Bear (Michael Johnston) is smitten with his co-worker Nikki (Inde Navarrette) but also petrified of rejection and losing her friendship. His buddy Ian (Cooper Tomlinson) advises him against his affection confession, even while Bear remains oblivious to the charms of his other co-worker Sarah (Megan Lawless). When Nikki abruptly puts in her two-weeks notice at the local music instrument store where they all work, Bear panics at seeing his window closing. He tries to find a charm at a crystal shop to replace one Nikki told him she’d lost… before buying a novelty called a “One Wish Willow,” promising an actual wish. In his lowest moment, feeling like everything in life he was clinging to is gone, Bear makes his wish, breaks the willow, and gets exactly what he asked for.

From Aladdin to Three Thousand Years of Longing, the consequences of wish-making are well documented indeed — how many Wishmaster movies are there? — but here we go again. As the debut feature film for writer and director Curry Barker, Focus Features and Blumhouse put their trust in a small cast and budget with a big idea. Cribbing on a simple toy doubling as a collectable McGuffin for some fun viral marketing, the buzz quickly built and stacked the deck in the film’s favor. Now it’s the audiences’ turn to to become obsessed, but is the buzz really up to the hype behind this Indie darling?

There’s no hiding it: Inde Navarrette is the film’s secret weapon. From being objectified in desire to unleashing the girlfriend from hell, Nikki’s arc is tragic and horrific… and viewers can’t look away. Lighting, practical effects, and a huge willingness on the part of the cast to toy with their performances is entertainingly infectious. At the same time, the discussion around the main character’s actions are as big a topic of discussion as the One Wish Willow itself, being compared to The Blair Witch Project in terms of budget, clever marketing, and success. With social media posts of the cast riffing on events in the film, lines are blurred between characters and actors as everyone is getting in on the fun. In a marketplace where big Hollywood tentpoles are flexing their muscle, the lowest-budget films are stealing their thunder, and Obsession is leading the charge.

It’s worth mentioning how the film stays in Bear’s POV, mirroring his own avoidance about what’s being done to Nikki, who unfortunately is either periodically or constantly aware of her loss of bodily autonomy. Bear initially leans into his hesitant fantasies before the existential dread of understanding everything he’s got coming and deserves. As a very minor spoiler, others who know about the One Wish Willow seem entirely too casual about it — “Oh, I already used mine.” — hints at an entire world of other stories out there, from potential sequels to an anthology television series. The question is, are willow wishes inherently bad, or are people just predictably stupid when altering their reality?

There are several clues in the end of the final act that there’s at least one alternate ending or perhaps several, but the film seeks to entertain far more than feed the discussion of how we got here… and that’s okay. What’s more important is the conversations being started and the renewed interest in seeing original work in theaters. Remember, the best way to make a wish: a One Wish Willow wish!

Obsession is rated R for strong bloody violence, grisly images, sexual content, pervasive language, and brief graphic nudity. Disclaimer: The One Wish Willow is 100% magical and 0% real. For entertainment only. No actual wishes granted. Mostly. Probably.

Four skull recommendation out of four.

Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) owns and manages a furniture store while dreaming of being an architect, but he’s having some family problems. Mary (Renate Reinsve) is Clark’s therapist but carries some family baggage of her own. Their common denominator is self-imposed isolation, regardless of how justified or comforting it may seem. When Clark discovers a secret entrance into a hidden realm of goldenrod wallpaper, dismal carpeting, and florescent lighting, he becomes fascinated with and consumed by needing to know how far down this new rabbit hole goes. Mary dismisses Clark’s sudden infatuation when he tries to explain it to her, but when he fails to appear for further appointments, she goes to Clark’s business to discover the backrooms for herself.

From the original 4chan creepypasta prompt to a YouTube series exploring the concept, creator Kane Parsons has expanded his lore into directing an A24 studios theatrical release co-written by Will Soodik. The audience for this subject is built in and the cast list appears exceptional, but so-called “liminal horror” has its limits and detractors. At one end of the spectrum lies the story-absent Skinamarink while the other champions the absurdist Being John Malkovich, each leaning into their own brands of madness experiencing in-between spaces. Set in June of 1990, the trailers hint at AI nightmare fuel, hallucinations distilled from human thought regurgitated like misinterpreted memories of memories… but what purpose do the backrooms serve?

