Crimes Of The Future (2022) - Movie Review

Between the more feminist offerings coming out of Europe like Titane and Hatching, and heir to the throne Brandon Cronenberg’s Possessor, it makes a lot of sense that King David would choose now to return to the genre that iconified him. While his recent run of more conventional, if cerebral, dramas has certainly produced some winners (A Dangerous Method took a second viewing for me to fully appreciate it, but appreciate it I do), there really is no replacing the kind of fleshy, practical effects-driven insanity he used to specialise in. As those aforementioned films have shown, there's certainly still a market for it. And even though this is the product of a script David wrote back in 2003, it’s only ‘dated’ in the sense that he is indeed returning to his glory days. His unsettling, gross, endlessly fascinating glory days.

Top 20 Worst Films Of 2020

2020 was a shit year. Duh. However, this was a shit year even beyond the metrics that other recent years have been shit, like the one-two-punch to our ideal of cultural heroes over 2016-2017. As terrifying as it already is to be under constant threat of plague all bloody year thanks to COVID-19, the extent to which it affected our lives and even our entertainment was something else entirely. It felt like large-scale hubris for 2019, the Omnicorp-isation of Disney, and then in comes a plague no-one seemed properly prepared to deal with, that threw a monkey wrench into a system everyone was far too confident could withstand whatever came at it.

The release schedule was in a continual state of shuffling throughout, meaning that a lot of big-name productions got delayed ‘til next year, and with varying degrees of lockdown worldwide, cinema attendance took a sharp dive, to the point that not only were there more classic movies being shown than anything new just to fill up the cinemas that were still open, but a lot of independent cinemas likely won’t survive if this continues for much longer. And at a time when all we had was our screens to alleviate the cabin fever, it felt like we were more in need of entertainment than ever.

As a result of all this, a lot of what makes up the worst that 2020’s cinema had to offer comes down to a matter of releasing anything and everything that could be spared just to keep butts in seats and eyes on screens, meaning that there was quite a bit of disposable garbage that filled in the margins. Not only that, but there were a lot of astonishingly miscalculated attempts to say something meaningful so that this year wasn’t a total waste as a pop culture moment, which only ended up making this whole situation feel even worse. And since all that time indoors gave me plenty of space to write up more reviews than any previous year, there are quite a few movies that surely deserve to be on this list, but only just missed the cut. Jeff Wadlow should be counting his blessings that Fantasy Island got passed up because, as you’re about to see, I have no mercy in stock for the 20 that made it in. As such, let’s stop waffling on and get into my picks for the 20 Worst Films Of 2020.

Rupture (2016) - Movie Review

It may have taken over a year for it to happen, but I think I’ve finally found a good thing to come out of last year’s Fifty Shades Of Grey adaptation: It brought further attention to another, far better film exploring S&M because we desperately wanted an alternative. Specifically, 2002’s Secretary, a film that seriously deserves getting some form of mainstream attention even if it’s through a tangential connection to a rather weak offering. With a mixture of genuine understanding and realistic characters, even considering the scope of their… actions, let’s say, it managed to give a very reasonable, sympathetic and frequently funny depiction of that type of lifestyle. It’s the kind of film that I personally have all the respect for because it managed to show kindness to an area of sexuality that, up until that point, had mainly been used for cheap jokes and even cheaper exploitation (Body Of Evidence, anyone?).

So, after making a film about a famous photographer which also delved into certain elements of fringe culture, writer/director Steven Shainberg has been quiet for the last ten years. Then news hit of his latest film being released in Australia, in a sci-fi film festival no less, and I made my way down to Randwick faster than most of the horses that made the area famous. But is the trip worth it, cinematically at least?