WTOP’s Jason Fraley reviews the new thriller ‘Strange Darling’ (Part 1)

Stephen King called it a “clever masterpiece.” Mike Flanagan added, “Sublimely brilliant. You must go in blind.”

Allow me to throw my own stunned support behind the must-see new thriller “Strange Darling,” written and directed by JT Mollner, who is now officially a filmmaking force to be reckoned with in the horror genre.

The film opens by claiming it’s based on a true story of “the final known killings of the most prolific and unique American serial killer of the 21st century.” Films such as “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” (1974) and “Fargo” (1996) have taught us that this is often apocryphal, but it’s an effective tease as we enter rural Oregon to track a fateful one-night stand that goes terribly wrong in the grand finale of a bloody rampage across the Pacific Northwest.

The film works as well as it does because of the complex performances by its two lead actors. Willa Fitzgerald previously starred in Flanagan’s miniseries “The Fall of the House of Usher” (2023) and her performance here is truly harrowing, transcending the label “scream queen” with chilling shrieks. You’ll also recognize Kyle Gallner from the horror flick “Smile” (2022) and here his mustached loner is creepy right from the opening frames.

The coolest casting coup is Barbara Hershey, who had a run of ’80s classics in “The Right Stuff” (1983), “The Natural” (1984), “Hoosiers” (1986), “Hannah and Her Sisters” (1986) and “The Last Temptation of Christ” (1987) before her resurgence in horror films like “Black Swan” (2010) and “Insidious” (2010). She joins Ed Begley Jr. (“St. Elsewhere”) as a nice old couple making Sunday breakfast and doing puzzles before hell arrives at their doorstep.

These actors weave in and out of a nonlinear script brilliantly presented out of order as Mollner intentionally rearranges his scenes to subvert audience expectations. He first drops us into the middle of the story in Chapter 3, then leaps ahead to the penultimate Chapter 5, rewinds back to the setup of Chapter 1, races ahead to Chapter 4, doubles back to Chapter 2, and finally drops the dramatic conclusion of Chapter 6, followed by a brief Epilogue.

The genius fractured narrative is clearly inspired by Quentin Tarantino, right down to catchy titles for each chapter (“Here Kitty, Kitty”). There’s a similar energy to the proceedings, including an enclosed space like the buried-alive sequence in “Kill Bill: Vol. 2” (2004) and a roaring car chase that recalls “Death Proof” (2007). As for the Pacific Northwest setting, I found it to be reminiscent of John Hyams’ underrated thriller “Alone” (2020).

Homages aside, Mollner deserves credit for his own creative voice. He’s a 16-year “overnight success” since his first short film “The Red Room” (2008) before getting the horror rub from Dee Wallace (“The Hills Have Eyes,” “The Howling,” “Cujo”) in his short “Flowers in December” (2015). His feature directorial debut “Outlaws & Angels” (2016) starred Luke Wilson at Sundance, using Kodak film stock and old-school Panavision cameras and lenses.

Similarly, “Strange Darling” rebukes contemporary digital cameras to shoot on 35-mm film for a gritty throwback feel. You’ll be wonderfully surprised by the end credits to see who is behind the camera as actor Giovanni Ribisi (“Saving Private Ryan”) makes his debut as a cinematographer, while also executive producing. Together, Ribisi and Mollner demonstrate a strong visual eye, even in mundane moments such as overhead shots of breakfast plates.

The soundtrack is gloriously mischievous with Z Berg’s female cover of Nazareth’s “Love Hurts” with symbolic lyrics such as “love scars” that are both melancholic and meta considering the male voice on the track is Keith Carradine. Not only did he sing “I’m Easy” in “Nashville” (1975), his brother was the late David Carradine (“Kill Bill”), who had a child with Hershey and whose shocking manner of death hauntingly echos in “Strange Darling.”

If the film has one flaw it’s the late scene of a male cop making misogynistic quips to his female partner, though I suppose the entire film is a commentary on genre and gender, so maybe that’s the point. Driving down the road in the final shot, the color slowly drains from the image like blood draining from a body, but it lasts a little too long before the end credits arrive. The unblinking final gaze of Ti West’s “Pearl” (2022), still takes the cake.

Don’t worry, that’s just some necessary nitpicking by a film critic who has to point out super minor issues in order to justify his otherwise overwhelming praise for a vibrant instant classic without simply saying, “No notes.” Without a doubt, “Strange Darling” is one of the best horror-thrillers I’ve seen in years, maybe one of the best that you’ll ever see, and certainly one of the most unpredictable. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s truly electric.