Minor spoiler and fair warning: Backrooms is an introduction of lore meant for contemplation and clearly eventual sequels, meaning anyone requiring a flat-out answer to what’s happening is going to be sorely disappointed. Any semblance of plot derives from characters resisting a descent into madness from safe yet static lives, a cosmic laugh at whatever reality humans construct for themselves. Working against the narrative is a distinct time jump, where viewers are told but not shown what took place; it feels like a cheat but is reasonably forgivable. Additional clues are provided as new rooms are discovered, often under the duress of trying to escape whatever else is in there. It’s worth asking: would a well-adjusted individual even be able to find these backrooms, or is there even such a person to begin with?

There’s also the urban “urbex” exploration aspect, being where you’re not supposed to be and seeing things as they were left after a sudden departure (whether the previous occupants knew it or not). Backrooms suggests something more, influenced by its inhabitants but also by everything adjacent to it, just beyond the veiled entry. It seems to add to its likeness, snaking invisible tendrils into abandoned and forgotten places. Traversing the rooms themselves feels influenced by Alice In Wonderland — there’s even a broken mirror in one scene — coupled with the observer effect from quantum physics, things moving but never when you’re looking. Viewers can almost hear the voiceover: “Congratulations! You’ve been hired as a night guard for an abandoned mall. If you hear footsteps run up behind you, turn and look; if you see nothing, don’t blink as you walk backwards toward the nearest exit.”

Some of the beats resemble the final season of Netflix’s “Stranger Things” while avoiding the maliciousness of 1408 (these rooms aren’t evil; they just are). Providing a sense of scale to the entire idea is Phil, played by Mark Duplass, but the less you know about him going in, the better. Whatever these backrooms are or represent may be connective, perhaps global or even intergalactic, and one should never underestimate the financial attraction of a plausibly infinite and/or manipulative space outside of reality (just ask Lex Luthor). Of course, believing one could profit from such knowledge could be just one more trap.

Backrooms is rated R for language, some violent content/bloody images, and everything must go.

Three skull recommendation out of four.

Returning from a recent mission for the New Republic, Din “the Mandalorian” Djarin (Pedro Pascal) and his apprentice Grogu are given an assignment to save a kidnapped hutt (Jeremy Allen White) from an interplanetary gangster in return for information on an ex-Imperial officer. Partnering with Zeb Orrelios (Steve Blum) in a recently acquired and restored Razor Crest, Mando accepts the mission but quickly discovers nothing is what it seems, fighting their way through double-crosses, profiteers, and bucket-headed stormtroopers. When Mando bites off more than can chew him, Grogu is given his opportunity to shine, defeating new enemies with old friends in order to save the day.

Writer/director/producer Jon Favreau is credited for the MCU blueprint directing the successful hail-mary Iron Man but also for establishing “The Mandalorian” on Disney Plus. While the new trilogy “somehow Palpatine returned” viewers and crutched on too-familiar tropes, three seasons of “a lone warrior fighting injustice by a personal code” quietly captured the imagination of viewers new and old. Partnering with Dave Filoni and his Star Wars animation characters rebelling elsewhere else in the galaxy, there’s an interconnected storyline full of all things stars and wars to enjoy. After our heroes seemingly settled down onto their own small slice of the lawless outer territories, what will it take to bring them back to the good fight?

The Mandalorian and Grogu is essentially the show’s fourth season, trading half the episodes in for a theatrical budget and preassembling it into a two-hour binge-worthy supercut. While the big revelation of the main plot is “sometimes the people in charge lie,” the secondary plot has more weight, allowing Grogu to grow far more than Din Djarin has allowed him to until now. Details like intentional puppet movement and stop-motion creature animation informing the earliest look of Star Wars is on full display, including a clever reference to a Dejarik match (because droids don’t pull people’s arms out of their sockets). There’s a bit of a slowdown in the middle and some excessive nostalgia toward its own mythos, which may be lost on those just meeting our heroes for the first time. Looking for danger and adventure in a production design worthy of an illustrated issue of Heavy Metal? Here’s the perfect place to check out of reality for a while and enjoy obvious bad guys utterly defeated by the time the credits roll.

