
The View From the Arena
Dystopian teen films will remain popular as long as they keep reflecting truths about young people’s prospects under capitalism.
Page 1 of 20Next
Eileen Jones is a film critic at Jacobin, host of the Filmsuck podcast, and author of Filmsuck, USA.

Dystopian teen films will remain popular as long as they keep reflecting truths about young people’s prospects under capitalism.

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride! swings for a radical, genre-bending reinvention of Bride of Frankenstein. But the result is a messy, overstuffed film that makes an awkward attempt at feminist relevance.

The three-decade-old Scream franchise is back and more profitable than ever. But the series’s trademarked meta-commentary about slasher movie conventions has long since worn thin.

How to Make a Killing, starring Glen Powell, is a modern-day remake of a 1949 British black comedy classic. But whereas the original found comedy in the ruthless murder of a nasty aristocracy, this remake is far too timid for our times.

Gore Verbinski’s new film, Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die, is so strangely ineffectual that the main fascination while watching it is trying to figure out why nothing the film does is working.

Emily Brontë’s novel deserves a more sophisticated approach than Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights.

Are you desperate for genre movie escapist fun amid all this hell lately? Who isn’t? Sam Raimi’s Send Help is just what the doctor ordered.

When it comes to The Testament of Ann Lee, you’re either someone who wants to see a long, sometimes harrowing musical about the woman who founded the Shaker religion, or you’re most definitely not. Hopefully you are.

Park Chan-wook’s No Other Choice is a shocking, innovative, and darkly comic film about the pressures of life under capitalism. It’s more proof that the Oldboy director is nothing less than a cinematic master.

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, the latest entry in the British zombie franchise, ups the ante with a Jimmy Savile–inspired satanic cult and mesmerizing performances from Ralph Fiennes and Jack O’Connell.

Josh Safdie’s Marty Supreme stars Timothée Chalamet as an obnoxious, nerdy young 1950s ping-pong hustler who somehow cons everyone around him. It’s flashy, fast, and made with so much talent it’s a shame they forgot to make much of a case for Marty’s appeal.

Avatar: Fire and Ash is not a good movie. But with its massive box office success, Big Jim Cameron is undeniably giving the people what they want. And what they want is skimpily dressed giant blue aliens.

With nothing but a new cut of Kill Bill to offer, Quentin Tarantino has gone into semiretirement right as American cinema is fighting for its very life. And to make matters worse, he won’t stop talking smack.

Rob Reiner and his wife were killed yesterday. While Donald Trump tweets out a disgraceful, mocking memorial, we’re celebrating a man who made a decade of great cinema as well as a liberal mensch who stood in stark contrast to the inhuman cruelty of MAGA.

Fritz Lang’s masterful visual depiction of class stratification in Metropolis remains unrivaled by its would-be inheritors.

Wake Up Dead Man is another crowd-pleasing entry in writer-director Rian Johnson’s Knives Out murder mystery franchise. It’s the kind of movie that should be crushing it with audiences on the big screen. But Netflix would rather you see it on their streamer.

Noah Baumbach and George Clooney’s Jay Kelly is a Netflix dramedy about the death of Hollywood stardom and the theatrical experience. Ironically, with Netflix’s acquisition of Warner Bros., the call is definitely coming from inside the house.

Edgar Wright’s dystopian satire, The Running Man, tries to play it safe and ends up pleasing no one.

Predator: Badlands delivers a fresh spin on the nearly 40-year-old franchise by delving deeper into the alien society at the heart of the franchise. Judging by the impressive box office performance, it’s a rare hit in an otherwise dismal movie season.

Guillermo del Toro’s long-awaited Frankenstein adaptation for Netflix is a big, bloated mess. Much like Frankenstein’s Creature, it’s dead matter, crudely stitched and bolted together.