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Late Night with the Devil is horrific fun. Nicely made f/x with creepy undertones.

However, as cool as David Dastmalchian is in his role of late night host Jack Delroy, he could have been more. Instead of being TOLD that Delroy is a threat to Carson, let's SEE it. For most of the movie, Delroy solely plays witness - or referee. He needed to be charming and funny and suave; encapsulate Letterman's goofiness and Conan's sly wit. Neither of which were played to.

Having Dastmalchian truly ham it up as a front man would have made the horror even more outstanding.

The retro seventies vibe made for a good show. Let's see more.

The Tale of Zatoichi comfortably sits next to the Kurosawa/Mifune masterpiece Yojimbo.

Kenji Misumi tells a tale of comedy and tragedy, love and death, victory and defeat. Although surprisingly light on actual swordplay, and the choreography on such action can seem tame in a post Matrix cinematic world, Misumi's placement and camerawork is exemplary.

Shintaro Katsu plays the role both heavy and light. His character of Zatoichi defines - and displays! - honor in an uncontrolled realm of yakuza command. The irony of his blind character, of course, is that one cannot look away from his performance.

This classic is beautiful, compelling, and is an absolute must see.

Fun and slightly silly, Sergio Corbucci's sword-and-sandals pseudo-sequel The Slave is a highly-enjoyable matinee-flavored classic that cleverly wraps around a timeless morality play.

The Slave (aka The Son of Spartacus) fictitiously continues the story of gladiatorial slave Spartacus (originally played by Kirk Douglas in the 1960 Stanley Kubrick movie) by focusing on his son, Roman centurion Randus (Steve Reeves).

The Slave has plenty of silly action as it obviously was targeting a younger audience, but Steve Reeves sells the role. His smile is electric; his positivity contagious; and his biceps are awe-inspiring. Truly, this is the epitome of a Silver Screen-era leading man.

Likewise, the story is both simple and refreshingly deep. The action distinctly follows the plot of The Mark of Zorro (1940). Here, in similar moves as portrayed by Tyrone Power as Zorro, Randus, a strong and capable man, learns of hidden past, finds a special sword, crafts a mask to hide his face, and rather quickly, rides to take on injustice. Such acts of super-heroism are directed at the wealthy and powerful Crassus, who seeks to wrest power away from Caesar. During one prolonged action sequence where a masked Randus fights back Crassus's legions, a distinct letter "S" (for Spartacus!) is emblazoned on a wall!

However, the intrigue runs deeper. Initially, Randus is content with rescuing the attractive slave girl Saide (Ombretta Colli) and stopping Crassus' (Claudio Gora) mercenary army. Yet soon the question is posed to him: should not all slaves be free? And the wheels in Randus' melon start a'spinning. Randus, after all, is a high-ranking and highly-regarded centurion. One that even Julius Caesar (Ivo Garrani) trusts. And during the setting of this story - circa 48 BCE - slavery was simply a way of life; a life Randus would have been extremely comfortable in. Having Randus to even consider this change of life would have been radical. To actually pull it off? And fight for freedom? That is a monumental for a tiny Italian import.

The Slave might not have reached the peak obtained in Spartacus, but is suitable enough for a Saturday afternoon sit down. The Slave succeeds with cornball inspiration and super-heroic glee all with a cleverly built-in morality play.

Totally cool. From the sliding credits over that Lalo Schifrin score, to the always-talked about car chase, and then ending in a tense airport manhunt, Bullitt offers swinging songs, cops in bad suits, and television cliché villains. And it all works.

Until the end.

Steve McQueen lets his actions speak louder than words. When either playing keep away in a hospital or keeping cool with his love life (courtesy of Jacqueline Bissett) Bullitt shows that he is a modern cop. Always thinking; always ready to pounce. Director Peter Yates (Krull, Friends of Eddie Coyle) shows this juxtaposition of a man set in a city that is also shown to extremes, San Francisco. McQueen can truly be both a man of his time and an icon for the ages. No matter the movie, we are happily along for the ride.

