For the past few years, horror cinema has sometimes felt as fraught with toxic romance as a particularly cursed dating app. From manipulated meet-cutes (Fresh; Companion) to long-term codependence (Together) to the occasional success story (Heart Eyes), it’s clear that romantic relationships are mostly blood-stained hell, and a couple going to a secluded location together is a fresh level of it.

So it’s not surprising when Liz (Tatiana Maslany) starts to feel uneasy on her weekend away with Malcolm (Rossif Sutherland) early on in the new and much-concealed horror movie Keeper. Liz and Malcolm have been together for about a year, which we gather early on has marked the time Liz has bolted from past relationships. Still, she seems optimistic about this one. She thinks she knows Malcolm pretty well, and their early scenes together are neither as dotted with red flags nor as suspiciously idyllic as other recent characters in the doomed-couple genre. Liz has a wary, deadpan sense of humor, and Malcolm has a slightly slurred-together accent as he explains some oddities about his family-owned cabin in the woods (like the fact that he has a creepy cousin who lives nearby). But their awkwardness levels are complementary. They seem comfortable together.

Osgood Perkins, the director, introduces discord through his shot choices, rather than micro-aggressions or backstory. Liz and Malcolm’s faces are rarely outright hidden, but they’re often partially obscured, shown from odd angles, or framed in shots with a disconcerting amount of headroom. This establishes a pattern of disorientation that continues as Liz thinks she hears faint noises through the house’s vents. When she relaxes in the house’s posh tub, there’s an intensely memorable superimposition of the nearby river rushing all around her, as if she’s about to transcend space and time. “I feel like I took mushrooms,” she tells a friend she calls when she’s left alone at the cabin. Her friend asks if she did, in fact, take mushrooms; Liz doesn’t answer directly.

For a while, Keeper – named for Liz’s supposed status as the woman in Malcolm’s life – seems like it could go in any number of directions, its horror elements mixed together in a dreamlike jumble. Is it a ghost story, a slasher-in-the-woods movie, or just a really bad trip? Perkins, a horror specialist who has been on a prolific run for the past 18 months with another movie due out next year, makes it difficult to tell, both in-movie (so many of the creepiest early moments are moments just out of focus or in the corner of the eye) and extra-textually; his last two films were the tonally distinct serial-killer freakout Longlegs and the Final Destination-ish horror comedy The Monkey. This eclecticism, combined with Keeper’s elusive and spoiler-averse ad campaign, could make the new film feel to some like a shell game designed to dress up what is, at its core, a pretty simple horror story.

Maybe it is that. But part of what makes Perkins’ film so refreshing is the way it prioritizes its visceral effect on an audience over a desire to bend that story into a modern relationship parable. As clever as so many contemporary horror movies are, they often write toward theme rather than shooting toward immediacy. As a result, some are starved for original imagery, unexpected juxtapositions or a sense of genuine, uncanny mystery. Keeper has all of this, and Perkins knows just how far to push those elements without allowing the movie to become abstract woo-woo self-indulgence.

He also seems to know what a powerful grounding element he has in Maslany, who isn’t called upon to do the usual virtuoso demo reel of a woman on the verge of oblivion. Liz does get freaked out by the strange things that happen around her, and the character is written and performed with a certain directness. (She’s not one of those horror heroines who inexplicably avoids asking what the hell is going on.) Yet Maslany delivers a second level to her performance in her unguarded moments: a cynical flick of her eyes in one direction or another, the tenuousness of her more polite smiles, the shorthand of both her familiarity and quickness to irritation with her unseen friend on the phone. Though no particular skeleton key to her traumatic past awaits, the character still feels complete.

That’s true of the movie as a whole, too. It’s not as rich as Sinners nor as narratively ambitious as Weapons, two of 2025’s standard-bearers for original horror. But when Keeper finishes up, its tight confines feel satisfying, correct and unlikely to spawn a sequel. That tidiness drives home some of its themes in a way that the more overt messaging of other dating-hell stories don’t always manage: maybe it takes a fable-like horror for the messy business of relationships to stay so neatly kept.

Raw, intimate, and uplifting, Rebuilding tells a story of overcoming heartbreaking, real-world struggles and mending broken relationships; it’s an inspiring love letter to the hard, unforgiving American West. 

About the Film 

This slice-of-life film is surprisingly inspiring. It perfectly balances death and innocence from a childlike perspective. After a devastating fire sweeps across the land and destroys several farms, Dusty has to decide whether to be present in his daughter’s life or move to Montana to continue his farming career. Raw, intimate, and uplifting, Rebuilding tells a story of overcoming heartbreaking, real-world struggles and mending broken relationships; it’s an inspiring love letter to the hard, unforgiving American West.  

After the catastrophic fires in California earlier this year, the film’s release couldn’t have been timelier. Having suffered the effects of a forest fire himself, director Max Walker-Silverman’s personal experience shines through. Many quiet scenes are infused with depth not only due to the emotional performances of the actors but also as a result of Walker-Silverman’s personal touch. The film drips with his love for his craft, community, and hometown. Recently, I was able to chat with him about the experiences that led to him creating this film. You can find that conversation here.

The most powerful relationship depicted in the film is the one between Dusty and his daughter, Callie Rose. Her faith in him inspires him to stop running and to open himself up to the relationships that truly matter. Her heart redeems him. 

