There is something quietly disarming about Anima. On paper, it is a retrofuturistic sci‑fi road movie about consciousness preservation and near‑future technology. In practice, it is a deeply human film that sneaks up on you, unspooling grief, longing, and connection with a patience that feels almost defiant in its restraint.

By the time Javier Botet appears onscreen in Do Not Enter, your body already knows something is wrong. The silhouette bends the wrong way. The movement feels human, but only just. This is the kind of unease Botet has been perfecting for over two decades, and in Marc Klasfeld’s upcoming horror thriller, he once again proves why his presence alone can haunt anyone.

Do Not Enter wastes no time pulling you in. The film drops its characters straight into danger, blending urban exploration culture, livestream bravado, and supernatural terror into a modern horror thriller that feels unsettlingly familiar. That sense of immediacy is exactly what struck Jake Manley and Francesca Reale when they first encountered the project, and it became a major driving force behind their performances.

There is something immediately refreshing about Vampires of the Velvet Lounge knowing exactly what kind of movie it wants to be. It is loud, weird, funny, bloody, and unapologetically off its leash. That clarity is mirrored perfectly in the way Mena Suvari and India Eisley talk about the film.

There are vampire movies and then there are vampire movies that know exactly what kind of party they are throwing. Vampires of the Velvet Lounge firmly plants itself in the latter category, blending horror, dark comedy, and satire into a neon-soaked throwback that feels both nostalgic and very much of the moment. At the center of that chaos is Dichen Lachman, whose performance as Cora adds emotional weight, physical intensity, and an air of mystery that grounds the film’s wilder impulses.

There is something uniquely energizing about catching a filmmaker right on the edge of release. When I sat down with Bruce Wemple to talk about Capture, it came with the unexpected bonus of being one of the very first people outside his inner circle to actually see the film. Wemple laughed when that came up, explaining that the interview was only his second so far and that the press cycle was just beginning.

There is something deeply unsettling about the way Sheila McCarthy moves through The Well. Not loud. Not showy. Just steady. In Hubert Davis’s bleak, water starved eco thriller, McCarthy plays Gabrielle, the leader of a remote cult compound that offers safety at a terrifying cost. It is the kind of performance that sneaks up on you, the kind that understands power does not need to raise its voice.

Forty years later, Rad is still doing what it has always done best. It gets people out of their seats, back on their bikes, and talking about why this scrappy BMX movie refuses to fade away. What began as a modest 1986 sports film has become a genuine cult fixture, passed down through generations and rediscovered in waves.

There are a few people in this industry who quietly sharpen you just by sitting and talking with them. Lin Shaye is one of those people. This was my second time interviewing her, and once again, she reminded me why she has endured for decades. Not just as a performer, but as someone who understands story, character, and the exact moment where comedy and horror overlap.

There is something especially fun about catching an actor at a crossroads moment in their career, when they are stretching into new genres and seeing how far they can push themselves. That is exactly where Victoria Konefal finds herself with Scared to Death, a horror comedy that lets her lean into fear, humor, vulnerability, and a little bit of meta madness. Sitting down to talk with her felt less like a traditional press interview and more like two horror fans geeking out.