Welcome to an exciting year-long project here at The Nerdy. 1986 was an exciting year for films giving us a lot of films that would go on to be beloved favorites and cult classics. It was also the start to a major shift in cultural and societal norms, and some of those still reverberate to this day.

We’re going to pick and choose which movies we hit, but right now the list stands at nearly four dozen.

Yes, we’re insane, but 1986 was that great of a year for film.

The articles will come out – in most cases – on the same day the films hit theaters in 1986 so that it is their true 40th anniversary. All films are also watched again for the purposes of these reviews and are not being done from memory. In some cases, it truly will be the first time we’ve seen them.

This time around, it’s April 11, 1986, and we’re off to see 8 Million Ways to Die, Crimewave, and Violets are Blue.

8 Million Ways to Die

The 1980s made several runs at trying to capture the essence of film noir, and this is one of the attempts that fails miserably.

Matt Scudder (Jeff Bridges) is an alcoholic Los Angeles Sheriff’s Deputy who gets thrown off the force after shooting a man attacking another cop with a bat (somehow Scudder was in the wrong for not letting the other deputy to be beat to death?). After getting himself into Alcoholics Anonymous, he is invited up to a party where he quickly gets entangled in a drug and prostitution ring that will see to the deaths of multiple people as Scudder tries to reclaim his life.

It’s not a good movie. It’s frankly a bit of a mess with some atrocious dialog thrown in as well. (There is one line that made my jaw drop that I sadly can’t run here, but it was just one of many bad lines.)

There is no doubt the film was trying to merge the feeling of a classic film noir with the rising Miami Vice style of the time, and it didn’t succeed at either of them.

A complete misfire that you can easily skip.

Crimewave

Sam Raimi directing from a script by the Coen Brothers should be amazing, but then the studio got involved.

Victor Ajax (Reed Birney) is on his way to be executed, but before that can happen he makes a last ditch effort to clear his name to the prison officials. It seems Victor was indeed framed for a murder he did not commit, and only a car full of nuns who took a vow of silence can clear his name.

Something felt horribly off in this movie, and I went and looked it up. Sure enough, the studio decided Raimi couldn’t edit the film and we ended up with a muddle mess of a story. That being said, there are some lovely shots in the film, and the Coen brother’s fingerprints are all over the story, albeit greatly mangled by the editing.

There are times you can feel a studio abusing its position, and this one felt it all the way through. Good for Raimi, Bruce Campbell, and Coen Brothers completists only, and absolutely no one else.

Violets are Blue

Oh good, another 1980s movie were we are supposed to be rooting for people who are cheating.

Gussie (Sissy Spacek) comes back to her hometown after becoming a famous photojournalist. She runs into her old flame, Henry (Kevin Kline) who is now married with a teenage son. It’s impossible for them to avoid their old feelings and almost immediately begin an affair.

I am quickly tiring of this trend in the 80s films, and this one in particular is pretty egregious. Henry tells Gussie the only reason he is married to Ruth (Bonnie Bedelia) is because her got her pregnant. Ruth clearly loves him more than he does her, and I think somehow that is supposed to excuse everyone’s behavior.

I love Kline and Spacek, but I hated every minute of this movie.

1986 Movie Reviews will continue on May 2, 2026, with Blue City, Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life Is Calling, No Retreat, No Surrender, and Saving Grace.

When a once-successful director finds himself stranded in a wilderness of misguided projects and indifferent audience response, he may try to reignite inspiration by going back to the ingredients of an iconic hit. If he can replicate the perfect storm of elements that made the earlier film work, maybe the new movie will put him back on top.

This kind of thing happens often enough — examples range from William Friedkin shooting for a West Coast “French Connection” with “To Live and Die in L.A.” to John McTiernan making “Die Hard with a Vengeance.” But we’re in a far more degraded realm of return-to-glory-days syndrome when it’s Renny Harlin out to recapture the low-trash spark of “Deep Blue Sea,” his well-liked exploitation action thriller. Talk about a 1999 movie that wasn’t about the brave new movie future!

It was about killer sharks (with enhanced intelligence!) eating people, and about a scientific experiment — something to do with curing Alzheimer’s — that was there to fill up the space between chompings. But “Deep Blue Sea,” whose big star was Thomas Jane, went down as a summer sleeper (it bit its way to $73 million domestic), and the nostalgic fondness that a lot of people have for it surely fed into why we’re now getting “Deep Water” (opening May 1), Harlin’s most lavishly scaled production in quite some time.

In the 1970s, disaster films had titles that described exactly what they were. “The Towering Inferno” was about a towering inferno, “Earthquake” was about an earthquake, and then there were films like “Meteor” and “Avalanche” and “The Swarm” and “The Hindenburg” and “City on Fire.” In that spirit, “Deep Water,” which is very much a neo-’70s disaster film. should have been called “Airplane Crash into a Sea of Jaws.” As it stands, the word in the film’s generic title that echoes that earlier Harlin movie is more than a bit ironic, since “deep” is just the word to describe what Renny Harlin’s movies are not. They are shallow. They are dramatically flat. They do not have interesting characters even on a schlock B-movie level. As a director, he has a sixth sense for how to reduce actors to walking slabs of pulp.