At the start of the film, Dusty is a loner who prefers to spend time with his animals rather than his neighbors. But when he is forced to sell his cattle and rebuild, he comes to understand the importance of community. By the end of the story, he is a new man. It is a powerful lesson in selflessness and friendship.   

Death is ever-present in this film, though not in a suffocating way. After a loss in the family, Callie Rose asks what happens after death. Dusty offers a romantic secular response, replying that his mother always said they bury people so they can come back as trees. When those trees die, they come back again. This interaction opens the door for viewers to discuss the realities of heaven and hell.   

The film also emphasizes the importance of making the most of what you have. One of the characters has a mantra, “You get what you get.” She is the picture of contentment, teaching her granddaughter to be generous and to appreciate the small things in life. She is a comfortable, lovable character who provides a great example of living a quiet life to the fullest.   

Rebuilding can be seen simply as a love letter to the American West. Even though a terrible fire has just destroyed every material thing Dusty and his newfound community owned and loved, there remains an innate beauty that is impossible to erase. The cinematography is gorgeous, featuring sweeping landscapes as well as plain, dusty dirt roads and buildings. The original score fits perfectly, with the stripped down acoustics and strings adding a greater sense of authenticity.

Rebuilding is an inspiring film full of life lessons. It reflects the gospel in a quiet and steady way. The story is unhurried and allows viewers to fully appreciate the characters and their struggles. Overall, I recommend this film to anyone looking to enjoy a beautiful, low-key story on a rainy day.   

On the Surface

For Consideration

Beneath The Surface

Engage The Film

Rebirth

One of the major themes of this film is rebirth. Fire is a cleansing force. Once something is burned, it can never return to what it was before. Though fire is destructive, it also presents an opportunity for a new beginning. Before the fire, though everything may have looked fine on the surface, life was pulling Dusty further and further from his daughter. Afterward, his heart begins to change.  

Dusty’s transformation mirrors the Christian experience. The Bible describes the Spirit as a flame in Pentecost (Acts 2:1-4). When you are truly confronted with the Spirit, nothing can ever be the same again. The impact of that encounter is undeniable, just as it is impossible to deny the evidence of a recent fire.   

After the confrontation and prayerful acceptance comes a period of rebuilding during which one learns how to walk with Christ. This is the point in the process in which the movie takes place—the sanctification. A slow renewal begins. Though there are setbacks and doubts along the way, Dusty has been reborn.

The charges of “Blasphemy!” are likely to come fast and furious for Lotfy Nathan’s supernatural horror film revolving around the life of the teenage Jesus. Based on the apocryphal “Infancy Gospel of Thomas” (which I confess I haven’t read), the film strains mightily for a seriousness that it never deserves. I mean, when you cast Nicolas Cage as “The Carpenter” and FKA Twigs as “The Mother,” you’re already kind of throwing in the towel.

Despite its handsome production values and an arresting performance by Isla Johnston (The Queen’s Gambit) as “The Stranger,” who turns out to be, wait for it, Satan, The Carpenter’s Son will please neither the faithful nor those looking for a more traditional fright film in which the Devil makes an appearance.

Set largely in “Anno Domini 15,” the story takes place in Roman-era Egypt, where Joseph and Mary (let’s not be coy about this) are going about their daily lives while being understandably protective of their 15-year-old son Jesus (Noah Jupe, reuniting with Twigs after Honey Boy). So Joseph gets understandably perturbed when his son begins hanging out with a mysterious stranger with haunting eyes.

“I play games all day. Will you play with me?” the stranger asks Jesus, which provides a subtle clue that he may be up to no good. Not to mention his propensity for playing with scorpions.

Soon enough, Jesus finds himself increasingly drawn to the stranger, much to his father’s consternation. “My faith has become a broken crutch!” Joseph exclaims, in the way that only Nicolas Cage can. The villagers are equally upset, becoming convinced that the carpenter’s son and his new friend are evil spirits. A reasonable assumption, considering that highly aggressive snakes are starting to emanate from people’s mouths. Meanwhile, Jesus understandably begins to suffer daddy issues: “Tell me who my father is!” he implores the stranger.

Writer-director Nathan (12 O’Clock Boys), who grew up in the Coptic Orthodox Church, seems to be sincere in his attempt to present a Biblical narrative from a very different perspective. The Carpenter’s Son is nothing if not solemn, presented with all the gravitas of a ‘50s-era religious epic as if directed by John Carpenter. The performers are equally committed, although Cage immediately sends out campy vibes. Not so much from his performance, which is relatively restrained, but his mere presence. That’s simply what happens when you cast the actor who starred in Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance and Mandy as Joseph.

Since Twigs and Jupe have no such cinematic baggage, they fare much better. But the real standout is Johnston, whose eyes are so mesmerizing that it’s easy to see why Jesus falls under the stranger’s spell. The actress, who will soon be playing the lead role in Baz Luhrmann’s upcoming Joan of Arc pic, has such a compelling screen presence that stardom seems all but assured. Add to that the fact that she can deliver lines like “I am the accuser of light…I am the adversary” with utter conviction and you can see she’s going places.

For all its visual stylishness, The Carpenter’s Son feels like such an essentially misconceived project that it seems destined for future cult status, with audiences at midnight screenings shouting out the more outrageous lines in unison with the actors. Which may not be what the filmmaker intended, but sounds like a lot of fun.