Before it became Episode 4: A New Hope, the original Star Wars felt like a pulpy space-opera fantasy, with trailers echoing Roger Corman metaphysics-on-a-shoestring productions more than any hard science fiction like 2001: A Space Odyssey. “A war amongst the stars” should have more closely resembled the bleak but incredible Rogue One and prequel seasons of “Andor” than the bulk of this beloved franchise — think The Guns of Navarone — but it’s easy to fall into the trappings to defeat “the evil Galactic Empire” whenever that John Williams “Imperial March” cues up. With “The Mandalorian,” Favreau reconnected with that childlike sense of wonder and discovery that charmed audiences in 1977, even if the newer Wild West setting leans more into High Plains Drifter than Seven Samurai. As a direct continuation of the successful first three seasons, why would a film version deviate from the earlier success?

In addition to Pascal’s top billing, two additional credits highlight those most often in the suit: suit performer Brendan Wayne and stunt fight coordinator/stunt performer Lateef Crowder, folks who weren’t always as credited up front as they should have been. Similar to the existing material, the new film sticks with what works and makes sense, not trying to introduce new phantom menaces or hidden Jedi orders. Not a single light saber is ignited in this movie, and while there are fans who’ll swear it’s not Star Wars unless a Skywalker resists the Dark Side, the plot moves the needle as much as it needs to… no Black Fleets, Starkiller Bases, or Death Stars necessary. I have spoken.

Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu is rated PG-13 for sci-fi violence and action. This is the Way.

Three skull recommendation out of four.

117 times already, and “the man from the future” (Sam Rockwell) still hasn’t gotten it right yet. Just after 10pm in an LA diner, the disheveled traveler appears, like he woke up in an abandoned Radio Shack and fashioned a suicide vest from surplus parts and a disposable rain poncho. He rants about the end of the world, how apps and social media have hijacked our attention, and names many of the patrons in the restaurant who’ve previously failed him. Now a couple of teachers (Zazie Beetz, Michael Peña), a desperate mother (Juno Temple), a pie enthusiast (Georgia Goodman), a doctor (Stevel Marc), a tough guy (Asim Chaudhry), and a fired princess (Haley Lu Richardson) might just be the combo needed to save the world… probably. Maybe. Or not. Crap.

Software update in progress; do not power off your device. Working from a script by Monster Trucks writer Matthew Robinson, Gore Verbinski makes his return to the director’s chair after a decade-long sabbatical or something, I don’t know. Known for his Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy as well as original fare like The Mexican and a creeptastic remake of The Ring, Verbinski knows how to balance humor in his quirky thrillers, this time playing directly into the talents of professional oddball Sam Rockwell. Sure, we’ve seen Terminator 3 (on three separate occasions), Tron: Ares, and numerous other self-aware AI horror stories about humanity fighting to survive, but is humanity really trying? Has everyone voluntarily embraced The Stepford Society for a so-called better reality? Drop that phone and back away…

Told in real-time with occasional flashbacks, Good Luck is an exercise in staying focused, because attention is the currency we pay for AI with… and it knows what distracts you (it has from the very beginning). What feels like a plausible present quickly unfolds into the near-future, world-building with our characters who are just as confused by sudden revelations as the viewers are. As a weird adventure with dire consequences, Rockwell’s flipflopping demeanor from crisis-mode to laissez-faire feels like a coping mechanism, playing up disturbing yet hilarious manic episodes while everyone is running and screaming. For the inexperienced, this is kind of what ADHD feels like — you’re welcome — but do pay attention, because it all makes a bizarre time-travel-y Master Control Program kind of sense. TL;DR: Someone finally thought up a prequel to The Matrix with the infusion of Safety Not Guaranteed.