By cleverly showing, not necessarily telling, Bullitt builds as a story that nicely avoids most of the cop clichés of the time. Yes, Frank Bullitt is stubborn. Yes, he goes against his commanding officer. And yes, he gets stuff done. And Bullitt keeps moving, too - chase sequence included! Yet as viable as fresh as Bullitt can be, even for 21st century viewings, the ending is rather abrupt. This is not the end of a case of a lifetime for Detective Frank Bullitt - just end of the day.

Albeit, one that comes with a Lalo Schifrin tune.

Nothing's ever easy, right? All Doc McCoy (Steve McQueen) wants to do is get outta Texas State Penitentiary and back into the smooth arms of his wife, Carol (Ali MacGraw). He dreams about it. But the dreams that come to life in this Sam Peckinpah classic are nothing but sweet.

Doc goes free on the condition that he pulls a job for crooked businessman Jack Beynon. Easy. Right? Wrong. Doc and Carol are forced to ... can you guess? ... getaway,

Peckinpah throws it all on the screen: screeching car chases, betrayals a go-go, dust, cops, and a hotel shoot-out. And for a 1972 action-thriller, The Getaway still plays great in the 21st Century.

See? Easy.

L'Incidente is an interesting character study that evokes questions in one's morality, in doing business, relations to the overall economy, and how that circles back to the power of family.

There is quiet power in Giuseppe Garau's show-don't-tell hour-long feature. However, attempts at heavier dialogue would have directed stronger sentiments and a deeper level of understanding. As it shows now, L'Incidente feels like a cinematic bring-your-child-to-work day.

Giuseppe Garau cleverly sets a stationary camera in the passenger's seat. We are watching Marcella drive. We see Marcella work. The sun rises and sets. And, at times, that single-shot display becomes monotonous. The hour ticks by in a repetitive fashion. Yes, we come to understand Marcella and her plight. Garau teases thoughts about the economy in silently questioning why Marcella would seek this work. But he leaves those thoughts unanswered.

Marcella is driven. The viewer is along for the ride. But it would have been nice if we could at least control the radio.

Molli and Max in the Future is probably too rom-com centric for sci-fi geeks and too bonko f/x-driven for Hallmark Channel subscribers.

Written and directed by Michael Lukk Litwak, Molli and Max in the Future pays homage to Nora Ephron's When Harry Met Sally, as well as Woody Allen sex farces, all wrapped around a glitzy sci-fi rendering that looks like the backlot of Luc Besson's The Fifth Element. Litwak then takes Ephron and Allen's caffeinated humor and blends it down to a vanilla soy latte. Rude sex and emotional inadequacies are jettisoned in favor of Millennial over-achievement and career depression.

Adapting Annie Hall in outer space makes for a great concept. Honestly though, when it comes to sci-fi and love, most Trekkies, Wookies, and Time Lords might instead opt to simply rewatch the Han & Leia scenes from The Empire Strikes Back.

Known as the "Master of Thrill", Italian filmmaker Dario Argento boasts a long and complex career. The Shudder original Dario Argento: Panico documentary takes a look at highlights from Argento's filmography by interviewing the Master of Horror himself along with other talking head contemporaries. For those that might only be familiar with The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970) or Suspiria (1977), Panico is a suitable overview with Argento himself acting as a grandfatherly host. For true Argento fans, Panico has all the substance of a featurette buried on disc 2 of the Opera collector's edition Blu-Ray.

Dario Argento: Panico provides a totally-fine overview of the auteur's work that pairs nicely with salt-cured prosciutto and a glass of Sangiovese chianti. But what would have worked spectacularly would have been if that Italian hotel was haunted... instead of Argento's tired eyes.

The Kill Room is a crime satire set for slaying in the modern art world. Catering to an audience that might not be hip to those in jokes, director Nicol Paone wisely fills her canvas with the witty Samuel L. Jackson, the sexy Uma Thurman, and the chiseled Joe Manganiello. Although hung on stories seen before, The Kill Room is an entertaining enough piece worth a 98-minute glance in any cinematic gallery.

Scripted by Jonathan Jacobson, The Kill Room is amusing crime fiction wrapped in a comedic body bag as Reggie's murders eventually transform into avant-garde art. Reggie becomes known as the Bagman whose art, naturally, becomes more of a success than the laundering biz. The Kill Room itself then dips into a slight case of thievery as the plot follows Woody Allen's Small Time Crooks, which also features a cover business that becomes more of a success than the actual crime. As life imitates art, so too does art imitate art.