WTOP’s Jason Fraley reviews the new thriller ‘Strange Darling’ (Part 2)

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A still from ‘Rebel Ridge’
| Photo Credit: Netflix

For all the films in Netflix’s growing ‘Rebel’ catalogue, Jeremy Saulnier’s Rebel Ridge feels the most tame. It’s an unsuspecting thriller that creeps up on you, unspooling its tension, for the perfect release. Best known for crafting brutal, grounded thrillers like A24’s Green Room, Saulnier manages to catch us off guard yet again, but this time his protagonist isn’t a hapless underdog, but an intelligent predator biding his time.

We’re introduced to Terry Richmond, played with commanding authority by Aaron Pierre. A former Marine with expertise in mixed martial arts and jiu-jitsu, Terry finds himself at the mercy of small-town Louisiana cops who are anything but lawful. What begins as a bicycle ride into town turns into a bureaucratic nightmare after Terry is wrongfully detained by two corrupt officers. They confiscate $36,000 from him — money intended to bail out his cousin — leaving him at the mercy of a broken system that grinds people down just as efficiently as it protects itself.

Saulnier’s films often revel in the “wrong person at the wrong place” trope, but this time, the person in question is anything but helpless. Terry is a study in controlled menace, a Jason Bourne type who’s more than capable of flipping the script on his captors. With his steely gaze and velvet-voiced charisma, Pierre embodies a calm that belies the storm underneath. It’s riveting to watch him shift between quiet de-escalation and sudden bursts of (restrained) violence, each move carefully calculated, but more importantly, non-lethal. The moment the cops realise what the acronym “MCMAP” stands for, it’s gratifying to watch them know that they’re in for more than they bargained for.

A still from ‘Rebel Ridge’
| Photo Credit:
Netflix

Yet Rebel Ridge isn’t content to be just another action-packed showdown. A majority of the film’s tension-building is derived not from high-octane chases or slick disarmaments, but from the tension woven into the very fabric of small-town corruption. Every roadblock Terry faces is cloaked in legal jargon and weaponised policy. The film methodically exposes how local law enforcement manipulates the justice system, how asset forfeiture — a legal loophole that lets cops seize property without due process — is weaponised against the vulnerable. Terry’s predicament becomes emblematic of this systemic rot, a damning portrait of a legal system where power is wielded arbitrarily.

In this way, the film finds an unexpected rhythm. This isn’t a title that relies on showy action scenes or gratuitous violence — there’s no outlandish slow-mo gun ballet à la John Wick. Saulnier wrings suspense from paperwork, from the ticking clock of legal deadlines to a court system stacked against the protagonist. The sweaty, claustrophobia of rural Louisiana enhances the film’s pervasive sense of isolation, a theme Saulnier loves to explore. 

If you’re expecting a typical hero-villain showdown, Rebel Ridge has a little surprise for you. Terry isn’t just negotiating smart, self-preserving deals to minimise confrontations with the crooked chief of police; his primary battle is with the entrenched power structures that allow such abuse to flourish. The true horror isn’t the threat of police brutality (although there’s plenty of that), but the fact that the violence is merely a symptom of a larger, deeply entrenched disease.

A still from ‘Rebel Ridge’
| Photo Credit:
Netflix

What’s also refreshing about Rebel Ridge is how it leans into its protagonist’s strengths without undermining the tension. He’s not a PTSD-ridden vagrant or a punk rocker trapped in a neo-Nazi stronghold. He’s highly capable, almost supernaturally so. But that competence doesn’t lessen the stakes as Saulnier isn’t interested in glorifying his martial prowess. Instead, it becomes a tool to expose deeper truths about how power is abused. Terry may be capable of disarming a room full of officers, but even with his skills, he’s still at the mercy of a system that’s been designed to hold him back. He’s a scalpel against a tank — lethal in his own right but fighting a battle that’s been rigged from the start.

Pierre’s performance is magnetic, simmering with emotional depth. Terry is a man who thrives in the shadows, whose every gesture conveys a world of unspoken threat and Pierre embodies that fantastically. It’s easy to see why the likes of Barry Jenkins — who previously cast Pierre in The Underground Railroad — are drawn to his particular brand of intensity.

In the end, Rebel Ridge is a taut, cerebral thriller that forces you to lock in, lest you mistake it for a casual, ambient dinner-time watch. It entirely engages the mind even as it ratchets up the tension, offering the kind of intelligent, finely crafted suspense that has been all too rare for Netflix as of late.

Rebel Ridge is currently available to stream on Netflix

Sam Eggers and Max Eggers give a thrilling directorial debut in The Front Room, which harkens back to the psycho-biddy films of the past.

However, one must always look at a movie like this as a singular authorial work, not as ‘the sibling of’ a popular filmmaker. Too many people did this with Ishana Night Shyamalan’s The Watchers, looking at her feature debut as ‘the daughter of’ M. Night Shyamalan rather than a singular work from Ishana. Approaching The Front Room as a unique film from The Eggers Brothers distances us from Robert’s work and instead showcases a talent that’s bound to develop, with a hagsploitation (also known as psycho-biddy) movie that grows decidedly wicked and darkly funny as its 94 runtime progresses.