You know those video games where it’s important to pick up everything, because something just being there indicates necessity? Whether it’s a talking pug or a post-apocalyptic sunrise, anything and everything off the cuff is going to come back to haunt our heroes… like suddenly seeing ads for Door Dash options when someone mentions being peckish within earshot (yes, dear readers, the world of Minority Report is essentially here). As Peter Venkman warned, “Don’t think of anything. We’ve only got one shot at this.” Just because it looks cute and/or silly doesn’t mean it won’t bite your head off, man. The sheer number of internal callbacks must have kept the continuity editor up at night — especially the spot-on red LED digital countdown timer throughout — and was totally worth it. Thanks, script supervisor Aparna Jayachandran!

The film is full of nerdy Easter eggs, like a clock with hands showing a time of 10:09:30 (if you don’t know the significance of this, swipe between faces on that Apple Watch you’re wearing). As a story escalating modern convenience to its worst possible conclusion, it walks the line between gentle ribbing and earnest warning, taking advantage of your willing participation beginning and ending with “I agree.” You DID read the entire EULA before you clicked it, right? Oops.

Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is rated R for pervasive language, violence, some grisly images, brief sexual content, and endlessly eating pellets in a maze while avoiding ghost monsters.

Four skull recommendation out of four

Returning to his remote farmhouse “Wuthering Heights” on the Yorkshire moors from a night of drinking and gambling, Mr. Earnshaw (Martin Clunes) brings home a seemingly mute boy (Owen Cooper). Earnshaw’s daughter Cathy (Charlotte Mellington) names him “Heathcliff” — her new pet — and a friendship is struck. Nelly (Vy Nguyen), an illegitimate noble’s daughter and previous stray taken in by Mr. Earnshaw, endures Cathy and Heathcliff growing up together, no longer Cathy’s sole source of attention. When Earnshaw’s indebtedness threatens to ruin them all, the neighboring arrival of Edgar Linton (Shazad Latif) and his ward Isabella (Alison Oliver) provides new possibilities for Cathy (Margot Robbie) while complicating all prior assumptions regarding her foster sibling Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi). With no one else to turn to, Cathy goes to Nelly (Hong Chau) in confidence for her counsel…

“As God is my witness, these heights will never wuther again!” There have been well over twenty visual adaptations of the only novel by English author Emily Brontë, plus a very Kate Bush song. Writer and director Emerald Fennell has previously gifted audiences with Promising Young Woman and the seditious Saltburn, so this adaptation feels very on-brand. Themes of aloneness, duty, and longing under the baleful eye of Death (and taxes) lurking in every shadow gives the story immediacy. Yet the cast list is somewhat sparce considering the length of the narrative… unless some serious modifications to the plot have taken place. Those familiar with the novel must ask themselves: was something important removed, and was anything unnecessary added in?

The opening shot is a perfect bait and switch (call it Heathcliff’s notes) so no one unfamiliar will be entirely surprised how this goes. For a renowned Gothic tale, many of the novel’s deaths are reduced to background mentions, leaning into the doomed romance rather than creep in cemeteries. The use of arterial-red paint must have dented the world supply as much as pink did for Barbie, but there’s a damnably clever change-up when viewers get their only glimpse of Edgar’s room: well done! While nothing supernatural is going on, hints of it ooze from the sets, from misty moors to black stone ruins, even the rooms at Wuthering Heights scream with dark history and black rot that goes undefined except in the imagination. By the time our lovers get down to business, viewers also need a release from all the visual, emotional, and (credits to Charlie xcx) audible tension… just before the bill comes due.

Some imagery invokes Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula, including one moment of “usually the blood gets off on the second floor.” Other set designs give off considerable Blackbeard vibes, including a dollhouse element surpassing Hereditary. Robbie and Elordi flaunt their chemistry, utterly convincing in their desire as well as their disdain, so hopeless young romantics will have plenty of newfound aesthetics to borrow from instead of Romeo+Juliet. Aside from an entire generation being cut from the plot, there are a few moments of inexplicable silliness, one demanding a safe word to keep it from ripping viewers entirely out of the movie. Fortunately, Fennell is willing to take these chances, setting her work apart thus far.