The Kill Room, like the art being satirized within, has clever subtext but lacks that deep impression. The movie successfully captures the transitory nature of art styles noting such as an allegory of movies as they exist within modern streaming services. The Kill Room itself might not present a shocking spectacle like the Bagman but when paired with a proper wine and cheese, could nicely kill off a Friday night.

Here are two challenges in life that a man strives to succeed in: family and his job. Oftentimes, the paths intersect. Or even become one. But what happens when a man has to choose between family and finance? Filmmaker Alex Kahuam breeches that theme in Hitchcockian style. Failure! Follows Ted Raimi over the course of an hour where he must make that choice - a decision that includes the all-too easy answer of murder. Kahuam presents it all in a single take giving Raimi the spotlight for the entirety. Failure! Is inventive and captivating, but for all the anxiety-driven build up, ultimately lands a little too softly.

Failure! Follows James (Raimi - Ash vs Evil Dead, SeaQuest 2032) who has a big debt with an honest bank while being blackmailed over some shady deals. On top of all this? His daughter is getting married and she wants the complete princess package. What can one man do? Well, killing any pesky troublemakers is certainly one way to go.

Kahuam follows in handheld precision as Raimi delivers, at its base, a one-man play. Raimi infuriates on the inadequacies of his staff and how incompetent members of his daughter's wedding party are. Sometimes the ping-pong style plays like a top match. Other times, like a murderous conclusion, it is comedically abrupt.

Raimi's James gets his finale but the wash around him never truly settles. Failure! Makes for a good exploration of ideas and presents Raimi's finest performance to date yet the story's speculative culmination prohibits Failure! From being a Success!.

The documentary King On Screen is a celebration of King's fiction on the big (or small) screen as told by over twenty different filmmakers who were fortunate enough to adapt a King story. King On Screen tells their story.

Of the many different personalities interviewed here (Mick Garris is always a joy) there are some shockingly notable absences. No Rob Reiner (Stand By Me, Misery). And no Brian DePalma, who holds the distinct honor of directing the first Stephen King adaptation, Carrie (1976).

There are few gripes or regrets conveyed throughout the interviews. No real discussion of failure be it artistic or box office. Baiwir safely captures a positive exuberance. But make it a little shorter with some clever editing? King On Screen could have been a Blu-Ray special feature extra - or an all-star episode of "The Kingcast" podcast.

Whether you've always wanted to bike through Derry with the Losers or mistakenly confuse "Christine" for "Carrie", King On Screen is a delight to watch. Especially when the lights are off.

Starting with that first yodel, Mad Heidi is as crazy as it is, well, cheesy. The self-proclaimed Swissploitation action-splatterfest is all about illegal cheese, fascist rule, warrior nuns, and a madcap Casper Van Dien whose mustache-twirling villainy is as high as the Alps. Yet for all its silliness and over-the-top parodying, Mad Heidi should have been a lot crazier.

Mad Heidi is a crowdfunded project helmed by Johannes Hartmann and Sandro Klopfstein. The indie movie parodies not only general exploitation films but specifically the good-natured Heidi stories of old (such as the sappy Shirley Temple classic). Here, Switzerland is under the fascist control of cheese-loving President Meili (Van Dien). When both Heidi's (Alice Lucy) freedom-loving grandfather and goat cheese-smuggling boyfriend are killed, Heidi transforms herself into a kick-ass fighter and goes after fierce retribution against Meili and his brutal regime. In short, cheese happens.

Mad Heidi is fun and silly. Mad Heidi was not made to promote the artform of cinematic splendor. This is a riotous goof that caters to a specific audience, a level on which Mad Heidi completely succeeds.

The documentary Sharksploitation casts a broad net in the surprisingly deep waters of Hollywood's fin-tastic obsession with sharks. From the blockbuster Jaws to the viral Sharknado, filmmaker Stephen Scarlata leaves no reef unturned. Even when the movie gets a little long in the tooth, Scarlata delivers interviews aplenty backing his thesis that when it comes to shark movies, you are gonna need a bigger boat.