It’s not perfect, and it certainly won’t be for everyone. There are plenty of elongated, gross-out sequences that involve bodily fluids and vomit, and an unsettling atmosphere that begins to stick with you as its obscene sequences get more disgusting. I won’t reveal a thing here, not necessarily because of spoilers, but due to my rather sensible stomach (and as I’m writing these words, I’m beginning to remember everything that went down in the movie). It definitely won’t be for people who are perhaps too squeamish with these types of scenes, as the movie’s more ‘horrific’ moments mostly see its protagonist, Belinda (Brandy Norwood), having to clean copious amounts of fluids from Solange (Kathryn Hunter), whom she is now taking care of.

After Norman’s (Andrew Burnap, playing Belinda’s husband) father dies, the couple is now forced to take Solange, Norman’s stepmother, into their care. In her last will and testament, she is willing to give all of her life savings to them, should they accept. Norman immediately refuses, and tells Belinda about his abusive childhood with her as Solange believes she is the reincarnation of a disciple of Jesus Christ and forced her stepson to do things he did not want to. However, Belinda is more accepting of Solange, due to her age and limited physical capabilities.

Thinking the two will share responsibilities, as Belinda is expecting their first child, Norman reluctantly accepts, and Solange now lives in their home. But it doesn’t take long for Solange to take over the house, and begin to not only reshape it, but Belinda’s newborn children too, in her image, while Norman is absent at work. In classic What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? fashion, Solange begins to torment Belinda to the point where Norman begins to take her stepmother’s side, thinking his wife is physically abusing her and the baby, while Solange is doing it to herself.

At first, it’s Belinda who gaslights Norman into thinking everything will be fine, but as the movie reaches its climax, Norman now believes her stepmother’s gaslighting, when he was the one who told his wife it would be a terrible idea to bring her in their home. This psychological shift is rivetingly portrayed on screen with a career-best turn from Brandy, whose portrayal of Belinda is both thrilling and morbidly comedic. Belinda is excited by the prospect of starting a family with Norman, but as he grows noticeably absent, her turn becomes sharp when she is stuck with someone who not only doesn’t hide her blatant racism towards her, but is also born out of pure spite and hatred towards her stepson.

Hunter also impresses as Solange, completely transforming herself in a performance that’s completely unrecognizable from anything she was previously in, with an accent that seems plucked from Michael J. Anderson in Twin Peaks and adopting a tone that’s never too serious, but never too funny either. You never know when she’s joking or not, which makes it even more disturbing when she makes snarky remarks at the dinner table. It’s often funny, reminding us all of the bitter grandma we may or may not know, but it quickly gets unnerving. And that’s how The Eggers Brothers get under your skin. They do it in such a subtle way that you don’t even realize you’re starting to be discomforted until it’s too late.

It’s a shame, however, that movie never fully develops the relationship between Belinda and Solange past the unsettling point. Yes, it gets fairly petrifying in its final moments (even a comedic needle drop isn’t so funny when you realize exactly how an element that won’t dare be revealed here occurred, even if the final shot brings satisfaction), but one can’t help but feel the core story to be fairly undercooked. The Eggers Brothers attempt to bring as much Biblical imagery as possible to the story, such as a shot of Solange as the reincarnation of The Virgin Mary holding Belinda’s baby as her vision of Jesus Christ, but it feels fairly jarring, because this part, which should be the film’s main focus, is treated as an afterthought.

One scene in particular, in which Solange invites some of her friends in the house, should act as a pivotal point in Belinda’s rivalry with Norman’s stepmother, but is entirely dropped once the scene ends and has no impact on how she will eventually perceive Solange. Belinda’s relationship with Norman is also fairly cyclical, but perhaps that was the point. He can’t be there, because he’s too busy at work. But the dialogues and situations feel frequently the same and don’t develop in intensifying drama, or with a true sense of friction between the two (it also doesn’t help that Burnap feels woefully miscast and barely has any chemistry with the effervescent Brandy). It makes their relationship feel less important when it’s the catalyst of the film’s inciting event.

But even with imperfect character (and thematic) beats, The Front Room remains an impressive feature directorial debut from The Eggers Brothers. Its aesthetic grows darker as the relationship between Belinda and Solange becomes more sinister, while Brandy and Kathryn Hunter give two wholly impressive turns, harkening back to the classic young/old relationships we’d usually see in hagsploitation films in the 1960s and 1970s. It may not be a full-on psycho-biddy picture, but it remains tons of fun nonetheless.

The Front Room is now available to watch in US & Canadian theaters and will be released in UK & Irish cinemas on October 25, 2024.