Yet there’s no denying that Renny Harlin, in his utilitarian action-hack way, has some chops. “Deep Water” starts out by introducing the main players on an intercontinental flight from Los Angeles to Shanghai. Aaron Eckhart, with his likable downcast valor, is the First Officer, a stalwart fellow who’s a bit of a ne’er-do-well (that’s why he’s never become a captain); he’s suffering from an oblique family trauma we can kind of suss out. Ben Kingsley is the captain, a jaded overseer on the verge of retirement who is introduced singing “Fly Me to the Moon” in a karaoke bar, where he somehow imagines that his crooning is going to have a seductive effect on the flight attendants seated at a table. (The truth is that he looks rather frighting in his sand-brown goatee.)

We’re also introduced to the passengers, who are real Jane and Johnny one-notes, though we do take special notice of Dan (Angus Sampson), a long-haired slovenly bellicose chain smoker whose bulky red plastic suitcase the camera tracks onto the plane. For a while, we think it must have a bomb in it. It doesn’t, but it does contain something that randomly ignites, setting a fire in the cargo pod, which becomes an explosion, which ricochets into the cabin, at which point a hole gets blown in the side, one of the engines catches fire, and this thing is going down.

It doesn’t take excessive skill to make a plane crash scary, but Harlin executes this one with stylish flamboyance, as bodies get sucked out of the plane and flying wine bottles turn into shrapnel. Our heroes want to try landing at an airport in Guam, but that plan goes out the window, as they barely manage to ground the plane in the middle of the ocean.

There were 257 passengers aboard, all but about 30 of whom are now dead. The plane is in pieces, the main two chunks being the cockpit and the fuselage, both of which have been reduced to floating canisters with wires popping out of the sides. The plane’s pieces are now, in effect, life rafts (though there are some actual oversize yellow inflatable rafts aboard that will come into play). If the proper distress signal was set off (there’s some question about whether that happened), they should be rescued in a matter of hours. But until then…sharks!

They are mako sharks, which to my movie-trained eyes don’t look all that different from the great white shark in “Jaws,” as they flop their giant razor-toothed mouths aboard the rafts. “Jaws” was scary because it was about anticipation and sudden fear and the power of suggestion. “Deep Water,” on the other hand, has little in the way of suggestion, which is why it’s more gory than scary. Harlin stages the shark attacks in an overt here-ya-go way, with the one consistent suspense issue being whether the shark will consume a victim whole or bite off his or her limb or simply leave them with a nasty gash (which happens quite often).

Meanwhile, two bros (one American, one Chinese) start off as enemies but get over that, the scurrilous Dan continues to assert what a dick he is by smoking and snapping at everyone, and Eckhart’s character bonds with Cora (Molly Belle Wright), the now-orphaned young girl aboard, which triggers a reappraisal of his own domestic situation. Human drama! Not. (Or, at least, not very much.) Yet there’s a way in which it matters not, since even back in the ’70s the “human drama” of disaster films was just the frame on which to hang the sensationalist fantasy of death porn and survival. “Deep Water” isn’t terrible for what it is, but what it is is disaster product.

SPOILER NOTICE:

The following movie review does not contains direct spoilers for the film Michael, however general information in regards to the plot, characters, key climax points, biographical information and themes explored in the film will be heavily discussed. Please read at your own discretion, or after seeing the film in theaters.

There have been, so far, four films that aim to depict some portion of the beautifully tragic life of late pop music pioneer Michael Jackson, otherwise known to the world as The King Of Pop.

You’ve got The Jacksons: An American Dream, the near-perfect 1992 ABC miniseries that gave MJ, his brothers and verbally abusive father Joe Jackson equal screen time in order to make for a proper origin story. Then there’s Man in the Mirror: The Michael Jackson Story, an abysmal 2004 VH1 TV movie that acts as a spiritual sequel yet truly should’ve never been made. Almost a decade ago we got Michael Jackson: Searching for Neverland, the 2017 Lifetime Network attempt to cover his final years of life, told from the perspective of two bodyguards employed by him for merely two-and-a-half years.

Today (April 24), the world finally gets to see Michael. The 2026 true-to-form biopic boasts the biggest budget compared to the previous three projects, distribution handled by the renowned Lionsgate Films, a director’s chair occupied by Antoine Fuqua (Training Day, Brooklyn’s Finest) and MJ’s own nephew, Jaafar Jackson, starring in the titular role alongside a glowing supporting cast that includes Colman Domingo (Rustin), Nia Long (Love Jones), Miles Teller (Divergent) and Larenz Tate (Menace II Society) just to name a few. Not to mention, it’s got full backing from The Jacksons family and 100% musical clearance to assure his biggest hits are heard on the big screen.

With all that said, you might be expecting a masterpiece that borrows the best aspects from the original and rights the wrongs of the last two. Unfortunately, that’s not the case when it comes to Michael. Thankfully though, there’s so much more to love about this film in addition to a very strong potential for more.

Yes folks, we may very well be getting the first-ever sequel to a biopic sometime in the near future.