Through the oversaturation of SyFy movie events and Asylum Films content bombing, Hollywood might have jumped the shark on originality (Ghost Shark, Sand Sharks, Avalanche Sharks anyone?) but the need for good laughs and overall escapism still exists. Sharksploitation reels in the continued mystique of these creatures even when the featured interviews begin churning up repetitive responses.

Scarlata's efforts prove that sharks are still mysterious and remain scary. Regardless if they are pets to a James Bond villain or drop from the sky in a storm cloud, once that circling fin dips into the deep below, anything can happen.

Whether you are a fan of Spielberg's stage-setter, prefer watching Ozark Sharks with a side of cheese, or go diving with great whites, Sharksploitation is perfect for anyone to sink their teeth into.

William Shatner - he likes to be called Bill - has had an accomplished career. One where he has reinvented himself several times over transforming from Kirk to Hooker to Crane. From author to spokesman to astronaut to ...singer (and no, you do not need to imbibe on Romulan ale to enjoy his rocking "Common People" single from 2004). If anyone deserves a curtain call, Bill Shatner gets my vote. The documentary You Can Call Me Bill is a partial answer to such a victory lap. For over 90 minutes, Bill reminisces, waxes poetic, and frets on the future. Sometimes simultaneously. Often in a stream of consciousness. However, if You Can Call Me Bill is designed as a celebration, why does it come across as aimless as your grandfather commiserating about current events over Thanksgiving dinner?

Albeit a grandfather who happens to be Captain Kirk.

You Can Call Me Bill becomes a preemptive eulogy of sorts. For Shatner fans of all sizes, the movie is accessible and entertaining. Yet all of that humor, all of that love of life are only shown in the clips that the world has already enjoyed and celebrated. You Can Call Me Bill instead focuses on the solitary life of a solo man. Sitting in the dark. Waiting for the final curtain to close.

Elsa Sjunneson is a professor. And a skilled fencer. And a hiker. And published author. And a queer rights activist. Director Cameron Mitchell spotlights her life as a main subject for the PBS American Masters documentary short, Elsa. The short, which is equally entertaining and enlightening, seems like a primer for something more. Elsa Sjunneson definitely has a lot more to say. After all, Sjunneson is also DeafBlind.

Mitchell's Elsa gives her a fantastic, if compact, focus. He shows Elsa fencing and skiing. She beams at her opportunity to contribute to a Marvel Comics anthology. Her beliefs in advocacy are strong and true. And DeafBlind or not, Elsa Sjunneson has a life worth honoring. Mitchell provides quick highlights of it all - and all of it positive.

As a documentary, Elsa leaves you wanting more.

Sjunneson seems to be a wonderful person - and Mitchell's expose is clearly one of success - but the Elsa short nearly extends as a checklist of accomplishments.

Maybe Mitchell is saving all that for the feature length version? Let's hope so. Because chances are, that will be spectacular.

Although set in the present day, Happy FNK Sunshine feels like it is grooving with Seventies themes. The one mill town faces an agonizing strike that demoralizes everyone. A high school kid dreams of taking his guitar to the big city. Problems arise with the parents, the band, and the prevalent deficit of money. And much of the music within is guitar-driven, hard rock; not exactly the style that is burning up the Billboard 100. But this band of 21st Century Gen Z kids, though, are all about the YouTube views.

The movie has charm, humor, and successfully works in an overused-yet-still-relevant message. This indie story from North Bay, Ontario has heart.

Happy FKN Sunshine plays out like a classic rock ballad. There is a decent hook, a catchy beat, and makes you smile. Regardless of any $%&*s!

At its heart, and yes, there is a lot of heart here, THOR: LOVE AND THUNDER is a fun, action-filled Marvel movie that is one of the better ones to come in this tiresome post-ENDGAME phase. This is a movie where the hero's journey is is purposeful and resolute, not only for Thor Odinson but Jane Foster as well. To get on that road, though, takes a lot of patience.

