A malevolent, analog nightmare that continues last year’s horror pattern of casting our gaze on the rich. Above all, though, it illustrates the importance of supporting small writers like the main character (and me) lest they end up in a wretched crucible of events orchestrated by a member of the Cronenberg clan.
Indeed, Alexander Skarsgard is a small writer with a “shitty book, six years ago, that no one read” playing wealthy with his wife’s money, and because of this, a synthwave mix of gore, sex and The White Lotus befalls him. Read the books of the local writers in your life. You will be saving us from such a fate.
Someone has a skull tattoo and someone else gets their head bashed in, so you can see their skull. No full skeletons.
A distant, unknowable lo-fi horror about the corners, angles, and childhood shadows of our homes. An effectively terrifying detour somewhere on the path from The Blair Witch Project to Paranormal Activity. An aesthetic in which something lurks in the fuzz.
There are no skeletons.
My VHS cover pull-quote: “Someone brought a child to the showing I was in, so I wasn’t sure when the child making noise and screaming was real or onscreen. It honestly added to the experience.”
“Well hold on, I thought we were having a conversation here.”
There are no human skeletons in M3GAN, but there are robot, Terminator-esque humanoid skeletons, which we can count. Also, it’s a fine, darkly comic rendition of Chucky mixed with AI gone horribly wrong in ways that would have been obvious to anyone but the characters in the movie, all told with the wonder of a screwed up child.
My VHS cover pull-quote: “The film does surprisingly little to set up the Battle Angel Alita vs Chucky vs M3GAN crossover film that we know is coming.