Note to all future period screenplay writers: it’s not unusual and/or creepy to make a doll (or have one) with human hair, especially in the 18th century (please look it up). Also, can someone offer Jacob Elordi a role where he doesn’t stalk women outside their windows at night in the rain? At a little over two hours, no welcome is overstayed because fate rarely rewards forbidden loves or lovers… unless their names are Gomez and Morticia. :: snap, snap ::

This adaptation of Wuthering Heights is rated R for sexual content, some violent content, language, and Barbie throwing over the Creature for a dashing Jon Lovitz (I cannot be the only one who thought this; you know what to do, SNL).

Three skull recommendation out of four

Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) is a bit of an odd duck among her co-workers. In spite of that, her insights have been invaluable to the company, earning her the promise of a significant upcoming promotion. When her boss suddenly passes away, his son Bradley Preston (Dylan O’Brien) takes over the company on the eve of a business opportunity. Linda finds herself pigeonholed, others taking credit for her work, and her expected promotion given away. Bradley reluctantly accepts advice to take Linda along on a critical business trip but doubts her capabilities, looking forward to getting rid of her at his earliest opportunity. Unfortunately, a thunderstorm downs their private jet somewhere in the South Seas, and Bradley awakens injured on a deserted island… utterly dependent upon the very employee he chose to look down upon.

It’s been 17 years since Sam Raimi directed his last R-rated horror movie, specifically Drag Me to Hell. Full of Raimi’s signature images, too-extreme close-ups, and vertigo-inducing camera moves, I said “The evil is back. The Oldsmobile is back. Horror director Sam Raimi is back.” But did it actually go anywhere? Evil is as evil does, and more often than not in a Raimi flick, it’s a mask of privilege getting some good ol’ B-movie over-punishment (read: you foreclosed on someone’s home, so clearly you should be eviscerated by lions). There’s also often a failure to acknowledge someone’s power in the dynamic, like cutting line in front of a poor old woman only to learn she can legitimately curse you. In either case, someone has failed to realize the force of nature they’re trifling with, and isn’t it amusing watching them fully realize just how badly they’ve screwed themselves into oblivion?

One of the best things about Send Help is that nothing supernatural is involved. A convenient storm or a lucky discovery, sure, but there’s no netherworld demons or summoned Deadites lurking about; it’s just two people doing their best to survive (the island and one another). Stephen King movies like Misery, Stand By Me, and The Shawshank Redemption are plenty creepy and even horrific, but there’s no ghosts or possessed cars or even haunted hotels. Linda did the research and the work while Bradley enjoyed empowerment and privilege, but any possibility of Bradley viewing himself as anything less than everyone’s superior is an exercise in futility, like watching a worm twisting on a fishhook. Call it a female power fantasy, deserved comeuppance, or just desserts; in their most desperate hour, some menfolk just can’t accept a capable woman… even if it costs them everything.

Even without Raimi’s usual ghosts and ghoulies, he finds plenty of opportunities for horror. McAdams and O’Brien appeared game for anything the director wanted to throw at them (or more to the point, onto them), including buckets of fake blood and significant viscera, never mind the most entertaining deplaning scene this side of Final Destination. Films like Cast Away, more recently Plane, and every episode of “Gilligan’s Island” have strip-mined similar concepts for plot points, so anyone paying attention isn’t going to be entirely surprised by any plot twists. There’s additionally one bit of denouement that’s fast becoming a too-common trope in these kinds of films, and it rang equally hollow here (if you’ve seen Companion, you probably already know).

It’s fun to imagine that, after Doctor Strange In the Multiverse of Madness, McAdams and Raimi decided they couldn’t wait to work together again, and this is the insanity they came up with. It’s promising that original horror-thrillers like this continue to fill the niche fans crave, but let’s make sure we’re still showing up at the cinema to support them, m’kay?

Send Help is rated R for strong/bloody violence, language, and incurable affluenza.

Three skull recommendation out of four