As fun as LOVE AND THUNDER is, the movie is also childish, idiotic, superficial, and features way too many Guns-n-Roses anthems. The first twenty or so minutes, where Thor goofs off with the equally-juvenile Guardians of the Galaxy, would tax even the strongest of Asgardian gods. Once the threat of Gorr, the god butcher, arrives on New Asgard's steps, the heroes' quest begins - and that is a most satisfactory story.

Taika Waititi makes use of Chris Hemsworth's generous smile and biceps in a familiar and comfortable manner. Thor takes on the mantle of leader and proves he is quite sufficient in the role. Smashing and thrashing and joking (maybe a touch too much of the levity this time around, though) leads to a successful, and actually unsuspecting, ending where you are craving more.

First and foremost, Thor is a hero. Hopefully future appearances of the Thunder God will focus more on this aspect and keep the over-the-top humor in reserve. Maybe for a rainy day.

Ever watch a older movie from the way before times? And while doing so, have the realization hit that this older movie was the inspiration for many other stories - or scenes - that have come since? DARK STAR is exactly that movie.

Take note: Bishop's knife trick in ALIENS (1986). Dropping out of hyperspace into a dead stop as seen in STAR WARS (1977). Scouring the dark hallways of a spaceship looking for an alien - ALIEN (1979). The dreadful feeling that something scary is out there (a theme John Carpenter uses several times, such as in THE FOG -1980). All of these, and a few minor additional references, appear here first in DARK STAR.

Then, as the realization hits that this movie is the inspiration for so many others, ever have the thought, "Why are those later movies so much better than this low-budget dribble?" Again, DARK STAR, everyone!

Yes, DARK STAR's feel and philosophies all come across extremely dated, and even rather poorly. Yet, the foundation is there. If you look closely, and maybe along with a little pharmaceutical assistance, the underpinnings for what Carpenter will use in HALLOWEEN (1978) are being built.

For historical relevance alone, DARK STAR is totally worth a watch. But be prepared for in space? Everyone can hear you snore...

An incredible character study masterfully played by Tim Roth. SUNDOWN is a slow burn but beautifully shot, regardless of the paradisal surroundings. Those surroundings, ironically become more and more uncomfortable, too, as that burn starts to get hot, but never scalding.

Even though the mystery of Neil increases, there is never that "aha!" moment. That Roth expected diatribe shouting out the why's and wherefores in that incredible London accent of his. Instead, SUNDOWN provides a lazy tale of maddening degeneration, domestic beer, and, just perhaps, true love.

Totally worth watching. And totally entertaining. Totally wish, though, that the resolution was equally compelling.

Darkly shot and sinisterly silent, DUAL is a spotlight performance for Karen Gillan, the once-upon-a-time companion of The Doctor. DUAL is high on concept, exemplifying the best of sci-fi, but meanders too much as a narrative reducing the movie from a cool "What If" to a shrugging "What Could Have Been."

Neon Lights, directed with colorful flair by Rouzbeh Heydari, boldly attempts a Shyamalan-worthy little kick. Regrettably, what comes before that concluding zinger is a confusing mess - one that could have been avoided with a stronger script.

And better acting.

The mystery within tries to build - unsuccessfully. There is no suspense. There is no ticking-clock. Even the veiled threat of a killer on the loose is mostly ignored. Kim Coates plays the devil-in-your-ear with all the hammy force he can muster but such talents are wasted as Clay's mumbling grounds any potential conflict into dust. The finale offers answers but even that Big Reveal is mostly a cough of an aside.

Heydari plays a visual tug-of-war between stressed-out reality and chaotic illusions but neither struggle is engaging. A mysterious man with a tux hides in the shadows but his threats are loudly impotent. This could have been a Sixth Sense-style debut. Instead, Neon Lights is ironically a dark slog of confusion, repetition, and poorly-directed, annoying characters.

Press Play has a fun set up. Yet it is all a tease.

Director Greg Björkman and co-writer James Bachelor could have played loose and fun with the temporal proceedings and made a Millennial Back To The Future. Laura's tampering with past events could have gotten all dark like The Butterfly Effect. Alas, none of that happens. Instead Laura cries about her lost love following every time jaunt and listens to terribly-forgettable pop-music.

