cinema that had more influence on my taste than probably any other era of any other genre. I Know What You Did Last Summer, Urban Legend, Final Destination, and the many sequels to all of them. I watched them all. I loved most of them. But, nothing holds a candle to the film that started it all. The direction is so smart. The writing is so smart. Within their world, even the characters are smart. All of which adds up to a film that treats the audience as smart, which is one of the rarest and most precious things in horror.