The dialogue, and the situations themselves, become annoyingly repetitive, disconnecting all intrigue and struggle from her quest. Even Danny Glover, whose talents are wasted as the story's wise counselor, has his fortune cookie idioms promptly ignored.

What started out as a clever time travel movie quickly devolves into a mopey first love movie with a mopey soundtrack.

Scott Leberecht's biographical documentary, Spaz, introduces Williams to the general public at large. He's an alcoholic, 'bacco chewing rebel who never compromised, rarely played by the rules, and one-hundred-percent, absolutely, totally, almost single-handedly brought dinosaurs to life. Spaz is a warning tale. Spaz is a head-shaker of regret. And Spaz is one helluva documentary.

True to his dichotomous nature, Spaz was an animator who happened to also be a computer programer. When James Cameron was shooting "The Abyss," he imagined an entirely unique F/X sequence. ILM brought Williams on-board, who along with computer programmer Mark Dippé, brought the water alien to life using computer graphics in a manner never before seen. Following that success, Cameron enlisted the two to go even further, commanding them to give life to the tireless T-1000 automaton in "Terminator 2". One would think this level of success would lead to a Hollywood ending.

One would think.

Spaz gets into Williams' rebellious nature. There is an internal fight raging beneath his skin that only cheap beer seems to quiet. There is no filter between his brain and tongue. Yes, perhaps creative head of ILM Dennis Muren should have given Williams and Dippé credit while on the award circuit for T-2, but perhaps Williams should have had a proper dialogue with his boss.

Leberecht candidly captures Spaz in all his sarcastic glory and its painful consequences.

Williams was a contender. Williams could have had it all. Now, Williams is a has-been in search of a new mission. Hopefully, Spaz provides Williams a second wind and gives this dinosaur of man the Hollywood coda he deserves.

A Lot Of Nothing begins with a shot. Vanessa watches the news. Her anger erupts while her husband, James, weary of the world's temperament, and perhaps with his wife's as well, seeks to deflect. But Vanessa wants - demands - that this time something has to be done. Will a Facebook post heavy with MLK quotes settle the matter? Or should an act of violence beget a violent reciprocation?

The first 17 minutes presents a single-shot, two-man performance about confronting, channeling, and ultimately grounding that rage. The remainder of the run time runs through a series of more complicated actions, most of which are heavy with cinematic posturing. However, the entire play hits with modern-day truths that are equally complex.

Written and directed by Mo McRae, A Lot of Nothing shows that James and Vanessa are not entirely wrong. Yet, neither are they completely right. James enjoys his position of power and can masterfully either feign ignorance or fume in silence. Vanessa is all righteous fury until her passions move too quickly and too far out in a place beyond where James' smooth-talking counseling can reach. Brian, the cop, hits all the right cliches, until he doesn't. The movie follows similarly.

Vanessa takes matters into her own hands and confronts Brian. Tensions, of course, escalate. As do actions. Maybe a little too quickly. Perhaps even unbelievably.

A Lot of Nothing is a hard drama with comedic-level misunderstandings about the racial divides and general mistrust that regrettably continue to exist. Mo McRae's movie starts the conversation, asks critical questions, but cannot seem to come up with a satisfying end note.

Billy Miossi's documentary It's Quieter in the Twilight is the true story about the hero scientists who quietly keep the machine running deep into both their inescapable twilights.

It's Quieter in the Twilight is the Voyager team's story more so that the Voyager probes, although Voyager 1 and 2 both get their share of the spotlight. Miossi captures their mundane office space; an HQ with drop ceiling tiles and wood paneled conference rooms and a cubicle filled with discarded monitors and out-of-toner printers that exist in every office worldwide. Simultaneously, he unabashedly honors the workers within, most of whom are in their seventies. Along with respecting their vitality one must celebrate their diversity. The command team consists of a Korean woman, a Black man from Mississippi, and two South American Latinos. Truly, this is the best of the best the world has to offer and they deserve every accolade.

This is more than a celebration of nerd advancement. This is a commemoration of human achievement. Of perseverance in a task where a lucky few have found a reason to get up every day - even during the complex era of the pandemic. A team that gets to see what is happening out there, right now, in that Final Frontier. Their story is a remarkable one. And, to borrow another phrase, their adventure continues.